#these are all the ones i know off the top of my head

[ssahotchnerr]

omg Katie i was rewatching s7 (as one does) and ohhhh my gosh I forgot how delicious and gorgeous beard!Hotch is😔😔 he’s just soo!!

I can’t stop thinking about maybe the beard making a comeback while on vacation or something, him being all domestic with that beard — and it’s just such a change from his usual suit and tie lawyer important job vibe😔 sorry just thought to share and wanted to know what you think of him <3333

while on vacation

i just couldn't not write a fic about this 🤭 bearded aaron my beloved cw; fem!reader, established relationship, jack calls reader mom, domestic fluff with a hint of spice❤️‍🔥, light suggestion <3 wc; 1.2k

"Don't scrunch up your face so much," you laughed gently, applying sunscreen thoroughly across Jack's face. Whether it was his forehead, the bridge of his nose, or his cheeks, he either attempted to move out of the way or scowled further in protest.

"But I don't like it," Jack complained. "It's cold and smells funny."

"I know you don't bud, but the last thing you want is to get sunburnt," you told him, your eyes sympathetic. "The sun here is a lot more harsh compared to how it is at home. I'd hate for you to be miserable, and not have as much fun because of it."

"I guess. It stings my eyes sometimes too."

"Just try your hardest not to touch your face, and you should be okay," you reassured him, snapping the sunscreen shut and pressing a kiss to the top of his head. "Plus, I don't think you want your father's lecture on the importance of SPF."

Speaking of - "Aaron?" you called out. "Are you almost ready?"

"Yeah..." You heard him sigh from the bathroom, the faint sound of him searching through his toiletry bag audible. "I forgot to pack my razor."

You grabbed Jack's hat and placed it atop his head, angling it more downwards to playfully cover his eyes. You got to your feet, meeting Aaron in the bathroom. "You? Forgot to pack something? What happened to the spreadsheet?"

"I don't make spreadsheets for everything," Aaron laughed at your teasing, an inquisitive expression soon taking form on his face. "Do you think the hotel carries razors?"

"I don't see why they wouldn't."

"Or we'll just have to stop at a store later," he shook his head, giving up his search and zipping up his bag.

"Or we could just... not," you suggested, pushing yourself off the doorframe and running your hands under water quickly. Once clean of any lingering sunscreen remnants, you gripped onto Aaron's polo, your hands soon roaming his torso.

An amused grin formed on his face, "Oh?"

"We're on vacation. That means getting out of routine, taking it easy, not shaving." You shrugged, continuing your flirtatious touch by toying with the collar of his shirt. "So what if a light beard makes an appearance. It wouldn't be the end of the world."

"And that's the only reason, right?" Aaron inquired as a mischievous smile tugged at the corners of his lips, his eyes gleaming with a playful understanding. "That we're on vacation?"

You weren't slick, and he knew it. However, your request did surprise him - you've only seen him with a beard once when he returned home from Pakistan, short lived as Jack despised it. But you hadn't mentioned it since.

You widened your eyes, feigning innocence, "I can't imagine there being another reason."

He lowered his voice, leaning in close. "Just say it turns you on sweetheart, it's alright."

Surprised at his sudden forwardness you immediately blushed, but he also wasn't wrong. However, before you had the chance to respond -

"Mom, Dad, you coming?" Jack asked, waiting patiently at the door with his beach towel in hand.

"Yeah, we're coming." Aaron clicked off the light, his hand finding your lower back. As he guided you out of the bathroom, it wandered further down, causing you to playfully push it away with a giggle before any young eyes could see. "Did Mom put sunscreen on you?"

He got a groan in response.

Over the course of the next few days, Aaron obliged, heeding your wishes and not shaving. It was mere stubble for a day or two, which was still a sight to see. But towards the end of the week, the beard was coming in wonderfully.

With his dark hair, slightly tousled from the laid-backness of the week's pace, the beard also complemented the sharpness of his features. It brought out the color of his eyes, enhancing their deep, intense color. His jawline, which could make you go weak in the knees any day, was more defined, a perfect contrast to the soft yet rugged texture of his beard.

Add in his sunglasses, the sweaty t-shirt clinging to his body at times due to the heat, and his developing tan, you were absolutely swooning. It was nearly impossible to tear your gaze away from him.

Even the smallest of things were driving you wild. Aaron simply placed breakfast in front of Jack one morning; face adorned by his beard, conversing with his son naturally, the domesticity had you fluttering in all ways. You found yourself wishing you had the same request on your honeymoon.

In addition, the slow vacation mornings also allowed you the time to admire Aaron before he awoke, peaceful and content in sleep. For the first time in a while too, he looked well rested.

Jack had been worn out and sleeping in also, due to the sun exposure and the long-yet-fun days catching up to him. It thankfully granted you and Aaron some much appreciated time to spend alone together.

"Good morning," you mumbled softly when Aaron's eyes found yours, reaching up slightly to press a kiss to his lips, his jaw, neck, anywhere you could reach. You continued to litter him with kisses, before full-on straddling him.

Aaron chuckled, his hands landing on your hips. His voice was still rough with sleep, peering up at you with his sleep-heavy eyelids. "I'd say it is."

You laughed softly against his skin, pulling his t-shirt collar down, giving you access to kiss his chest.

"What do I need to do to get a wakeup call like this every day?"

After pressing one more kiss to his collarbone, you sat up, remaining on top of him. "I can't believe it's our last full day," you whined as a dull filled you; back to the city, back to normalcy, back to clean-shaven Aaron.

He hummed in agreement, his finger tracing the tan line from your bikini bottoms, visible above the waistline of your pj shorts. "It did go by fast, didn't it?"

You nodded, your shoulders slumping as your bottom lip protruded in a pout.

"Are you mourning the end of our time off, or the fact that the beard will be leaving," Aaron questioned, an admirable glint in his eyes. Again, he looked thoroughly relaxed laid against his pillow, his hair sticking out in all directions as he gazed at you.

"Both," you sighed, cupping his jaw and letting your thumb graze his stubble. "Don't get me wrong, I adore seeing your clean and attractive face. But I am going to miss this."

"I'll tell you what, I'll keep it a few more days. To allow you to enjoy it thoroughly, in the privacy of our bedroom." He sat up, positioning you on his lap and easily bringing his lips to yours. With Jack so close, the two of you hadn't been very adventurous in fear of being caught. "And maybe it'll make an appearance more often. Since you like it so much." He mumbled lowly amidst the fierce kiss, a light smirk tugging at the ends of his mouth.

You pulled back briefly, a finger pressed to his chest. "Is that a promise?"

"Definitely."

[angelsforthenight]

screen babe, mean babe, guess who’s gonna cream babe! (pt 2)

camgirl!vi x reader (read pt 1 here)

summary: after an abysmal night, you know who PinkSage really is. you want to loathe her, yet you can’t seem to escape vi’s agonising game, especially underneath the guttural heat of your city’s sun.

pre a/n: yaaawl if ur expecting smut in this chapter then i’m sorry but not yet 🙁🙁 i want to drag s.m.g out longer than i did with my last ellie series so you’re gonna have to wait until the next chapter. sometimes a slow burn can be so much better and worth it in the end, i promise! hope you guys still enjoy <3

content: AAAANGST, vi is really mean, very slight slut-shaming, cursing, crying, playful!vi, teasing! this entire chapter is a huge tease, vi is extroverted, difficult goddamn lesbians, some painful yearning, some cute moments, vi’s got one point up in this chap but we’ll see how that’ll go…

“i know who you are.”

your eyes persist in hers: as if trying to burrow yourself inside them and make yourself known.

vi, irritated as is, raises her brows and shakes her head; urging for you to elaborate. you have no idea where your boldness came from, but you find yourself continuing.

“PinkSage. y-you’re PinkSage, i watch you all the time i—“ vi’s face does a whole u-turn, the colour draining from her face.

“hold on, shut the fucking door first!” she hisses frantically. you flinch into obeying her. when you turn back around, your heart sinks at the disgusted look on vi’s face. maybe you hadn’t thought this one through.

“the fuck were you thinking? saying that shit whilst your parents are sleeping right there?” she whisper-scolds, storming towards you. you back away until you’re up against your door. yeah… what exactly were you thinking was going to happen? for your favourite cam-girl to immediately get on her knees and start eating you out? of course this moment hadn’t gone as you expected.

“huh? you just gonna stand there like a dumbass after revealing that shit? you of all people?” vi continues, her voice raising. she’s so enraged! as if it’s your fault that the woman you’re supposed to idolise happened to stay in your house. it’s only a fucked-up coincidence. your lips quiver as you find your voice.

“you— you’re being too loud.” are the only words that you can think of to say. vi stares at you in disbelief.

“… my parents are sleeping after all, right?” you mutter, looking away. vi is scowling so much she may as well pop a vein.

“hah. you’re a sick fucking freak.” she laughs dryly, shaking her head incredulously. though your gaze flicks up to her; bewildered and hurt, you’re not just going to let her talk down on you like this. not when what vi does is worse.

“you spread your legs for, like, a million pervs online. i don’t think you have the right to talk.” you snap whilst your voice trembles. here’s to thinking the world of PinkSage…

“pervs including your dull ass.” vi scoffs.

“watch your mouth, unless you’d like to sleep in the streets.”

“oh yeah? and what would you explain to your parents?” vi’s lips twitch into a grin, “mommy, daddy! kick vi out because i jerk off to her online but she’s being mean to me in real life!” she mocks, her voice lilting into a higher-pitched tone. your instinct is to push her in order to shut her mouth. vi only stumbles a little, but she glares at you as if you’ve thrown tomato juice all over her white top.

“fuck you.” you’re about to leave until something comes over you, feeling compelled to say one last thing. let her sit with this shit.

“and for your information, last time you streamed? you orgasmed to my name. your_user? yeah, that was me.”

you relish in the way vi’s expression mellows into one of astonishment. she’s dumbfounded and silent.

“sleep with that, bitch.” you spit, hastily slipping back to your room. you would’ve slammed the door if it wasn’t going to wake your parents up. your mother sleeps with one eye open and any noise would have her rising from her bed as if she’s a vampire.

once you make it back to your room, you let out a breath you didn’t even know you were holding. you’re trembling: entire body buzzing from head to toe with adrenaline and fury.

two steps closer to your bed and you feel a glob of tears swell in your throat, shooting up to your eyes. they are quick to rivulet down your cheeks like a torrent, and you intake a shuddering breath, coated with phlegm. afraid of vi hearing you next door, you immediately cover your mouth.

you jump into your bed, too arrogant to admit that the reason why you’re sobbing in your pillow is because you’re upset. you’re fucking pissed is what you are, embarrassed that you even said anything — and that vi had the gall to respond like that. whereas a week ago you would’ve praised PinkSage as if she were a saint, you’re sitting here wondering who the fuck this woman thinks she is.

of course famous people are dickheads in real life. you should’ve expected this. you fiercely wipe your tears, yanking your covers over your head. at least you were able to have the last word. you think about the look on her face, hoping she feels just as stupid as you do.

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁

it’s the morning that’s downright awful. you woke up too early, and now you’re forced out of your will to sit with your family and vi to eat breakfast.

your parents are trying so hard to impress her and you hate it. they’ve even gone the extra length of setting a table in your backyard, spread neatly over the stone ground. you don’t remember there being this much food in your house, let alone the gingham cloth fanned over the table. as if this breakfast is a special occasion. they must think vi is a goddamn prodigy! they find it to be groundbreaking how can she be oh so sweet volunteering for animals and taking care of them, and how she works out a lot and that tattoo on her face…

you chew your food slowly, glaring daggers at her as she compliments your mother’s cooking with her mouth full. meanwhile you would’ve gotten scolded for doing that! you’re being petty and stifling: insanely moody in this delicate summer morning. how could you not? you were in tears because of her audacity last night!

you bet if your parents found out what vi really does, your dad wouldn’t suggest playing basketball with her, and your mother wouldn’t be asking her all these stupid, prodding questions. ones like, “vi, do you have a boyfriend? o-or a girlfriend! if that’s what you prefer?”

you two make eye contact then. a split second, but it was palpable like an electric current zipping up your spine. you’re the first to look away; suddenly interested in swirling your fried egg around, smearing the yolk.

“nah. not interested in that stuff.” she replies dismissively, cool as a cucumber, because everything about her is cool! peachy! you prick your bacon with your fork hard, bringing it up to your lips as you flicker a glance at vi once more. since she’s not paying attention anymore, your eyes decide to fixate on the slope of her nose, shimmering from the light mixed with shadows that are dancing from the leaves above.

vi mutters something indignantly to your father, something you don’t hear because she suddenly steps on your foot under the table. hard. you accidentally let out a gasp that’s a little too loud, obliging everyone else to stop what they’re doing to glance up at you. they definitely forgot that you were even here. you glare at vi, who’s looking away as if she hadn’t just done that on purpose. are we suddenly little kids now? did she wake up completely overturned? ready to be an upbeat ray of sunshine after rudely shutting you down last night?

“everything okay?” dad raises a brow. vi only pretends to be curious, furrowing her brows and pouting, a faint jeering expression for your eyes only. what is she trying to play at? this isn’t just mere playfulness. this is something else.

“yeah, fine.” you murmur. you’re ready to push your chair back and leave until you hear your mother.

“oh, y/n can take you. she knows her way around the area better than any of us.” you freeze.

“what?” you brow quirks into a look of foul disdain. especially because vi looks like a grinning dog at your mother’s suggestion.

“you guys can even take the bikes!” dad chimes in enthusiastically. you want the skies above to open up and take you away. right here, right now.

“but—“

“i would love to go with you.” vi beams. that wretched look on her face, full of mischief and lies. the sun on her face isn’t exactly helping either. it’s all a cruel taunt: the way it kisses her face, the way it highlights her plush lips curved into that sweet, deceitful smile. she could be the sun herself… if she wasn’t so obnoxious. yet you find yourself relenting, giving a speck of yourself away to the woman who gets under your skin. you force yourself to stare at the wooden ridges of the table instead of the sunlight dancing on vi’s features.

“…fine. where to?”

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁

the lazy july sun is beating down on you mercilessly. vi’s wearing a baseball cap, but you? you were too pissed off and stubborn to listen to your mother’s advice on wearing a hat. so now you’re suffering.

you’re steering down the tree-lined dirt track with your bike. though it’s so damn hot, you really do appreciate the beauty that summer brings along: how everything appears so bright and awake. you won’t pretend that it can’t be suffocating however, especially when you have a certain pink-haired someone riding a bike behind you, distinctly aware of her eyes boring down your back.

vi slightly quickens so she’s right beside you, you side-eye her.

“who says that theres space for the both of us?” your words may as well have a double meaning. vi grins. there is actually enough space, you just don’t want her next to you.

“i did. you’re so sweaty you’re glowing by the way.”

“aw, thank you.” you sneer at her before picking up the pace.

“hey, wait! i was fucking around!” she chuckles, following you down the road.

you guys ride until you’re in the city: bustling with people and markets. mothers are dragging their screaming kids, men are oozing with sweat; grumbling as they push past people. you’re jealous of those passing by that are able to fan their faces. vi parks her bike, but you don’t.

“well, it has been lovely escorting you.” you mutter sarcastically, gripping the handlebars.

“what? you’re not staying? what makes you think i know my way around?” vi counters. she looks so puzzled, like a puppy. you swallow, seeming to crumble just a little more when you look at her face for too long.

“um, i didn’t know you wanted a tour… but fine.”

you two walk along the markets. vi has quite some time before she’s called in for work so she wanted to familiarise herself with the city beforehand. at first, you guys hardly talk, simply following vi as she wanders about instead: watching as her eyes glint at the vintage trinkets and antiques they sell in stalls.

you feel like a clamshell stalling quietly behind her, as she eagerly chats with quite literally anyone. she’s so extroverted! it’s begrudgingly interesting watching her communicate, her delivery of words smooth and clear, making anyone hang onto her words like rope.

there’s too many people in this narrow path, and too much pushing. you don’t want to lose yourself in the crowd, so you helplessly tug on vi’s sleeve. vi glances back.

“you good?” she keeps walking with you continuing to use her sleeve as leverage. it’d be a mess if you guys were to randomly stop now, with this sea of people that have clearly got places to be.

“yeah, i just don’t wanna lose you.” you reply, realising too late how weird that just sounded. vi, jovial as she already has been, only smiles wider. you quickly back-pedal.

“m-my parents would kill me if i were to lose our guest, you know?”

“here.” you all but expected for vi to lace her fingers into yours, holding your hand as you continue to slink through the masses of people. why is she being like this? was last night completely erased from her head, or does she just not care that much? you stare at the back of her head, as if that’ll give you answers. you secretly enjoy the warmth of her hand, subtly pressing your palm further into hers. vi doesn’t notice. good.

you guys find yourself in a music shop. this, after all the other markets and shops you’ve visited, finally has captured your keen interest. you come here all the time, the main source of all your cds in your room.

your eyes sparkle when your fingers stumble across one you’ve always wanted. limited edition, and it has a holographic cover too! how sick is that?

however, the excitement quickly fades when you remember that because you were stuck in your cloud of fitful anger, you ended up forgetting your wallet at home. you palm your pockets, making sure it miraculously doesn’t just so happen to be there… but nope. nothing.

“boo.” you feel the hotness of her mouth hard by your ear before you even register anything else. you squirm away, glowering at her only to be met with a cheeky smile back. vi’s already got a whole bag of stuff! how nice that must be.

“you gonna buy that?” vi points her gaze at the cd in your hands. you slot it back in the genre section. “i don’t have money, left it at home.” you mumble.

vi snorts, “you’re a real smart one, ain’t ya?”

“shut up. go pay for that and i’ll wait outside.” you grumble, practically storming out the door. you’ve never met anyone quite like vi. she’s so playful, and stupid and sweet, hot and mean all at the same time: getting under your skin in the worst way imaginable. the memory of PinkSage feels like it’s slipping from your fingers like sand.

vi comes back a moment later, smacking a cd down in your hands and walking ahead like nothing happened. you stare at her confusedly, but your eyebrows quickly rest in realisation as you gaze down at the cd. it’s the same one you wanted. your stomach betrays you by fluttering and then churning intensely.

“hey.” you call out, making vi stop.

“what’s your deal? why’d you buy this for me?” you grip the cd, heart beating like a live wire. vi turns around and walks closer to you. branches are singing from the breeze, seagulls are cawing, but you can’t hear anything. not when your full focus is on her. not when she’s walking so close it’s as if she’s going to step right through you.

“‘cause i saw how much you wanted it. you were gleaming.” she shrugs. how casual she must be, whilst your heart is pounding to the rhythm of her syllables. vi-o-let. why must you treat me this way?

“it’s no big deal.” she stares at you blankly up and down. you point your view downwards, focusing on the ladybug that’s started to crawl on your shoe. a kind respite from vi’s torturous gaze.

“why… why are you being so nice? after wh-what happened last night?” curse your sudden nervousness.

vi might as well close the gap between the pair of you, gentle fingers tilting your chin up to direct your gaze on her. oh, fuck you, fuck you, fuck you.

“because you’re my biggest fan.” vi stretches out her words, soft and punishing. this godforsaken woman… you could quite literally die on her feet. your brain short-circuits and then switches off. especially when you witness vi’s gaze flickering to your lips. your breathing quickens, and it feels like your body isn’t yours anymore. you may as well be a floating bubble.

until vi takes her hat off and puts it on your head instead, patting it. “come on, let’s skedaddle. you don’t think our bikes got stolen, do you?” she jogs ahead, whilst you stand here like a dumbass, the cd lying limply in your hands.

this is a brutal penance worser than last night. vi did that on purpose, to see your reaction, and now that she’s got her fill, she’s going back to pretending as if nothing happened. how unsparing. how cruel.

you force yourself to drag your feet, one feet after the other towards vi. your head is lagging behind, still stuck on her touch.

a/n: some of u might hate me for this 😅😅👅👅👅 but oh my god u guys are in a DOOZY for chapter three i’m literally trembling thinking about writing it ughhhfhdhhd once again lmk if u wanna be added to the taglist but also some of u guys need to check that ur mentions are on or else i can’t tag! :< anywhooo sorry that this chapter was a little shorter but did anyone else clock the cmbyn tea…

taglist: @marvelwomenarehot0 @ghgygd @jupitism @reneesub @cotrill09 @itzsky82 @elliesbabygirl @adora-moonshine @maxinephobia @ch3sire-blu3 @krilara @perrzs @thankynext @zaunite-516 @eren-luvr @cpt-prices-leftnipple @goticapomposa @lolitalovess @moonchildcovenxx @spicedcherrylolli @mystar-girl57 @mar1posita @avonnimimi @kirajess @caitvisgirl @heyy-lovey @antobooh @jajsnjz @beachaddict48 @aceywaycy @sleepingwasp @elliezlils11utt @vincinnamontoast @runawaybaby3 @h0n3yf0rlif3 @iluvwomensm

[gf2bellamy]

surprise — spencer reid

pairing: spencer reid x fem!reader ( no use of y/n ) summary: garcia and derek go into spencer's apartment, while you're sleeping in his bed. the problem? no one knows you and spencer are dating content warnings: secret relationship , reader also works in the bau a/n: hiii !!! i'm back to my secret relationship roots and i hope you like this <3 bc i had so much fun writing this ( i've been writing it for ages and i'm finally happy with it)

"No, no," Spencer shook his head frantically, his voice almost pleading as Derek expertly maneuvered the car into the parking spot at his apartment complex.

"Why not?" Garcia's voice was full of curiosity as she looked back at Spencer from the passenger seat.

The trio had spent the whole afternoon shopping for your birthday, which was just around the corner. Garcia, as usual, had already gotten everything ready—gifts, decorations, the whole nine yards. She even had a closet near her office packed with presents for you, waiting for the big reveal at the surprise party she was planning to throw at the BAU.

The whole mission was meant to be a fun, collaborative effort, the three of them picking out something special for you to celebrate.

But now, as Derek parked the car and they were all about to get out, Garcia’s sudden idea was making Spencer break into a cold sweat.

"I mean, we can just hang out at your place for a bit, right?" Garcia asked, her tone more like a suggestion than a question. She had already unbuckled her seatbelt, clearly excited about the idea.

Spencer swallowed hard, his fingers gripping the seatbelt.

"I don’t know if that’s such a good idea," he said quickly, trying to sound casual, though the nerves were practically radiating off of him.

"I have… stuff to do." His words stumbled, but Derek caught on immediately.

"You've got a date or something?" Derek teased, raising an eyebrow. "Come on, Reid, live a little."

Spencer’s face turned a light shade of pink, but he quickly deflected with a nervous laugh. "No, no date," he replied, but the nervous energy in his tone was giving him away. "I just—uh—need to get inside."

Garcia didn't miss a beat. "Come on, Spencer," she insisted with that gleam of excitement in her eyes. "It’s been forever since we just hung out at your place. You know, a little downtime."

But Spencer’s mind was racing, heart pounding.

The last thing he needed was for Derek and Garcia to come upstairs and see you there.

He knew you were in his apartment right now, sound asleep in his bed, curled up in one of his sweaters. This morning, you had practically melted into him that morning, clinging to him as he reluctantly told you he had to go.

You had been so warm, your face tucked into the side of his neck, holding him like you didn’t want him to leave. He’d rubbed soothing circles on your back, whispering that he’d be back soon, but you hadn't been ready to let go. Eventually, he had managed to peel himself away, promising to return as quickly as possible.

Now, his heart pounded as he watched Derek and Garcia hop out of the car without hesitation.

"No, no, no—" Spencer muttered under his breath, scrambling to open his own door. He practically stumbled out, rushing after them, but they were already making their way toward his apartment building.

They didn’t even wait for him.

"Of course," he thought bitterly as he hurried behind them. He knew he was too late. There was no way he could stop them now. His only hope was that you were still asleep.

And there was a high chance that you were.

Spencer knew your sleep schedule well—knew exactly how you curled up beneath his sheets, how deep you slept when wrapped in one of his sweaters. If he could just get inside before them and shut his bedroom door, everything would be fine.

As they reached the top floor, Spencer’s fingers fumbled in his pocket for his keys. His hands were practically shaking as he yanked them out, quickly jamming the correct one into the lock.

Slowly, he pushed the door open just a crack, peeking inside, praying you weren’t—

"Dr. Reid. What are you doing?" Garcia’s voice was laced with amusement as she leaned against the doorframe, watching him with a smirk.

Before Spencer could stop her, she pushed the door open wider, stepping inside.

Panic surged through him. His breath caught in his throat.

But—

You were nowhere to be seen.

His eyes darted toward the bedroom door. It was closed.

No sign of you.

Spencer swallowed hard, trying to compose himself as Garcia and Derek strolled inside, completely oblivious to the absolute terror he had just experienced.

Spencer quickly shut the door behind them, tossing his jacket over the nearest chair—something he never did. Normally, he was meticulous about hanging it up properly, but right now, his priority was making sure nothing seemed off.

Slipping off his shoes, he warily watched as Garcia and Derek made a beeline for his kitchen.

As they rummaged through his cabinets, Spencer seized the opportunity.

He darted down the hallway toward the bedroom, his socked feet barely making a sound on the hardwood floor. He cracked the door open just enough to peek inside, and there you were, still fast asleep, curled up under the blankets with his sweater draped loosely over your shoulders.

The sight made his chest tighten with affection, and a small, involuntary smile tugged at his lips.

He closed the door gently, careful not to make a sound, and hurried back to the kitchen before they could notice his absence.

Crisis averted.

He stopped in his tracks, however, when he saw the disaster unfolding before him.

“What are you doing?” Spencer asked, exasperated, watching as Derek and Garcia rummaged through his cabinets like raccoons.

Garcia, mid-bite into a granola bar, waved a hand dismissively. “Relax, genius, we’re just looking for snacks. By the way—” she held up the granola bar with a raised brow, “—I thought you hated these?”

Spencer froze.

He did. He never ate those granola bars.

But you did.

You loved them, so he always kept some stocked just for you.

He scrambled for an excuse, clearing his throat. “Uh—I just wanted to give them another try,” he mumbled, avoiding Garcia’s sharp, suspicious gaze.

Derek, now chewing a piece of toast, barely looked up. “Yeah, okay,” he said, mouth full.

Spencer shot him an unamused glare. “Can the two of you stop eating my food?”

“No,” Derek replied, taking another bite, completely unbothered. 

Spencer sighed, running a hand through his hair. “You know, most people ask before raiding someone’s kitchen,” he muttered, though there was no real bite to his words. 

Garcia giggled, popping the last bite of granola bar into her mouth. “Oh, come on, Spence. You love us. Besides, you’re acting super weird today. What’s going on with you?” 

Spencer’s eyes widened slightly, and he quickly looked away, busying himself with straightening a stack of papers on the counter.

“Nothing’s going on,” he said, his voice a little too high-pitched. “I’m just… tired. It’s been a long day.” 

Garcia and Derek just exchanged a look.

Spencer sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. He needed to get them out of here before they found something they weren’t supposed to. 

Like, say… you.

“Do you think she’ll like my gift?” Garcia asked, peeking at the bag on the counter, her fingers fidgeting with the ribbon.

“Most definitely, babygirl,” Derek answered without hesitation, dusting the crumbs off his hands after finishing his toast. “She’s been talking about it for weeks.”

Spencer, still trying to recover from his near heart attack, nodded in agreement. “Yeah, she’ll love it,” he said, meeting Garcia’s eyes with a small, reassuring smile.

Garcia beamed, clearly pleased with herself. “Oh, she’ll love yours, boy genius,” she added, pointing at Spencer. “You know her so well.” Her voice carried a teasing lilt, her grin mischievous.

“Maybe too well,” Derek chimed in, eyebrows raised as he leaned casually against the counter, arms crossed. His grin was knowing, smug.

Spencer stiffened.

“When are you finally gonna ask her out?” Derek asked, his grin widening.

Spencer felt his face heat up instantly. He blushed, but not for the reason they thought.

He blushed because he remembered the day it happened. 

HThe way his heart had pounded in his chest, his palms sweaty as he rehearsed the words in his head over and over. He’d been so nervous, he’d almost convinced himself to back out.

But then he’d seen you—your smile, the way your eyes lit up when you noticed him approaching—and all his doubts had melted away. 

When he finally asked, his voice trembling slightly, your reaction had been everything he’d hoped for. Your face had lit up, and you’d nodded so quickly, it was almost comical.

“Yes!” you’d said, your voice filled with so much enthusiasm that it made him laugh. In that moment, all his anxiety had washed away, replaced by a giddy, almost overwhelming sense of relief and joy. 

“Aww, how cute!” Garcia practically vibrated with excitement, bouncing on the balls of her feet as she pointed an accusatory finger at Spencer. “He’s blushing,” she sang, her grin stretching impossibly wide. 

Spencer groaned, shaking his head in exasperation. “Did you two come into my apartment just to eat my food and make fun of me?” he asked, arms crossed.

“Pretty much,” Derek said, completely unfazed as he made his way back toward the fridge.

Spencer let out a sharp breath, trying to mask his anxiety. He knew you were still asleep, but that didn’t stop the lingering fear that their loud voices might wake you up.

But then—

Derek stopped in front of the fridge.

His eyes locked onto the calendar hanging there, and a slow, amused smirk spread across his face.

“Look at this, sweetheart,” Derek said, turning toward Garcia, his voice thick with amusement.

Garcia leaned in, her eyes widening as she saw what Derek was pointing at. There, on the calendar, your birthday was circled in bold red marker, surrounded by a carefully drawn heart.

Garcia gasped, clapping her hands together in delight. “Oh. My. God,” she said, her voice rising with every word. “Spencer Reid, you are down bad!”

Spencer felt his face burn even hotter. He wished he could disappear into the floor—or maybe just teleport to another dimension entirely. Anything to escape this moment.

Because the truth was, he hadn’t been the one to draw that heart on the calendar. It had been you.

He remembered the moment perfectly.

The day he hung the calendar up, you had been standing right there beside him, watching with an amused little smile. Then, without hesitation, you had grabbed the nearest marker—a red one, of course—and went straight to your birthday month, drawing a huge heart around the date.

"So you don’t forget."

He had chuckled, shaking his head as he stepped behind you, wrapping his arms loosely around your waist. Then, he had pressed a soft kiss to your temple, murmuring against your skin—

"I don’t forget anything. Especially not something like that."

You had blushed.

And Spencer had loved making you blush.

Now, standing in his kitchen, faced with his coworkers’ relentless teasing, he was struck with the embarrassing realization that Derek and Garcia thought he was some hopelessly lovesick teenager who had scribbled hearts around his crush’s name in a notebook.

(Which—if he was being completely honest—wasn’t that far from the truth.)

But what was he supposed to say?

Tell them the truth? Admit that the woman he’d been secretly dating for months—the same woman they were here shopping for—was currently asleep in his bed down the hall?

Absolutely not.

But then—

The choice was taken away from him anyway.

Suddenly, the sound of running water echoed from down the hallway, causing both Garcia and Derek to freeze mid-sentence. Their heads snapped toward the source of the noise, their eyes widening as they stared at Spencer.

Spencer stared back, equally wide-eyed, his mind racing. You were in the bathroom, happily brushing your teeth, completely unaware that two of your—and Spencer’s—coworkers were standing in the kitchen, mere feet away.

“Spencer Walter Reid,” Garcia gasped, her voice loud enough to carry through the apartment. She clutched Derek’s arm like she was about to faint. “Is there someone here?”

“No, no,” Spencer said quickly, shaking his head so vigorously that his curls bounced. “It’s probably just my washing machine turning on.”

As if on cue, the bathroom door creaked open, and then closed again. Spencer’s heart sank.

“Oh no,” he mumbled under his breath, his stomach twisting into knots.

And then, there you were.

You padded into the kitchen, blissfully unaware of the chaos you were about to unleash.

You were wearing Spencer’s boxers, which hung loosely around your hips, and one of his Star Wars shirts that was far too big for you, the hem brushing against your thighs. Your hair was slightly messy, and you were still rubbing sleep from your eyes.

Then you stopped.

Blinking, you finally seemed to register the two extra people in the room.

Garcia. Derek.

Standing there.

Staring.

At you.

In Spencer’s clothes.

Two pairs of eyes stared at you. And you stared back, your own eyes wide, your brain struggling to process the scene in front of you. Spencer, meanwhile, was staring at the ground like it might suddenly open up and swallow him whole.

Garcia broke the silence, her voice low and uncharacteristically quiet—something almost more shocking than if she’d screamed.

“Am I… dreaming?” she whispered, clutching Derek’s arm like a lifeline. She looked pale, her usual vibrant energy replaced by sheer disbelief as she took in your disheveled state.

Derek, for once, seemed just as stunned. “I… no, I don’t think so,” he said hesitantly, his usual confidence replaced by uncharacteristic uncertainty.

He blinked at you, then at Spencer, then back at you, as if trying to piece together what exactly was happening.

“Spencer,” you hissed, your voice low but urgent. “What the hell is happening?” You tugged self-consciously at the hem of his Star Wars shirt, trying to pull it down further.

Normally, you were the picture of professionalism at work, always impeccably dressed and composed.

But here you were, standing in Spencer’s kitchen in his boxers and an oversized shirt, your hair a mess and your face still flushed from sleep.

It was beyond awkward—it was mortifying.

Spencer finally looked up, his expression a mix of guilt and panic. “I, uh… this isn’t—” he started, but Garcia cut him off.

“Oh no, no, no,” Garcia said, her voice rising with every word, her hands flailing dramatically as if she were conducting an orchestra of chaos. “You do not get to ‘this isn’t’ us right now. This is happening. This is definitely happening.”

She pointed a finger at you, then at Spencer, her eyes wide.

“You two. Together. In his apartment. Wearing his clothes. Oh my gosh, this is the best day of my life.”

You froze, your cheeks burning as you tugged self-consciously at the hem of Spencer’s shirt. “Penelope, it’s not—” you started, but she cut you off with a wave of her hand.

“Nope, nope, nope,” she said, shaking her head so vigorously that her curls bounced. “No explanations, no excuses. This is happening. I have been waiting for this moment for years.”

Spencer groaned, running a hand through his already messy hair. “Garcia, please—”

“No,” she interrupted again, her voice rising an octave. “You don’t get to ‘Garcia, please’ me right now. This is huge. This is monumental. This is—”

“A disaster,” Spencer muttered under his breath, though the faintest hint of a smile tugged at the corners of his lips.

Derek, who had been quietly observing the scene with an amused grin, finally chimed in. “Man, Reid, I gotta hand it to you. I didn’t think you had it in you.”

You groaned, burying your face in your hands. “This is so embarrassing,” you muttered, though there was a hint of laughter in your voice.

Garcia, meanwhile, was practically bouncing on her toes, her excitement palpable. “Oh, this is going to be so much fun. I can’t wait to tell—”

“No!” Spencer and you said in unison, your voices sharp enough to make Garcia freeze mid-sentence.

“You are not telling anyone,” Spencer said, his tone leaving no room for argument.

Garcia pouted, but there was a mischievous glint in her eyes. “Fine, fine. But only because I’m feeling generous. For now.”

Derek chuckled, shaking his head. “Man, this is going to be the best office drama ever.”

You groaned again, burying your face in your hands. “I’m going back to bed,” you muttered, turning on your heel and heading back down the hallway.

As you disappeared into the bedroom, Garcia and Derek turned to Spencer, their expressions a mix of amusement and disbelief.

“You’ve got some explaining to do, Pretty Boy,” Derek said, his grin widening.

Spencer sighed, knowing there was no escaping this. “Yeah,” he said, his voice resigned. “I know.”

[christopher-bryant]

its a small world, the dating game, cops, american idol, wwe, justin timberlake, babe, the matrix, tiny tim, mission impossible, indiana jones, alien, seinfeld, the seven year itch, michael jackson, from here to eternity, spider-man, zorro.

those are the ones i know off the top of my head. people complaining about tiktok in shrek should go back and watch the films and count out every pop culture reference in each film. i sure as shit know that total for all films combined will come in somewhere close to 80 or so moments.

shrek 5's teaser animation isnt bad you're just nostalgic for movies made in 2001

[rosegolden13]

Hardware store owner!John Price drabble <3

He’s on his smoke break in his office in the back, window open to let in the cool evening breeze and let out the stink of cigar. Store’s been slow today, but that’s no surprise for a random weekday.

Gaz and Soap are messing around out front, their voices carrying into his office from the cracked open door. No doubt they’re playing their makeshift version of floor hockey with a roll of duct tape as a puck and the yard sticks as sticks. Normally, he’d tell them off, but with no customers in, he let them have their fun. It would be closing time soon anyways.

The mechanical ring signalling the arrival of a customer is familiar enough that he tunes it out entirely. It isn’t until that sweet chirping filters through his door that he finds the need to immediately tap out his barely finished cigar, despite the fact that both Gaz and Soap are free to help you. Those muppets don’t know about the leaky sink you’ve been struggling with or the marigolds you’re desperate to help bloom. He needs to be there. It’s only reasonable.

His pace quickens a bit when he hears how your voice seems to be laced with anxiety, words spilling into one another. By the time he gets to the front, Soap has got his palms up, clearly trying to placate you like you’re a spooked horse. 

“Poison?! I-I don’t want to kill them!” You’re wringing your hands, stress palpable, as your bracelets clash against one another on your wrist. And this is what he’s been waiting for since you last came in, another chance to help his favorite girl.

Gaz is moving towards you as if to reach out a hand to place on your arm, but before he can, John’s heavy hand is on your shoulder, standing just behind you. “I’ve got this one, boys. Start cleaning up for me, will ya?”

Gaz and Soap exchange knowing smirks as they head off with a simple “sure thing, cap’n” and a “you got it, Price”. You’re looking up at him and he has to fight back the rush of pride that flows through him when he catches the relief in your expression. 

His thumb absently runs over the fabric of your flowy pink top, feeling your warmth through the thin fabric. “What’s the problem, doll? Never seen ya worked up like this.”

“John, oh, thank God. There’s mice in my attic- a whole family of them. I really wouldn’t mind, but there’s droppings everywhere. Animal control told me to call the exterminator. But I couldn’t live with myself if I had to- They’re only looking for a warm place to stay!” The words are a rush from your glossed lips, his hand rubbing over your shoulder the whole time and then squeezing gently once you’re done. 

God, you’re adorable. This passionate over the lives of a few woodland critters. He’s never flinched at bloodshed, but he’s not one for needless killing either, especially of anything as small and helpless as some mice.

His smile is patient as he looks down at you. “No exterminator necessary. I’ll handle ‘em for ya, lovie. Got a few humane traps I can set up for ya, free of charge. Wouldn’t want ya to get your finger trapped in ‘em.”

Your trust in him is all the payment he needs. Oh, and that sweet smile you give him as you babble happily about how he always knows just what to do. 

—

He follows you back to your place in his pick-up truck.

As you lead him inside, murmuring sheepishly about how it’s a bit of a mess inside, he’s focusing on how your smaller form squeezes in next to his in the tiny entryway, how you put your keys away with a gentle metal clatter, the movements unconscious because you’ve no doubt done them day after day. The intimacy of being in your space gets to his head, filling his mind with thoughts of placing his keys over yours on the little hook. 

You’re leading him upstairs to the attic soon enough. While he busies himself with setting up the traps, you sweep up mouse droppings. Settling into the work, a comfortable silence lingers over you both. John’s taking note of the christmas decorations, old books, and various bins you have stored up here, making a mental reminder to offer to come over if you ever need help getting the boxes down from here. He wouldn’t want you tripping down that rickety ladder leading up here. 

He’s setting down one of the last traps, placing it by a crack between the wall and floor that he wants to offer to fill for you, when you shriek, the sound loud enough to cover up the scurrying claws of the mouse that had just ran right by your sneakers. In an instant, your hands are digging into his hairy arm, clinging to him. 

It takes him a moment, looking between your hands and then your scared expression, before he’s springing into action. “Shh, darl’. It was jus’ a mouse. Can’t hurt ya. I won’t let it.”

He lets you hug his arm, using his free hand to gently rub your other shoulder. There’s a slight heat in his cheeks that he hasn’t felt since he was a teen, that small thrill of being alone in the dark, tucked close to another warm body. One touch from a pretty little thing and the seasoned captain is falling apart.

The moment is broken when you pull away with a sheepish smile. You’re apologizing again and again for getting spooked like that but John’s just watching you with a smile, sneaking glimpses at the crescent shaped divots your manicure left in his arm. He doesn’t want them to fade, mind wandering to how you could tear up his back with those claws.

Once the job is done, you say goodnight to him at the door, the yellow porch light casting a halo over his hair. He promises to come back once any of the traps are filled to bring the mice to a field so they don’t end up back in your attic again. 

And, no, doll, you don’t need to repay him but, how could he ever say no to a homecooked meal sometime?

[xaer1s]

ㅤㅤ ❛ ㅤ✿ ──────​ cuteness clad in silk ⸝⸝

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ[ 최산 ] ─── ​CHOI SAN​ ⨾ ATEEZ

ㅤㅤ synopsis:ㅤsan was always a calm and collected guy, not riling himself up easily but this simple change you made tonight, unexpectedly -especially for him- had him feeling a bit too excited.ㅤ⨾ㅤwarnings:ㅤnsfw!!, spooning sex, unprotected sex (guys don't do it), needy-dom!san, fem!reader, sub!reader, clit play, p in v, cream pie, lil begging?, pwp??, pet names, slight overstim, lil swearing, praisingㅤ;ㅤword count:ㅤ1,8kㅤ;ㅤa/n.: after my other account with the name of xa3r1s got shadow-banned and i didn't really get help from the staff, i decided to make another blog. i probably won't reupload all of my works. happy reading

ㅤㅤ › ARCHiVE ; NAViGATiON ・・・・・; ✉︎ message me on: @smnxi ; please reblog and follow if you like my posts! do not spam likes, or you'll be blocked, sorry! ♡

ㅤㅤㅤㅤ• . ˚ ⋆ . ｡.

. . . having to lay your head on the pillow at the most boiling hot night in mid august was just straight up torture, so you decided to change sleepwear. placing the soft cotton shorts and thin, plain tops aside, for an even thinner, pure white nightgown. it actually looked very cute if we’re gonna be honest and very practical too. you never once thought about wearing one but when you finally gave it a try and it wasn’t that bad at all.

the silky fabric clung to your skin because of the after shower steam in all the right places, pronouncing your hips as the material stretched deliciously. showing the faint outline of your nipples and the straps occasionally slipping down on your bare shoulders, made your boyfriend attention perk up. it had san already in a frenzy.

experiencing you like this first in his whole lifetime was a game changer for him, he just got so used to seeing you in your usual night wear that he didn’t really pay attention to it anymore. not to misunderstand, you were absolutely cute like that too.

now turning off the lights, making your way from the bathroom to sit on the edge of the bed, your bare feet quietly thumping on the cold wooden floor, the harsh feeling sent goosebumps over your skin. the bedroom was quiet and dark aside from the lamp’s small, orange tinted light providing the only source of light, placed on the bedside table. still, you felt his sharp eyes tracking over you. the window wide open, the gentle summer breeze tickling your skin and the sky foggy.

he was already under the warm, fluffy duvet, his dark eyes drinking in the sight in front of him just within his reach, and at this point he was just struggling to keep himself composed and his actions in check. he itched to reach out to tug the inviting material off of you, he had so easy access it made him go nuts.

of course you noticed, his gaze quite literally burning holes into your back as you made yourself comfortable under the blankets, pulling it over you as you curled against his side, as he continued to stare shamelessly. a content sigh escaping you and a gentle smile made itself clear on your lips.

“hug me..” just like you asked, one of his arm draped over your shoulder to pull you flush against him, his palm splayed out flat on your waist as his fingertips caressed you gently over the shiny fabric.

he already saw you in every way he possibly could by now after spending years with you and knew every inch and crevice of your soft body like the back of his hand. still, the innocence you carried in wearing a simple white nightgown with nothing but panties underneath just send tingles of excitement through his body, straight to his cock and made his heart thump faster. you seemed so pure and adorable in his embrace, soft locks falling forward and framing your cheeks, eyes ready to flutter close to drift off to sleep, knowing nothing about his inner turmoil.

the cute little flares adorning the hem where it rode up your thighs, made his tummy hot. after some time, now deep in slumber, you turned to your other side, presenting your back to him. he managed to force himself to sleep too but as soon as you moved, it shook him awake. his tired gaze traveling to your frame and gulping down a big lump in his throat.

adjusting himself after you, missing the feeling of your body against his, san wrapped his arms around your mid section, his front pushing against your back. he was already struggling real bad at this point, but the quiet whine you let slip out in your sleep and the way you wriggled your butt against his crotch in the search of his warmth just did the work.

his hold now tighter as each second passed, hips bucking into you, just slowly and lazily grinding himself through his sleeping shorts. making sure you were still asleep and snoring softly, his face found its home in the back of your neck, your hair brushing against his face as he made incredible effort to muffle his whiny moans while rutting himself against you.

in a futile attempt to keep quiet, his teeth sank into his plump lower lip almost drawing out blood and god he was ashamed of himself for being so fucking horny just from lying next to you. his embarrassment from the absurdity of the situation slowly seeped into pleasure as a small wet patch made itself visible in his already tight underwear.

you stirring awake, a quiet whine escaped from deep within your throat, blinking your weary eyes open to meet with darkness. it took a few seconds to realize what’s going on behind you, your lips parted with an exhausted sigh.

“san..” but he continued, you didn’t protest, not when he was so adorably needy, you knew he simply just wouldn’t let you until he’s satisfied.

“darling.. i’m sorry- you’re just-..” he tries to explain, his voice coming in quick and unsteady pants, his palm flat on your hips now and fingertips flicking over the hem of your clothing. “can I, please?.. the tip.. only the tip, i swear, baby..” even while asking for permission, he didn’t seem to stop grinding so instead you just appreciated the effort of him pleading so desperate for you. reluctantly, you mumbled a small and very exhausted ‘yeah’ and gave the green light.

you were tired but you still weren’t so cruel to leave your handsome boyfriend wanting so of course you gave in even if it meant sacrificing a little sleep. feeling his hands inch higher on your sides, pushing the material with them, giving himself more place to reach. one of his hand rested on your ass and the other moved to pull the waistband of his shorts just under his member, letting it lewdly slap against his firm abdomen, eliciting a quiet hiss from san.

taking himself into his grip, his fingers tightened around the flushed red tip and his thumb smeared the sticky pre-cum across his already pulsing erection with a low groan before giving it a few squelching pumps quickly for an easier slide. his breathing heavy and actions unsteady, he managed to hook his fingers into the elastic band of your panties, tugging it down your thighs just enough for him to finally reach your most sensitive places. this was all it took for him to get to you, hiking up your nightgown and simply just pulling off your underwear. the thought alone made him twitch in his firm grasp, making his hold tighten around it.

his fingers grazed your dripping slit, feeling the evidence of your excitement on the pads of his fingers, so slimy and warm, it made his mouth water, his tasting buds aching to just lick it off. pushing those fantasies aside, he felt like he’d explode if he’s not in you in the next two minutes. he moved flush against your back, his other hand guiding his throbbing erection to nudge your entrance, sinking slowly in with a stretched out moan, breathing it against the back of your neck.

he bottomed out, just savoring the exquisite feeling of your warmth surrounding him, you clenching down tightly in response, feeling the small ridges and veins running along his cock against your wet walls, it made your needy hole gush too. his digits dug into your plush hips, his nails forming small, red half circles as he squeezed your flesh to guide you slowly. his other hand sneaked its way around your torso aiming to have you as close as humanly possible while he was taking you from behind.

“so warm and snug.. you feel so good, baby.. bet you love feeling me inside you so fucking deep..” he seethed through gritted teeth, pulling out to quickly slam himself back, his tip kissing your cervix, your body jerking forward with a sudden gasp from the force, his arm keeping you safe and still, pressing you back against his broad chest.

your juices dripped down along his shaft, coating it thickly, sweet droplets landing on the sheets beneath you, your hole fluttering crazy, sucking him in subconsciously. his cock dragged along your gummy walls lazily, his eyes closed down as delicate whines left your plump lips.

one of his hand slipped between your thighs, nudging them further apart, the pads of his index and middle finger drawing circles furiously on your puffy, throbbing clit as he continued to thrust away, pace only picking up slightly. the pleasure had your muscles tense and your back arch, instinctively squirming from him while he shushed you, trying to keep you there with force and helping to guide your movements.

“‘m close!-.. s-san!..”

“yeah.. go ahead, my sweet girl..” to his reassurance wrapped words, the knot in your tummy tightened further, heat spreading all over your body from the tips of your toes to the top of your head, your skin tingling. “you deserve it, let go.. let me feel you come over my cock. can you do that for me?..”

with a sharp pinch and a quick tug on your swelled nub, a loud moan rippled from your heaving chest as your release hit you like a tidal wave, clamping on his shaft as he continued to piston into you from behind. fucking you through your orgasm turning into chasing his own high when he moved even faster. it was almost as if he didn’t hear your protest. you reached behind, pushing on his chest with your palm and legs closing on his hand still between yours. he resisted well, by just easily keeping you in place.

“it’s okay- i know, love, i know.. a little-.. just a little more, yeah? gonna be good for me and make me cum too, hm?” his sweet and comforting tone made you relax, stopping all your earlier resistance. his abdominal muscles flexed and with a stinging bite in the nape of your neck, he shot his hot ropes of thick seed deep into your waiting womb, your fucked out body shuddering at the sensations.

after a few, sloppy thrust, he finally stilled inside you completely with his spent cock. catching his breath while he peppered soft kisses to the reddened marking he left just now.

his hands sliding to your sides now, soothing your heated up and flushed skin as your eyes fluttered down close, ears already starting to block out his quiet words targeted towards you.

“‘love you.. so grateful for you, baby..” a small, genuine smile threatened to stretch on his lips as he just followed you to sleep soundly, pulling the duvet over you to tuck you in again, keeping you in his strong yet so caring and gentle grip, making the clean up tomorrow’s problem.

plagiarism is strictly forbidden, do not translate my works, copy them or publish them on another site ; @xaer1s

[imnotjessiee]

good girl - m.r

warnings: nsfw!! dry humping, titty sucking

there you were, sat in your boyfriend’s dorm - it all started with just one innocent kiss. just one

now, you were sat on mattheo’s lap, sloppily making out with him, the lingering flavour of previous cigerattes on his lips.

his grip on your hips is painfully tight, but you don’t care, too lost in the pleasure to even think about it. he pushes your hips down, bucking his hips back up in response to it.

but the moment he hears you moan, he pulls away from your lips. “you’re such a good girl, aren’t ya?” he says, a teasing grin on his face. “gonna get off on my lap are you baby?” he says before chuckling, making you whine desperately.

“please, mattheo” you whimper. but he just laughs in response. “gotta be a good girl, okay?” you instantly nod, before rolling your hips against his again. he nods, “good girl, keep going.” mattheo’s grip on your hips tightens as he helps you find a good pace.

you feel your the warmth pool at your core, and you instantly feel how soaked your panties are. but you don’t care, too lost in your undesirable pleasure that dry humping his lap was giving you. “fuck, m’gonna come” you mutter, slightly embarrassed.

“hey, don’t be embarrassed baby girl.. you can come for me.” he replies, making the knot in your stomach feel even tighter. you needed friction, so badly.

after another minute or so, you feel your core clench as you come undone in his lap, letting out a moan as you do. he smirks and keeps guiding your hips to ride out your high.

“so good for me baby.” he says, before kissing your neck, and standing up with you still on his lap, placing you down on the floor infront of him. “oh look, you’ve made a mess all over me, haven’t ya?” he points at the front of his pants, on which, he was not wrong, was a massive mess - a big wet patch for reference.

he grabs you by your shoulders and gently pushes you down on his bed, before crawling on all fours over you. looking at you like a hawk. “so pretty” he murmurs, more to himself than to you, before going to take off your shirt.

mattheo gently pulls the top over your head, leaving just your bra. “can i take this off too?” he says, getting only a nod in reply, he reaches for the back and unclips your bra, grabbing the straps and taking it off you. “i love these, you have such pretty tits” he says with a smirk, his hands coming up to cup your boobs.

he takes one of your nipples and pinches it, making your breath hitch. “please..” you say, niting your lip and looking up at him innocently. he instantly complies, knowing what you want and takes your tit in his mouth. expertly swirling his tongue around your perky bud. then he pulls his mouth off and looks down at you with a smirk.

“you’re such a good girl.”

you were in for a long night.

a/n: this is one of my first ever pieces of smut, even tho theres no p in v! so idk if this is any good, but i hope u enjoyed

[neochan]

THE PROMISCUOUS TUTOR (M) | PART TWO

SERIES MASTERLIST LINK | remember this is the final half of part three of a series! read part one & two for context!

PAIRING | tutor!jaemin x reader

SYNOPSIS |  na jaemin is too sexy to be holed up in the campus library, but once you catch wind of what he does between the shelves, you know it’s your time to see just how well his reputation proceeds him.

WC | 17.7k

WARNINGS | cursing, mentions of alcohol & weed, sexual comments, explicit smut, breeding kink, wall fucking, mirror fucking, complete mess of mc's inner thoughts, big muscled jaemin :), jaehyun says annoying perverted things. uh angst at the end i'm sorry, please forgive me.

A.N | tumblr is being stupid and won't let me put it all in one part, so i'm splitting it into two. the first part will be linked on the masterlist. please send asks after you finish reading. i want to hear your thoughts!

Jaemin doesn’t care when you point out Haechan’s shoes near the entrance.

He merely kicks them to the side and pushes you up against the wooden door, hands instinctively finding your waist. They dip under the hem of your shirt and brush against your stomach – forcing a shiver out of you. He was so warm, hands soft against you.

“H-hyuck.” You stammer out.

Jaemin nips at your bottom lip, “Sorry angel, my name's Jaemin.”

“No, Hyuck's home.”

He casts a cursory glance toward the dark hallway, “And?”

“And what if he comes out of his room?” He couldn't catch you making out with Jaemin - hell would break loose.

Jaemin rolls his eyes, leaning in to kiss you again. “He won’t.”

“Jaem,” you whine, clutching on to the tops of his shoulders.

“He’s probably jerking off to some e-girl, he won’t.” Jaemin reaffirms, pressing his lips against yours to stop you from babbling on about Haechan. He was kissing you. You shouldn’t be thinking about someone else.

His hand abandons your waist and finds home on the side of your face, fingers curling underneath your jaw so he could taste more of you. He kisses you slow, afraid that if he does what he really wants, he’ll overwhelm you. But when you part your lips, just slightly enough to where Jaemin can taste the alcohol on your tongue, he thinks he might just lose it. He sighs into your mouth, tongue dipping slightly – testing the waters.

You open up more, letting him bully his tongue into your mouth. It’s hot and wet and desperate – the way he licks up your own tongue, hands fervently inching higher up your waist until your shirt is caught just beneath your bra. You think he’s going to stop there, but he doesn’t. He keeps going until his hands are hooked underneath your arms and then he’s pulling you in the air – instinctively, your legs find his waist, arms circling his neck.

God damn. You knew he was strong, but not that strong.

“What, didn’t think I’d be able to pick you up?” he questions, both hands grabbing your ass to keep you from falling. You shake your head, afraid to speak or move. The last thing you wanted him to do was drop you. “Angel,” he purrs, “Why do you think I’m in the gym all the time? Gotta make sure I’m able to surprise every woman I’m with.”

“Don’t really wanna hear about other women right now Jaem.” You mumble.

He lets out a barely audible chuckle as he continues to carry you to his room. It takes a moment for him to push open the door; throughout, your head remains on a swivel, silently pleading to whatever higher power that Haechan wouldn’t open the door and catch you swept up in Jaemin's arms.

As Jaemin fumbles into the room, he suddenly hoists you up and swiftly hurls you onto his bed with a whoosh of air, catching you off guard with his unexpected strength. You land with a startled thud, momentarily stunned by the forceful motion. Wide-eyed, you gaze up at Jaemin, surprise and exhilaration coursing through you. His playful grin tells you that he enjoys catching you off balance.

“Told you I was stronger than I looked.”

He’s pleased with your reaction, getting cockier the longer you sit there and stare up at him in awe. You were cute like that; a little dazed, with parted lips and windblown hair. He wanted to devour you.

“You can’t do that!” you hiss, righting yourself onto his bed, until your back hit the solid wood headboard. You draw your knees up and swing an arm around them.

Jaemin’s jaw drops dramatically, “Why not?”

You jerk a thumb at the wall – the one that Haechan shared.

Jaemin rolls his eyes, and yells so loud you think you might just die from embarrassment, “Yo! Hyuck!”

Through the wall you hear Haechan yell, “What?”

Eyes going wide, you slap a hand over your mouth. Was Jaemin crazy? What the fuck was he doing?

Jaemin just grins at you like this was the funniest thing in the world. “I got a girl in here so don’t come nosing around!”

A faint grunt sounds through the wall, no doubt from Haechan playing some video game, “Whatever man. Just keep it down, I got a test to study for.” You hear a slew of curses from Haechan’s room. Even though he had a test tomorrow, he surely didn’t intend to study.

“There, happy?”

Your furrowed brow clearly expressed your discontent. Jaemin, once more, rolls his eyes in exasperation before hopping onto the bed. His fingers, icy cold, grasp your ankles and tug you towards him. You struggle to suppress the shriek threatening to escape your throat, your whole body tensing against the sudden movement.

Jaemin isn’t fazed though. Instead, he settles on leaning over your figure, his arms braced on either side of your body to hold up his weight. With you underneath him, he can’t help but admire the sight. You looked fucking beautiful.

He wants to kiss you again.

And Jaemin always gets what he wants.

"He’s not gonna come in here." Jaemin hushes your worries as he starts kissing you. You wanted to protest, but his lips begin trailing sloppy wet kisses down the side of your neck and the words get caught in the back of your throat. "You like that? You like it when I kiss your neck?"

You nod your head, scared that if you spoke, your sentence would be less of a sentence and more of a moan.

"I want you to use your words, baby." Jaemin nudges his knee between your legs as he urges you to give him a vocal response. "I want to hear you say that you like it when I kiss your neck. Like this." He swipes his tongue against the soft skin of your neck and lightly blows, your body shivering at the cold sensation, but relaxing as soon as he presses another warm kiss to your neck.

"I- Jaem... I love it when you kiss my neck." You whimper out, squirming impatiently underneath his touch.

Jaemin snickers at you, "Oh, Y/N, look at you. You’re that desperate for someone good to please you?”

It’s embarrassing that he was right. You were that desperate. It’d been a while since the pleasure was about you. In fact, it wouldn’t be so crazy of a statement to say that you’d finished more times with yourself than you had with another man. But if you told Jaemin that, you’re not sure if he’d laugh or take it as a challenge.

“I’m so embarrassed—” You blurt out.

Jaemin sits up straight as if on cue. His hand grabs your jaw so that you were looking into his eyes. “Hey, you don’t have to be embarrassed with me. It’s a safe space, okay?” You nod your head as much as his hand would allow, “You tell me what you’re comfortable with. And if I do anything wrong, tell me to stop. I’ll stop the second you say something.”

“Okay.” You whisper.

Maybe it was because he was being understanding, and sweet. Or maybe it was because he looked so god damn sexy, watching you through hooded eyes – but you grab a handful of his shirt and tug him back down.

His lips find yours first, soft and commanding, coaxing a whimper out of you. Moving in rhythm, he presses into you, feverishly consuming your taste like it was a fucking drug. When you try to pull away, he chases, not wanting to let you go just yet.

He parts his lips, mumbling against yours, “Oh, don’t get cocky now…You’re mine for tonight and I plan on getting my fill.”

His words send a shiver down your spine, heat pooling low in your stomach. Jaemin tilts his head, deepening the kiss, his tongue flicking against yours with a slow, deliberate tease. His hand slides down your neck, fingers grazing your collarbone before trailing lower, mapping your body like he wants to memorize every dip, every reaction.

You arch into him as he moves closer, his weight pressing you into the mattress. The warmth of his palm finds the exposed skin at your waist, thumb stroking slow, calculated circles that make your breath hitch.

"Tell me what you want," he murmurs, lips ghosting over your jaw, your cheek, the shell of your ear.

Your fingers fist into the fabric of his shirt, tugging him impossibly closer. "I just…want you."

Jaemin hums, pleased, as he kisses down the column of your throat. "That’s all I needed to hear."

His hand slips beneath your shirt, fingers skimming up your ribs, teasing just under the curve of your breast—but before he can go any further, he pauses, searching your face for any sign of hesitation.

"Can I take this off?"

The second you nod your head, Jaemin is up and moving.

He takes your clothes off in record time. It’s nearly hysterical how you’re completely dressed one second, and the next, your outfit has joined the pile of others on the floor. He gets himself undressed equally as fast, but when you watch it’s like time slows down.

You want to remember all of this, intently observing when he lifts his shirt over his head. His torso was toned, abs tensing and relaxing with the effort of tossing his shirt into the corner of his room. Faint veins peak through the skin of his forearms, and his hands…. his hands. So large and veiny, you can’t help but want two of his thick fingers between your thighs, right then.

“Like what you see?” He comments, fingers already working fast to undo the buttons on his pants.

You don’t respond, too infatuated by the sight that was Na Jaemin. You can’t wait to appreciate what the fuck he was hiding behind the heavy denim fabric. But just as he’s about to pull them down and give you a taste of what you were craving to see; he stops himself.

“Don’t know why I’m taking these off,” he says it like it slipped his mind. “This is about you.”

Jaemin doesn’t give you time to protest before he’s guiding you back onto the bed, lips never leaving your skin. He kisses down your body like he’s savoring every inch, slow and deliberate, leaving a trail of warmth and desperation in his wake. His lips graze over your collarbone, your sternum, the sensitive spot just below your ribs. Every kiss is a promise, a whispered devotion against your skin.

“So fucking beautiful,” he murmurs, his hands sliding down your waist, gripping your hips like he’s trying to ground himself. “I’ve wanted this for so long.”

His mouth moves lower, pressing open-mouthed kisses down your stomach, tongue flicking out to taste the soft skin. He hums against you, satisfied, dragging his lips lower, lower, until he’s just above where you need him most. His breath fans over your inner thighs, and you twitch beneath him, anticipation making you lightheaded.

“Relax, baby,” he coos, looking up at you through dark lashes. “Gonna make you feel good.”

He presses one last teasing kiss to the inside of your thigh before gripping your hips and flipping you onto your knees. The movement makes you gasp, hands scrambling against the sheets as he settles onto his back beneath you.

“Sit down,” he murmurs, voice thick with hunger. He tugs you forward, urging you to straddle his face, but you hesitate, knees pressing into the mattress beside his head.

His hands find your thighs, fingers kneading the flesh as he urges you down. “Don’t make me say it again,” he breathes, lips brushing against the sensitive skin of your inner thigh.

Jaemins fingers dig into the flesh of your thighs, and it takes everything in you not to cry out, “I said sit the fuck down.”

“But what if I–”

“Y/n, I don’t care!” his fingers tighten again, biceps flexing with the exertion of trying to get you to just give in and ride his face.

“Suffocation.” you declare.

“What?”

“What if I suffocate you.”

Jaemin laughs and you can feel his breath against the inside of your thigh. Embarrassment licks your spine. You should have just shut up and gotten on with it.

“Okay one,” he starts, tilting his head to the side to kiss your leg, “I don’t think that’s gonna happen.” he catches your gaze and licks a long stripe up your inner thigh, “And two, even if it did happen theoretically. I think any man would be happy to be suffocated by you. I mean look at you—” he gives another trail of kisses on your other thigh, “Such a pretty girl. Such a pretty pussy”

“Jaem–”

“You’re already straddling my head, just sit down and enjoy yourself.” His eyes soften, “I promised you at least one orgasm.”

Your breath stutters as his words settle in, heavy and warm like his hands on your thighs. His grip is firm, but there’s patience in his touch, an unspoken promise that he won’t rush you—at least, not yet.

“Jaemin…” His name is barely a whisper, more of a plea than a protest now.

“Yes, baby?” His lips graze your skin, teasing, waiting. His voice is silk, smooth and coaxing, laced with the kind of confidence that makes your stomach tighten.

You don’t have a response—not one that makes sense, anyway. Your fingers curl into his hair, your hesitation dissolving with every deliberate kiss he presses to your thighs. His hands slide up, guiding, encouraging.

“That’s it,” he murmurs. “Let me take care of you.”

The last of your resistance crumbles as you let yourself sink into his touch, into him—because if there’s one thing you know for certain, it’s that Jaemin always keeps his promises.

His hands slide further up, gripping your hips firmly as he pulls you down, guiding you to settle against his mouth. The first slow, deliberate swipe of his tongue sends a shock through your body, making you grip onto his hair tighter, a soft gasp tumbling from your lips.

Jaemin groans beneath you, the vibration making your thighs shake. He eats you like he’s been starving for it, like he’s wanted to do this for so long. His tongue flicks against your clit, teasing, before he seals his lips around it and sucks.

“Fuck,” you whimper, hips stuttering against his face.

He hums in response, clearly satisfied with the sounds you’re making. His grip on your hips tightens as he presses you down harder against his mouth, his tongue working you over with precise, devastating strokes.

“Jaemin,” you pant, trying to lift yourself off, but he’s not having it. His arms flex as he locks you in place, a quiet, muffled growl leaving him.

Jaemin’s fingers dig into the flesh of your thighs, and it takes everything in you not to cry out.

“Suffocation,” you blurt out again.

Jaemin chuckles against you, the vibration making your whole body shudder. “That’s a risk I’m willing to take.”

His tongue flicks against your clit with devastating precision, alternating between slow, teasing circles and deep, hungry sucks that have your thighs trembling around his head. He’s relentless—lapping at you like he’s memorizing every sound you make, every little shudder, every sharp gasp.

Your hands fist into his hair, nails scraping against his scalp, and the groan that rumbles from him is downright sinful. He likes this—loves this, having you like this, falling apart above him with no escape. The control is his, and you’re drowning in it.

He pulls back just enough to look up at you, lips shining, eyes dark with something dangerous. “See? Still breathing,” he teases, before diving back in like he has no intention of stopping anytime soon.

And with the way he’s holding you, tasting you, worshiping you—you don’t think you’ll be able to stop either.

Jaemin, I—”

“I know, baby,” he coos, one hand leaving your thigh to slide up your spine, pressing firm between your shoulder blades to keep you exactly where he wants you. “I got you.”

His mouth closes around your clit again, sucking just hard enough to have your back arching, a strangled moan spilling from your lips. The wet, obscene sounds of his tongue working against you fill the room, and you don’t know whether to feel embarrassed or completely undone.

But Jaemin wants you like this—desperate, messy, his.

“Come on,” he murmurs between drench kisses, his voice dripping with something dark and coaxing. “Let go for me.”

Your thighs start to tremble, heat coiling tight in your stomach, spiraling higher and higher as his tongue works you over. He notices, of course—he always notices—his grip tightening as he murmurs, “That’s it, baby. Give it to me.”

You try to hold back, try to ride the edge a little longer, but Jaemin doesn’t let you. He flicks his tongue faster, lips sealing around your clit with one last devastating pull, and it’s over. Your release crashes through you, your body jerking, a sharp gasp ripping from your throat as pleasure swallows you whole.

Jaemin groans beneath you, drinking it down like it’s the best thing he’s ever tasted, his hands gripping you through every shudder, every twitch.

When the aftershocks finally subside, your body slackens, thighs trembling as you try to catch your breath. Jaemin presses one last lingering kiss to your inner thigh before looking up at you, smug, satisfied, and completely wrecked.

“Told you I’d take care of you,” he murmurs, one hand reaching up to wipe at your face. A tear just rolled down your cheek and you didn’t even realize. “I haven’t even given you my cock yet and you’re already crying?”

Your body is still buzzing, chest rising and falling in uneven breaths as you blink down at him. This is it, you think. You’re done. Your legs feel like jelly, and the warmth of his hands on your skin is grounding enough to bring you back down to reality.

You can't believe you just sat on Na Jaemins face.

Still in shock, you move, sliding down from your place above him, hands reaching for the waistband of his pants, ready to return the favor, to touch him, to finally satisfy him—

But Jaemin catches your wrist, stopping you.

“Did you think I was done?” His voice is sweet, teasing, but there’s another promise behind his words that makes your stomach flip. His grip tightens just slightly, his thumb rubbing slow circles against the inside of your wrist.

“Oh, no.” His other hand moves, tracing up your still-sensitive thigh, fingertips grazing higher and higher until they slip between your legs, making you jolt.

“This is about you, baby,” he murmurs, dragging his fingers through your slick folds, groaning at how wet you still are. “And I can make you come again.”

Your breath catches, body still sensitive from the first orgasm, but Jaemin doesn’t give you time to recover. Two fingers slip inside you with ease, curling immediately, finding that spot that makes you see stars.

His pace is slow at first, teasing, letting you feel every inch of his fingers as they move inside you. The stretch is perfect, just enough to keep you teetering on the edge of sensitivity, the remnants of your last orgasm making you gasp at every motion.

“You can give me another one, can’t you?” he taunts, lips dragging along your inner thigh. “I know you can.”

Your fingers grip at his wrist, not sure if you’re trying to stop him or pull him deeper. “Jaemin—”

“Shh, I got you,” he soothes, his voice pure sin. His thumb circles your clit in slow, devastating strokes, and your whole body tenses.

He watches you, completely enthralled, eyes dark with something unreadable—something possessive. His fingers pick up the pace, pressing deeper, curling just right, and your thighs twitch with the overwhelming pleasure.

“That’s my girl,” he murmurs, lips quirking in satisfaction when he feels you clench around him. “Fuck, you like being called mine, hm?”

The heat inside you builds too fast, Jaemin’s touch sending you spiraling again, and before you can stop it, the pleasure snaps—your body jerking, another broken moan leaving your lips as you come undone for the second time.

“That’s it, pretty girl,” he coos, his thumb pressing against your clit as he works his fingers deep, stretching you open. “Come on NaNa’s fingers.”

Jaemin works you through it, easing his pace, letting you ride the high as he coaxes every last bit of pleasure from you. When your body finally sags, his fingers slip out, his hand smoothing over your hip to soothe you.

“There you go,” he whispers, kissing the inside of your knee. “Knew you had one more for me.”

Your head spins, your chest rising and falling in uneven breaths. But before you can fully process it, Jaemin is shifting, his lips finding yours in a slow, indulgent kiss.

And then, he pulls himself up on the bed so that he’s laying on his back with you snuggled against his chest.

“I can give you another.” He grabs your hand and presses it to his bare chest, eyes glinting in the dim light filtering through the window, “You want another, baby?”

Gingerly, you nod your head, feeling his heartbeat beneath your palm. It was faster than it should be.

He smiles, “Greedy girl…I like it.”

Pushing himself up onto his knees, he shimmies backwards on the bed until his head in pushed between your thighs again. He looks up at you, lips curled, and eyebrows raised. “You want my fingers or my tongue?”

You’ve had both tonight…but you want more. “Want your cock.”

“Oh baby,” He chuckles, “I told you this was about you, not me.”

“But it’s what I want!” You whine, throwing your head back against the pillows.

You can’t see his reaction, but he licks a long stripe up the inner part of your leg, forcing a shier out of you. “Not tonight, angel. So, tongue, or fingers.”

God, this was gonna be a long night.

The sunlight streaming through the curtains casts a harsh glow on your face as you begin to stir. Disoriented and exhausted, you roll over to escape the brightness, hoping to get a few more minutes of sleep.

Realization hits you like a semi-truck.

This bed is not your own.

The sheets feel different, the mattress unfamiliar. Your eyes snap open, and a fleeting moment of confusion sweeps over you.

Oh.

Jaemin’s room—familiar yet disorienting—greets you.

The cream-colored walls are plastered with luxury car and playboy posters, shelves showcasing an impressive array of camera models and strips of film. The floor is strewn with clothes – including your own. His desk sits abandoned of textbooks, and his backpack, which was there last night, is gone.

Looking towards the other side of the bed – it’s apparent that he’s gone too.

At least he had the decency to let you sleep.

Beneath the covers, you become aware of your state of undress, a blush warming your cheeks as the memories of the night flood back.

Just as you start to collect your thoughts, the room’s silence is shattered by the insanely loud ringing of your phone. Panic sets in as you fumble around the bed, searching for the source of the sound.

After a moment of frantic searching, your gaze lands on Jaemin’s desk. There it is – your phone, innocently plugged in to charge.

And the decency to plug in your phone? Unheard of, really.

With a hasty movement, you extricate yourself from the tangled sheets and leap to answer the phone.

Mark’s name flashes across the screen.

“Shit.” You curse, fumbling to press the answer button. Before he can get a word out, you’re already mumbling apologies and promises to make it up to him.

“Dude, calm down.”  Mark's voice, though edged with frustration, carries a note of understanding. You take a deep breath, attempting to steady your nerves as you continue to explain.

"I overslept, Mark, seriously. I lost track of time. I'm on my way to the library right now. We can still work on the project, I promise."

There's a brief pause on the other end, and Mark finally answers. "I already came back to my dorm. If you wanna meet here, I don’t mind. My roommates are here though."

Shit.

Mark was one of the unlucky students this year that got placed in the freshman dorms due to a shortage of upperclassmen housing. Instead of sharing an apartment with one other person, and getting his own room, he was cramped with three other guys. And he had to share his room.

“You don’t wanna meet back at the library?”

On the other end of the line he sighs, “I waited for you to show up for an hour dude. When I left, my seat was the only one open. I’m sure it’s taken now.”

Apologizing again seemed futile. “I’ll just come to you. Be there in no time.”

“Ok, just knock when you get here. See ya.” And with that Mark hangs up.

You take a deep breath and set your phone back on the desk.

It’s only when you catch sight of yourself in his full-length mirror that you remember you’re standing naked in the middle of Jaemins room. Your tits are completely out, and judging by the dark bruises painting your chest like some kind of twisted art piece, you were definitely put through it last night.

Jesus, was he trying to brand you? Like, yeah, you get it, he’s good—but was this necessary? Now you have to strategize every outfit for the next week so you don’t look like you got into a street fight with a vacuum cleaner.

The four orgasms were totally worth it though.

You sigh, understanding that this probably wasn’t the moment to bask in the after-non-sex glow, and that you really need to get dressed and get the fuck up out of Jaemins room before 1. Haechan decided to come snooping around or 2. Mark chose to cut you loose from the project and do it himself.

You reluctantly bend down and gather your clothes from the pile on the floor. Frowning, you hold up a crumpled shirt to your nose, wrinkling in distaste. It smelled like a week-old mini bar.

Of course, the one drink you had last night would make an impression on your clothes. It’s clear that decision have consequences, and now you have to deal with the aftermath, because there’s only one option.

Borrow something from Jaemins closet.

Shit.

The closet beckons from across the room. You approach it tentatively, knowing you're crossing into personal territory. Opening the door, you scan the hangers, searching for something that won't scream 'borrowed.' But there aren’t many options for that. You see, Jaemin had three options in his wardrobe: tank tops & gym shorts, oversized hoodies & sweats, and button ups & dress pants.

Sighing, you reach for the closest hoodie, and rifle through the bottom drawers for some sweats. After a moment, you find the ones that weren’t going to be too big on you – a simple grey hoodie that had the logo of NCTU plastered across the back, and the matching pants. At least this combination would give you the cute ‘wearing your boyfriends clothes around campus’ aesthetic. Except he wasn’t your boyfriend – just your best friend who ate pussy like a starved man.

You tug the hoodie over your head and try it make it fit as comfortably as possible. It’s a little too big, but beggars can’t be choosers. Glancing at yourself in the mirror, you take in your disheveled appearance.

A part of you wants to nose around the bathroom to find a hairbrush, maybe a spare toothbrush, but that’d be too much of a risk. Haechan could not catch you in a position like this.

After taking a final look around the room, you gather your belongings and prepare to make a hasty exit. The door creaks open, and you freeze, half-expecting Haechan to walk out and catch you in the act.

With one peek around the hallway, you see his door swung wide open. Chancing it, you take a couple steps out and realize that his room is empty.

The universe keeps granting you pardon after pardon.

This string of luck continues as you fumble your way out of the dorm and bolt down the stairs – still no Haechan in sight. In fact, you don’t see a single soul until you find yourself outside of the freshman dormitory. Students lounge on the hammocks situated in front of the building and you walk by without a word.

You’d only been to Marks dorm one other time, and it takes a moment to recall his room number. Honestly, each door looked the same. By some miracle you find the right one – or what you hoped to be the right one.

Delivering a semi-confident knock, you sway awkwardly. You really hoped this was the right room.

From the other side, you hear shuffling and then the door is being swung wide open.

“Hello…” This is not mark. However, the only telltale sign that you were at the right place was this guy’s bright ass silver hair. Looks like someone had fallen victim to Marks hair dye tendencies. “Can I help you?”

He leans against the door frame and crosses his arms over his chest, giving you a once over.

“I’m here to see Mark.” You reply, hoping he’d just let you in.

Of course not.

“I’m Chenle.” He responds.

You don’t know what to say, “Okay, nice to meet you.” What was this kid going to do? Interview you? Interrogate you?

“Are you a freshman?” He asks.

After about three seconds of hesitation, you respond, “Can you let me in? I’m late to meet Mark for our project.” You didn’t want to be mean, but you were over guys flirting with you. There was some actual schoolwork that needed to get done. And this scrawny, silver haired kid was in the way.

“Mark’s not here, but you can come chill with me.” His smirk lights up his entire face, eyes crinkling in delight.

“Chenle, fucking move and let her in.”

Mark’s voice comes from behind Chenle and the boy in question moves backwards in a huff. “I was just getting to know her.” He pouts.

Mark gives you a half-hearted wave and a smile, beckoning you into the dorm. As you step inside, gently closing the door behind you, you realize at how cramped the freshman dorms really were. How could four men live in these conditions?

Barbaric, really.

“Sorry about Chenle. He likes to flirt with anything that walks.” Mark gives a pointed glare to the younger boy, and it makes you giggle.

"Looks like you got a mini Jaemin on your hands” you joke, looking around the room. The small space is cluttered with textbooks, clothes, and various other items – definitely a men’s dorm.

"I was just being friendly," Chenle protests, flashing a charming smile in your direction. "Unlike someone, I know how to make a girl feel welcome."

Mark scoffs, “Oh, please.” He grabs your wrist and starts to tug you to his room, “Come on Y/N, let’s go do this project.”

As Mark pulls you away, Chenle calls after you, "If you get bored, I’m out here.”

You think his determination is kinda cute. Apparently, this offends mark “She’s never gonna go for you dude! Give it up!”

And with that, Mark slams his door shut.

See, it wasn’t that you were stupid, but composing, creating, and editing an entire song longer than a minute and a half wasn’t exactly the easiest thing to do. Which, by the way, literally had nothing to do with theory.

Thankfully Mark knew guitar, could sing, and already had the song written. You decided to stick to the editing part.

Before long, the assignment was complete and turned in. And it only took half an hour – most of which consisted of trying to figure out the controls on the soundboard without deleting the recorded parts.

It took you a minute, but you finally got the hang of it.

After finishing up, Mark suggested grabbing lunch, and you agreed. The two of you headed to the campus cafe, chatting about everything from music to hockey (that conversation was fleeting), to the latest campus-wide trend of jumping into the fountains.

As you eagerly settled into your seat, ready to indulge in the heavenly experience that awaited you with the loaded tacos, a familiar voice pierced the air.

“Y/N!”

God-fucking-damn-it.

Two seconds later, a wind-blown Hyuck joins your table. His hair was in wild tangles at the top of his head, jacket precariously hanging off one shoulder, and his cheeks sported a subtle shade of tinged pink.

Mark, busy shoveling a forkful of green beans into his mouth, couldn't help but comment, "Why do you look like that?"

"Took the words right outta my mouth," you mumbled, side-eyeing Haechan.

Haechan scoffed, "Why do I look so beautiful, handsome, and sexy?"

"You wish.”

The new addition to your table shoots a glare at you. “You just don’t want to admit it.”

Mark chimed in, “You look like you got caught in a tornado.”

Haechan bangs a fist onto the tabletop, making your water ripple in your glass, “I had to run here.”

“To the café?” You question, taking a tentative bite of your taco.

Haechan rolls his eyes, “No, to the architecture building – yes, to the café.”

Mark, ever the voice of reason, took a drink of water before asking, “Why?”

Haechan gave a dead serious look, treating you and Mark like you were the dumbest people on Earth. "Because it’s taco day."

“So tacos equal running?” You giggle.

Haechan glares at you again, giving you a once over. His eyebrow pops up, “Why are you wearing Jaemins clothes?”

You choke on your taco.

Swallowing hard, you respond, "What? No, these are definitely mine."

Haechan narrows his eyes, clearly skeptical. "Come on, Y/N. I’ve literally scene him wear that exact outfit, like, last week."

Of course you had to pick the one outfit Jaemin wore recently. What were the odds? Actually, knowing your luck? One hundred percent. Should’ve grabbed something from the back of his closet. Maybe a damn tuxedo, just to throw Haechan off your scent.

You shifted uncomfortably in your seat, attempting to downplay the situation. "Well, maybe it's just a similar style. Lots of people wear sweat suits like this."

Mark, clueless as could be, chimes in through another mouthful of green beans, "Yeah, Haechan, don't jump to conclusions. It's just an outfit."

Haechan, however, wasn't convinced. He leaned in, scrutinizing the fabric. "I know Jaemin's style like the back of my hand. I’m literally his roommate."

Your heart raced as you desperately tried to deflect his suspicion. Perhaps the best thing to do in this situation was gaslight him. "You're imagining things. It's probably just a coincidence."

He narrowed his eyes, the gears in his mischievous mind audibly turning. "Maybe, but you can't deny it looks good on you. Fits better than it ever did on Jaemin."

That catches you off guard and you struggle to reply, stammering out, “Well, um, I guess people have different body types, right?"

It made no sense. This hoodie literally swallowed you whole.

Mark couldn't contain his laughter, and Haechan throws him an annoyed look. "Stop laughing, Mark. This is serious business."

“Yeah,” Mark wipes away the tears forming in the corner of his eyes, “If you count hitting on Y/N as serious business.”

As Haechan turns to defend himself against Marks allegations, your phone buzzed on the table. A sense of relief washes over you as you check the caller ID. It was Jennie. "Sorry, guys, gotta run. Duty calls," you announce, seizing the opportunity to escape this disappointing lunch date.

Haechan, still fixated on the fact that you were definitely wearing Jaemin’s clothes, smirked. "Sure, dodge the question. Perhaps I’ll go ask Jaem about it later."

Rolling your eyes, you shot back, "You're just mad I went with him last night instead of you."

It was his turn to stammer out a half-muttered response, the apples of his cheeks turning a dark shade of pink. So, what if you’d chosen Jaemin over him? It’s not like he really cared. Okay maybe he did, but really that’s only because he didn’t trust Jaemin to take care of you like you should be taken care of.

Oh, the things he didn’t know.

“Whatever,” he brushes off casually, “I’m eating your tacos if you’re leaving.”

“Have at it.” You retort.

With a quick farewell, you stepped away from the table, answering Jennie’s call as you made your way through the bustling dining room. “Hey, what’s up.”

“Y/N, it’s an emergency! Literally capital E! Can you meet me at the quad foutain? I’m begging you; I desperately need your help! This event is spiraling into a complete disaster!”

You almost get hit in the head with a flying football the moment you step out of the cafeteria doors.

Ducking just in time, you glance around and find the culprit – a shirtless boy in cargos and a beanie – weird combo.

“My bad.” He apologizes, jogging to where you were still reeling. He scoops up the ball and spares you a glance, “You okay?”

“’M fine.” You mumble, brushing off the close call.

He gives you a grin and jogs back to where his friends were waiting impatiently. You feel like you knew him from somewhere – Johnny, you think his name was. You shrug it off and continue walking.

Just another typical day at this stupid university.

With your backpack slung over one shoulder, you navigate through clusters of students, the chatter of voices filling the air. The sun beats down warmly, casting long shadows across the pathway as you make your way towards the heart of the campus—the quad.

The quad, with its lush greenery and towering trees, serves as the central gathering point for students. As you approach, you catch glimpses of the glistening fountain at its center, water dancing in the sunlight.

Students lounge on the grass, textbooks sprawled open, while others toss frisbees or kick soccer balls around. You make sure to keep an eye out for more flying objects.

Laughter mingles with the sound of music drifting from portable speakers as you draw closer to the fountain, searching for Jennie’s familiar figure among the crowd. Yet, as you reach the edge of the quad, your heart sinks a fraction. Jennie is nowhere to be seen.

Instead, standing by the fountain like some Greek god of fuckboy temptation, is Jaemin—crisp white t-shirt, grey sweats hanging just right, and that faded pink hair. You should turn around. You should pretend you never saw him. You should call Jennie and fake an emergency. But nope. Here you are, walking straight toward your doom.

If it weren't for the grin that lights up Jaemin's face as he spots you approaching, you would have probably just walked past him without a word. “Nice outfit.” Jaemin teases, carding a hand through his faded pink hair.

You glance down at yourself, remember you're clad in Jaemin's hoodie and sweatpants, and now you’re face to face with him. A faint blush creeps onto your cheeks. "Uh, thanks," you mumble, tugging at the hem of the oversized hoodie self-consciously. "My clothes smelled like alcohol…I’m sorry if–”

"Y/n, It’s not a big deal," he interrupts, his tone light as he gives you a playful wink.

You nod, grateful for his easy acceptance. "Okay good.”

As you're about to explain your presence, Jaemin beats you to the question. "So what’s up? Whaddya doing here?"

You hesitate, wondering how much to disclose before deciding to keep it simple. "Jennie called, said she needed help with something."

Jaemin's eyebrows raise in amusement. "What a coincidence, me too."

Before you can inquire further, a commotion at the edge of the quad catches your attention. Your eyes widen as you watch Jennie darting through the crowd, her figure unmistakable, clad only in a bright green bikini.

"Girl, what's up?" you exclaim, wondering why your roommate was running through campus barely dressed.

Jennie skids to a stop in front of you, panting slightly but grinning ear to ear. "Hey, sorry I'm late! I called you guys because I need both of you to help with our event.”

You raise an eyebrow, but before you can respond, a few obnoxious catcalls pierce the air, directed at Jennie. Your jaw clenches instinctively, ready to defend your friend, but before you can react, Jennie flips the offenders the most glorious middle finger you've ever seen.

“Perverts.” She grumbles, “Anyways, it’s simple. Walk and talk, okay?”

You and Jaemin nod, following behind her as she guides you through the crowd while explaining what the hell was going on.

"Okay, so," she begins, her voice carrying a hint of exasperation, "Delta Gamma and Pike are hosting a car wash event to raise money for one of the local hospitals. It's all part of our philosophy, you know, brother-sister Greek life thing, whatever." Jaemin shoots you a glance, and you just shrug. You didn’t know much about Greek life either.

"But literally only four sisters and six brothers showed up – which is another problem entirely because I swear half of those new recruits are gonna get dropped for putting me through this much stress." You roll your eyes, knowing she would never do that. "And with only ten people and…"

"Holy shit," you breathe out, stunned by the sheer number of cars lined up.

The three of you halt at the roundabout on the edge of campus, two lines of cars waiting to be washed. There had to be at least thirty, all gleaming in the sunlight, eagerly awaiting their turn for a scrub-down.

Shirtless frat boys were washing one line of cars – spraying the hose water all over their chests and hurling soap bombs at each other. Laughter echoes as soap bubbles fly through the air.

On the opposite side, sorority girls in matching bikinis handle the other line of cars with finesse and charm. Their smiles are as radiant as the sunlight, their laughter tinkling like wind chimes. Despite the heat, they maintain their composure, efficiently scrubbing away dirt and grime while maintaining their impeccable appearance. Boys hang out of their cars, hooting and hollering and cheering.

Jaemin whistles lowly, his eyes scanning the line of vehicles. "Looks like we're in for a busy day," he remarks, a hint of excitement in his voice.

For a split second, you wonder if he’s checking out the girls, but he turns to you and gives you a smile.

Jennie nods, her expression determined. "I know.” she declares, a spark of determination igniting in her eyes. "If you could help out, even for half an hour, I’d appreciate it."

"Of course," Jaemin replies with a grin, his enthusiasm contagious. "We're here to help however we can."

You nod in agreement, "Count us in," you say, your voice steady despite the nerves fluttering in your stomach. If Jaemin was staying, you sure as hell weren’t leaving—because what kind of idiot passes up the opportunity to watch six feet of pink-haired temptation scrub cars in slow motion?

“It’s not really about cleaning the cars. Just look sexy and pretend to scrub!” Jennie explains, setting her hands on her hip. She cocks her head to the side, practically begging.

Jaemin grins, “Well, if that’s the case, I can do sexy.”

You snort, “Okay. Fine. Let’s do this.”

Jaemin swiftly hoists his shirt over his head, casually discarding it on the ground. You can't help but notice how good he looks—toned chest, and a stone wall of abs. As he stretches, the muscles in his arms and torso flex and contract, and you watch in fascination.

He jogs over to the boys' side, greeting them with enthusiasm. Their ritualistic embraces appear almost painful to the untrained eye—open hands slapping backs and clasped fists.

However, for you, there was one problem: you didn’t have a bathing suit. So, you opt for the next best thing. With a hint of uncertainty, you peel off Jaemin's hoodie, standing there in your bra. Sure, it was a lacy delicate thing, but it covered up the areas that needed to be.

“Y/n!” Jennie nearly shrieks. You can sense a few other pairs of eyes turning your way, including Jaemin’s. His gaze darkens the second he sees you, a muscle twitching in his jaw. His fingers curl slightly—like he’s resisting the urge to reach for you. There’s something heavy in the way he looks at you, as if he’s fighting an internal battle between restraint and instinct.. “What are you wearing.”

“What?” You grumbled, hands peppering your chest. Maybe you shouldn’t have done that– or maybe Jaemin’s gaze made all this worth it. “I know it’s not a bathing suit, but what can you expect on such short notice? I’m gonna keep the sweats on anyway.”

She shakes her head, “I have a spare bathing suit in my car if you wanna go change into that.” It’s obvious she isn’t going to take no for an answer, so you oblige, snatching the keys out of her hand.

You jog over to Jennie’s car parked in the lot down the brick path. Unlocking the car, you climb inside, glancing around nervously to ensure no wandering students catch you in the midst of your impromptu wardrobe change. Thankfully, there’s parked cars on either side of you, blocking you in. You just hope their owners don’t come out wanting to take a midday drive.

The car’s interior is stifling, heat clinging to your skin like a second layer. The scent of worn leather and faint perfume from Jennie’s air freshener fills the small space as you hurriedly peel off your clothes, the fabric sticking slightly to your damp skin. You hope the tinted windows provide enough cover. The spare bathing suit is a tucked into the pocket on the back of the passenger side seat, and you struggle to get it on without elbowing the car door.

As you struggle with the straps, a pair of familiar eyes catches you off guard. Jaemin, passing by, raises an eyebrow in surprise. Panicking, you duck behind the backseat, using it as a makeshift shield.

Three seconds later there’s a sharp rap on the window.

When you look up, Jaemins face is peering in.

You grab the handle and push open the door – thankful that you at least managed to get on most of the bikini.

“Well look at you.” He grins, climbing into the backseat and closing the door behind himself.

“Jaem–”

You don’t get to finish your sentence because the boy in question grabs your jaw and pushes his lips against yours. It takes you by surprise, but you find his rhythm almost immediately. It’s sweltering in the car, but nothing compares to the heat radiating off his chest as he pushes his body into yours. His tongue drives shamelessly into your mouth, and you open wider, letting him taste you.

His hands slide under you, strong and unyielding, pressing you flush against him. The heat between your bodies is suffocating, but you don’t pull away. One of your legs instinctively wraps around his waist, the friction sending a sharp jolt through your core. He exhales sharply, his breath fanning against your lips, his grip tightening ever so slightly—like he’s holding himself back.

“You look good.” He mumbles against your lips, before pulling back and tugging on the bottom one with his teeth, “Can’t believe everyone else gets to see you like this.” You don’t even realize your eyes are shut before they’re fluttering open. He rests his forehead on your own, “Thought it was just for me?”

You laugh breathlessly, “What happened to it only being friends helping out friends.”

He shares the laugh, “Well, I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but I kinda got a problem and could definitely use your help. It’s your fault after all.”

His confession makes pride bloom in your chest.

Reaching a hand down between what little space there was between you, you grab him through his shorts – a heavy hand palming his growing hard-on. “Oh, this problem?”

“Yeah.” He groans, hips bucking into your touch. “That one.”

You grin up at him, making sure to look deep into his eyes, “Well, I hate to disappoint…”

“No!” He groans, rutting against you to try and feel any dwindling friction, “Don’t say that!”

His response makes you giggle, “If we stay in here much longer, Jennie's bound to come looking.”

He pouts, bottom lip jutting out, eyes like a puppy dog. When he finally understands that he won’t – that he can’t get what he wants, he smiles and steal another kiss. This one is shorter but still makes you shiver.

“After?” You ask, the hope evident in your tone.

“You just can’t get enough of me.”

“Not true!” you swat his arm, “But seeing you out there all buff and shirtless, well, I’ll probably have a problem later too.”

His response is instantaneous, “And I’ll be more than happy to help you out with that…after.”

It was your turn to steal a kiss from him. Grabbing his broad shoulders, you halfway sit up and nip at his lips. He catches you and pulls you deeper – and he keeps going into your head grows thick, and you become dizzy.

“Okay, okay.” You assert, banging weak fist on his shoulder, “We got to go.”

“Want some help with the top? I saw you struggling with it. Let me tie it for you.”

You see, Jaemin was so damn sweet sometimes – especially when he was horny and wanted something – someone. And right now, all he wanted was you.

Twisting around in the cramped back seat was hard, but you manage, and Jaemin expertly ties the back of the bikini so that it wouldn’t fall off halfway through washing someone’s beat up Toyota.

“Thanks.”

"Don’t mention it.” He dismisses the gratitude with a wave, and you push open the door, stepping out. The heat that had built up in the car hits you, and as you emerge, you feel the immediate relief of being able to finally catch a breath.

When he doesn’t immediately follow, you bend down to peek back into the car, “Are you coming?”

“You’re gonna have to give me a minute to…cool down.” He grins sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck and gesturing to his lap that sported a rather impressive tent.

“Okay.” You laugh, shutting the door and leaving Jaemin to ‘cool down’.

The smile on your face doesn’t dissipate at you walk back to the growing line of cars waiting to be washed by hot sorority sisters in skimpy bathing suits – and Jennie notices, but for the wrong reason.

“You like the bathing suit?” she chirps, “It’s kinda small on you but it looks good!!”

“I love it.” It made Jaemin climb into a hot car with you in the middle of campus, what was there to hate?

She beams, “I knew you would! Now, it’s really simple, just grab a bucket, a sponge, and claim a car that pulls up. The rest is up to you, but as we’ve learned so far, people tend to tip if you put on a little show.” She points to where one of her fellow sisters was leaning over the hood of a Jeep Wrangler and practically using her boobs to wipe around the soapy water. The frat guys leaning out of the windows hoot and holler and cheer for her.

The last thing you wanted to be doing today was putting on a show for sleazy frat boys, but you’d do anything for your roommate.

“I really appreciate this y/n.” she remarked, pulling you in for an embrace.

Like you said, you’d do anything for this pure soul.

“Don’t mention it girl.” You take a look around at the waiting line of cars. There had to be at least fifty. "‘Now, where’s my bucket? And preferably, someone rich enough to make this performance worth it."

Washing cars isn’t so bad – you only get soap in your eye once.

The only reason you got soap in your eye?

Na Jaemin.

Because how were you supposed to focus when he looked like that?

Water sprayed against his chest, each droplet clinging to the ridges of his abs like it had nowhere better to be. His pink hair dripped, plastered to his forehead, and when he ran a hand through it—fuck—you forgot how to breathe for a second.

Was dragging him back to Jennie’s car a bad idea? Probably. Was it on your mind? Absolutely.

But before you could entertain the thought any longer, Jaemin caught your stare—and winked. And like a complete idiot, you freaked out so hard you ended up blinding yourself with soap.

His laugh carried across the row of cars, embarrassment climbing your spine.

But he was looking too. In fact, Jaemin was staring. No—Jaemin was mesmerized. He thought your tits were distracting—but this? This was something else entirely. Because when you turned, revealing bare skin and that goddamn thong bikini, Jaemin forgot how to function. His brain short-circuited, mouth going completely dry, and suddenly, he understood religion. Because this? This was divine intervention.

He must have been staring too long, because Yuta elbowed him—hard.

"That your girl?" Yuta grinned, knowing damn well Jaemin was acting like a man down bad.

Jaemin nearly choked on air. "N-no, she’s just a friend."

Yuta didn’t believe that for a damn second."*

Yuta looks back and forth between the two of you, catching the way you peek up through your lashes in search of Jaemin. When you catch Yuta looking, you duck your head.

“She’s pretty.” Yuta breathes, reaching for the bucket of soapy water he had put down five minutes before.

Jaemin nods his head absentmindedly, “Yeah she is.”

Yuta is no stranger to love. His girlfriend, Chloe, and him have been together for years – ever since they were inexperienced freshmen at NCTU. Chloe was the light of his life, his forever. And the way that Jaemin was eyeing you right now was exactly how Yuta had looked at his girl during orientation at NCTU. A gaze filled with adoration and longing. Yuta bet that if he took Jaemins pulse right now it would be elevated as fuck.

Just as Yuta is about to tell Jaemin to go over there and ask you out, a sleek BMW pulls up to the curb with a soft purr.

The owner parks the car and Jaehyun steps out.

Jaemin can't hear from where he's standing, but he watches as Jaehyun strolls up to you and Jennie with a shit-eating grin.

“Excuse me one second.” Jaemin voices, dropping the sponge in his hand on the sidewalk.

If they weren’t dating yet, it wouldn’t be long, Yuta thinks.

Jaemin reaches you just in time to catch the tail end of Jaehyun’s sentence—and honestly, it takes every ounce of self-control not to swing on him right then and there.. His fists clenching at his sides, Jaemin forces a tight-lipped smile. The sight of you, standing there with a hint of uncertainty in your eyes, serves as a reminder to keep his composure.

"Hey, Jaehyun," Jaemin interjects, his voice steady despite the itch of anger climbing in his throat. "Glad you could make it. We've got plenty of cars to wash."

He doesn’t understand the source of his anger. There's no logical explanation for it. Jaehyun hasn't done anything wrong to you. Perhaps it's because Jaemin has unofficially claimed you as his own, even if only temporarily.

Jaehyun chuckles, “I’m not here to wash cars, this isn’t NEO’s philosophy.  Our philosophy is military related. But we’re having a volleyball tournament next week where people can bet, and the money will go to families of fallen soldiers. You can swing by if you’d like.”

"I'll keep that in mind, Jaehyun," Jaemin replies, his voice softer now, the edges of his frustration smoothing out.

Jennie speaks up, “I’ll definitely be there.”

Jaemin’s anger slowly dissipates. He can’t really be mad at a dude that did charity.

“I am here to get my car washed though.” Jaehyun continues, and he turns to look at you.

You don’t say a word, instead, Jennie takes charge, “Well lucky for you, that’s exactly what we’re doing. Don’t worry about payment.” She gives him a smile and Jaehyun doesn’t even bother looking in her direction.

“I was really hoping y/n here could do it?” You didn’t really know what to say. Why Jaehyun was specifically requesting you was odd. If he thought there was something between the two of you last night, he was sadly mistaken. The last thing you wanted was to be subjected to his banter.

And Jaemin wouldn’t let that happen anyways.

You exchange a hesitant glance with Jaemin, who stands beside you, his jaw set. When you look at Jennie, you can tell her heart deflates a little.

Jaehyun's request hangs in the air, and you feel a knot of unease tighten in your stomach.

"How about we all help?" Jaemin's voice cuts through the tension, his words a veiled warning to Jaehyun.

With a forced smile, you nod in agreement, grateful for Jaemin.

All four of you walk over to where Jaehyun’s car is parked, buckets and sponges in hand. Jaehyun persistent gaze lingers on you, and when Jaemin catches him staring at your ass, his anger flares up again.

When you bend down to place your bucket by your feet, Jaehyun leans in a little too close, his voice dripping with perversion as he addresses you directly. "I must say, y/n, I've been looking forward to spending some time with you again."

Your stomach churns at his words—the implication is clear, no matter how polite he tries to sound. This isn’t what you signed up for

With a subtle shift, Jaemin steps forward, effectively intercepting Jaehyun's advances. "Let's get started," he declares, his tone authoritative.

The task at hand becomes a welcome distraction, the rhythmic swish of water against the car offering a momentary reprieve from Jaehyun’s flirtation.

Well, until he opened his mouth again.

"So, have you always been this skilled with your hands?" Jaehyun's voice comes from behind you and when you look at him, you catch him smirking. "Or is it just with cars?"

Jaemin snaps.

"Okay, you know what?" he lets out a sharp, humorless laugh, hurling his bucket onto the ground with a loud slap. "I think we’re done here."

Jaehyun smirks. "What, can’t take a joke?"

Jaemin takes a step forward. "Oh, I can take a joke just fine. But here’s the thing—I don’t think Y/N finds you very funny."

You blink, caught off guard, and Jaemin doesn’t miss it.

Your heart breaks a little for your roommate. It was apparent that Jaehyuns move on you hurt her even more. And there was nothing you could do about it because you made this happen. It was your fault.

Jaemin doesn’t care to listen to Jaehyuns stammered out apology. You don’t either. You just let Jaemin grab your hand and tug you down the path. The pile of his clothes from earlier lies forgotten on the ground, completely abandoned.

Like last time, Haechans shoes sit tauntingly at the front door.

Unlike last time, Jaemin wastes no time in dragging you to his room, closing the door, and locking it.

His words come out in a low growl while he paces the room, “Don’t know why that guy thinks he can flirt with you like that. It’s so fucking weird. I mean, I know you look good,” he stops mid rant to look at you, eyes widening at the small bikini barely covering your exposed body, “So fucking good…but that doesn’t mean he can be a perv.”

Yeah, okay, hypocrite.

“Jaemin.” You whisper.

He throws a hand out, back to pacing. You watch his muscles contract and ripple with the force of his breathing. It didn’t make sense why he was getting so worked up.

“No, I get it. He’s a good-looking guy. But you…He shouldn’t even think about you. It’s like you’re here.” Jaemin puts a hand up over his head, and one far below his waist, “And he’s down here. You’re way too good for him.” Jaemin lets out a breathless chuckle, “And to do it in front of me, no less. Bastards got some really big balls.”

You barely stop yourself from rolling your eyes. The way he’s talking, you’d think Jaehyun was a bridge troll. Sighing, you sit back on the bed, not caring if you get it wet. “Not that big.” You mutter to yourself.

He ignores you again.

And you’re about sick of it.

“I mean, could he have been any more fucking pathetic? ‘Have you always been skilled with your hands? Or is it just with cars?’ Like what kind of shit is that. Any pickup line he could’ve chosen and he went with that?”

Jaemin's words echoed off the walls, his frustration palpable in the air, while you come to the realization that your slightly damp bathing suit was rather uncomfortable to be lounging around in.

And perhaps if he saw you without the bikini top, he’d finally stop his ranting and do something useful.

Like, say, fuck you into next week.

Because watching Jaemin pace shirtless, ranting about how other men didn’t deserve you, looking like he was one sentence away from going full caveman and staking a claim— well, it made you all hot and bothered.

You hated to use that phrase, but it was true.

With deft fingers, you unfastened the ties of your bikini top, the fabric slipping from your shoulders as you held it aloft in your hand. With a swift and calculated motion, you tossed it gently in Jaemin's direction, the fabric fluttering through the air before landing squarely on his path.

"Hey, what the—?" Jaemin's voice trailed off as he stooped to pick up the discarded bikini top, his confusion giving way to amusement as he held it up before him. "Well, well, well..." Jaemin turned towards you, a bemused smile playing at the corners of his lips. "Looks like you're missing something there, sweetheart."

You meet his gaze, feeling light and playful, warmth bubbling in your chest at the way he’s looking at you now—like he’s finally snapped out of his irritation and sees you for what you are: his.

“Oops! Must’ve slipped off,” you quip, stretching out lazily on the bed like you’ve got all the time in the world. “Thanks for catching that for me.”

Jaemin’s laughter fills the room, shaking his head as he steps closer, tossing the bikini top back in your direction, the fabric landing softly at your feet.

"Anytime," Jaemin replied, his tone biting.

His gaze drags down your body, taking his time, drinking you in like he doesn’t know where he wants to touch first. His jaw tenses as his fingers twitch at his sides.

“You think you’re funny, huh?” He tilts his head, voice dipping lower, more serious now.

You smirk, confidence flooding through you at the way he’s looking at you—hungry, wanting, aching. “I think you’re talking too much.”

Jaemin exhales a sharp breath through his nose, like he’s trying to hold onto the last bit of restraint he has left. Then, in a blur of movement, he’s on you—one knee pressing into the mattress, hands grabbing your hips, dragging you toward him like he owns you.

“Oh, you’re gonna regret that, sweetheart,” he mutters, voice laced with something dark and promising.

And you can’t fucking wait.

His mouth is on you before you can even breathe, kissing you with enough force to knock every last coherent thought from your mind. His hands grip your waist, fingers digging into the soft skin as he presses you down beneath him.

“You wanna tease me, baby?” he murmurs against your lips, nipping at your bottom one. “You wanna throw your little bikini at me like you don’t know exactly what you’re doing?”

You hum against his mouth, hands slipping up his bare chest, nails raking lightly over his toned muscles. “What if I did?”

Jaemin groans, pressing his forehead against yours. “Then I’m gonna have to remind you who you belong to.”

His hands move fast, slipping beneath your body to grip your ass, lifting you against him. You can feel the heat of him through his swim trunks, his hardness pressing right where you need him most. The sensation makes you gasp, fingers tangling in his hair.

Jaemin takes the sound as an invitation, trailing kisses down your jaw, your neck, pausing only to suck a mark into your collarbone before moving lower. His lips trace over the tops of your breasts, teasing, never quite where you want him, and it makes you squirm beneath him.

“Jaem—”

He tuts, dragging his teeth over your sensitive skin. “Patience, pretty girl.”

His tongue flicks against your nipple, a slow, agonizing tease before he finally closes his lips around it, sucking just enough to send a sharp wave of pleasure through you.

Your back arches instinctively, a soft moan slipping past your lips, and Jaemin groans at the sound, switching to the other breast, lavishing the same attention before continuing his descent down your body.

He pauses just above the waistband of your bikini bottoms, glancing up at you with hooded eyes. “You gonna stop me?”

You shake your head quickly, breathless. “Not a chance.”

Jaemin smirks, fingers hooking into the damp fabric, slowly peeling them down your legs, his eyes never leaving yours.

“Good,” he murmurs. “Because I’ve been waiting for this for a long, long time.”

Jaemin doesn’t waste time.

One second, you’re sprawled beneath him, breathless and burning from the way his lips and hands explore your skin, and the next, you’re being lifted. A startled gasp leaves you as Jaemin hauls you up effortlessly, arms securing you against his chest like you weigh nothing.

“Jaemin—”

You barely get his name out before your back meets the wall, his body pressing flush against yours, caging you in. The cool surface is a stark contrast to the heat radiating off him, sending a shiver down your spine. Your legs instinctively wrap around his waist, hands clutching at his shoulders.

Then you realize which wall he’s pinned you against.

The one that separates his room from Haechan’s.

“Haechan.” You murmur.

Jaemin freezes for half a second before his grip on you tightens, fingers pressing deeper into your thighs where he holds you against the wall. His eyes flick to yours, dark, curious.

"God, why are you so fucking worried about him?" His voice is rough, teasing, but there’s an edge to it, like he’s daring you to say more.

"I-I just don’t want him to hear us," you whisper, even though your heart is pounding for an entirely different reason now.

Jaemin’s lips curl into a slow smirk, his hips rolling just enough to remind you of the position you’re in. "You know what?"

"What?" Your breath hitches when his hands shift, pressing you harder against the wall.

"Let’s play a game." His voice is low, dripping with amusement. "It’s called ‘don’t get caught.’"

Your stomach flips, heat rushing through you. "How do you p-play?"

Jaemin leans in, his lips brushing over the shell of your ear, voice nothing but a sinful whisper. "Well, I get to fuck you against this wall, and you have to try and keep your pretty little mouth shut."

Oh.

Oh, no.

Your pulse spikes—not just at his words, but at the absolute confidence in his tone. The way he’s so sure he’s about to ruin you.

Which, okay—fair assumption.

But keeping quiet?

With Jaemin?

You were already losing.

Your head falls back against the wall with a quiet thud, a shaky breath leaving you as his words sink in. You shouldn’t be this turned on. Not by the risk, not by the idea of Haechan being just feet away, completely unaware of what’s about to happen.

But you are.

And Jaemin knows it.

"You like that idea, don’t you?" He tilts his head, pressing a soft, taunting kiss to your jawline before dragging his lips down the side of your throat. "Bet it makes you even wetter."

You let out a shaky exhale, fingers curling into his shoulders. "Jaemin—"

He cuts you off by rolling his hips again, pressing the hard length of him right against your core. A strangled sound catches in your throat, and his smirk only grows.

"Shhh, baby," he coos, mockingly sweet. "You wouldn’t want him to hear, right?"

Your face burns, but you still can’t find it in yourself to stop him. You don’t want to. The thrill, the way Jaemin looks at you like he wants to devour you—it’s all too much.

His lips ghost over your collarbone, hands gripping tighter. "You trust me?"

You swallow, nodding without hesitation. "Yeah."

Jaemin hums in satisfaction, his tongue flicking over the sensitive spot beneath your ear. "Then be a good girl and take everything I give you."

His hands grip your thighs tighter, pressing you further into the wall, the cool surface grounding you for all of two seconds before he shifts his hips and drags the thick length of him against your soaked core. The friction alone sends a shudder through you, and Jaemin chuckles lowly, completely aware of how wrecked you already are.

“You really don’t want him to hear, huh?” His voice is dripping with amusement, teasing, as he rolls his hips again, letting the head of his cock nudge against your entrance but not pushing in. “Then you better keep those pretty little noises to yourself.”

You swallow down a whimper, biting your lip as your fingers dig into his shoulders. “Jaemin, please.”

He hums, pretending to think about it before shaking his head. “Nah. I like hearing you beg.”

Without warning, he pushes in, stretching you open in one slow, torturous thrust. Your breath catches in your throat, body tensing at the sheer pressure of him inside you. Jaemin groans at the feeling, forehead pressing against yours as his fingers dig into your skin.

“Fuck, baby,” he breathes, his voice rough. “So tight for me.”

Your nails scrape down his back, mouth parting as you struggle to keep yourself from moaning out loud. The stretch is too much, too good, and Jaemin knows it. He gives you a second to adjust before rolling his hips again, thrusting deep, setting a pace that has your head spinning.

The sound of skin against skin fills the room, each movement pressing you harder into the wall, the force of his thrusts making the drywall creak. Your heartbeat thunders in your ears as Jaemin buries his face in the crook of your neck, sucking a mark into your skin.

“Jaemin—” You choke on your own voice, pleasure coiling tight in your stomach.

“Shhh,” he warns, nipping at your jaw. “Don’t want our best friend knowing you’re getting dicked down by your other best friend, right?”A deep thrust punctuates his words, knocking the breath from your lungs. Jaemin pulls back just enough to look at you, eyes heavy-lidded and dark with something possessive. “But, since you can’t keep quiet, how about you open that pretty mouth and moan a little louder, yeah?” His smirk is wicked, taunting. “Give him a taste of what he can’t have.”

Your whole body tenses, shame and arousal intertwining into something dangerously intoxicating. “Jaemin, you’re such an ass—”

“But you love it,” he interrupts, grinning. “You love knowing he’s right there. That he could hear if you get too loud.” Your walls clench around him involuntarily, and Jaemin groans, his grip tightening on your hips. “Yeah, just like that. Let him know exactly how good I make you feel.”

You try to fight it, try to keep yourself quiet, but Jaemin’s pace is merciless, dragging pleasure out of you with every snap of his hips. Your thighs tremble around his waist, nails leaving half-moon marks on his skin as the tension inside you coils tighter and tighter.

“Go on, baby,” he coaxes, voice pure sin. “Let him hear you.”

Jaemin can feel you unraveling, your legs tightening around him, body trembling with every deep thrust he drives into you against the wall. But he’s not done.

Not even close.

With one last punishing snap of his hips, he pulls back, arms still secure beneath your thighs as he carries you away from the wall. You barely have time to whimper a protest before your back hits the mattress, the shift so sudden that it knocks the air from your lungs.

Jaemin hovers over you, eyes glazed, lips slick and parted as he drinks in the sight of you spread out beneath him. “Thought I was gonna let you off easy?” he taunts, gripping your chin between his fingers. “You should know me better than that.”

You barely have a second to respond before he flips you over, forcing you flat on your stomach, his body pressing over yours. A warm, heavy weight settles at the nape of your neck as he leans in, voice rough in your ear. “You feel that, baby?” He drags his cock through your slick folds, teasing, making you squirm. “Still so fucking wet for me.”

A strangled whine leaves you, and Jaemin chuckles, pressing a kiss to your shoulder. “That’s my girl.”

Then, with no warning, he thrusts back inside you, punching a moan from your lips as your fingers fist into the sheets. The angle is brutal—deeper, sharper, every inch of him dragging against your walls in a way that has your mind short-circuiting.

Jaemin doesn’t ease into it. He’s lost now, completely caught in the way you take him, how your body sucks him in like you were made for him. His bicep curls around your throat, locking you in place, pinning you beneath him as he fucks you senseless.

“Look at you,” he groans, his jaw slack, eyes fixed on the mirror in front of you both. The reflection is obscene—your body rocking against his, his arm flexing where it holds you still, veins peeking from beneath his flushed skin.

His grin spreads, animalistic, as you let out a choked sound, your face growing hotter the longer he keeps you in that hold, pressed against hard muscle, body burning from the sheer intensity of it all.

“You can take it, baby,” he murmurs, his free hand dragging down your spine, pressing into the small of your back. “You’re so fucking pretty like this.”

His pace falters for half a second—just a fraction—before he lets out a shuddered breath, head dropping against your shoulder. He’s losing his grip, caught in the way you clench around him, how perfect you feel.

“She’s so pretty,” he thinks to himself, mind spinning, thoughts slurring as he fucks you through his own haze. “Need to—fuck—need to breed her.”

His teeth sink into your shoulder, a possessive growl ripping through him as he drives into you harder, deeper, lost in the only thought circling in his head:

Jaemin is gone.

There’s nothing left in his head but you—the way your body squeezes him so perfectly, the way your voice breaks every time he thrusts deeper, the way you’re letting him ruin you.

His grip around your throat tightens just a little, keeping you pressed against him, keeping you where he wants you. His breath is ragged, uneven groans slipping past his lips as he watches the way your mouth parts, the dazed look in your eyes reflecting in the mirror.

“Fuck, baby,” he grits out, thrusts turning erratic, desperate. His fingers dig into your hip, holding you down as he pounds into you. “You feel so fucking good. Can’t—shit—can’t hold out much longer.”

You don’t think you can either.

Your entire body is trembling, pleasure pooling low in your stomach, so tight it’s unbearable. You can’t think, can’t breathe, can only feel the way Jaemin is slamming into you, his muscles flexing beneath you as his control slips entirely.

“J-Jaemin—”

“Yeah, baby,” he pants, pressing his forehead against your shoulder. “I know. Just—fuck, just let go for me.”

And then—

A loud bang shakes the wall.

Your eyes snap open in horror, and Jaemin stills for half a second before a voice—Haechan’s voice—cuts through the air.

“Can you two shut the fuck up?! Some of us are trying to sleep!”

A sharp, startled gasp rips from your throat, but Jaemin—Jaemin just laughs.

The sound is low, deep, cocky, vibrating against your back as he picks up his pace again, rolling his hips into you with new determination. “Oh, baby,” he taunts, voice dripping with amusement, “you hear that?”

You can’t respond—you’re too busy trying to not completely fall apart, but Jaemin doesn’t care. His hand slips between your legs, fingers finding your clit, rubbing fast, desperate circles that make you arch into him, keening.

“Guess he heard after all.” His voice is rough, laced with a breathless chuckle. “Pretty girl getting fucked so good she’s keeping Haechan awake? And she likes it?”

You shake your head wildly, but your body betrays you, walls clenching around him so tight he nearly chokes on his own moan.

“Oh, you do,” Jaemin groans, thrusts turning punishing. “God, you fucking do.”

You can’t take it. The pressure, the tension, the way everything is building so fast—

“Jaem—”

“I got you, baby,” he grits out, fingers moving faster, hips snapping against yours. “Come for me. Come with me.”

One last thrust—deep, perfect, devastating—and you fall.

A choked cry slips past your lips as your orgasm crashes over you, white-hot pleasure consuming you whole. Your entire body convulses, squeezing Jaemin so tight he snaps, burying himself to the hilt as he follows you over the edge.

A guttural moan rips from his throat as he spills inside you, hips jerking in short, stuttering thrusts, riding out both of your highs. His arms tighten around you, holding you through every pulse, every tremor, every aftershock that leaves you utterly spent beneath him.

The room is thick with heat, with the sounds of heavy breathing, with the weight of what just happened.

Jaemin should stop.

He should be too spent. But he’s not. He can’t be.

Even as he shudders against you, panting against your shoulder. Even as his arms tremble from holding you so tight. He’s still moving. Still rolling his hips into you. Slower now but deeper, grinding himself into your swollen, overstimulated walls like he never wants to leave.

“J-Jaemin,” you whimper, voice wrecked. Your body still twitching from your orgasm.

He groans; mouth hot against your neck. His breath is ragged. “Just a little more,” he murmurs. Desperation thick in his voice. “Just—fuck—just let me give you all of it.”

His pace picks up again. Sharp. Desperate thrusts drag overstimulation through you. Making you gasp. Making you cling to him. He’s whining now. His breath hitching as he forces himself through his own sensitivity. Chasing something only he understands.

“You feel so fucking good,” he breathes. His forehead presses into the crook of your neck. “So fucking perfect—fuck—”

His body is shaking. His fingers bruising where they grip your hips. His thrusts erratic. Mindless. Every muscle in his body working toward one thing—

Filling you up. Making sure you get all of him.

His jaw slackens. Eyes flutter shut. His head drops back. His mouth parts around a helpless moan. “God, baby—taking me so well—taking all of it—”

And then he’s coming again.

His whole body seizes. A wrecked cry breaks from his lips as he spills into you. Warmth floods deep inside you. Making your head spin. His hips jerk. Pushing himself as deep as he can go. His cock twitches with every last pulse. Every last drop he forces into you.

He’s whimpering. Gripping you tight. Hips stuttering through the aftershocks. Milking himself dry.

It’s too much. Too good. You don’t even realize you’re moaning his name again until Jaemin shudders and collapses on top of you.

The weight of him. The heat of him. The feeling of him still buried inside you. It’s all too much.

But you don’t want him to move.

Neither does he.

The warmth of Jaemin’s body lingers against yours, the weight of him heavy, grounding. His breath is still uneven, ghosting over your shoulder as his chest rises and falls in ragged intervals.

For a moment, neither of you move. The room is thick with heat, with the scent of sweat and sex, with the quiet hum of something that feels good. Right.

But then, Jaemin shifts.

His muscles tense beneath your touch. His hands, once gripping you like he never wanted to let go, loosen and slide away. Before you can register what’s happening, he’s pulling out, the loss of him sudden, leaving you sensitive and dazed.

You recline comfortably on the bed, the softness of the sheets embracing you like a warm hug. Jaemin stands by the door, his bare torso glistening in the soft light filtering through the window. With a mischievous grin, he slips out of the room, leaving you alone.

As the front door creaks open, confusion flits across your mind. Where could he be going, and why now? Your thoughts race with possibilities, each more curious than the last. You strain your ears, trying to catch any sound that might offer a clue. Did he really just leave the fucking dorm?

Minutes stretch into eternity until, finally, the door swings open once more, and Jaemin steps back into the room, a triumphant smile lighting up his face. In his hands, he carries two plastic take out bags, their savory aroma filling the air.

“I ordered us food when we were on the way back,” Jaemin announces with a grin as he approaches the bed, setting the tray down before you. “I got you chicken nuggets!”

It’s two am when you’re jolted awake by nothing in particular.

You suspect it has something to do with Jaemins low snoring – just softly into the shell of your ear. His arms are slung around you, one curled over your hip, the other underneath your neck acting like a makeshift pillow. Despite his hard lined muscles, he was surprisingly soft.

And it all felt a little too domestic.

Not that that’s bad – but it’s Jaemin you’re talking about here, and when did he ever do domestic.

As you lay there, a subtle panic begins to creep in. You couldn’t stay the night. Not when you were wide awake and freaking out over him cuddling you. But the sheets were so warm – he was warm – and maybe it wouldn’t hurt to close your eyes and just sleep.

No. You couldn’t. No matter if you wanted to or not.

Carefully disentangling yourself from Jaemin's embrace, you glance at the clock, anxiety settling in as you calculate the time it would take to slip out unnoticed.

The room is dimly lit – just enough for you to fumble through the pile of clothes on the floor and find his clothes you were wearing earlier. It’s kinda shitty that you’re stealing his clothes and dipping at the same time, but you don’t think he’ll mind.

You grab your phone off the desk and stuff it in your back pocket. Now was the tricky part – opening the door without it creaking and waking up the entire dorm floor. But just as you reached for the doorknob, Jaemin's voice broke the silence. "Leaving so soon?" he asked, his eyes barely visible in the dim light.

Startled, you turned to face him. Of course, he’d wake up and ruin your attempted escape plan that you spent five minutes freaking out over.

Jaemin sat up, his expression unreadable.

"I didn't want to be here when Haechan woke up." you explained in a hushed tone.

Jaemin nodded, understanding evident in his gaze. "You don't have to sneak out, you know. It's not like you're one of my hoes. You're a friend, and you can stay as long as you need. You can crash on the couch if you want?"

Surprised by his nonchalant response, you stammered out a thanks. "I really should just get back. Haechan asks too many questions. Plus, he already thinks something up because of the outfit thing.” You sway awkwardly in front of the door, “By the way, with the clothes and everything, I’ll wash them and bring them back when I can…"

Jaemin interrupted with a reassuring smile. "Don't worry about it. Friends help each other out. It's not a big deal."

Relieved, you thanked him again. When you’re about to turn around and book it, Jaemin's speaks up, catching you off guard.

"Are you going to Jeno's hockey game tomorrow?" he asked, a casual note in his voice.

You nodded, "Yeah, I was planning to."

"Great," Jaemin replied. "Get home safe, Y/N. See you tomorrow."

With that, he rolled over, settling back into bed. His fluffy pink hair being the only thing you could see.

Well, that was a lot easier than you thought.

When you get home, the first thing you do is sit on your bed and stare at the wall.

Because what the fuck just happened?

You fucked Jaemin.

Like—actual, real-life, no-going-back, holy-shit-it-finally-happened fucked Jaemin.

It still doesn’t feel real.

Like, there should have been a warning, some kind of celestial sign that this was the day you’d cross that line. Maybe an earthquake. A shooting star. Haechan suddenly becoming abstinent from redbull.

Something.

But instead? You’re here, legs still wobbly, brain still fried, and the most whorish man you’ve ever met is currently leading the leaderboard of the best dick you’ve had in your entire life.

So, naturally, there’s only one thing left to do.

You grab your journal.

Like Haechan’s rating, there isn’t really a system—just gut feelings, raw statistics, and some level of pettiness. But that doesn’t matter.

Pen scratches against the paper as you start taking notes.

Points for multiple orgasms. (Your soul left your body at least twice.)

Points for teasing. (Menace. Absolute menace.)

Points for reassuring you. (Somehow both the softest and filthiest man alive.)

Points for talking you through your orgasm. (What the fuck was that? Like, actually?)

Major points for acting like everything was normal after. (Like he didn’t just ruin you against a wall.)

And finally, points for ordering takeout after. (Chicken nuggets? Unreal.)

After much deliberation, it’s decided. Jaemin receives a 9.3/10.

You pause.

Then suddenly scribble in an extra half point for Haechan and his voyeuristic ass at the library, bumping him up to a 7.9/10.

For a moment, you debate adding Jaehyun. He wasn’t part of the challenge, but keeping a record of all your endeavors might be beneficial.

Beneficial for what, you don’t know.

Still, after a minute of deliberation, you write his name down. And next to it?

1/10. So sad. Too bad.

With a satisfied sigh, you lean back and admire your work.

Congratulations, Jaemin.

You are currently ranked as the number one best fuck in the friend group.

For now.

Everything’s fine.

Everything is jussssst fine.

Except the two boys – your best friends to be precise – are sitting on either side of your body in a densely packed stadium, and perhaps your adrenaline is at an all-time high.

Like, who even cares that you took Haechans virginity. And honestly, fucking Jaemin was going to happen sooner or later…he was running out of fresh bodies on campus.

Right?

Right??

“You want a hotdog?”

Jaemin, clad in an NCTU hockey jersey, turns his attention to you, breaking you out of your thoughts. His pink hair falls into his eyes and you resist the urge to brush it away.

“Thanks, but I’m good.” You mumble. It felt like he’d caught you in something. For a moment, you wonder if he could tell you were slightly panicking.

But if he did, he doesn’t show it. He just gets out of his seat and starts heading up the concrete stairs towards the concession stand.

Haechan watches him leave, voice whiny, “Why didn’t he offer to get me one.”

Alone now, the crowd's buzz envelops you, the distant echo of cheers mingling with the hushed anticipation of halftime. Haechan's disappointment hangs in the air like a lingering question mark, drawing your attention to the empty seat beside you.

“Want to grab one yourself?” you snark, gesturing towards the concession stand where Jaemin disappeared into the crowd.

Haechan huffs, crossing his hands over his chest, “No need to be mean.”

Jaemin returns ten minutes later, clutching a steaming hotdog wrapped in foil. The aroma wafts through the air, triggering a wave of nausea that swirls in your stomach like a tempest. He settles back into his seat beside you, a grin lighting up his face as he unwraps the hotdog with eager anticipation. “Missed out, huh?” he teases, gesturing towards the now-opened concession.

You manage a weak smile, trying to ignore the churning in your stomach. “Yeah, looks like it,” you murmur, your voice strained against the rising discomfort.

As Jaemin takes a bite, relishing the taste of the hotdog, you fight the urge to turn away, the scent overpowering your senses. Each breath feels heavier, laden with the aroma that now threatens to engulf you.

Desperate to escape the suffocating smell, you rise from your seat, a wave of dizziness washing over you. “I think I need some fresh air,” you mutter, your words barely audible over the crowd’s clamor.

Jaemin’s expression shifts, concern flickering across his features as he watches you retreat. “You, okay?” he calls after you, the worry evident in his voice.

You offer a weak nod, a feeble attempt to reassure him as you navigate through the throng of spectators. You don’t notice Haechan following behind until you pass security and step out of the arena doors.

“Hey,” his voice cuts through the cool night air, “You sure you’re okay?”

Your steps falter for a moment, “Yeah,” you manage, your voice a mere whisper against the backdrop of cheering within the arena. “Just needed a breather.”

Haechan nods, his gaze unwavering as he studies you. In the quiet stillness of the night, the distant echoes of the game fade into the background, replaced by the steady rhythm of your shared breaths.

“Thanks for checking on me,” you offer, gratitude genuine in your voice.

A soft smile graces Haechan’s lips, “Just because you’re mean to me doesn’t mean I don’t care about you.”

His words hang heavy in the air, and once again, you’re reminded of what Mark said, ‘It meant so much more to him’.

You want to believe that he’s saying this as your friend. That it’s just a friendly gesture and nothing more. But one look at his face tells you it’s not. This is something he’s been wanting to say for a while – and your stomach coils at the thought.

“Haechan.” How were you supposed to navigate this…this rejection. “We can’t do this.”

He doesn’t bother teasing you. Doesn’t bother pretending like he doesn’t know what you mean.

"I know," he murmurs, "I just had to say it." There's a palpable ache in his words, as if they’re restrained. Oh, there’s so much more he wants to say.

"I appreciate you, Haechan," you offer, your voice barely above a whisper.

His gaze meets yours, and you fight the urge to back track on everything you just said. The look is broken beyond repair – his water line already filled with tears that threatened to spill on his honey gold cheeks.

“Y/n.” he starts, taking a step towards you. When he reaches his hand out, aiming to land on the side of your cheek, a touch that was surely to end in a kiss, you take a hesitant step backwards.

“Haechan, don’t,” you murmur, the words catching in your throat like a plea for understanding.

His hand hesitates mid-air, fingers curling back as if recoiling from the sting of rejection. The anguish in his eyes mirrors your own turmoil.

"I'm sorry," he whispers, his voice a fragile thread, "I didn't mean to push you."

You swallow thickly, “We can’t.”

“But we can.” He counters, taking another step towards you. His eyes search yours for any ounce of longing. It couldn’t be one sided. It couldn’t. “Just give me a chance, please.” His voice breaks on the last words and so does your heart.

This was so out of the blue. You came to watch Jeno’s hockey game, and instead you’re breaking your best friend’s heart. Why did you have to be the bad guy all the time.

Haechan reaches for you again and this time you have to brush his hand away. “We can’t.” You affirm. You hated this. “I’m sorry if you’ve gotten the wrong idea­–”

“So, it meant nothing?” His voice is rising, eyes swimming with anger, with hurt, “Everything that happened, everything we did…it meant nothing?”

“It didn’t mean nothing, but we already discussed–”

“Yeah.” He spits angrily. “I remember. Trust me I do. I lay awake at night going over that fucking conversation like clockwork. Over and over and over again. I’ve been getting drunk just to stop thinking about it.” His hands tear at the roots of his hair in frustration, “Fuck, y/n, I can’t get you out of my head and it’s driving me crazy.”

“Haechan…” You want to reach out, give him a hug, get your friend back. Something. Anything.

He takes another step forward, grabbing your shoulders, grip tight with desperation. “Please. I need you. I want you. Fuck, I want you so bad. It’s killing me.” You think he’s about to lean in for a kiss, but he just cocks his head to the side, “Please.”

Your heart clenches as his words hang heavy in the air, the weight of his emotions pressing down on you like a suffocating blanket. You're thankful that this side of the stadium laid empty, because onlookers would have made this so much worse.

“It was a one-time thing.” you mumble, voice firm despite the tremble in your words.

“But it wasn’t.” he whispers, “The library, remember? That’s how I know this can’t just be a me thing. You have to feel something too. I know you do.”

 "I..." Your voice falters, the weight of his gaze bearing down on you like a heavy burden. "Haechan, I care about you, but..." The words catch in your throat.

Tears glisten in his eyes as he takes a step back, the anguish written across his face. “Y/n…”

“Don’t say it, please, don’t say it.”

But the words tumble from his lips, a final plea, “Y/n, I love you.”

Everything comes to a crescendo, sounds and thoughts clashing together. The choked sob rips from your throat, and you let it. You let him see the pain you were feeling too. But you couldn’t return his testament. You couldn’t.

“No, you don’t.”

“I do.” His voice is strong, even if the tears were streaming down his face and his throat felt thick, “I do.”

What the hell were you supposed to do. He wasn’t listening to you.

“Haechan, go home.” You plead. He couldn’t keep this up. Not here, not now. But he stands there, rooted in place, his gaze fixed on yours with a fierce determination that sends shivers down your spine.

“You have to feel the same.” He murmurs, more to himself than you.

He wasn’t going to stop this until you broke his heart completely. You might be the villain, but he wasn’t giving you any opportunities to be the hero here.

“I don’t.” You declare, not bothering to look him in the eyes. You couldn’t. “I don’t love you, Haechan. I never did, and I never will. I’m sorry.”

Avoiding his gaze, you hear him laugh bitterly. He spits on the sidewalk and shoves his hands deep into the pockets of his letterman jacket. “Wow.” He breathes, “Jennie was right. You really are a cold, stone-hearted bitch.”

What? Jennie?

You don’t have the opportunity to ask him what he means, because when you look back up, he’s already walking away, his figure fading into the night like a ghost.

He should have never followed you. Should have kept his mouth fucking shut. How could he be so stupid? To think you’d want him the same. What did he expect? That you’d throw yourself at him? That you’d accept him as yours. He should have known girls like you didn’t want to be tied down. Especially not to guys like Haechan.

Tears blur your vision as you watch him go, the weight of his words cutting deeper than you care to admit. You take a shaky breath, willing yourself to hold it together, but the floodgates open, and you're left gasping for air amidst a torrent of emotions.

Haechan's accusation echoes in your mind, a painful reminder of the fractures in your facade, the cracks in your carefully constructed armor. You overthink every word, every action, wondering if you truly deserve the label he's bestowed upon you.

You told him on night one that this wasn’t going to be anything. That it couldn’t. Yet, he was still hopeful. You ruined him.

Amidst the chaos of your thoughts, a flicker of defiance ignites within you—a reminder that you are more than the sum of his accusations, more than the pain etched into his departing figure.

His hurt is not your own.

You just hope you haven’t lost him forever.

With trembling hands, you wipe away the tears, steeling yourself to go back into the stadium. You didn’t want to. You wanted to go home and cry until you passed out with puffy eyes and a stopped-up nose. But Jaemin was waiting for your return, and Jeno needed you as his good luck charm.

You couldn’t disappoint everyone tonight.

When you return to your seat, Jaemin immediately knows something is wrong.

He shoots you a concerned glance, but you brush off his constant questions. You admit that Haechan went home, but you lie, saying it was because he was feeling sick.

As the hockey game continues before you, you find yourself lost in a whirlwind of thoughts, unable to focus on the action unfolding on the ice. Not even when Jeno nearly gets into a fight with the opposing team does it manage to capture your attention. You merely watch the refs get between the clashing boys, holding on to Jeno’s fist that was already bloody from beating on the other guy’s helmet.

Jaemin doesn't press you further either, deciding to leave you alone entirely.

You only half-heartedly clap and cheer when Jeno scores the winning goal, securing victory for the NCTU hockey team. The crowd erupts in hoots and hollers, but your mind remains elsewhere.

As the final buzzer sounds and the crowd begins to filter out of the stadium, you and Jaemin make your way to the plexiglass that separates the rink from the seats. The victory celebrations fade into the background as you focus on finding Jeno amidst the chaos.

Finally spotting him, you and Jaemin exchange a glance before pressing your hands against the cold surface of the plexiglass. Jeno's eyes meet yours, a mixture of exhaustion and triumph reflected in their depths.

"Congratulations," you say, your voice barely above a whisper, but the genuine warmth behind your words is unmistakable.

Jeno offers a tired smile, his fist bumping against the glass in silent acknowledgment.

That was all you could do before his coach started yelling for him to get in the locker room. Watching him skate away, you turn to Jaemin. “You going home?” 

Jaemin looks at you, concern etched into his features. “Yeah, do you need me to walk you home?” he asks gently.

You shake your head, forcing a small smile. “No, I think I’ll wait around for Jeno,” you reply, “You can go ahead.”

Jaemin studies you for a moment, his gaze searching yours for any sign of reassurance. “Are you really okay?” he asks.

He knows something is up. He wished you would just tell him.

You offer a weak nod. “Yeah,” you say quietly. “I just... I don’t really want to talk about it right now.”

Understanding flickers in Jaemin’s eyes as he steps closer, wrapping you in a comforting hug. “I’m here if you need anything,” he murmurs, his voice a soothing balm against the confusion raging within you. You cling to the embrace for a moment longer, drawing strength from the warmth of his presence. And as you pull away, a sense of resolve settles over you.

He walks away with a smile, his steps echoing through the nearly empty stadium. Turning back to the locker room, you wait patiently for Jeno, your heart heavy with anticipation. Minutes stretch into eternity as you watch the hockey players leave one by one, the coach giving you a curious glance but saying nothing.

With a deep breath, you gather your courage and approach the locker room door. “Jeno?” you call out.

The door creaks open, revealing Jeno’s tired face. “Come in,” you hear him say faintly.

You push open the door and see him sitting on a wooden bench surrounded by dark blue, metal lockers. The one in front of his hunched figure is open, hockey gear spilling out. Jeno sits shirtless, nursing the hand that was bleeding earlier.

In the dimly lit locker room, silence hangs heavy between you and Jeno at first, each of you lost in your own thoughts.

“You were amazing out there,” you finally say, breaking the silence. He had been amazing, even if you hadn’t been paying attention – too caught up in Haechan’s admittance.

Jeno meets your gaze, gratitude shining in his tired eyes. “Thank you,” he replies. “The team is going out to celebrate,” he continues, his tone hesitant. “Are you... are you going with us?”

“Didn’t know I was invited,” you laugh.

He cracks a smile too, “Well, I wasn’t going to go, but I will if you go with me.”

You consider it for a second but shake your head. “I’m a bit tired. Probably just gonna go home.”

Jeno nods, “Same. I’ll probably just go back and smoke.”

You sense a shift in the atmosphere of the locker room. Something calmer – less high-tension. Jeno's next words catch you off guard.

“My coach really thinks I’m going to get scouted for the NHL,” he says, a mixture of excitement and apprehension in his voice.

“That’s amazing,” you reply, “It’s everything you’ve ever dreamed of.”

He leans forward and reaches into the locker, retrieving white gauze. Carefully, he unwraps the roll and starts to tightly wind it around his hand. You want to help him, but you didn’t know how. You were far from the medic friend ­– that was Jaemins job.

“I know.” He replies, “Means I gotta be on my best these next few games though.”

“I’m sure you’ll do fine.” You murmur.

He nods but doesn’t say anything, so you decide to sit next to him on the bench. When you sit down, he leans into you. His chest was burning, despite the frigid temperature, and you feel the heat seep through your jersey. Despite playing a long game, he smelled good. Like cologne and mint. A good combo.

He starts humming some random tune, and you find your eyelids drooping. You were beyond tired. Beyond emotions. Beyond words. If anything, you wouldn’t mind staying like this forever. The comforting presence of being beside one of your best friends in the entire world.

Before you know it, Jeno is shaking your shoulder. “Y/n.” He murmurs. You snap your eyes open, and his face was dangerously close to yours, “You dozed off.” A smile breaks out on his face, and a heat creeps up your spine.

“S-Sorry,” you blurt, standing up a little too fast. The room starts to spin and Jeno has to grab your shoulders to keep you from falling down.

“Are you okay?” He questions, eyes piercing your own.

You rub your eyes tiredly, “Yeah, I’m just…fuck, I don’t know Jeno, I just feel off.”

Jeno's brow furrows with concern, and he pulls you into a comforting embrace. In that moment, everything you’ve tried keeping hidden away for the last hour, tumbles out, and you find yourself completely losing it, sobbing uncontrollably against his chest. He doesn't know what to do at first, his arms awkwardly encircling you as you cry. But then, with a gentleness that belies his strength, he brings your face into his hands and asks softly, “Are you okay? What's wrong?”

You shake your head, tears streaming down your face. “I don’t know,” you manage between sobs. “I just... I feel lost, and I don’t know what to do.”

His thumb brushes away your tears, his touch a soothing balm against the storm raging within you. And looking up at him, you realize this is what you need. Not clingy like Haechan, not overly sweet, like Jaemin. You needed strong, steady, understanding.

You needed Jeno.

You don’t know if it’s genuine. Or if it’s the challenge. Or if you just welcomed the distraction, but words are tumbling from your lips before you know it. “Kiss me.”

He's so close. inches away, no, centimeters away. His breath, warm and enticing, mingles with the taste of mint and ice. The room contracts as he leans in. you open your mouth, he opens his.

"I can't, not like this," the words hang, lingering in the air. Tension doesn't dissipate; it transforms, a subtle shift in the locker room. "I'm not Jaemin."

“W-what?”

You may not be Jaemin, but don’t worry Jeno, you’ll get your turn.

A. NOTE. read the the note at the beginning of this post. and don't forget to reblog :)

TAGLIST. @newdeobi @jijihyunah @saintlyhyuck @mrkis @peachjaem00 @angelwonie @aliceinwhateverland @cabaretyun @allaboutthedongs @donutswithjaminthemiddle @bundleleeknow @sunshinedhyuck @kuingjuing @haechanalpha @thiccfullsun @jenoxygen @ishireads @greentealatte97 @aquamxrina @whymarkieyournameismark @marklexleaf @its-taeil-time @j4d @dearj43 @roohnyk @stargrll13 @hykwrld @leeluc @haechie @xuxisins @rainyjeno

[akawifeyy]

silly girl | smau (LN4)

description: the life of a comedian is full of laughter, but the biggest punchline? your experience with love.

tropes: chaos galore, he's obsessed with her, sunshine x sunshine, age gap (23 and 25), comedian!fem!reader

face claim: faith collins

trigger warnings: suggestive content, some mature jokes, swearing

| note: hehehe i love this fic 🫶

@ yourusername: dallas was incredible, i had the best time laughing with you all! a recorded video of tonight's show is posted at the link in my bio if you couldn't make it. see you next weekend in austin 😘

tagged: @ standupcomedy

comments (2567):

@ user1: Amazing shows! I went to Night 2 and I couldn't breathe, I was laughing so hard. Wish I bought tickets for the other two nights.

-> @ user2: sooo real, i got to see her in miami and i felt like my heart was going to explode from laughing

@ user3: Incredible job, so proud 💖

@ user4: Mother has fed us during this tour, I never want it to end

@ yourbffusername: SCREAMING CRYING, I love you SO much Y/N

@ f1: Just 3 more days until COTA! How are you gearing up for the Grand Prix?

tagged: @ mclaren, @ mercedes, @ redbullracing, & 6 more

comments (49584):

@ landonorris: Can't wait to be a cowboy again 🤠

@ user5: COTAAAA MY BELOVED

@ user6: so excited!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

@ user7: No because I'm actually a second away from crashing out because I just realized @ yourusername's show is at the same time as the Austin GP

-> @ user8: wait nonono you're joking 😭 i bought tickets too

10/19/25 at Y/N's Show (Transcript):

Y/N L/N: I feel like if I don't bring this up, the masses are going to come at me with pitchforks. (clearing throat) Today's a pretty big day in Austin. Um, Formula One is having its COTA Grand Prix.

Audience members: (whooping)

Y/N L/N: Yeah, looks like we have quite a few F1 fans in here. I'd kind of consider myself one, but please don't ask me what DRS stands for off the top of my head or what Ferrari's strategies are during races, because I wouldn't be able to tell you. But anyways, I found out that I scheduled this show at the same time as the GP.

Audience member: (loud yelling noise)

Y/N L/N: (breaks down laughing) Yep, I know. I'm sorry. I didn't realize. But I totally get it. Seeing a bunch of rich, hot men drive around in circles? Like, aw man, where did my pants go? I swear they were just on. (continues giggling) Seriously, though, some of those drivers? It should be illegal how attractive they are. Charles Leclerc, Lando Norris. Oh God, don't even get me started on Lando Norris.

Y/N L/N: (eyes widen dramatically) I never liked brunettes or Englishmen, but he might just make me change my mind.

Interview with Lando Norris (2025):

Interviewer: Have you seen the clips from Y/N L/N's most recent comedy show here in Austin?

Lando Norris: (laughs) Yes, I heard about it!

Interviewer: Thoughts?

Lando Norris: She's very funny. I like her sense of humor. But as for relationships, I have to focus on my racing, so I can't get distracted. Sorry!

10/20/25 at Y/N's Show (Transcript):

Y/N L/N: So... Yesterday's show. (makes popping sound with lips) Some of y'all, I feel like I need to ban you – and before you boo, let me explain why. I made jokes about Formula One drivers, and how hot they are, and a select few of you decided to out me? (mock gasp)

Y/N L/N: Yeah, I know! Fucking Lando Norris was interviewed about me! Isn't that insane? This ultra-rich motor sport driver was asked about some redhead girl who yaps for a living. And he called me funny? I need to put this on my resume.

Audience member: You two need to date!

Y/N L/N: The matchmaking is insane. Oh God, wait until my mother hears about this, then I'm actually cooked. I'm 23 years old, I have a lot of biological time left, but you're vultures! When is it going to end? And don't say, "When you get married to Lando Norris", because it's not happening. Sadly.

@ ynupdates: Contrary to popular belief, Y/N did have a boyfriend! This was way back in 2019 to 2022. His name is Emmett Ellgren, and they dated for three years until their mutual split. Since then, Y/N has poked fun at the relationship, but no substantial details have been released about their break up.

tagged: @ yourusername

comments (2942):

@ user9: HELP i forgot about emmett he's such an npc 😮‍💨

@ user10: emmett is no longer relevant to the lore

-> @ user2: The real man we should be paying attention to is Lando Norris

-> @ user8: i know omg 😭

comments (3842):

@ user11: They're both silly gooses, I'm scared to see the havoc they'll wreak together in McLaren 🥲

@ user12: i'll believe it when i see it

@ user13: Lando is too immature to have a stable girlfriend

-> @ user3: which is why Y/N's perfect, they'll be immature together 🥰

-> @ user4: This just proves you've never watched one of Y/N's shows before lmao

Y/N's Instagram Story (2025):

comments (8521):

@ user13: OMG OMG OMG IT'S STARTING

-> @ user14: I'm so glad I get to be alive during the LandoY/N era

@ user12: It'll be so funny if this turns out to be from Oscar or something 🙃

-> @ user15: HELP

Text Messages between Y/N and Lando (2025):

@ landonorris: P3 in Mexico! Awesome results

tagged: @ mclaren, @ f1, @ yourusername

comments (64312):

@ user16: ALERT ALERT Y/N HAS BEEN TAGGED

@ user13: guys i'm actually gonna combust 🫣🔥

-> @ user17: They're together, it has to be

@ yourusername: nice sombrero 😋

-> @ landonorris: Thank you!!!

Text Messages between Y/N and Lando (2025):

@ yourusername: hola mexico 🇲🇽

tagged: @ landonorris

comments (3846):

@ yourbffusername: Looks so fun!

-> @ yourusername: yes it was incredible

@ user10: laaandoooo i see you 👀

@ user18: How does it feel to be living my dream

@ landonorris: So glad you could make it, had a lot of fun talking to you

@ f1gossip: It is rumored that comedian Y/N L/N and McLaren driver Lando Norris are together, after Y/N posted a photo of her receiving paddock passes, and the pair responded to one another's posts about the Mexico Grand Prix.

tagged: @ yourusername, @ landonorris

comments (1293):

@ user9: i'm waitinggg

@ user10: this is worse than the wait for reputation tv

-> @ user18: clowning so hard i know 😖

@ user19: HAVE ANY OF YOU GUYS SEEN LANDO'S INSTA STORY? 🤯

Lando's Deleted Instagram Story:

comments (235):

@ user20: OMGOMGDSDKLSDDNS

@ user21: my eyes are not deceiving me, this is y/n

@ user5: Y/N IS THAT YOU 😳

@ landonorris: OK OK yes I give in, we are together. Happy one month, @ yourusername, I love you to the moon and back!

tagged: @ yourusername

comments (34852):

@ user21: classic Lando accidentally posting the wrong thing and outing himself

-> @ user22: idk what else we would expect from chaos incarnate 😭

@ yourusername: love you too, muppet 😘

Interview with Lando Norris (2025):

Interviewer: So, you've just recently announced that you're dating Y/N L/N!

Lando Norris: Yes, I'm really happy about it.

Interviewer: Any plans to bring her to the next race?

Lando Norris: Maybe, we'll see. (laughs and smiles) The paddock is a lot cheerier when she's there, so hopefully, fingers crossed. I'm very, very lucky to call her mine.

─── ୨୧ ─── THE END ─── ୨୧ ───

[melanchoire]

cld you do giselle and reader roomates who “help” eachother when horny? ^^

cw: ass eating, cunnilingus, fingering, scissoring, 69ning.

i see giselle capable of doing this 😭 you could be sitting on the couch of the living room on any given day of the week in the afternoon, focused on completing homework when she plops down on the couch and says “oh my god i’m so horny right now” 💀

it would take you so by surprise that you would have to turn to look at her hoping that she was joking, but she looks so frustrated and disappointed that you feel like she’s not completely joking...

you know giselle’s reputation, her typical routine of partying all weekend and kissing or sleeping with as many people as possible, and you weren’t against that! she is attractive and has a hot body, you would fall for it too

“can’t you just, i don’t know, text one of your many boyfriends?”

“ugh, sexting isn’t the same as fucking. i want to get laid, not dick pics.”

and well— you loved giselle's honesty, but sometimes it was too much even for you or for her own good

“don’t you want to help me? you know, fuck and stuff.”

“giselle what the fuck—?”

“oh shut up, (y/n).” and she takes the computer off your lap and places it on the coffee table, climbs onto your lap and takes your hands to guide them to her ass 😳 you would have refused if it weren’t for the fact that you were focused on her tits practically pressed against your face and the feeling of her ass in your hands… giselle is hot as hell and you wouldn’t miss the chance to fuck her! honestly, it’s something you’ve wanted for a long time

dry hump with giselle on your lap with a steamy session of messy and sloppy kisses as you two grope each other’s bodies, squeezing tits and pinching nipples through the thin fabric of t-shirts or gropping each other's asses playfully 😵‍💫 both giselle and you wanted this for a long time and it shows in how you never hesitate before your actions

69ning with gigi with her on top 🥴 you always looked at her ass when she wore very short pants or just ones that really accentuated her attributes, so when she made you lay on your back on the couch you almost drooled watching her sit on your face with her pussy on your mouth and her ass lowering onto your face...

moaning into each other’s pussy because you two are fingering each other at a fast pace, massaging her thighs and squeezing the skin between your fingers or spanking her to make her squeal and leave finger marks on her creamy skin🫠 taking advantage to start to tease giselle, parting her buttocks and giving a long and slow one all over her slit, from her clit to her ass, grinning against her when you hear the shaky moan that leaves her lips

giselle can only moan against your pussy, and that’s all for giselle to start enjoying your teasing. stopping the actions of her mouth on you to end up sitting properly on your face, tilting her head and throwing her messy hair over her shoulder as she moves her hips against your mouth and begins to lose herself in pleasure 🥴 but she’s not selfish! she knows you’re just as horny as she is, so being the kind roommate she is, she ends up riding your mouth at the same time as she fingers you and uses her other hand to rub your clit 💕

even when her juices are gushing out of her pussy and soaking your entire face, she's not done yet! but the moment she lifted her ass from your face she directly positioned herself between your legs, aligning her pussy with yours but in a reverse way in which she was turning her back to you because she enjoyed more than she should the sharp spankings that you provided her at all times 🥰

gigi being so exhausted but wanting to continue 😔 laying on her side and lazily making out with you, pressing her sticky, sweaty body against yours and saying “c’mon, (y/n). just one more. i need one more.” looking so attractive with her messy hair and sweaty forehead 😩 giselle being so insatiable that you don’t understand how she can calm her needs when she is alone 😭 but she is lucky that from now on, whenever she has a problem, her roommate will be here willing to help her

[snowysosturn]

Fire & Desire - Matt Sturniolo Part 20

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13 Part 14 Part 15 Part 16 Part 17 Part 18 Part 19 Part 20 Part 21

Pairing: Y/n x Matt Sturniolo

Summary: Y/n has always clashed with Matt. Despite working for Chris’s clothing brand and being close with Nick, her relationship with Matt has always been tense at best. While being forced to be around each other more, their animosity turns into something deeper. Can they overcome their differences, or will their fiery emotions tear them apart?

Warnings: smut, oral fem receiving, fingering, drinking, angst, tension

I swallow hard, my pulse thudding in my ears. Every inch of me is hyper aware of him, his sun kissed skin, the faint scent of seasalt and sunscreen clinging to him, the way his fingers flex against the counter like he's holding himself back.

I wet my lips, watching as his gaze follows the movement. "Maybe I just wanted to make sure you were.. comfortable" I murmur.

Matt exhales a sharp breath, shaking his head with a low chuckle. "You're killing me, you know that?"

I smile, feeling bolder. "Good."

For a second, neither of us move. The tension is thick, electric in the space between us. Matt closes the distance before making his way down to my shoulder and then my chest, his fingers tugging at the hem of my bikini.

Matt unties my bikini top and tosses it aside before kissing me again, this time more roughly. Matt slips his hands under my hips and lifts me up, setting me on the counter. He steps in between my legs, his body pressing against mine.

His eyes trace over my body, before his lips work their way over to my neck, his tongue flicking out occasionally against my skin, until he reaches my tits. He takes one in his mouth while he fondles the other, occasionally switching while my breathing becomes more laboured.

Matt pushes me back onto the counter, as his hands slide down from my waist to my thighs, gripping them tightly as he holds my legs open, his thumb rubbing over my clit through my bikini fabric at an agonisingly slow pace.

Slight breathy groans leave my mouth, as Matt toys with the ties of my bikini bottoms, pulling them loose and allowing his finger to slip under it, letting him feel the heat he just created. He kisses my stomach, as I let out a light moan. 

“You’re teasing me Matt”

Matt looks up at me and without hesitation, shoves two fingers into me, allowing me to let out a louder moan. 

“Fuck Matttttt, that feels so good” I pant, as Matt picks up his pace, no time to ease me in, in all honestly with the way he was kissing me, I didn't need to be.

I squeeze my eyes shut, to try to allow myself to completely relax. I feel hair brushing off my stomach as a warm, wet sensation attaches onto my clit. Making my whole body buckle.

I look forward, and Matt's tongue is swirling around my sensitive bud as his fingers pulse inside of me. I grab onto his hair tightly as the knot in my stomach builds faster and faster.

“Don’t stop Matt I-I’m gonna-” I yell out as I knock my head back against the kitchen counter.

“Fuckkkk!” I moan as the knot in my stomach breaks, my body shudders as Matt removes himself from me. 

I sit up as I try to catch my breath back, surprised at how quick that was. I feel just as warm inside the villa as I did outside it. “Fuck I’ve never felt like that before.” I say shaking my head innocently as Matt smirks at me. 

“Glad I could do that for you." Matt says as his kisses my forehead before turning and heading toward the sink to wash his hands. "A sandwich will bring you back down to earth now”

“What happened to me helping you out?” I question, raising an eyebrow.

“Letting me pleasure you is all the help I need.” Matt grins. “And making you lunch will just top it all off.” He gestures vaguely toward the fridge. 

I exhale, steadying myself as I grab my bikini off the floor. "That’s okay I’ll get you back tonight.” I say as I lock eyes with Matt, giving him a smirk.

I take myself to the bathroom to fix myself and when I come back Matt has everything set up.

We move around the kitchen in sync, grabbing the bread, meat, and whatever else we can find that seems remotely sandwich worthy. Nick’s habit of stocking up on groceries during vacation finally pays off, and I make a mental note to thank him later.

Matt smirks as he spreads mayo onto a slice of bread. “Nick’s probably the only person I know who food shops on vacation.”

I laugh, stacking slices of turkey onto a random sandwich. “Honestly, it’s a lifesaver right now. Imagine if we had to go find a store?”

Matt groans. “Would’ve ruined the whole ‘sneaking off’ plan.”

I roll my eyes, but my stomach flips at the way he’s looking at me, like he’s still thinking about what just happened on the counter.

We finish making the sandwiches, eating ones for ourselves before stuffing the rest into a bag. Leaning against the counter, I take a bite, sighing happily. “Okay, maybe Nick really does deserve credit for this.”

Matt takes a big bite of his own sandwich, nodding in agreement. “Yeah, but we can’t tell him. He’ll get a big head about it.”

I giggle, nudging him lightly with my elbow.

Once we’ve finished eating, we grab the bag of sandwiches and head back down toward the beach. The sun is still high, the sand warm under our feet as we approach the group.

Nick spots us first, raising an eyebrow. “Took you guys long enough.”

“We were making food for all of you” I say, holding up the bag like a trophy.

Nate sits up from his lounger, pushing his sunglasses to the top of his head. “Wait, you actually made lunch? Thought you just wanted an excuse to sneak off.”

I roll my eyes, tossing him a sandwich. “You’re welcome.”

Matt flops down onto his lounger, throwing an arm over his face. “You guys are so ungrateful.”

Chris, still scrolling on his phone with his airpods in, grabs a sandwich without looking up.

Nick unwraps his sandwich and takes a bite, chewing thoughtfully before smirking. “Okay, okay, fine. I’ll admit, this was a solid move. Maybe I’ll keep stocking the fridge after all.”

I grin, settling back onto my lounger, propping up the sun umbrella to cool down my sun warmed skin. 

Chris stretches lazily on his lounger, finally putting his phone down and glancing around at all of us. “We haven’t hit a nightclub since we got here.”

Nate hums in agreement, sipping his water bottle. “True. We’ve been to a few bars but nothing too crazy.”

Chris sits up straighter, his sunglasses pushing up into his hair. “Let’s go out tonight. Order in, have some drinks at the villa, then hit the club. Go all out.”

Nick immediately nods. “I’m in. We need a proper night out.”

Nate grins. “You just want an excuse to text that guy and get him to meet you there.”

Nick throws his crust at him. “Mind your business.”

I glance at Matt, who’s already looking at me. “What do you think?” he asks, tilting his head.

I shrug, pretending to consider it. “A club does sound fun.”

Chris claps his hands together. “That’s what I like to hear.”

Matt smirks but says nothing, just leaning back on his lounger.

Nick sits up, already pulling out his phone. “Alright, I’ll see what food we can order for later. What are we thinking? Pizza again?”

We all groan at the idea of more pizza.

“No more pizza” I say, shaking my head. “We’ve had enough of that.”

Nick nods. “Something different, then. We’ll figure it out later.”

Chris claps his hands again, excitement clearly setting in. “Alright, settled. Tonight, we party.”

I lean back on my lounger, stretching my legs out. The ocean breeze is warm, and the thought of a night out makes excitement bubble up inside me.

Nick is glued to his phone, his lips twitching in amusement as his fingers fly across the screen. I nudge his arm.

"What's he saying?" I ask, peering over his shoulder.

Nick barely glances up. "He just asked where we're heading tonight."

I grin, nudging him again. "Well, tell him we're going to the nightclub. Give him a chance to show up."

Nick hesitates for a second before rolling his eyes. "You’re really invested in my love life, huh?"

"Absolutely" I tease. "Someone has to be."

Matt chuckles from his lounger, leaning back on his elbows. "She’s got a point. You might as well shoot your shot, man."

Nick sighs dramatically but types out the message anyway. "Fine. But if this goes terribly, I’m blaming you."

I hold up my hands. "Hey, if it goes terribly, at least it’ll be entertaining for the rest of us."

Nate, overhearing, smirks. "Yeah, and if it goes well, we’ll give you so much shit about it."

Nick groans. "I hate all of you."

I just laugh, watching as he hits send. Tonight was already shaping up to be an interesting one.

The sun was beginning its slow descent. We had spent most of the afternoon in and out of the water, sprawled out on the loungers, soaking in the sun, and laughing over the stupidest things. 

Matt was next to me on the sand, his arms resting on his bent knees as he traced patterns into the grains with his fingers. 

"You good?" he asked, catching me staring.

I smiled, shrugging. "Yeah, just taking it all in."

He smirked, nudging me with his knee. "You look happy."

I bit my lip, feeling a warmth rise in me that had nothing to do with the sun. "I am."

He nodded, as if he already knew. Then, without saying anything else, he grabbed my hand, intertwining his fingers with mine. It was subtle, nothing dramatic, but enough to send a wave of electricity through me.

We sat there like that for a while, letting the sounds of the ocean and the distant conversations of the others fill the silence. I didn’t know how long we stayed like that before someone called out.

"Alright, let’s head back!" Chris announced, stretching his arms over his head. "Sun’s going down, and we’ve got a big night ahead."

Reluctantly, I stood, brushing off the sand before Matt and I followed the rest of the group toward the villa. The walk back was easy, everyone still in that post beach daze, the kind where your skin feels warm and tight from the sun and the exhaustion starts to creep in.

Chris walked ahead, scrolling through his phone before glancing back at us. "I’m posting pictures from the shoot" he said casually. "Gotta get that early promo going."

As we reached the villa, my phone buzzed in my hand, the familiar Instagram notification lighting up my screen. I glanced at Matt, who had just pulled his own phone out, both of us seeing the same thing, Chris had just posted the photos from the shoot.

Clicking into the post, I scrolled through the slides until I found it, the shot of Matt and I standing side by side, both in our near matching jackets. The way the photo was framed, the way we naturally leaned slightly toward each other, made it look effortless.

I barely had time to process it before I saw Matt hit the repost button, adding the photo to his story without hesitation. He hovered for a second, as if considering adding something, then let it go up as it was.

I smirked, nudging him with my elbow. "So, you’re just gonna post that without acknowledging the fact that I know you picked it all out yourself?"

His brows lifted slightly, but his lips curled into a grin. "Oh yeah? And what exactly do you think you know?"

I crossed my arms, tilting my head at him. "I don’t think, I know. Chris can’t hold his piss."

Matt glanced at me, pretending to be clueless. “What do you mean?”

I scoffed, giving him a look. “Matt. You picked everything out. The jacket. The number. My initial. Are you really gonna act like that was some random coincidence?”

He exhaled a small laugh, rubbing the back of his neck. “I mean.. it worked, didn’t it?”

I narrowed my eyes. “So, you are admitting it.”

He hesitated for a beat, then finally shrugged. “I wanted it to feel right.” His voice was quieter now, more honest. “Like.. if I was gonna do it, I wanted it to actually mean something.”

I stared at him, my heart doing this weird, unsteady thing in my chest. Chris had already spilled it ot me, but hearing him say it out loud made it different. It wasn’t just something he threw together. He thought about it.

I bit my lip, trying to keep my voice light. “So what? you wanted us to match so bad?”

Matt smirked slightly but didn’t break eye contact. “Maybe.” A pause settled between us. “Or maybe It was the only way I could express my feelings for you without admitting it.”

Something about the way he said it made my stomach flip. I rolled my eyes, shoving him lightly before turning to the stairs. “You’re unbelievable.”

He followed beside me, his shoulder bumping into mine. “Yeah, but you like it.”

I didn’t say anything. But I didn’t deny it either.

We all split off to our rooms for showers, to get rid of the suncream and random pieces of sand. We all hoped the showers would wake us up so we don’t need to nap.

After showering, I step back into my room, styling my hair first before I root out the outfit I’d decided on earlier. I can hear doors opening and closing, muffled conversations, the occasional blast of music as someone picks their getting ready playlist. I slip into my outfit, taking my time with my makeup, wanting to feel my best tonight.

As I swipe on my lip gloss, there’s a knock at my door. “What do you want to eat?” Nick’s voice comes through as he pokes his head in.

I glance up, setting my lip gloss down. “What are we getting?”

“Anything. I’m just taking orders, gonna get it all delivered.”

I think for a second before shrugging. “Surprise me”

Nick smirks. “Dangerous game. You might end up with something weird.”

I roll my eyes. “I trust you.”

He disappears down the hall, moving from room to room, taking everyone’s orders. The house slowly settles into that familiar pre night out routine, hairdryers whirling, perfume and cologne lingering in the air, someone’s speaker playing a mix of throwbacks and current songs.

By the time the food arrives, I’m fully ready, my hair styled, outfit on, makeup done. We all gather outside, taking seats around the villa’s patio table as the smell of takeout fills the air.

Nate digs into his food immediately, barely waiting for everyone to get their plates, while Chris argues with Nick over who ordered the better meal. Matt slides into the seat next to me, his knee brushing mine under the table, sending a small jolt of warmth through me.

After finishing our food, we linger outside for a while, chatting and letting the night settle in around us. Nick turns up the speaker, filling the space with music. With full stomachs and the excitement of the night ahead, we move back inside to start drinking and getting into the mood for the club.

Chris takes over DJ duties, queueing up a mix of songs that get everyone hyped. Nate and Nick are already a few drinks deep, laughing at everything, while Matt leans against the counter next to me, his arm brushing mine every so often. I sip on my drink, feeling the buzz start to settle in, warmth spreading through my body.

As the night goes on, everyone starts to loosen up, Nick dramatically lip syncs to songs, Chris hypes him up. We’re all dancing around the villa, singing along to every song, taking random pictures, and just enjoying ourselves.

By the time 11pm rolls around, we’re all buzzing with energy. Chris checks his phone. “Alright, let’s get moving”

Everyone scrambles to grab last minute things, phones, wallets, extra spritzes of perfume or cologne. I check myself in the mirror once more before heading to the door.

“Everyone good?” Matt asks, making sure we’re all set before we leave.

We pile into an Uber and make our way to the club, everyone on the brink of being drunk. The streets are alive, groups of people heading in the same direction as us, laughter and music filling the air. Excitement bubbles up in my chest as I look around at my friends, knowing the night is only just beginning. How lucky I am to share these moments with them.

We step into the club and the place is already packed, bodies moving in sync with the music, laughter and conversation barely audible over the sound.

I nudge Nick. “Is he coming?”

He nods, a smirk playing on his lips. “He said he’d be here, so we’ll see what happens.”

I grin. “Exciting. You nervous?”

“Please” Nick scoffs. “He should be nervous to see me.”

We exchange a laugh, and before we can even think too much about it, “ExtraL” by JENNIE and Doechii starts to play. 

That’s our cue.

We don’t waste time and instantly make our way to the dance floor. The music pulses through my body as we move, completely lost in the moment. 

At some point, the rest of the boys slipped away, and when I look over toward the DJ booth, I realise why. They’ve somehow managed to get us a table right next to it, complete with a bottle of vodka and mixers waiting.

Chris waves us over, motioning to the table. “We’re up tonight” he grins, already pouring drinks.

I slide in next to Matt, his hand finding the small of my back. I glance up at him, and the strobe lights flicker across his face, making his eyes seem even brighter.

“You good?” he asks, leaning in slightly so I can hear him over the music.

I nod. “Very.”

I’m not sure if it’s the club, the drinks, or just the feeling of being in our own little world, but I know one thing. I’m ready for whatever the night has in store.

Nick suddenly stiffens beside me, his eyes flickering toward the entrance before he straightens his shirt and fixes his hair in a way that’s meant to be casual but is anything but. I follow his gaze and immediately see a guy making his way through the crowd toward us.

“Is that him?” I whisper, nudging Nick with my elbow.

Nick exhales quickly, composing himself before smirking. “Yeah it is.”

Nick waves the guy over to our booth and he approaches us, a confident but easygoing smile on his face. He’s tall, well dressed, and looks older than Nick, “Nick” he greets, his voice barely audible over the music.

Nick tilts his head slightly, his smirk deepening. “You made it.”

“I said I would” the guy replies, his eyes flicking over to me briefly before returning to Nick.

Nick introduces everyone to the guy and tells him all of our names. We share pleasantries to try and make him feel comfortable. He slides in next to Nick seamlessly joining our conversation. He’s got that easy charm about him, fitting in as if he’s known us for years. We chat for a while, mostly teasing Nick, who’s pretending not to be flustered but is failing miserably. 

Chris suddenly stands up mid conversation, adjusting his shirt. “I’ll be back in a minute.”

Matt and I both turn to look at him. “Where are you going?” I ask, but Chris just gives me a vague smirk before disappearing into the crowd of people on the dance floor. 

After a few minutes, the guy leans in closer to Nick and says something that makes him laugh. Nick shakes his head, but I can tell he’s enjoying the attention. “Alright, let’s go get a shot, lead the way.”

I watch as they disappear toward the bar, turning to Matt with an amused look. “He’s so into Nick”

Matt chuckles, wrapping an arm around my shoulder and pulling me in closer. “Yeah, but do you think Nick’s into him?”

I glance back at the two of them, already deep in conversation, Nick laughing at something the guy said. “Oh, 100%.”

Nate chimes in “I hope this goes well for him.” As he pours drinks, handing us each one. 

“So do I” I say, taking a sip of my drink.

Matt and I are sitting close, closer than we probably realize, his arm draped casually along the back of the booth, his knee knocking lightly against mine. There’s this natural pull between us, one that feels impossible to ignore.

I just want to be all over him right now. Maybe return the favour later.

Chris returns to the booth, but he’s not alone. Two girls trail behind him, both dressed to kill, their eyes scanning our group as they approach. Chris gestures between them like he’s presenting a prize.

“This is Rachel” he says, nodding toward the girl in a tight red dress. Then, he motions to the brunette next to her. “And this is Christina.”

The second the name leaves his lips, my stomach drops. Christina. As in Vegas Christina?

Matt stiffens beside me, his fingers gripping tighter against his glass. I glance at him, my pulse kicking up, but his face is unreadable.

I shift my attention back to the girl, studying her. She’s exactly how I thought she would look. Long brown hair, sharp cheekbones, an effortless confidence in the way she carries herself. She’s looking at Matt now, and something in her expression makes my blood boil.

Chris, oblivious or maybe just entertained by the sudden tension, speaks up. “Figured I’d fly them out. Thought you’d wanna catch up, Matt.”

Matt finally speaks, voice smooth but firm. “Didn’t think I had anything left to catch up on.”

Christina’s lips twitch, like she was expecting that response. “No? Could’ve fooled me.”

I don’t know what she means by that, but I really don’t like the way she says it.

My mind is racing. I know things have happened between Matt and Christina before, he’s never denied that. But Matt told me himself that he hasn’t been with anyone since that night in the house. And Vegas was after that, so.. surely not.

Still, the way she looks at him, the confidence in her tone, it’s messing with my head.

I glance at Matt, but his expression is carefully neutral. Chris, meanwhile, is grinning like he’s watching the most entertaining scene unfold, completely oblivious to the tension he’s just ignited.

From the corner of my eye, I catch Nate shifting uncomfortably, looking just as out of place in this situation as I feel. Our eyes meet, and without a word, he tilts his head toward the bar before mouthing the word. “Shot?”

It’s exactly what I need right now.

I nod, pushing up from the booth. “We’re getting a drink” I say to no one in particular, but Matt’s gaze flicks to me immediately.

“Want me to come?”

I shake my head, forcing a small smile. “I’m good.”

I need a second to breathe, to process whatever the hell this is before I let it get to me. Because right now? It’s definitely getting to me.

Nate follows behind me to the bar before ordering two shots of Sambuca. Nate slides the shot toward me, watching as I pick it up. “You good?”

I exhale, rolling the glass between my fingers before finally throwing it back. The burn of the shot matching the burn in my chest. “Yeah. It’s just.. a weird situation.”

He leans against the bar, arms crossed. “What's making you feel weird?”

I set the shot glass down, sighing. “I know he's been with her before Nate. But Matt told me he hasn’t been with anyone since right before you came to stay, so I know nothing happened in Vegas. But still.. it’s just weird seeing her here.”

Nate nods, considering that. “I don’t think Chris has any clue what’s going on between you two” he says after a beat. “If he did, he wouldn’t have invited Christina out.”

I run a hand through my hair, stealing a glance back toward the booth. Matt’s eyes are already on me, his jaw tight, like he’s waiting to see what I’ll do. Christina is talking to Chris, but she’s angled slightly toward Matt, like she’s waiting for an opening.

I turn back to Nate. “Let’s do another shot.”

He grins, signaling to the bartender. “Now you’re talking.”

As we make our way back to the booth, I immediately notice that Chris and Matt are gone. Nate clocks it too, but neither of us say anything. Instead, we’re left to take the only open seats. Nate slides in next to Rachel, leaving me no choice but to sit beside Christina.

She shifts slightly as I settle beside her, turning just enough to face me. Her perfectly lined lips curl into a smirk, and I already know whatever is about to come out of her mouth isn’t going to be pleasant.

“So” she starts, dragging out the word, her nails tapping against her glass. “You and Matt are, what? Friends?”

I keep my expression neutral. “Yeah, I guess you could say that.”

She hums, taking a sip of her drink. “Funny. I just didn’t expect him to be the type for.. complicated situations.”

I raise a brow. “Complicated how?”

Her smirk widens, like she’s enjoying this. “Well, we do have history. I just assumed if he was seeing someone, he would’ve told me.”

I fight the urge to roll my eyes. So this is what we’re doing.

“I don’t think Matt owes you an update on his personal life” I say smoothly, taking a sip of my drink.

Christina lets out a light laugh “Oh, It’s just.. you know how it is when you have that kind of connection with someone. Some things never really go away.”

I take a deep breath, trying to steady myself, but Christina doesn’t stop there.

“Vegas was.. unforgettable” she says, swirling the ice in her drink. 

I refuse to give her the reaction she’s looking for, so I nod casually. “Oh yeah? How was it?”

She tilts her head, almost throwing me a pitiful look. “Oh Y/n I can’t spare you the details! You know what they say. What happens in Vegas stays in Vegas.”

That’s it. That’s my final straw.

I feel my stomach twist, my chest tightening in that way that tells me I’m two seconds away from either snapping or letting this whole night ruin me. And I won’t give her the satisfaction of either.

I put my drink down, pushing it away from me. The last thing I need is more alcohol fueling whatever emotions are bubbling to the surface.

Nate notices my change in demeanour. “You good?”

I nod quickly, already standing up. “Yeah, just..just gonna head back to the villa.”

He watches me carefully. “Want me to come with you?”

I shake my head. “No, it’s okay.” 

“Nope, not happening” he says, standing up and walking toward me leaving the two girls behind us. “First off, I’m not letting you leave here alone, and second, I’m not staying with those two either.”

I let out a breath, not wanting to argue. “Fine” I say, and we start weaving through the club toward the exit.

Just as we’re near the door, I catch movement in the corner of my eye, Matt and Chris. They’re standing near the bar, mid conversation, but their heads turn in sync when they see us leaving.

For a split second, I think Matt might step forward, might ask where I’m going or what’s wrong. But he doesn’t. And I don’t stop either.

I don’t even get to say goodbye to Nick, who’s completely wrapped up with the guy from earlier.

I just step out into the warm night air with Nate, leaving it all behind.

Nate and I get to the villa in silence, the quiet settling around us in stark contrast to the volume of the club we just left. I pull my phone out of my purse the second we’re inside, checking my notifications. Nothing from Matt.

Wow. Is that really how it is?

Anger rises in my chest, hot and sharp. It’s not even about Christina anymore, it’s about the fact that I walked out of there, and he didn’t even bother to check in. If I didn’t care, I wouldn’t feel like this. 

But I do.

And that’s exactly why it stings.

I let out a frustrated breath, holding the power button on my phone until the screen goes black. If he’s not going to message me, I don’t even want to give myself the chance to sit here and wait for it. I just need to sleep this off.

“The sooner I sleep” I mutter to myself, slipping my shoes off, “the faster this night will be over.”

And with that, I take myself to bed and pass out.

Hours later, I’m jolted awake by the sound of my bedroom door bursting open. My heart nearly leaps out of my chest as Nick stumbles inside, completely unbothered by the fact that he just rudely woke me up. Sunlight is already creeping through the curtains, and I instinctively reach for my phone, turning it on to check the time.

7am.

I groan, rubbing the sleep from my eyes before looking at Nick, who’s swaying slightly where he stands. His clothes are wrinkled, his hair a mess, and his eyes are heavy lidded, but he’s grinning like an idiot.

“Are you okay?” I mumble, still groggy. Then, as I properly take in his state, realisation hits me. “Wait, are you still drunk?”

Nick pauses, squinting as if he’s actually trying to figure it out. “Not completely.. The hangover is starting to kick in already.”

I sigh. “Where the hell were you?”

He grins wider, dropping onto the end of my bed dramatically. “I went back to his place.”

I laugh at Nick, shaking my head. "Did you have fun at least?"

He grins, flopping onto my bed dramatically. "I did. I really like him."

I smile at that. "Good. But you need sleep, Nick. You’re barely sitting up."

Nick groans but nods, and as I help him up, he leans on me slightly. "Walk me to my room?"

I sigh but hook my arm through his anyway, guiding him down the hallway. "Come on, lightweight."

We're almost at his door when, suddenly, he perks up with a mischievous glint in his tired eyes. "Wait! Let’s say hi to Matt!"

I barely get the words "No, Nick, let’s not-" out before he’s already reaching for Matt’s door handle.

Everything happens too fast. The door swings open.

And then I see it.

Long brown hair fanned out on the pillow. A bare shoulder peeking from under the sheets.

A girl. 

In Matt’s bed.

Christina.

a/n : what else did you expect from part 20 fr (dont kill me pls)

taglist : @mattybearnard @sturn-33 @ncm9696 @yourfavsturniologirl @crazy4jewel @sodakid1234 @stupendoustreewinner @lovealwayssturniolos @matthewsturniolosss @m4ttsmunch @loveexxx @ilusa @starkeyszn @wonnieeluvvr @dylnblue @valxrieq @maggot3647 @cigarettecemetary @ribread03 @chrisstvrns @bandasaruswrx @noplaceissafeanymore @amexiass @witchofthehour @mattssgf @jetaimevous @v33angel  @ivysturnss @urmom69lol @ashlishes @watercolorskyy @sturnioloshottiekay @amelia-sturniolo3 @imjusthereforthesturniolosmut @pvssychicken @alizestvrnss @chrisstxrnsaxe @sophand4n4 @vickytaa @marrykisskilled @bxtchboy69 @yourfavsturniologirl @julisturn @sydneyylainn @sophia-77n @trevorsgodmother @sturnslutz @yourmother29 @girl24cherry @astronea @pinkdyit

[cinnamanz]

# MAMMA MIA — chapter twenty-seven!

there’s always been one rule in the group: don’t bring up y/n. no one really knows why, but it’s clear sophia would rather leave her ex-best friend in the past. once inseparable, their friendship dissolved after a summer camp that no one talks about, and y/n vanished, moving god-knows-where without so much as a goodbye. some say it was a fight. others say it was something more. only sophia knows the truth—or maybe not even she does. now, as the third year at dream academy begins, sophia is blindsided by y/n's unexpected return. gone is the familiar, easygoing childhood bestfriend she remembers. in her place is someone sharper, colder, and—unfortunately for sophia—hotter than ever. (who gave her the permission to look so fine?)

wc: 390

AWKWARD

Y/N STOOD BY THE FRONT DOOR, arms crossed, watching as sophia and her brothers hauled their bags inside. her expression was unreadable, eyes flicking over sophia for a brief second before shifting away like she was nothing more than another suitcase being dragged across the hardwood floor.

sophia wanted to say something. had been thinking about saying something since she first saw y/n standing there, indifferent as ever. but with the way y/n held herself—closed off, uninterested, like she didn’t even care that they were going to be stuck under the same roof—sophia hesitated.

still, the silence was unbearable. so she tried.

before she could, y/n stepped forward, eyes scanning the pile of bags. without a word, she reached for the largest one—sophia’s overstuffed duffel, the one that made her arms ache just carrying it inside—and hoisted it onto her shoulder like it weighed nothing.

"you’re upstairs," y/n muttered, already turning toward the staircase. "follow me."

sophia blinked, surprised, then adjusted the strap of her remaining bag and followed.

the walk up was tense. y/n didn’t look back. sophia didn’t try to make conversation. not yet.

when they reached the top, y/n nudged open the door to the master bedroom, stepping aside to let sophia pass before setting the duffel down at the foot of the bed without a word.

"this is yours?" sophia asked, half expecting y/n to say yes.

y/n shook her head. "guest room. my room’s next door."

sophia nodded slowly, pressing her lips together. she should let y/n go. should let her disappear behind the next door over and pretend this whole situation wasn’t weird.

but before she could stop herself, she blurted out, "your bass playing earlier. it was good. really good." sophia mentally face palmed at how giddy she'd sounded

y/n paused, hand still on the doorframe. she glanced back, expression unreadable.

"and," sophia continued, clearing her throat, "your acting too. at the fundraiser. your roma was—uh—phenomenal."

a flicker of something passed through y/n’s eyes, too quick to catch. but her face remained impassive. "thanks," she said, flat, almost dismissive.

then she turned on her heel, disappearing into her room without another word. sophia let out a breath she hadn’t realized she was holding. awkward. this was going to be so awkward.

masterlist ✮⋆｡˚📽️ next

FUCK YELLOWJACKETS ALL THAT SHOW EVER DOES IS BRING ME PAIN I AM IN MOURNING FUCKKKKKKK anyway . GUYS I SAW BILLIE EILISH LIVE 2 DAYS AGO IM GNA COMBUST my sophia pc was there too nd she saw billie eilish live what a lucky pc. also this was quite a lot of stuff on one chap so js ignore that LAWL

@zindoriyo @goofymickeyr @saysirhc @kathleenmikaelson @soobnotfound @jjjaliyah @meganskiendielsbtc @magixpracticality @phamapple @sed7ction @1luvkarina @linnnsworld @hotluvlet @bauzer @saranglasses @kkoga @chaesitonmyface @arihiu @peanutbutterlover05 @kristalag @ssamlovr @sunshinez4 @meiyaes @solentient @jsxjmn @reey0w @vrtualstar @justtluvrr @fruityg0rl @cyberbonesworld @haerinkisser @lafortezalover @cassiespoiler @skz-xii @ninguitar @kimminjswife @yeetaberry127 @p1hbrook @hazel-tanthamore22 @caitlynglazer @minjvers @tormaa1 @nwjnsloona @itzkatflixs @namojoon @falling-intoo-deep @waitsobs @nyssalvr @blushmimi @cindergorge TAGLIST CLOSED

[gf2bellamy]

Hey, you know that one scene where spencer and penelope are taking their fitness test and morgan is the one making them take it so could i please request something where bau reader joins derek

fitness — spencer reid

pairing: spencer reid x reader ( no use of y/n ) content warnings: working out ? 😭 a/n: hiii !! this is literally one of my fav scenes in cm also i added a silly little surprise at the end <3

You had to suppress your laughter as you and Derek stood in front of Garcia and Spencer, who were both sitting on the grass, half-heartedly stretching. The sight alone was amusing enough—Garcia’s oversized red sunglasses perched on her nose.

But it was Spencer who truly sent you over the edge. 

The laughter that had been bubbling up inside you finally burst out when you took in his outfit in full detail. 

Spencer Reid was dressed for the world’s most awkward middle school gym class. A red hoodie that was slightly too big for him, blue running shorts that contrasted hilariously with the rest of his ensemble, and—best of all—long white socks pulled up so high they nearly covered his calves.

But the real cherry on top? The red headband wrapped securely around his forehead, pushing his hair back.

“You better not be laughing at me,” Spencer grumbled, already suspicious as he narrowed his eyes at you. 

You pressed your lips together, failing miserably at looking innocent. “No, no, not at all,” you said, waving a dismissive hand. “It’s just—wow. I really love the headband, Spence.” 

Derek let out a low chuckle beside you, shaking his head. “Man, you look like you’re about to run a marathon… in 1984.” 

Spencer sighed heavily and dropped his arms in defeat. 

Garcia, on the other hand, was less concerned with Spencer’s wardrobe and more concerned with your presence. “Why are you here?” she asked, lifting her sunglasses slightly to get a better look at you and Derek, her expression filled with suspicion. 

You placed your hands on your hips, grinning. “We’re your new PT teachers.” 

Garcia’s face twisted in horror as she turned to Spencer. “Oh, this is a nightmare.” 

Derek clapped his hands together, nodding. “Walker’s sick, so you two lucky ducks get to train with us instead.” 

“Lucky day,” you added, smirking down at them. 

Garcia groaned, flopping backward dramatically onto the grass. “Kill me now.” 

“You know this whole fit test thing was just a formality, right?” Derek reminded them.“You could’ve gotten the whole thing waived.” 

Spencer, who had been silent up until now, slowly turned his head toward Derek, his mouth falling open slightly in realization. His arms dropped fully to his sides as he let out a soft, defeated, “Are you serious?” 

Derek smirked. “Yup.” 

Spencer groaned, collapsing backward onto the grass next to Garcia. “I hate it here.” 

You grinned and crossed your arms. “Too bad. Now, both of you—up. We’ve got work to do.” 

Garcia peeked up at you from under her sunglasses. “I just want you to know, I am actively plotting my revenge.” 

You laughed, reaching down to offer Spencer a hand. “Noted. But for now, get up, genius. Those calf-high socks aren’t going to run laps by themselves.” 

Spencer sighed dramatically but took your hand anyway. “This is cruel and unusual punishment.” 

Derek just chuckled, stepping back as the two of you prepared to put them through the most entertaining training session of their lives. 

The two of them immediately rushed to the start of the track, eager to get this over with as quickly as possible. But before they could take off, you and Derek exchanged a knowing look. 

“What do you think you’re doing?” Derek asked, the biggest, most amused grin stretching across his face. 

Spencer and Garcia both hesitated, looking at each other in confusion. 

“Uh… running the mile?” Garcia answered, her tone more uncertain than confident. 

Derek let out a low chuckle, shaking his head. “Oh, they didn’t hear,” he muttered, glancing at you. 

You smirked. “Nope.” 

Spencer frowned, adjusting his headband. “Hear what?” 

You crossed your arms, thoroughly enjoying the confusion on their faces. “The fit test is more than just running a mile,” you said, drawing out each word for emphasis. 

Garcia’s face dropped. “Oh no.” 

Spencer blinked. “Excuse me?” 

You gestured toward the empty stretch of field beside the track. “Before you even think about running, first up—push-ups.” 

Garcia groaned like she was in physical pain. “Are you serious? Push-ups? I don’t do push-ups. I do online shopping and deep dives into government databases, not whatever this is.” 

Derek laughed. “Oh, this is gonna be fun.” 

Spencer sighed heavily, already bracing himself for the inevitable. “Fine. How many?” 

You exchanged another look with Derek before he smirked. “As many as you can in one minute.” 

Garcia flopped onto her stomach dramatically, already giving up. “Just let me die here.” 

Spencer, meanwhile, awkwardly positioned himself into something vaguely resembling a push-up stance, his long limbs looking entirely out of place. “I haven’t done these since high school,” he admitted, glancing up at you with mild panic. 

“Then you’re long overdue,” you teased, squatting down next to him. “Alright, genius, let’s see what you’ve got.” 

Spencer took a deep breath, then lowered himself toward the ground—only for his arms to tremble on the way back up. 

Derek chuckled. “Oh, this is gonna be real good.” 

Garcia, still sprawled dramatically on the grass, turned her head slightly to watch. “Reid, just know I am suffering with you in spirit.” 

Spencer exhaled sharply, already regretting every life choice that led to this moment. “Fantastic.” 

After the grueling push-ups, you weren’t about to let them off that easy.

Next up, you led them to a line of small obstacles—nothing too intense, just a few low hurdles.

You gave them an exaggerated, dramatic gesture toward the obstacles. “Alright, ladies and gents, show me what you’ve got.” 

Spencer, still struggling with the remnants of the push-up challenge, eyed the obstacles with dread. He took a tentative step forward, only to trip on the first hurdle. He stumbled and fell flat on his stomach with a thud. 

Unable to suppress it, you burst into uncontrollable laughter, clutching your stomach as you doubled over.

“Oh, that was beautiful, Reid,” Derek laughed, wiping a tear from his eye.

Garcia was in no better shape, her face contorted in mock horror as she tried to steady herself on the next hurdle. She managed to clear it with a half-decent leap, but the rest of the obstacles proved a challenge. She let out a little squeal each time she almost stumbled, finally breathing a sigh of relief once she was past them. 

The next station was a set of metal rods—basically, a low horizontal pull-up bar designed to test their upper body strength.

Garcia was surprisingly good at it, pulling herself up with ease, though she let out a few exaggerated groans of exertion with each pull. “I’hate this,” she grumbled between pulls, but still managed to finish the task with a satisfied smirk. 

Spencer, on the other hand, was struggling. He grasped the bar, his arms shaking under the effort. His body barely lifted off the ground, his feet still scraping the dirt.

You raised an eyebrow. “Need a hand, genius?” you teased, watching him grit his teeth as he gave another half-hearted attempt. 

“I’m fine,” he grumbled, but his face betrayed him as he finally managed to pull himself up, only for his feet to immediately touch the ground again. “Okay, maybe I need a little help…” 

Derek shot you a look, clearly enjoying the spectacle. “Looks like we’re in for a long day,” he chuckled. 

The next challenge was rope jumping. You had them each take turns skipping across the line of ropes laid out on the grass. Garcia went first, her hops smooth but exaggerated, and she finished in record time, looking proud of herself.

Spencer, however, tripped over the ropes more than once. Every time he landed wrong, his face contorted in frustration, and you couldn’t help but let out a giggle. “Come on, Spence! You can do better than that!” you cheered. 

“I’m trying!” he said, clearly winded from the rope-jumping fiasco. “I didn’t sign up for the circus.” 

“Oh, I think you’re getting the full experience here,” you quipped, watching as he made another attempt, this time managing to hop through with only a few stumbles. 

Finally, you and Derek led them over to the bleachers. You gestured to the steps. “Alright, now for the real fun. You two are going to run up and down these steps until I say stop.” 

Spencer gave a long, dramatic sigh, but Garcia was already off.She sprinted up the first set of stairs.

Spencer, on the other hand, was a different story. 

He began jogging up the steps, but there was something about his posture, that made it impossible for you to keep a straight face.

His knees seemed to lift unnaturally high, and the way he scrambled up the stairs made you laugh out loud. You couldn’t help it—every awkward step he took had you cracking up, and you had to look away to keep from bursting into another fit of laughter. 

Derek’s laughter was more restrained, but you could see his eyes twinkling with amusement as Spencer reached the top of the bleachers, panting and trying to recover.

Spencer caught his breath, shooting you a half-annoyed, half-amused look. “This is torture.” 

You smirked. “It’s character-building.” 

Garcia, having finished her run, leaned against the railing, fanning herself dramatically. “Please, just let me die now.” 

You laughed, crossing your arms. “Not quite yet, Garcia. We’ve still got a few more rounds to go.” 

And with that, you and Derek took them through round after round, pushing them harder than they’d ever been pushed before.

The sun, now dipping lower in the sky, painted the field in warm hues of orange and pink. Spencer and Garcia, both utterly spent, finally collapsed onto the grass , their breaths coming in shallow gasps.

You and Derek exchanged a quick glance, silently communicating. Then, you put your hands on your hips and tilted your head, eyeing them with a smirk. 

“What are you doing?” you asked, feigning confusion. 

Spencer didn’t even look up, his chest heaving as he stared at the sky. “We’re… dying,” he muttered. 

You raised an eyebrow. “You still have to run two miles.” 

At that, Spencer’s head jerked up, his eyes widening. “What? It’s supposed to be one mile!” His voice cracked with disbelief. 

Derek, crossing his arms and leaning against the bench, grinning.“Not on my watch,” he said casually. 

Spencer and Garcia didn’t answer immediately. Instead, they stayed where they were, bodies sprawled out on the grass, still struggling to catch their breath.

You and Derek exchanged a knowing look. It was time to break the news to them. 

“Time to tell them, don’t you think?” you asked, your voice dripping with amusement. 

Derek sighed dramatically but his grin never faltered. “Fine.” He looked down at them both. “We already had your fit test waived.” 

There was a long pause, and then Spencer’s head shot up, his eyes wide with confusion. “What?” 

Garcia’s mouth dropped open, mirroring Spencer’s shock. “Are you kidding me?” 

Derek’s grin grew wider as he looked down at Garcia. “Think about it, babygirl—you’re not even in the field. No need for you to do this.” 

You turned your attention to Spencer, whose expression was one of utter disbelief. “And you, genius, already have enough case hours to qualify. You were good to go a while ago.” 

Garcia, still struggling to form coherent words, finally muttered under her breath, “I’m gonna kill you both.” 

You laughed, crossing your arms. “You can try, but I’m pretty sure you won’t be able to catch us after all this running.” 

Spencer, who was still lying on the grass, barely able to keep his eyes open, added in a half-joking tone, “When I manage to lift my arms, I’ll be able to hold you down.” 

Garcia, however, had already jumped to her feet and was sprinting after Derek, who was trying to escape with all his might.

Spencer turned his head toward you, and you saw that mischievous glint in his eyes. He didn’t even need to speak for you to know what he was planning. 

You immediately held up a hand in warning. “No,” you said, laughing but serious. “Don’t even think about it.” 

But Spencer was already getting up, his limbs wobbly from exhaustion, a grin still playing at the corners of his lips. You could see the gears turning in his head as he watched Garcia chase after Derek, his gaze flickering back to you with a knowing look. 

“No, Spencer!” you said, laughing as you backed away, but it was too late. Spencer was already moving toward you. 

Meanwhile, Garcia had caught Derek, and the two of them were practically rolling on the grass as she tried to pin him down, laughing all the while. “Gotcha!” Garcia exclaimed with a triumphant grin, holding Derek in place despite his efforts to break free. 

Spencer closed the gap between the two of you quickly.

You tried to evade him, but you weren’t fast enough.

The second you turned to look behind you, Spencer grabbed you, his arms wrapping around your waist from behind, and pulled you toward him in one swift motion. 

You gasped in surprise, but before you could protest, Spencer whispered in your ear, his voice low but filled with amusement, “I can’t believe you didn’t tell me you were my PT teacher.” 

You froze for a second, your heart skipping a beat as he held you close.

Before you could respond, you caught a glimpse of Derek and Garcia, still oblivious to the moment between you and Spencer as they struggled playfully on the ground. Spencer’s hold on you tightened slightly as he kissed your temple, his lips lingering for a brief, sweet second. 

“You’re gonna have to make it up to me for this,” he murmured, his voice warm and playful. You could feel a shiver run down your spine.

You tried to steady your breath, trying to ignore the butterflies in your stomach. “You’re impossible,” you muttered, although your voice lacked any real conviction. 

Spencer grinned, clearly enjoying the effect he had on you. “I know.” He glanced back over at Garcia and Derek, who were still tangled up in their playful struggle, not noticing a thing.

You tried to suppress the smile that was spreading across your face, your cheeks flushing. “Fine,” you sighed dramatically. “I’ll figure out how to make it up to you. But you’re pushing your luck, Reid.”

Spencer raised an eyebrow, clearly pleased with himself. “I’ll take my chances.”

You glanced at Derek and Garcia, who were still obliviously bickering.

"Yeah, well, consider this your warning. Next time, we’re running the bleachers again."

[phone4pills]

𝐒𝐖𝐄𝐄𝐓 𝐍 𝐒𝐌𝐔𝐆

you want Chris’ love. he wants your ass. are you really about to do this ?

“Back up for me.” He didn’t hesitate, fingers drawn to your hip the second your ass hovered over his thigh, getting closer and closer until it hit his lower stomach. Chris groaned, sliding one hand up your body, getting a feel for himself; grasping your throat as though you weren’t out of breath as it was.

He snickered, pulling your head back as far as he could. “What? Y’not gonna get these pants off, baby?” His words lingered with the sinister honey dripping in his voice, sweet but all the same smug. Your arms moved behind your back, hands trying to find his zipper. Chris guided your hand towards it, at a painfully slow pace. You pulled his zipper down, eventually getting his pants down far enough.

There was no hiding his arousal under the thin layer that was his skims boxers. You slowly rolled your hips back, ass moving along his tent with a comfortable ease. Chris’ pelvis pushed into you, urging you to please him already. The man was far from patient.

You blushed, taking the fabric of his boxers between his fingers and pulling them down. His cock spring out, leaving a messy line of precum on your lower back. He hissed, grabbing you swiftly by the waist and pulling you off his thighs, easing you down onto his dick only seconds later. The stretch was unexpected but fuck it felt good.

You began to shift back and forth, a moan tearing through the heat in the room. Chris watched in awe as you moved along him, wanting to feel the rub of every wall, the squeeze into every crevice. Your head fell back, to which Chris sat up slightly, grabbing as much of your hair as he could in one fist. “Fuckin’ harder. I know you can.” You choked a gasp, causing his brows to furrow in disgust.

“Quit being a fuckin’ baby. Cmon, neither of us are leaving before I turn your insides white.” You gradually pushed hard enough, bouncing up and down on his cock. Chris groaned into your ear, his hot breath lingering on your neck for a moment. His tongue made a red, glossy mess of the skin caught between his teeth. You gripped his thighs, trying to persevere.

So much was going on. The sound of your ass slapping his crotch, the jockeys all over your neck. Chris’ possessive but satisfying hold on your hips, giving you the most help he was willing to. His chest against your back, slowly parting ways as he made his head comfortable on the headboard again.

“Chris! I’m gonna~” Your sentence was interrupted by an orgasm coming on hard, completely overriding any kind of thought that you may or may not have harnessed prior. Eyes rolling back, legs shaking: it meant fuck all to Chris. He still needed more. He began you guide you over his dick, hitting him where he needed it.

“Shit, m’doin’ all the work here.” He grunted, forcing you to keep riding him, despite how burnt out you were. But you wanted to make him cum. That’s the most dominance you’d get over him, even though you were already literally on top of him.

Chris bucked his hips into you, head sinking into the pillow beneath him. “Fuck me. Yeah, yeah just like that. Look at her, fuckin’ bouncing all on my dick.” Though he wouldn’t admit it, you looked sexy. It was a divine sight, the fat on your ass taking up most of his view, the cum leaking out of you into the dip between his legs. His blunt fingertips embedded into your skin, deeper and deeper until they couldn’t physically get past your ribs.

“Keep- fuck- keep going.” His cock twitched inside of you, tip aching with desperation. Then it snapped. You whined at the new found heat in your pussy. But Chris’ hand came over your mouth quick, hoisting you down so you lay on top of him, chests rising and falling.

“Shut up, just- jus’ give me a minute.”

— just gonna leave this here … ! divider by @strnilolover

- ©phone4pills

[cuteandhughesy]

auston matthews -

“you’re such a loser”.

“you’re so pretty it pains me” (said to him).

“keep still you little… troll”.

please & thank you. love your work. :)

Drunk In Love | Auston Matthews

summary: your boyfriend has to pick you up from a bar—only to find that you’re sloshed and feeling playful. prompt no. 15: “you’re so pretty it pains me” + prompt no. 28: “keep still you little…troll.”

[word count] 2.1k

warnings: drinking | drunk behaviour | suggestive dialogue

a/n: how is this my first auston work…this man was the reason I started watching hockey in 2016! i’m back to my roots with this one! also this ain’t super detailed because I don’t have the brain capacity for that 😛

🎵 drunk in love by beyoncé & jay-z

───────── ౨ৎ ─────────

auston is immediately bombarded when he steps into the club. not only by the overwhelming smell of hard liquor and various sweet floral perfumes, but by jennifer—your red head bubbly best friend who's celebrating her 27th birthday.

he blinks in surprise as jennifer steps in front of him, freckles still visible even under the flashing lights. "i'm sorry," she hisses, looking over her shoulder at what auston can only presume is you, "but she's sloshed." and that confirms his suspicions.

about 20 minutes ago, he answered jennifer's call. he was expecting the worse—you've always been a naturally clumsy person when drinking, and anytime you go out partying with your friends, you're coming home with more scrapes and bruises than you can count. all jennifer really told auston was that you needed a ride home asap, being very vague about the entire situation.

auston put two and two together pretty quickly.

"it's alright," he says, eyes squinting through the dark atmosphere in search of you and the sparkly red top you left the condo in. you're easy to spot, only because you're standing on top of the bar like you're in some cheesy rom com movie, laughing loudly and dancing while everyone cheers you on.

jennifer smiles awkwardly, green eyes darting between you and your less than amused looking boyfriend. auston curses, moving through the sea of bodies until he's at the crowded bar. he gently wraps his hand around you thigh, not hard, but still firm enough to grab your attention.

you look down, and immediately you're beaming at the sight of him. "austonnnnnn," you slur his name loudly, reaching down to steady yourself on his shoulders as he helps you off the table top. as soon as your heels are back on soild ground, you're jumping into auston’s arms—not without almost missing him and falling to the floor if it wasn't for auston's reflexes.

"woah, slow down," he warns lightly, large hands a warm and steady presence on your hips as he steadies you. "hi baby." auston grins slightly, eyes barley visible under the rim of his ball cap. a hiding feature he chose on purpose—auston wasn't really in the mood to wake up tomorrow morning and read a bunch of news tabloids about him picking up his hammered girlfriend at a local toronto club.

"hi." you grin, blinking slowly. auston can feel your heat through hour top-your skin hot to the touch, the affect off one too many shots. the hair you'd previously slicked back into a pony tail is now frizzy and down—eyes glassy and not all there.

auston snickers, already moving you away from the table and back to the direction of the entrance. "are you drunk?" he teases knowingly.

"pssshhh...no!" you decline loudly, shaking your head—but the way you misstep tells a whole different story. you don't even notice that though, too busy looking at your boyfriend with an imaginary lightbulb flickering above your head, "have you come to take a shot with me?" you ask, your excitement obvious.

auston hums, "no, i'm here to bring you home."

"but im not ready to go home," you pout.

"I know, but you can come out next weekend."

his words seem to do the trick, because your face relaxes and your lips form into a lazy grin. "oh yeah," you say matter of factly like it was you who came up with the idea.

"do you have your bag?" auston asks before the both of you can step outside, "where's your phone?"

your small chain bag is slung over your shoulder—which, thank god, because auston did not want to have to search for it in the women's bathroom or under the sticky tables. "my phones under my boob," you say.

he reaches out, fingers sliding under your boob to make sure it is in fact in your top.

it makes you giggle, arching into his touch, completely oblivious. "trying to cop a feel?," you slur, way too loudly for a public space. "you freak."

auston can't help the breathy laugh that leaves him, pulling off your body once he has confirmation that your phone is sitting between your ribs and left boob. "just making sure you've got everything," he corrects your insinuation lightly, wrapping his hand back around your hips. "okay, let's go."

the cold air is a shock after spending time inside the overpacked and overheated club. you instinctively curl into his side, seeking some warmth—no matter how drunk you are, you'll always find a way to get chilled.

as soon as his car is in your line of sight, you gasp, mumbling something incoherent before attempting to run towards the vehicle. you obviously don't get far, not with auston's arm holding you upright, but that doesn't stop you from stumbling on uneven sidewalk—almost sending you to your knees.

it has you giggling but also somehow gasping dramatically all at the same time.

"careful." auston chimes firmly, digging in his back pocket for his keys to unlock the car.

"woah that was scary," you snort, looking up at him with those glassed over eyes he loves. "did you almost trip too?" you ask, dead serious.

auston opens the passenger door, "almost."

"that wouldn't of been good," you slur.

"no, it wouldn't of been." he agrees easily, guiding you into the vehicle, "okay, left foot first babe."

but you're not going that easily. you turn to your boyfriend again, face flashing in fucking betrayal like he just asked you to root for the bruins. "you haven't even kissed me yet," you whine, feet planted on the concrete while your butt connects with the car seat.

he sighs, "let's get in the car first."

"please?" you slur, leaning forward dangerously. auston grips your biceps before you can face plant to the ground, but you're completely oblivious, continuing to beg in a mixture of babbling and slurring, "you're so pretty it pains me! and I need a kiss to make me feel better."

auston takes a deep breath, staring down at you for a beat—seeing if you'll give up. but you don't, continuing to look up at him like he hung the moon and the stars, lips slightly pouted and stained as you wait rather patiently. he sighs again before leaning down and giving you a quick peck.

you beam when be pulls away, bringing your left foot into the car. "you love me," you hum dreamily.

"yeah I do," auston smiles, guiding your right leg inside the car before he leans over your body, clicking the seat belt into place.

you kiss the side of his face sloppily as he makes sure you're buckled, "I love you too."

the 15 minute drive back to your and auston's shared condo is filled with the sound of your voice, singing along to random radio songs in an impromptu karaoke session. anytime you look over at auston and see that he's not singing, you squawk loudly, poking his cheek persistently until he joins in.

thankfully you don't give him too much trouble getting back out of the car, or on the elevator ride up to your floor—the most you do is stumble and talk too loudly, but auston finds it rather funny. you resemble a baby deer, and when he tells you that, you start tearing up about how cute baby animals are.

felix, your shared dog, eyes you both grumpily from his spot on the couch as you pass, clearly upset at be woken up.

auston guides you into the bedroom, helping you kick your heels off while you continue crying, now specifically praising baby horses and their tiny little horse shoes.

he grabs your oversized pyjama shirt, which is actually one of his old men's league shirts that you'd stolen years ago when you first met. auston turns back to you, placing the shirt beside you on the bed. "okay," he starts, "arms up baby."

"why?"

"because you need to get changed," auston says.

you whine, muttering something about feeling tired. regardless you lift your arms, limbs all floppy and heavy as auston attempts taking your sparkly top off.

you wiggle and squirm, laughing as auston's calloused fingers graze against the side of your ribs. your movement makes him sigh, teetering on impatient. "stay still you little...troll."

that gets you to stop moving. "hey! that's mean." you pout incredulously.

"it's not," auston answers easily, pulling your shirt fully off. now free, your phone falls to your lap with a plop. "trolls are cute"

you arms drop to your sides quickly, "no they're not."

"shhh," he teases, pulling off your skirt and tights in one quick and efficient move. "you'll hurt their feelings."

"my boobs are out," you say after a beat.

auston snickers, pushing your head through the stretched neck hole of his old shirt. yeah, they are," he hums, moving to your arm and bending it at the elbow, “hey, put your arms through the holes."

"nooooo," you whine, falling forward to auston’s chest and wrapping your sticky arms loosely around his neck. "I wanna give you a kiss." you mumble, already in the middle of covering his scruff covered jawline in tequila scented kisses. one of your hands sneaks down his body, and before he can even blink, your grabbing his dick.

"jesus baby," his breathe hitches, pulling your hand off his length and putting it back in your lap.

you giggle, "you like that?"

auston shakes his head, putting your arms through the shirt holes before you can grab his dick again. "not tonight, you need to go to sleep."

your face falls. "you don't want me?"

"not when you're drunk."

you scoff, tears pricking your waterline as auston fully pulls the shirt down over your naked body. "you hate me." you state dramatically, arms crossing over your chest.

"not at all," he reassures you softly.

"but you don't want me."

"you're drunk." auston reiterates, which only makes you hum. he can't help the smile that pulls on his face, shaking his head in disbelief at your slurred words and usual drunk shenanigans. "okay baby, let's get you in bed."

the next two minutes are silent as your boyfriend helps you slip under the covers. you sigh happily as the cool sheets envelop around your limbs, head sinking into the fluffy pillow like you're lying on a cloud. auston leaves your lamp on, putting your phone on the beside table—making sure it's plugged in for the morning—before he turns to leave.

but just as his hand touches the door knob, you're whining. "austonnnnnn."

"yes?" he asks, brow quirked.

you make grabby hands at him like a toddler. "come lay with me."

"i'm going to," auston says, "I just gotta take felix out first."

the mention of your dog has you sitting straight up, once again wide awake. auston can't help the way he sighs, falling back against your bedroom door in what feels like defeat.

"can I come?" you ask him, voice full of hope and joy at the thought of running your hands through felix's soft and curly coat. you’ve never wanted to cuddle him more than this very moment.

auston shakes his head gently, "no."

"whyyy?" you whine, lips pouting for the hundredth time tonight. "I love him so much." you admit, voice thickening with emotion as you blink at your boyfriend through the warmly lit bedroom.

he walks back towards you, softly pushing your hair off your face. "I know you do," auston mumbles, thumb stroking your brow bone. "but you're not wearing pants and it's cold outside."

you frown deepens, a single shiny tear falling from your eye and tracing down the round of your cheek. "but," you pause, sniffling gently, "felix will think I don't love him if I don't come."

auston shakes his head, "that's not true." but you only cry more, shrinking in on yourself as sobs wrack through your body. auston coos, pressing a firm kiss to your forehead and then another to your cheek.

even drunk, you don't play about your love for felix.

"how about when I get back I bring him in here for the night?" auston proposes sweetly.

your head lifts, and the sight of your watery eyes have auston pouting. "really?"

"yeah."

and he fully intends on keeping his promise, but 30 minutes later—once the dog has done his business and trotted around the condos front grass—auston opens the bedroom door, only to find you sound asleep.

[rafeyssugar]

baby girl

rafe treats y/n like she’s made of glass. like she’s something soft, delicate—something his.

and she lets him. because how could she not? when he’s always looking at her like that? when his touch is always so gentle?

like now—when she pouts at him from the passenger seat, arms crossed, lips pursed in that way that makes him weak.

“what?” he asks, fighting back a smirk, reaching over to squeeze her thigh.

“you didn’t let me carry the bags.”

rafe exhales, shaking his head. “because you don’t need to. what kind of boyfriend would i be if i let you carry heavy shit, huh?”

y/n huffs, turning to the window. “they weren’t even that heavy.”

and that’s when he knows—she’s just being a brat.

so he leans over at a red light, pressing a kiss to her temple. “my sweet girl,” he murmurs, lips dragging down to her jaw. “so spoiled, huh?”

she mumbles something under her breath, but he catches it—“not spoiled.”

he just grins. “nah, you are, angel. i made you that way.”

because he does spoil her. carries her bags, opens her doors, pulls her into his lap just because. worships her. and he wouldn’t have it any other way.

so when they get home, and she starts trying to grab the shopping bags again, he just tuts, plucking them right out of her hands.

“what did i say, baby?”

she pouts up at him. “but—”

rafe just shakes his head, pressing a quick kiss to her lips. “no buts. let me take care of you.”

she lets out a dramatic sigh but doesn’t argue, instead watching as he carries all the bags inside like it’s nothing.

“you know,” she says, plopping onto the couch, stretching like a cat, “i could have helped.”

rafe raises a brow, setting the bags down before making his way over to her. “oh yeah?”

“yeah.”

he hums, settling beside her, pulling her into his lap with ease. “but you like when i baby you, huh?”

she rolls her eyes, but he sees the way her lips twitch, how she doesn’t move away when he starts pressing slow, lazy kisses to her neck.

“admit it,” he murmurs, voice low, teasing. “you like being my spoiled little baby girl.”

she exhales, tilting her head slightly as he keeps kissing, hands gripping at his shirt.

“maybe.”

rafe chuckles, pulling back to look at her. “yeah?”

she shrugs, playing with the collar of his shirt, but when she finally looks up, she’s got that look in her eyes—the one that makes him weak. the one that tells him she’s just as obsessed with him as he is with her.

so he kisses her—slow, deep, like he’s got all the time in the world.

when they finally pull apart, he brushes a thumb over her cheek, voice soft. “good girl.”

-

now she’s curled up in his lap, fingers lazily playing with the chain around his neck, lips slightly swollen from how he’d kissed her stupid just moments ago.

and he can’t help himself.

his hands roam—slow, lazy, like he’s got nowhere else to be. one hand resting on the small of her back, the other tracing patterns along her bare thigh, dipping beneath the hem of her shorts.

“you tired, baby?” he murmurs, voice soft, knowing.

y/n hums, blinking up at him, looking dazed, floaty. “a little.”

he smiles, brushing a strand of hair from her face. “you wanna nap?”

she makes a noise, nuzzling closer, pressing her face into his neck. “mmm. just wanna sit here.”

and his heart melts.

because she’s never really said it, but he knows—knows she feels safest when she’s with him, tucked against him like this, wrapped up in his warmth.

so he just hums, rubbing slow circles into her back. “yeah? my lap comfy, huh?”

she nods, sighing contentedly. “mhm. best seat in the house.”

rafe chuckles, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. “yeah, ‘cause it’s your seat, angel.”

she doesn’t respond, but the way she sighs again, soft and sweet, is enough.

he keeps holding her, fingers tracing slow, absentminded shapes against her skin, lips pressing light, fleeting kisses to her temple, her forehead, her jaw.

and when he feels her breathing even out, feels her relax completely in his arms, he knows she’s drifted off.

he smiles to himself, tightening his hold just a little, letting his head rest against the couch.

yeah, he thinks, pressing one last kiss to her forehead. he could hold her like this forever.

-

rafe doesn’t move—not even an inch. not when his leg starts going numb, not when his arm starts to tingle. because y/n is asleep, all warm and tucked against him, and he’d rather die than wake her up.

his baby girl—soft, sweet, always pressed up against him like she belongs there. (she does.)

he’s careful as he shifts just slightly, just enough to cup the back of her head, fingers threading into her hair. she stirs a little, sighing in her sleep, pressing closer.

rafe just smiles, running a thumb over her cheek. she looks so peaceful like this, face smushed against his chest, lips parted, lashes fluttering faintly.

he has to kiss her.

so he does—just a light press of his lips to her forehead, lingering for a second before pulling away.

but she feels it.

she exhales softly, shifting in his lap, stretching like a cat before blinking up at him, still sleepy, still floaty.

“…how long was i out?” her voice is quiet, groggy.

rafe grins, brushing some hair from her face. “’bout an hour.”

her brows furrow slightly. “you let me sleep that long?”

“‘course i did, angel.” his fingers move down, tracing the side of her neck, his voice dropping slightly. “you looked too pretty to wake up.”

her lips part slightly, and rafe knows he’s got her.

he smirks, dragging his hand down her arm, slow, teasing. “feel good?”

y/n nods, still dazed, blinking at him like she’s not sure if she’s awake or still dreaming.

rafe hums, tilting his head. “yeah? what feels good, baby?”

she exhales. “you.”

and he’s done for.

he cups her face, tilting it up as he leans in, lips brushing hers—soft, teasing. “yeah?”

“mhm.” her hands slide up his chest, gripping his shirt weakly, like she’s trying to pull him closer, but he’s already as close as he can be.

“wanna kiss?” he murmurs, voice low, teasing.

she nods again, breath hitching slightly. “please.”

rafe grins before finally—finally—closing the distance, kissing her soft and slow, like he’s got all the time in the world.

because he does. because he’s not going anywhere.

when they finally pull apart, she exhales, nuzzling into him, hands still fisted in his shirt.

rafe just chuckles, running a hand down her back. his baby girl.