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voyter · 5 months ago

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NO NUT NOVEMBER ⋆ ( 정국 / JJK ) !

pairing. jeon jungkook x fem!reader

jungkook and his friends are all in on the internet's most ridiculous trend: no nut november. but you’re determined to make your boyfriend lose — and you know just how to do it.

⟡₊ ⊹ THANKSGIVING SPECIAL !

word count. 8.9k words warnings. stupid fucking nnn challenge. JUNGKOOK IS SOOO DRAMATIC IN THIS OML. competitive koo. oc being petty as fuck. oc a brat hehe. jungkook cannot lie to save his life. he fighting demons in his head. needy koo. slight crack. smut. oral (fem!receiving). MUNCH JK. dry humping. blindfolding (very brief lasts like five seconds). koo loves her boobies. unprotected sex. dom!jk (i dont usually like writing him like this but i didnt hate it).

ana's notes. happy (very late) thanksgiving !!! BETTER LATE THAN NEVER RIGHT. this was supposed to be posted after thanksgiving but i got so busy and then the writers block crept up on me :\ .. ANYWAYS i am so grateful for you guys and the support you have shown for my writing, it means a lot since this is a hobby that i love. heres a little silly smutty fic for the holidays !! keep your comments positive or say nothing at all <3

There was this utterly ridiculous trend that resurfaced on the internet like clockwork every year — No Nut November.

The viral phenomenon was a joke. Honestly, who in their right mind would actually take part in such a thing?

Well... Jungkook and his friends would.

Never ones to back down from a challenge, they had turned the trend into a full-blown competition: the last man standing would walk away with a cash prize collected from everyone who failed. And Jungkook? He wasn’t about to lose. Not to his friends. Not to anyone.

It wasn’t like he needed the money. Jungkook was doing just fine in that department, thank you very much. But the satisfaction of watching his friends begrudgingly hand over their hard earned cash, faces red with defeat? Fucking priceless. Count him in.

Unbeknownst to you, the bet was in full effect. Therefore, in preparation for what promised to be a painfully unfulfilling month, Jungkook made the most of Halloween night. His desire was overwhelming as he pulled you into his arms again and again. By the time you were both utterly spent, he’d taken you three times — round after relentless round, ensuring he had no regrets before the clock struck midnight.

It was all part of his plan: to have you as many times as he possibly could before November hit and he couldn’t have you at all. He was dead serious about this challenge. Winning was secondary — what mattered most was that he didn’t lose.

By the first week of November — just five days in — Jungkook had been doing surprisingly well. His restraint was impressive, and he’d managed to keep his touches brief and calculated. The physical contact between you two had been limited to sweet, innocent moments: the kisses you shared when he left and came home from work, the soft pecks exchanged before falling asleep, or the comforting warmth of cuddling. None of it lingered too long, and Jungkook was acutely aware of how easily even the smallest touch could spiral into something much harder to resist.

But Jungkook’s plan didn’t seem to work so well after all. As the week drew closer to its end, you began to get eager.

Your arms would wrap around his waist from behind, your chest pressing against his back as you left featherlight kisses against the nape of his neck. Each one sent a shiver down his spine, your breath warm and teasing against his skin. Your fingers trailed along his arms and shoulders a little longer than usual, like they couldn’t bear to part from him. When you kissed him, your lips lingered just a second too long, brushing against his with a softness that made his heart pound and his resolve crumble.

And Jungkook — poor, stubborn Jungkook — felt the strain of holding himself back with every passing moment.

The tension in his body was unmistakable. His jaw clenched, his hands fisted at his sides, as if anchoring himself in place was the only way to resist you. But it was getting harder. Your every move — a tilt of your head, a brush of your fingers, the soft hum of your laughter — was a calculated test of his willpower.

There were times where his thumb hovered over the group chat. His mind screamed at him to type out the words, to admit defeat, to let it all go so he could have you the way he so desperately craved.

But he didn’t.

He kept his composure, though it was a battle he felt he was losing by the second. Temptation clung to him like a warm, enticing embrace, your every move a test of his self control. You were irresistible, and he knew it. Hell, even the fucking dickwad of a neighbor — the one who always found a reason to greet you while mugging Jungkook — knew it. But as much as he wanted to give in, Jungkook had to tread carefully. Ignoring you completely would be suspicious, and pulling away would be totally out of character. You’d see right through him.

So he found a fine line to walk, a delicate balance: giving you just enough to keep you satisfied while keeping his own burning desires tightly in check. A heated makeout session here, his hand squeezing your ass there — little gestures that made everything feel normal. Just enough to keep you from noticing anything was off, but never enough to let things spiral out of control.

The thought of explaining the ridiculous bet to you was out of the question — he wasn’t about to tell you he’d willingly signed up to not get his cock wet for a whole month. So instead, he silently resolved to endure.

It wasn’t easy. Hell, it was torture. But the thought of losing to his friends? That was even worse. Their smug faces, the relentless teasing — it was unthinkable. Jungkook would rather give himself the worst case of blue balls imaginable than admit defeat.

But just as the next week was about to begin, Jungkook’s willpower met its match.

At night, Jungkook stuck to his usual routine. He brushed his teeth, washed his face, and climbed into bed. He scrolled aimlessly through his TikTok for you page, waiting for you to finish up in the bathroom and join him. It was the same comforting ritual as always.

Usually, when you slipped into bed, he’d put his phone down immediately. Without a word, he’d shift closer, press his chest to your back, tangle your legs together, and throw a protective arm over your waist. It was an unspoken rhythm you both loved, the closeness of his warmth pulling you both into peaceful sleep.

But tonight, something felt different.

It had been a long week — too long. You hadn’t had him, hadn’t felt his touch, hadn’t been able to drown in the comfort of him. And tonight, the ache of missing him was unbearable. You needed him, desperately.

As you stepped out of the bathroom, the soft light from the lamp illuminated him sprawled across the bed. His focus was on his phone, completely oblivious to you — but your attention was elsewhere.

The thin material of his sweatpants did nothing to hide the outline of his cock, pressing firmly against the fabric as he lay there in complete ease. It was almost unfair how effortlessly attractive he looked.

And just like that, the last of your restraint snapped.

You didn’t even try to play coy. Not tonight. Not when every fiber of your being screamed for him, for his touch, for his warmth.

You crawled onto the bed with purpose, straddling his hips in one smooth motion. Jungkook tensed beneath you, his phone slipping from his hand onto the mattress. His dark eyes met yours, wide with surprise, but the second your lips captured his, you felt him relax into the kiss.

It didn’t take long for your lips to wander. From his mouth to his jaw, each kiss slower and deeper than the last. That’s when he knew.

This wasn’t going to end with a few kisses.

“It’s getting late,” he murmured, his voice breathy, like he was trying to convince himself more than you.

“Mhm,” you hummed, your lips trailing down his neck, suckling gently at the spot you knew made him shudder.

“We should go to sleep,” he tried again, though his words sounded more like a plea than an order.

“Don’t wanna,” you whispered against his skin, your hand sliding down between your bodies, cupping the hardening length beneath his sweatpants.

The guttural moan that tore from his lips was instant, raw, and uncontrollable. His reaction was visceral, his hands flying to your hips to still you, but it was too late. That single touch had ignited something primal in him.

With a sudden movement, he flipped you onto your back, his hands capturing your wrists and pinning them firmly above your head.

“Why do you never listen to me?” he said through clenched teeth. His frustration of trying to compose his restraint thinning. Why won’t you let him win? His face was so close to yours that the tip of his nose brushed against yours, his breath warm and uneven against your lips.

“Love pissing you off,” you shot back, your grin wicked as your eyes gleamed with mischief. You tilted your head slightly, your voice dropping into something softer, sultrier. “Makes me wet.”

“Brat,” he spat. His grip on your wrists tightened just slightly, his jaw clenching as if holding himself back took everything he had.

To you, it was all in good fun — a playful game, harmless teasing. But to Jungkook? It was sweet, unrelenting torment. Every kiss you pressed to his skin, every soft laugh that spilled from your lips, and every calculated touch you offered worked to chip away at his resolve, unraveling him one agonizing piece at a time.

He wanted to be strong, to resist, to uphold his own ridiculous self imposed boundaries. But how could he? How could he lay down beside you and simply go to sleep when your every movement, every sound, every look begged him to surrender? His body betrayed him first, drawn to you like a magnet, unable to keep his distance. The tension in his muscles, the sharp hitch of his breath every time you touched him — it all screamed of a man teetering on the edge of self control.

Jungkook swallowed hard, his gaze flickering over you, taking in the way your lips curled into a smile that was equal parts innocent and dangerous. He hated how much you affected him, but at the same time, he craved it. Every fiber of his being ached for you — your warmth, your softness, the way you felt against him. He knew he was doomed the second you whispered his name, voice laced with need.

Giving in wasn’t just inevitable; it was everything he wanted. And as much as he’d tried to fight it, there was no denying you. Not now, not ever.

“Fuck,” he whispers, his voice raw, laced with a pain so desperate it borders on pitiful. His head drops, forehead pressing against your sternum, his breath hot and uneven against your skin. It’s as if he’s trying to ground himself, clinging to the fragile threads of control slipping through his fingers.

For a moment, he stays there, his breath warm against your skin, his body taut with tension. Then, slowly, he lifts his head, meeting your gaze with eyes darkened by lust and want, swirling with a need so intense it makes your stomach all jittery. His cheeks are flushed, the faintest rosy tint blooming across his face and staining the tips of his ears. He looks utterly undone, vulnerable in a way that steals the air from your lungs.

Before he could think twice, his lips crashed against yours in a feverish kiss, devouring you like you were his favorite candy — sweet, irresistible, and utterly addictive. He poured everything into that kiss, every ounce of frustration and need, as if losing himself in you was the only thing that mattered.

His lips began to trail south, brushing along the curve of your jaw before dipping down to the sensitive hollow of your neck. Each press of his lips left a trail of heat on your skin, and your breath hitched, a soft sound that sent a rush of satisfaction through him. He didn’t stop, didn’t falter as his hands moved to the hem of your shirt — no, his shirt. You always stole his shirts for bed, and as much as he teased you about it, he loved seeing you in them.

He pulled the fabric up, lifting it just beneath your chin and exposing your bare chest. Your breasts, freed from the confines of the shirt, bounced softly back into place, and Jungkook’s breath caught. His dark eyes locked onto the sight, a low groan rumbling in his chest as his hands instinctively cupped them, squeezing gently, pushing them together as if appreciating every inch of you.

Unable to stop himself, he buried his face in the softness, his nose stuffed in between your tits, breathing you in like you were the only thing keeping him grounded.

“Kook!” you giggled, your voice light and teasing, pulling him back just slightly from the haze of his desire. Your hands reached down, cupping his face and tilting it upward until his eyes met yours.

“Prettiest titties ever,” he murmured, his voice low and reverent. He leaned forward to press a tender kiss to one breast, his eyes never leaving yours.

Your lips curved into a warm smile, and your thumb traced softly over the scar on the apple of his cheek. The tender moment was fleeting, though, as Jungkook’s mouth found its way to your chest, his lips wrapping around one of your nipples. His tongue flicked against the sensitive peak, drawing a sharp wave of pleasure through your body. You bit down on your bottom lip, trying — and failing — to stifle the moan that bubbled in your throat.

Your hands moved instinctively, brushing back the dark strands of hair that had fallen over his forehead. Your touch was soft, almost reverent, as you gazed down at him. The sight of Jungkook �� cheeks flushed, lashes kissing his cheeks as he lost himself in you, his lips tugging gently at your sensitive flesh — made your heart race and your body ache with want.

He let out a low hum against your skin, the vibration sending a delicious shiver cascading down your spine. His tongue swirled around your nipple with a slow, deliberate rhythm, each motion igniting sparks of pleasure that left you breathless. His focus was unrelenting, his attention on you so singular it made your toes curl. The warmth of his saliva mixed with the heat of your skin, creating a sensation that was utterly intoxicating.

You let out a quiet gasp, your fingers tugging gently at his raven hair, earning a soft groan from him in response. Jungkook didn’t stop, his lips worshiping you like you were the only thing that mattered.

But as his mouth continued its ministrations, Jungkook couldn’t ignore the ache building in him. His cock throbbed, painfully hard and straining against his sweats, begging for relief. The urge to push everything aside and lose himself in you was overwhelming.

Maybe he could lose. Maybe he could just not tell them.

No. That wasn’t fair, and Jungkook hated lying — especially to his best friends.

But fuck, you weren’t making this easy for him.

With your pretty, soft boobs. Your sweet, irresistible lips. The way you tasted, the way you sounded.

He released your nipple with an audible pop, leaving your skin glistening and flushed from his attention. His lips lingered, warm and damp, as if tethered by an invisible string, reluctant to part. Then, slowly, he began his descent, tracing a line of soft, deliberate kisses down your stomach. Each press of his lips was unhurried, almost worshipful, leaving a trail of fire in its wake as anticipation tightened in your core.

When he reached the waistband of your panties, his movements paused. His lips hovered just above the fabric, warm breath teasing your skin. He glanced up at you, eyes hooded and dark with want, as if searching your face for permission to continue. The moment felt suspended, heavy with tension, before he shifted his attention lower, redirecting his kisses to the delicate, sensitive skin of your inner thighs.

His pace was maddening, each kiss a whisper against your skin, igniting every nerve and sending shivers rippling through you. His lips barely grazed you, his touch so featherlight it felt almost cruel, building the pressure inside you until it was nearly unbearable.

Then he saw it. The damp patch on your panties. His movements stilled for a moment, the sight pulling a soft moan from his lips, thick with need.

"Fuck me," he muttered under his breath, as if meant more for himself than for you. His voice was strained, low and raw, betraying the war raging inside him.

You were blissfully unaware of the full weight of his internal struggle, the impossible battle between his ironclad resolve and the magnetic pull of you beneath him. But for Jungkook, this wasn’t just lust; it was a consuming craving, threatening to shatter the very challenge he'd sworn to uphold.

He hooked his fingers into the waistband of your panties, his touch firm yet tantalizingly gentle as he began to slide them down your thighs. The soft fabric dragged against your skin with agonizing slowness, leaving a trail of goosebumps in its wake. When the panties finally slipped off and landed somewhere forgotten on the floor, his gaze dropped to the apex of your thighs, and a deep, guttural groan rumbled in his chest.

Your pussy glistened in the dim light, your slick coating your folds, the evidence of your desire laid bare before him. Jungkook's tongue darted out to wet his lips as impatience flickered in his eyes. Without hesitation, he leaned in, starting with slow, deliberate licks, savoring the taste of you like a man starving.

Your breath hitched, a shudder racing through you as you glanced down at him. His dark eyes locked with yours for a brief, smoldering moment before he closed his lips around your swollen clit, sucking gently yet firmly.

A moan tore from your throat as your head tipped back, your fingers instinctively finding one of your breasts. You cupped the soft mound, your palm pressing into the supple flesh. The room filled with the sounds of your ragged breaths and the wet, sinful noises of his tongue working you over.

Jungkook's hand shot up, his fingers wrapping firmly around your wrist as he yanked it away from your breast. He possessively replaced your hand with his own. His large, tattooed hand cupped your tit, kneading the soft flesh with a firm yet reverent touch.

He lifted his head from between your thighs, his lips glistening with your slick, and his heated gaze met yours. Without a word, his free hand slid down, his middle and ring fingers gliding through your folds with expert precision. He paused for a moment, his fingers coated in your arousal, before pressing them slowly inside you.

Your breath hitched at the delicious stretch, your sopping wet heat greedily sucking him in with ease. A low, satisfied hum rumbled in his throat as he watched your body respond to his touch.

“So fucking wet," he whispered, voice thick with lust. His fingers curled slightly, stroking your walls with an unrelenting precision that had your thighs trembling.

Jungkook leaned back down, his lips latching onto your clit with a hunger that made your thighs quiver. He sucked and flicked his tongue over your sensitive bud, the wet, rhythmic sounds driving you wild. His fingers continued to thrust in and out of you, the steady, deliberate pace sending shockwaves of pleasure through your body as he curled them just right, hitting that spot that made you see stars.

His other hand stayed on your breast, groping and kneading with a firm possessiveness that left you aching for more. His thumb brushed over your nipple, pinching and rolling it between his fingers, drawing a sharp gasp from your lips.

He was everywhere — on you, in you, surrounding you. The intensity of his touch, his mouth, and his presence consumed you entirely, leaving you trembling under him as he worked your body like he was born to do it. You could feel the tension building, the coiling heat low in your belly threatening to snap as he devoured you like a man obsessed.

“Baby,” you whimper, your voice trembling, raw with need as your fingers twist into the sheets beneath you. “G- gonna cum.”

Jungkook doesn’t stop. He doesn’t slow down or falter. If anything, your words fuel him, igniting something feral inside him. He needs this — needs to feel you fall apart on his tongue, to taste every shiver and moan you can give him before he has to deny you for the rest of this painfully long month.

A low hum vibrates against your clit, and the sensation sends a fresh wave of heat surging through you, your body arching instinctively toward him. His tongue moves faster now, precise and unrelenting, flicking and circling as if the very act is his lifeline.

His fingers thrust into you, curling just right, hitting that spot inside you that makes your legs tremble and your vision blur. The rhythm is perfect, practiced, like he’s mapping your body by memory, knowing exactly how to coax you to the edge.

Another hum escapes his throat, deeper this time, resonating against you with an intensity that feels almost like a plea — an unspoken command for you to let go, to surrender completely to the pressure building inside you.

And with each stroke of his tongue and every curl of his fingers, he pushes you closer, until you’re teetering on the brink, your body burning with the promise of release.

His hand on your breast squeezes more firmly, his thumb flicking and pinching your nipple with just the right pressure, as if he knows exactly how to push you over the edge. Your hand shoots up to grab his wrist, your nails digging into his skin, while your other hand fists the sheets desperately.

Your head tips back, lips parting in a silent, breathless moan as the tension inside you finally snaps. Your thighs instinctively begin to close around Jungkook’s head, trembling as your release crashes over you in wave after blissful wave.

Your body shakes beneath him, overcome by the force of your orgasm, but Jungkook doesn’t stop. His mouth continues its sinful work on your clit, sucking and licking with unrelenting precision, while his fingers maintain their steady thrusts.

Despite the painful, throbbing ache of his cock, Jungkook finds a twisted kind of satisfaction in giving you pleasure. The way your body arches, the sounds you make, the way your nails dig into the sheets — it’s intoxicating. It fuels him, spurring him on as though your ecstasy alone is enough to soothe his own torment.

He doesn’t want to stop. Not when you’re trembling beneath him, your body so responsive to his every touch. But there’s a limit to how much you can take, and he knows it. As much as he loves pushing you to the edge, watching as you surrender completely to him, overstimulation begins to creep in, your soft whimpers turning into desperate little gasps.

Still, there’s a reluctance in him, a battle between the unyielding need to give you more and the understanding that your body can only handle so much. Even as you writhe beneath him, pleading for reprieve, there’s a part of him that aches to keep going, to hold onto this connection for just a moment longer.

But he’s Jungkook, and if there’s one thing he values more than his own desires, it’s you. The sight of you trembling, your chest heaving as you fight to steady your breath, tugs at something deeper within him. He takes a deep breath, the taste of you lingering on his tongue, and finally, he pulls back.

His lips and chin are glistening with your slick, a sinful testament to his devotion. He doesn’t bother wiping it away; instead, he leans over you, his eyes dark and heavy with satisfaction as they roam your flushed face.

“Munch,” you giggle, your voice soft and teasing as your fingers brush his hair back from his forehead.

Jungkook chuckles, the sound deep and warm, scrunching his nose in playful protest. His pretty bunny-like teeth peek out in a smile so endearing it makes your heart skip a beat.

Unable to resist, you lean in, pressing your lips against his. Your tongue brushes against his, exploring him as the taste of you still lingers on his lips. The kiss grows deeper, more heated, and you feel his hard-on pressing insistently against your thigh.

Without a second thought, your hand slides down, grabbing his cock through the fabric of his pants. He groans softly against your mouth, the sound vibrating between you.

“Mmm,” Jungkook hums, breaking the kiss as he pulls away, the warmth of his lip still lingering on yours. He stands, his movements abrupt, leaving you breathless on the bed. His lips, swollen and glistening faintly in the dim light, speak to the intensity of your embrace, but his gaze doesn’t meet yours. Instead, it darts away, like a guilty child caught red-handed. He scratches the back of his head, his posture stiff as he moves toward the bathroom door. “I think I’m gonna go shower,” he blurts out, the tension in his voice betraying his attempt at casualness.

Shower? Now? Really? His dick is literally straining against his sweats, the outline unmistakable, practically begging for attention. You can still feel the heat of him pressed against you, the way he twitched beneath you just moments ago.

He’s not serious. There’s absolutely no fucking way.

“What?” Genuine confusion coats your tone, your brows furrowed. “You always shower in the mornings.”

“I- I know, baby,” he stammers, his pitch climbing an octave as his composure unravels faster than a poorly wrapped gift. Panic flashes in his wide eyes, and his mouth hangs open, grasping for an excuse he clearly doesn’t have.

“Then what’s wrong?” you ask, your softer now, a thread of worry weaving through your tone. You sit up, the oversized shirt you’d stolen from him slipping down your chest, covering your boobs he wished he could stare at for just a second longer. “Is something going on?”

“I-” His eyes dart around the room like the answer might be written on the walls. “I’m just tired.”

Your brow arches, skepticism written all over your face. “Tired?” you echo, your face scrunching in disbelief. “You’ve never not wanted to have sex.”

Jungkook visibly winces, his ears turning a bright shade of red. Rising from the bed like it might help, he sits at the edge, his hand nervously brushing your shin. “I- I had a long day at work.”

You tilt your head. “But you love having sex after a long day,” you say, your voice tinged with confusion. “Jungkook, seriously… what’s wrong?”

He freezes, like a deer caught in headlights, his lips parting in silent panic. “Nothing!” he squeaks, his voice cracking.

You lean closer, your suspicion mounting. “Well it’s clearly something! Do I not smell good?”

His head whips toward you, his face a mixture of offense and horror. “What? You smell amazing!” he practically yells, his voice high-pitched. “Honey, I could eat you all day if you’d let me!”

“Then why are you running off like this?”

“I’m not running!” he protests, though the crack in his voice suggests otherwise. “I just- uh- need to clear my head!”

“Clear your head?” you ask, squinting at him. “From what?”

“All the thinking I’ve been doing!” he exclaims, clearly grasping at straws. “It’s... exhausting.”

You narrow your eyes, unconvinced. “Thinking about what?”

His mouth opens, but words fail him. After a moment of floundering, he groans, throwing his head back and covering his face with his hands. “You’re impossible,” he mumbles, his voice muffled behind his palms.

“And you’re a terrible liar,” you fire back. “Spill it. What’s really going on?”

He exhales deeply, dragging his hands down his face in defeat before clasping them together in front of him as if in prayer. His eyes squeeze shut, his lips pressed into a tight line. “I’m trying so hard right now,” he mutters finally, his voice low and desperate, “and you’re not making it easy.”

“Trying hard to what?” you ask, your curiosity piqued.

“To not combust right now!” he exclaims, his voice rough with need. His eyes snap open, locking onto yours with an intensity that makes your heart race. “You’re killing me, babe. Just... let me shower first, and then let’s just have a good night, okay?” His breath hitches, barely able to keep his composure as he watches you, a mixture of desperation and affection in his gaze.

You blink at him, your mouth slightly open, trying to piece together his words. Before you can say anything, he kisses you once more, the movement rushed and almost sheepish.

“Go to bed, honey,” he says, practically bolting for the bathroom. “I love you!”

The door shut behind him with a sharp, decisive click, followed by the distinct sound of the lock turning. It was jarring — Jungkook never locked the door. There was no reason to; it was just the two of you living together, no one else to intrude. The realization sank in quickly, a bitter confirmation that this time, he was actively shutting you out, trying to keep you from coming in and uncovering whatever was weighing on him. You sat there, frozen, staring at the closed door in stunned silence.

Whatever it was, one thing was clear — you weren’t letting this slide. You were going to figure out what was going on with your boyfriend if it was the last thing you did.

After that night, you kept your distance.

Jungkook hated it. He hated the silence, the lack of your warmth, the way you avoided his touch. But he couldn’t blame you. He knew he was the root of the problem — he had fucked up that night. He should’ve been smoother, handled it better, but he completely blew it. Jungkook was good at many things. Lying was not one of them.

For a few days, you gave him the silent treatment. When he leaned in for a kiss before heading to work, you turned your face, leaving him with nothing but a peck on your cheek. The lack of communication was agonizing, eating away at him every time he caught your cold glances. But you were petty as fuck, and he knew it. You weren’t about to kiss his ass — not when it was obvious he’d lied to you that night. If he didn’t want to talk to you, then you weren’t going to talk to him.

When you were alone — at work, lying in bed, or just lost in thought — your mind spiraled. What could he possibly be hiding? The thought haunted you, gnawing at the edges of your sanity. Was he cheating on you? The idea felt impossible, unthinkable. Your Jungkook would never… or at least, that’s what you wanted to believe. But his strange behavior, the evasiveness, planted seeds of doubt you couldn’t ignore. The very thought made you feel sick to your stomach, but the ache of curiosity refused to leave you alone.

You needed answers. And if Jungkook wasn’t going to give them to you, you decided to go to the one person who knew him best.

you [3:15 pm]: what is wrong with my boyfriend ??

jimin [3:17 pm]: That sounds like a question you should be asking your boyfriend, don't you think?

you [3:17 pm]: I KNOW YOU KNOW SOMETHING.

jimin [3:18 pm]: WHAT ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT???

you [3:18 pm]: whats her name

jimin [3:18 pm]: Who??

you [3:19 pm]: HIS SIDE BITCH

jimin [3:19 pm]: GIRL WHAT

jimin [3:19 pm]: You think he’s cheating on you?

you [3:23 pm]: is he ?? just tell me so i can save myself the humiliation pls

jimin [3:23 pm]: Bro no he would never

jimin [3:23 pm]: I’d chop his dick off and then kill the girl if he did

jimin [3:23 pm]: What makes you even think that in the first place?

you [3:24 pm]: hes acting weirdddd :(

you [3:24 pm]: i was trying to fuck him a few nights ago but he wouldnt let me touch him

jimin [3:25 pm]: First of all ew

jimin [3:25 pm]: Second of all

you [3:28 pm]: SECOND OF ALL ????

jimin [3:30 pm]: 😂😂😂

If you weren’t pissed at Jungkook before, you definitely were now.

After talking to Jimin, you finally learned the truth about the challenge. It wasn’t even the fact that Jungkook had hidden it from you that irritated you most — it was the challenge itself and his ridiculous competitive spirit. Why did he have to be such a sore loser?

According to Jimin, five of the seven participants had already been knocked out. Seokjin and Yoongi, being married men, didn’t stand a chance — they were bound to lose. Namjoon, like Jungkook, was in a committed relationship, but unlike him, Namjoon had the good sense not to put himself through that kind of pain just to preserve his pride. Hoseok and Taehyung? They were notorious party addicts — losing was inevitable for them.

Now, it was down to just Jungkook and Jimin. And, of course, Jungkook’s competitive streak wouldn’t let him back down, no matter how ridiculous the stakes were. The thought made your blood boil. How could he have dragged himself — and by extension, you — into this mess?

You didn’t confront Jungkook about what you’d learned from Jimin, though you did drop the silent treatment act. Instead, you decided to take a different approach — one far more devious than simply ignoring him.

Even with the heater running, the November chill still lingered in the air, but it didn’t stop you from dressing provocatively around the apartment. You roamed in short shorts, sometimes just your underwear, paired with a silk camisole that left little to the imagination. The thin fabric did nothing to hide your hard nipples, which poked against the material as you moved about. Jungkook would notice, of course — he’d grope your ass or give you a quick kiss goodbye before heading to work — but that was it.

When he was away, whether at work or hanging out with his friends, you upped the ante. You sent him pictures of yourself in matching lingerie sets, always in his favorite color, knowing how much he loved them. Sometimes you sent something more daring — nudes that left nothing to the imagination. Usually, those photos had him texting back immediately, promising to deal with you as soon as he got home.

But this time, his responses were different. Short. Terse. Instead of giving in, he’d simply tell you to stop.

Frustration boiled over each time you read his dismissive replies. You groaned and threw your phone onto the bed in defeat. Why wouldn’t he just give in already? You wanted him so badly, and you refused to even touch yourself because what you craved was him — his hands, his mouth, his dick.

If teasing him over the phone wasn’t working, you decided it was time to take things up a notch. One night, when you heard the shower running, you didn’t hesitate. Stripping off your clothes, you quietly stepped into the bathroom. The steam swirled around you as you opened the shower door and stepped in.

Jungkook froze the moment he saw you. His wide eyes scanned you from head to toe, lingering on your curves as if he hadn’t seen them countless times before. His jaw tightened, his chest heaving as his restraint wavered. Then, with a groan of frustration, he threw his head back against the shower wall, his eyes squeezed shut as if trying to block out the temptation in front of him.

Don’t give in. Don’t give in. Don’t give in.

Despite his impressive self-control, his body betrayed him. His cock stood stiff and proud between you, a silent plea for attention. But no matter how much you pressed closer, your skin grazing his, or how boldly you touched yourself in front of him, he didn’t break.

With a stoic determination that only fueled your frustration, he focused on washing off, his movements precise and distant, as though ignoring the tension hanging thick in the air. And just when you hoped he’d finally push past his limits, he’d step out of the shower, leaving you behind in the steam, your desire unfulfilled.

It was maddening. Teasing him was supposed to work — it always worked. And while you were determined to push him until he snapped, you had to admit, his composure was far better than you’d anticipated.

It was just days before Thanksgiving, which meant this painfully long month was finally nearing its end. But you were done waiting. Done teasing. The ache in your body had grown unbearable, a constant, gnawing need for him that no amount of patience could soothe.

You were going to have him tonight, or you were going to actually die.

Jungkook had a day off tomorrow, so he was sprawled on the couch, completely absorbed in his Nintendo game. His focus was unwavering, his brows furrowed in concentration as the soft clicks of the buttons filled the room.

Dressed in a matching lacy black set that left little to the imagination, you moved silently behind him, your determination unwavering. Gently, you placed your hands on his broad shoulders, your fingertips tracing soft patterns over the fabric of his shirt. He didn’t flinch, didn’t even glance up, much too engrossed in the virtual world on his screen.

But then you leaned down, your lips brushing against the side of his neck. The soft, teasing kisses trailed along his skin, featherlight yet deliberate, leaving a warm path behind. You felt the slightest hitch in his breathing, a telltale sign that despite his effort to remain focused, you were beginning to unravel him.

His eyes fluttered shut, his focus on the game completely shattered as his head tipped to the side, exposing more of his neck to your eager lips. His lips parted, heavy breaths escaping him, each exhale laced with a vulnerability you rarely saw.

“Baby…” he moaned breathily, his voice low and strained, warning you.

“Shh,” you whispered, your lips brushing the shell of his ear. Your voice was soft, commanding, and it sent a shiver rippling through him. You felt his resolve beginning to crack, the tension in his body shifting as your hands slid down, teasing the line between tenderness and temptation.

Pulling away, you reached for the tie you had stolen from his drawer earlier. With a deliberate slowness, you brought it up to his eyes, slipping it over and covering his vision.

“What-” he began, his voice tinged with confusion as his hands instinctively moved to stop you.

But you were quicker, gripping his wrists to still him. Leaning in close, your lips brushed against his ear as you whispered, “I know about your stupid challenge, Jungkook.”

His body tensed beneath you, the air between you heavy with tension. His breaths came uneven now, a mixture of guilt, surprise, and something else simmering just beneath the surface.

“Let me explain-” he started, his voice edged with desperation.

“No,” you cut him off, your tone firm but quiet. “It’s too late for that now.”

You secured the tie around his eyes, knotting it with careful precision. The soft fabric sat snugly against his skin, cloaking his vision completely. His lips parted as if to protest, but he stopped himself, seemingly caught between resisting and surrendering to whatever you had planned.

Rounding the couch, you reached down and plucked the device from his hands, setting it aside on the coffee table without a second thought. His body went rigid beneath you, his breath hitching as you settled in. The unmistakable hardness of his cock pressed against you, igniting a spark of satisfaction that curled your lips into a smirk. Slowly, you began to move, rocking your hips against his in steady, purposeful motions, grinding into him just enough to draw a reaction.

“Do you know how much I missed you, Kook?” you murmured, your voice dripping with need as your lips hovered near his ear. “Missed your pretty cock… my fingers could never give me the satisfaction you do.”

His bottom lip was caught between his teeth, the silver of his piercings glinting under the warm light, drawing your eyes like a magnet. That perfect little mole just beneath his lip was on full display, a teasing reminder of how irresistible he looked like this — teetering on the edge of control.

His lips parted as a soft, breathy moan escaped, the sound low and unrestrained. It sent a shiver straight through you. His hands, no longer hesitant, slid to your hips, gripping firmly as he guided your movements. Each roll of your hips against his was deliberate, his touch coaxing you to grind harder, deeper, until the friction was almost too much to bear.

You hooked a finger into the fabric covering his eyes, tugging it free with a teasing slowness. His lashes fluttered as he blinked, his vision gradually clearing — and then he saw you. Nothing but his favorite set of yours graced your body, clinging to your curves in all the right ways.

A low, breathless please escaped his lips, muttered more to himself than to you, as if trying desperately to maintain his composure. His eyes squeezed shut, and he turned his head away, a feeble attempt to resist you.

But you weren’t having that. Your hand shot out, firm but gentle, cupping his chin and turning his face back toward you. His eyes snapped open, dark and hungry, as you reached behind you, unclasping the delicate hook of your bra. The straps slipped from your arms, the fabric discarded behind you without a care.

Your hands came up, cupping your bare breasts, teasing yourself as his gaze darkened. His restraint frayed before your eyes as his hips bucked up into yours, seeking friction, a desperate need taking over. His jaw tightened, and his tongue darted out to wet his lips, a clear sign of how much he craved you.

Those should be his hands, not yours.

His hand twitched, reaching out instinctively, but you caught his wrist, guiding it purposefully down your body. Your gaze never wavered from his, locking him in place as you slid his hand beneath the waistband of your underwear. His fingers pressed against the soaked fabric, and his breath hitched when he felt just how wet you were. The slickness coated your plush lips, a testament to how badly you wanted him.

“Honey…” he warned, his voice shaky and breathless, teetering on the edge of control.

“Please, Kook,” you whispered, your tone laced with desperation. “Fuck me tonight, or I’ll lose my mind. It’s been weeks. Don’t you miss me as much as I miss you?”

Your plea hung between you, thick with need and longing. His jaw clenched, and you could see the internal battle playing out in his dark eyes as his fingers twitched against you, his restraint unraveling with each passing second.

How was he supposed to get up and walk away with his cock straining painfully against his sweats, and you like this, laid out before him? His hand was still buried in your underwear, fingers sliding effortlessly over your slick folds, forming a V as they trailed up and found your clit. His jaw clenched at the way your body shuddered beneath his touch, the quiet moan slipping from your lips like a siren’s call.

And then there was you — your smaller hands kneading your soft, perfect tits, the ones he loved so much, the sight alone nearly undoing him. The way you whimpered, the way your body responded to him, had his restraint crumbling to dust.

This was it — his breaking point.

He didn’t care about the fucking challenge anymore. Nothing mattered except you.

It was like a switch flipped inside him. In a sudden, fluid motion, he grabbed your waist, lifting you effortlessly as he laid you down on the couch. His broad frame hovered above you, the way you’d missed for so long. His dark eyes were locked onto yours, blazing with an intensity that sent a shiver down your spine.

He didn’t waste time. You were already soaked, your body more than ready for him. No need for extra preparation — he knew he’d slide right in. With one hand, he freed his cock, giving it a few languid strokes, his eyes never leaving yours. He hooked a finger under the edge of your panties, tugging them to the side, baring your pretty, dripping pussy. He couldn’t wait to get inside it. The flushed tip glistened, teasing your entrance for a heartbeat before he pressed forward, the head sinking in.

A sharp gasp escaped both your lips, the shared sensation so overwhelming it felt as if you were experiencing each other for the first time all over again. Jungkook moved slowly at first, his cock stretching you inch by inch, filling you with deliberate care. His brows furrowed, and his jaw tightened as he savored every moment, every inch of warmth he’d been denying himself for far too long.

But restraint wasn’t his strong suit tonight. The need coursing through him was too much to bear. His movements quickened, his hips snapping forward with purpose. The wet, obscene sounds of skin meeting skin filled the room as his pelvis slapped against the back of your thighs. The steady rhythm of his thrusts deepened, each one more urgent than the last, driving both of you closer to the edge.

His upper body lifted off of you, and with a swift motion, he pulled his shirt over his head. The sight of his broad, muscular frame sent a jolt of heat straight to your core. He was absolutely stunning, every inch of him on display — his skin glowing under the dim light.

His arm was covered in intricate tattoos, the ink curling around his bicep like a story you wanted to read. His chest was thick and broad, with a layer of muscle that made your fingers itch to trace every curve. His arms were solid and meaty, a strength you could feel even from just looking at him.

You couldn’t help yourself. Your hand moved instinctively, running down the defined lines of his chest, your fingers grazing over the hard muscles of his stomach. His abs flexed beneath your touch, tense and firm, the warmth of his skin sending a wave of desire crashing through you. The simple touch made you want more, made you crave everything he had to offer.

But now it was Jungkook's turn to take control. With a swift motion, he caught your wrist, his grip firm as he seized your other arm and pinned it above your head. The dominance in his touch was undeniable, and you knew exactly what that meant. He always did this when he wanted to take over, to remind you who was in charge.

His hands moved quickly, grabbing one of your legs and effortlessly throwing it over his shoulder. You gasped at the sudden shift, your body bent in half, your chest pressed against him, leaving you exposed and vulnerable. His face hovered just inches from yours, his breath hot against your skin as he studied you.

A small whimper escaped your lips at the stretch, your body not as flexible as you'd like, but that discomfort was fleeting. It quickly morphed into something else — pleasure, intense and consuming — as his brutal thrusts began again, filling you completely.

He was relentless, each movement pulling another gasp from you. His breath came out in ragged bursts, his voice low and laced with command. "You never listen to me, do you? Huh, you brat?" His words were a breathy growl, like a warning. "Just had to get fucked."

You couldn’t find the words to respond, your mind completely consumed by the overwhelming pleasure. Every inch of your body was alive with sensation, making it impossible to form coherent thoughts. Instead, soft moans and breathless hums spilled from your lips, your chest rising and falling rapidly as his thrusts deepened, each one hitting you harder than the last.

Your body arched into him instinctively, eager to feel more, to give in to the rhythm he set. The tension was building, spiraling higher and higher with each movement, each sound leaving your mouth a mix of pleasure and need. You couldn’t think, couldn’t focus on anything but the way he was making you feel, his hands and his body taking you exactly how he wanted.

"You made this so hard for me, baby." His voice was breathless, low and laced with desire as his thrusts didn’t falter. "Can’t resist you. Too fucking pretty to not touch." He spoke as though he couldn’t control himself, his words slipping out between harsh breaths, his hands gripping your body with barely restrained urgency.

“M’already so close, Kook,” you moaned, your voice shaky with the intensity of the pleasure coursing through you. The pressure inside you was building, so close to release, but you needed him to push you over the edge.

“Yeah?” His gaze darkened, his hips snapping into yours with even more force. “Show me. Let me feel you, please.” His words were more than a plea — they were a command, a desperate need for you to let go so he could feel every inch of your pleasure. It’s been so long since he felt you. He wants to feel you. Needs to feel you.

With each punishing thrust, your breasts bounce uncontrollably, catching Jungkook's undivided attention. His hooded eyes are glued to them, pupils blown wide with lust, as if he's seeing something so utterly captivating it leaves him in a trance. The way they move, the way your body responds to him — it’s driving him wild. His tongue flicks over his lips as he lets out a low groan, jaw tightening, the need to mark you overwhelming every coherent thought.

You gasp sharply, a broken moan escaping your lips as your orgasm slams into you with ferocious intensity. Your body arches off the couch, your hands still pinned above your head as waves of euphoria ripple through you. Your head tilts back, exposing the long, vulnerable line of your neck, and your chest heaves as you ride out the high.

Jungkook growls when he feels your walls clench down on him, the tight grip almost sending him over the edge. “Oh, yeah,” he rasps, voice rough and deep, his hips grinding against you. “That’s it. Just like that... so fucking good.”

But he doesn’t slow down. If anything, his pace quickens, the desperate need for his own release taking over. Each thrust is brutal, precise, and deliberate, as if he’s claiming every part of you, chasing that high he knows is just within reach. His grip on your hips is bruising, holding you in place as he slams into you again and again, the sound of skin slapping against skin echoing in the room.

Finally, with a strained groan, he pulls out abruptly, his cock slick and throbbing in his hand. He strokes himself hard, the sight of your trembling, sweat slick body beneath him sending him over the edge. His release comes in hot, thick ropes, splattering across your stomach and tits in messy, deliberate streaks.

He lets out a guttural moan, chest heaving as he watches his cum paint you like a masterpiece, dripping down your skin in glistening trails. His hand slows, and his eyes never leave the sight of you — glistening, marked, and utterly his.

Once he milks every last drop of his release, he does something that shouldn't be as devastatingly sexy as it is. Leaning down, his gaze locked onto yours with a feral intensity, he drags his tongue in a slow, deliberate stripe up your stomach, collecting his own cum. The heat of his mouth follows, traveling upward until he captures a nipple between his lips, sucking and swirling his tongue with maddening precision.

You giggle, your face flushing with heat as he releases your nipple and makes his way up to your lips. The moment his mouth connects with yours, you taste his cum on his tongue, and you can't help but moan softly into the kiss. He pulls back, resting his head on your chest with a contented sigh.

“Can’t believe you made me lose. I was so close,” he sulks, his voice laced with playful frustration.

“Jimin texted me. He gave in yesterday. You won,” you tease, your fingers softly running through his hair.

His head shoots up quickly, eyes wide like a dog hearing its name. “Seriously?”

You nod, giggling softly at his excitement.

Without warning, he stands up from the couch, pulling you with him. He scoops you up by your thighs, lifting you effortlessly into his arms.

You squeal, half-laughing, half-terrified, “What are you doing?!”

“Making up,” he grins, his voice low with promise as he strides toward the bedroom. “I’m gonna fuck you all night.”

The door clicks shut behind you, the remnants of your clothes scattered haphazardly in the living room, and the night unfurls into a whirlwind of heated kisses and passion that sweeps you both away. Jungkook’s teasing words and touch keep you on edge, but it’s the way he makes you feel — desired, cherished, and completely consumed by him — that transforms the night into something unforgettable.

You knew that this Friendsgiving would be one for the books. Jungkook wasn’t going to let any of the guys forget it. Always the bragger, that one. He’d be sure to shove it in their faces every chance he got.

And he might have won the bet, but it’s you who’s the true victor tonight.

#jungkook #jeon jungkook #jungkook smut #jungkook x reader #jeon jungkook smut #jeon jungkook x reader #jungkook fanfic #jeon jungkook fanfic #jungkook imagine #jeon jungkook imagine

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gojoed · 1 year ago

Note

...... hi omi hehe <3

KEKE !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! [explodes with a photoshopped explosion edited in] it's been so long since you've been active HOW ARE YOU

#most mutuals from my k* b* era are almost all inactive sobs sniffles #hope life has been good to you oml it's been so long since i've seen you here #miss u <3 #asks

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icequeen-07 · 2 years ago

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*checks the quarry tag for the first time in months*

*screaming and hellfire*

#tiger talks #WHAT IS GOING ON #also listen listen #im gonna throw my two cents in here #both pennies people #I really could not care what you ship #as long as you tag it appropriately #so I may not have to look at things I do not want to #and to others: block!#block and filter!#it'll make life so much better #and to those making new goddamn tags #I despise you #like oml #I have over 20 tags filtered for that ONE ship #and people make NEW tags #like oml please I beg

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sinstae · 7 months ago

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TILL DAWN ᯓ‪♡

Pairings | L&D!Sylus , L&D!Zayne x fem. reader

Genre | smut

Word Count | 6,014 🥵

Warnings | ⚠️ MINORS DNI ⚠️ smut, smut SMUT, dom!Sylus , dom!Zayne, sub!reader, size difference, oral and vaginal sex, throuple! , poly, vaginal fingering, rough sex, soft sex, edging, pet names, use of evol, explicit sexual content! Enjoy! c;

🔖 m.list ♡

a/n ; oml I've had a looooooong hiatus uploading here 🙈 I became a full time reader tbh with how hectic life has gotten since becoming a young adult. Rough transition oof but AAAAA Love & Deepspace is such a nice outlet, LOVE the fics going around so I decided to write one of my own.. hope ya like 😋

I feel disgustingly desperate.

So much so, I can feel that ugly, tight, feeling claw at my chest.

It’s another one of those nights where I try to initiate intimacy with my partners but they both shut me down.

Zayne has been holed up in one of Sylus' spare rooms as a home office since he’d gotten off of work almost three hours ago and Sylus had shown up only twenty minutes ago with Mephisto perched on his shoulder.

We were both in need of one another and in each other’s embrace making out the entire time until now. . .

“Sweetheart. . . Don’t work yourself up, it’s late.” Sylus looks down at me, straddling his lap, with his hands rubbing my hips. I attempted to grind against him to earn that excuse.

For the fifth time this week.

I’m so pathetic.

I move from his touch when one of his hands leave my waist to reach for my face. I use his chest to gently push myself up, swinging a bare leg from his side.

Before I could get far, Sylus snatches my wrist and hip, firmly pulling me back to straddle a single, tensed thigh. I look up at him a bit startled and his brows are pinched together, eyes burning red.

“Sy-”

“Pathetic?” I’m often careless when thinking loudly around him. His face shows that he seems almost offended that I’d thought such a thing. It almost makes me accept whatever he’s gonna tell me but I become slightly upset that he's acting on my thoughts rather than my blatant expression of needing him.

“Yes.” I straighten my back. “Very. I guess I should’ve gotten the hint the third time, right? Instead here I am embarrassing myself for the fifth time.” I try to maintain fierce eye contact with Sylus but I feel my resolve slowly waning the more I think about their rejection lately.

Sylus gives me a confused look then slowly his face relaxes as he chuckles, rubbing my inner wrist with his thumb.

“Have I gotten my Kitten in heat?”

“Sylus, I’m serious.”

“Oh, I’m aware.” He fights back against my pulling with a strong hold and his eyes haze over as he looks down his nose at me. “Enough. Be still and talk with me-”

“I don’t wanna talk!” My voice raises and Sylus grows stiff, the creek of a door in the distance making him huff.

Moments later, the steady shuffling of house slippers grows closer and Zayne walks into the open living room from the long hallway. Sylus has his back to him, only his silver head and broad shoulders visible with me facing Zayne.

“What’s going on?” He asks calmly as he stops short, only walking a few feet into the candle-lit room.

“I-” I begin to speak but Sylus cuts me off.

“Are you showing your face now?” His tone has annoyance behind it and I relax in his hold, caught off guard from him addressing Zayne in that tone.

“Perhaps.” Is all Zayne offers. Sylus scoffs and makes eye contact with me for his next response.

“Y/N, sweetheart, tell him your grievances.” I’m slightly confused as his eyes remain burning into mine until he moves closer to my neck.

“I-I..uh, I’m upset, Zayne, because I’ve been trying to express my needs to you both but I feel it’s not welcomed.” The atmosphere feels thick, like it could be pierced with Zayne’s evol.

“Would you care to share why that is, Doctor?” Sylus sounds a bit playful now. His flickering emotions are almost as hard to grasp as Zayne’s.

“No.”

This clearly enrages Sylus. He’s gentle but quick in his movements as he uses his evol to move me to the soft cushion of the sofa while in an instant he’s at Zayne’s side. I remain on my knees as I lean onto the cushion to watch them.

“For how long will you keep this up?” Zayne lifts a hand to his neck and it’s such a sight to see him be this way. He’s normally composed, at even levels with Sylus, but right now he seems almost.. bashful.

“It’s not purposeful.”

“Bullshit.”

“I’ve had three surgeries this week-”

“Look at me.” Sylus demands him. When Zayne is hesitant to, Sylus reaches out and grabs the man’s face to gently bring his hazel-green eyes to meet his. “At least look at me if you’re gonna give me excuses.”

I swear from here if I squint I can see blush dusting Zayne’s cheeks under the candles they’re standing next to. I can see they’re in some sort of silent/mental conversation and decide to make myself present again.

“Guys?”

Zayne is the first to make a move and tuck his hands into his sweats as Sylus’ hand drops to Zayne’s waist instead.

“What’s going on? Did I.. do something?” At my question they give each other looks before they’re both walking my way. I sit back onto my feet then transition to sitting correctly as they take a seat on either side of me, crowding my space with their scent.

“Sylus and I. . We, uh-” Zayne stammers leaving me stunned at his behavior and from up close I can see that he is blushing.

“We kissed.” Sylus says for him and I whip my head in his direction, eyes surely wide as he’s smirking around the rim of his glass of wine.

“You- you- What?” I can’t contain my shock and I almost feel wrong as Sylus cocks a perfectly arched brow at me.

“What? Don’t tell me you underestimate my influence, Sweetheart.” He leans forward to place the glass on the table and Zayne chuckles so soft it almost sounds like a scoff.

“He’s insufferable even in such vulnerable moments.” Zayne refers to the kiss presumably and I start to grow guilty. I had been so caught up in my own needs that I really hadn’t noticed that something like that had happened.

“Wow- well that’s great! That’s a huge step for you guys, I’m happy for you both.” I grasp their hands and Sylus squeezes mine while Zayne rubs his thumb across.

“Tsk, don’t think our conversation is over. You have to talk as well.” Sylus reminds me and a wave of guilt washes over me once again.

“I’m really sorry about that, Sy. I was just overreacting without knowing-”

“No, no. I heard your thoughts perfectly.”

“What is it?” Zayne speaks up.

“Kitten has been all pent up through your brooding. Normally your absence isn’t an issue but your constant dodging had put me in a mood.” Sylus is sipping another half-full glass of wine.

“You must be in relation to the recent attacks then. You upset the Wanderers nearby.” Zayne’s tone is almost scolding now.

“I’m sure. I also killed them all myself had I not?”

I can barely focus through their banter as I stare at Sylus’ wine stained lips wishing he was leaving his kiss marks to stain my skin. Bite and suck his claim along with Zayne’s frosty touches leaving snowflakes and goosebumps in its wake.

“Y/N?” Zayne’s voice brings me back and I blink up at Sylus who’s smirking down at me with a haze in his eyes.

“Yes?” Zayne moves closer and I feel his warmth at my back, his soft sweater brushing against the exposed skin my short, satin-lace slip wasn’t covering.

“I was talking to you, did you not hear me?”

“No, sorry.”

“Are you feeling alright?” Ever the caring man that he is, why can’t he see through me like Sylus sometimes?

Zayne’s chilled hand comes up to rest on my forehead from behind me and I can’t help but lean back into his touch. Sylus takes his time as he moves about, undoing two more buttons from his dress shirt after he sets his empty wine glass back down.

I watch as he wipes a bit of stray wine from his lips and with that same thumb he presses it to my lips. Once again rendering me to my spot in shock that quickly turns into relief.

Finally I can have them again.

I quickly latch onto his thumb and suck the rich flavor from his salted skin. He looks pleased and his eyes flick up behind me.

“She doesn’t seem fine. We drove her into heat.” Sylus is still teasing and Zayne humors him in playing along.

“Mmm. I see. There’s several remedies for such a thing. . . Does our patient require an eval?” I press my thighs tighter together as Sylus continues to stare into my soul, his large hands slowly drawing circles along my thigh closest to him.

“Y-Yes please, Dr. Zayne.” I moan softly as Zayne’s hand resting on my forehead travels into my hair and along my scalp a few times in a firm massage.

“Comfort levels seem to be just fine. . .” His hand then trails down the back of my ear, along the side of my neck and my breath hitches as he brushes a sensitive spot. “Hm, sensitivity is high.”

I feel like prey in their gazes. They’re enjoying watching me squirm as they touch every bare part of me within their reach. Zayne is the first to lean into me and press a kiss to the area where my neck and shoulder meet, a bit of his tongue brushing against me.

“I apologize. I failed to communicate to you both how I was feeling and ended up having you both doubt yourselves in some way.” He sighs against my neck then rubs his nose with a deep inhale. “I care about you both, so much, it was never my intention to upset either of you.”

The sincerity laced in his words hits me in other places than my heart with their combined touches. This is what I love most about our dynamic, that Zayne will always communicate but only bluntly and when necessary. Sylus is blessed with his hands, even smoother with his mouth. It shouldn’t be such a surprise he’d gotten Zayne to open up, I was as closed off as he was.

Sylus is looking over my head at Zayne and there’s a look in his eyes that contrasts the smirk adorning his lips. His lips. . .

His eyes flicker down to mine and his gaze completely changes. Almost like a predator finding its prey.

“Thank you, Doctor. My unseen wounds are healed. There is however, something very urgent that needs care.” Zayne is able to rest his back against the soft plush of the wide sofa with me pressed against him as Sylus moves to hover above me.

“That is?”

“A wounded Kitten.”

Sylus presses his lips to mine in a passionate kiss, his free hand he isn’t using to prop himself up has started to grip at the thick parts of my inner thigh. My body jerks into his hold as he swallows my soft noises, eventually licking his way into my mouth as his rough fingertips dance higher.

“You’re so responsive, Y/N. I love the sounds you make. . .” Zayne’s voice is breathy in my ear as his own hands start to wander. While Sylus has made his way to my panties, right against my slit, Zayne grips my breast over the thin layer of clothing.

I break away from the kiss with a loud moan puffing from my chest, curling my toes from the intense sensitivity of my hardened nipples and Zayne’s icy touch.

“Please. . .”

“Begging already?”

“I’ve been begging.”

“Tsk, feisty kitty.” Sylus chuckles and presses a trail of kisses from the corner of my mouth down to my neck where he bites my soft spot. A whiny moan forces itself out of me as my eyes roll back, clenching around his two fingers that abruptly entered me at the same moment.

Zayne looks down, shook from the noise that came out of me and Sylus soothes the area with a lick and a kiss whilst looking at him proudly.

“She’s a goner right now, she’ll be back as soon as she feels my tongue.” Sylus is nonchalant as Zayne whispers praises in my ear, lulling me deeper into a pleasured haze.

Two hard spasms around Sylus’ fingers then I’m coming hard. My cum drips down his wrist and veiny arm as he slowly curls his fingers upwards, rubbing a soft patch against my walls.

“Good girl-” They both say at the same time, Zayne in a whisper while Sylus groans from the sight. They make brief eye contact before Sylus is diving down to my pussy, ripping another pair of panties in a haste.

His mouth latches onto my clit and my eyes shoot open, blinking through warm tears as my legs curl up to my chest. Mixtures of whines and moans tumble from my lips while Zayne’s hand found its way under my slip against my bare breast, just resting, with my nipple between two fingers while the other has my cheek cradled while he presses kisses to my temple.

“You’re doing so good, Darling. You haven’t squirmed once while getting cleaned up.” Zayne praises and I blush while biting back another moan. “Can I hear that pretty voice again, hm?”

I look up at him with teary vision and he’s flushed, a bit of sweat making the tips of his hair damp. His eyes are full of awe and love. It makes me clamp around Sylus’ head which earns me a delicious groan against my clit.

“A-Ah! It feels so-oh good.” I can barely get words out as my throat has grown a bit scratchy. It seems to satisfy Zayne as he leans in and presses his nose right up under my ear with another deep inhale.

Moments later he’s pressing a cool, marble sized ice sphere to my lips and I part, humming in relief from the cool temperature and its quick melting that soothes my throat.

Sylus sits up from his feasting, using his handkerchief to wipe my slick from his chin. He tosses it onto the coffee table and starts to rip the rest of my panties off while Zayne gently sits me up to adjust his hard erection.

“However you like tonight Kitten, I’ve had my fill for now. I’m fine to wait in our bedroom.” Sylus’ large hand takes up most of my tummy as he rubs warm circles.

“No- I want both of you. Please. . .” A glint flashes in his crimson eyes.

“Y/N, are you sure?” Zayne gently rakes his fingers along my scalp.

“Positive. Green, very green right now.” I see Sylus look over me at Zayne for a few seconds then he looks back at me.

“Very well. Bedroom. Now.” He plants one foot on the fluffy rug then hauls me up with one arm over his shoulder. I yelp at the sudden change in axis and he playfully spanks my bare ass.

Through my swaying hair I see Zayne following close behind as Sylus leads us to our shared bedroom. He kicks the door open with his foot and slips out of his own house slippers near the entrance.

Zayne shuts us in the darkness then moments later our chamber is glowing in warm changing LEDs. I bounce on the bed a bit from Sylus’ gentle dismount then crawls backwards up towards the headboard.

“Let me-”

“Wait.” Sylus stops Zayne from rushing to me with a firm grip around the man’s waist. Zayne grabs the very arm and looks at Sylus in question, finding an expression with vulnerability. “This is our first time. All together. I’ll let you of course but, don’t neglect me Doctor.”

Zayne blushes from the neck up and his grip tightens around Sylus’ forearm, holding him there before pushing his arm away.

“I’m not your prey.”

I make eye contact with him and he’s got a look in his eyes that doubles down on his words. He uses one hand to pull his shirt off in one swift motion, revealing his detailed, toned body.

He’s been having trouble sleeping since adjusting to staying here more often and Sylus had offered to help with intense workouts. It’s starting to show at this moment as I notice his physique is almost as broad as Sylus’.

Slender, long fingers slip into his waistband and rids himself of his sweats in quick and precise movements. He kicks them to the side then he’s crawling onto the thick comforter towards me.

I catch sight of his scars on his arm as he cages me in against the pillows in a plank and can’t stop myself from pressing gentle kisses. He allows me for a few kisses before he’s grabbing my chin and turning my attention to him.

I know my eyes must be teary with all my pent up dopamine finally releasing. I feel so incredibly happy and safe when I’m in their presence, I feel the urge to express it in the language I know best.

Catching him while he’s off guard, leaning in to kiss me, I quickly wrap my legs around his thick thighs and use all my strength to propel forward into the kiss. I’m mindful to not headbutt him in the process while his body gives in and flips us successfully with me straddling him.

Zayne’s hands steady our rocking bodies with a firm grip on my ass, huffing soft moans and grunts into the kiss. I hear a whistle from behind and it makes me break away slowly, saliva still connecting us as the weight of Sylus joining us makes my hips grind right onto the tip of his dick.

“Ah~!” I gasp, clenching around nothing, aching to be filled up. My need to please Zayne is just as strong. For some reason, seeing him blush like that earlier from Sylus had me slightly jealous that it seems he could get the man to soften in a way I hadn’t before. I must hear his sweet sounds, for me.

“Kitten is digging in her claws. Careful, she might swallow you whole.” Sylus taunts while reaching out, resting his large hand over Zayne’s right one on my ass.

The mix of their hot and cold touch has me reeling into Zayne, pressing sloppy aimed kisses to his lips that he doesn’t seem to mind receiving, returning each one. I feel Sylus other hand start to creep towards my pussy again and it snaps me back.

“W-Wait.” I push myself up and look down to meet Zayne’s gaze. “I wanna taste you.” I don’t mean my words to come out in a plea but it does and I feel his grip on me tighten as he nods his head once.

Sylus gives me enough room to move, Zayne resting in a comfortable half sitting position as I arch onto my knees. As I’m nuzzling my face against his warm cock, a stinging pain shoots across my ass with a loud thwack!

“Ah!”

“Don’t play with your food, Kitten. Be a good girl, and eat.” Sylus’ familiar tone of no-nonsense is back and I do as I’m told, gladly.

Zayne helps me out of his briefs and I quickly toss them to the side, biting my lip as I take in all his glory. He reaches out and drags his thumb along my chin then pulls down, my lip slipping free of my teeth.

“I love when you do that. . . I always know you’re about to treat me better than I deserve.” His words are soft spoken with eye contact unwavering.

“My favorite thing to do is give you everything you deserve.” I take his base in a gentle grip and guide his red, leaking tip to my lips to press a kiss. His breath hitches while he maintains eye contact with me and I begin to kitten lick as another reminding spank makes me wrap my lips around him and suck.

Zayne’s breathy moans fill the room, my gaze landing on him every now and then to see him watching me with a rosy face while he bites his fist. I’m sure to take my hands away and brace myself against his thick thighs then soon transition to a deeper arch as I slide my arms beneath his bent legs to wrap around his waist. Like this he’s able to thrust deeper into my throat, his moans start to turn into borderline whining when my nose hits his pelvis. My eyes roll back from the slight airflow restriction as he pumps a few deep strokes before pulling me away with a fist full of my hair.

I feel my pussy leaking all over my thighs as I’ve been constantly twitching throughout. Zayne’s heated body is heaving as he takes in deep breaths, soothing my hair and puffy lips with his soft touches. I slip his thumb into my mouth and suck the salty taste from it, moaning for good measure.

“Such a cock hungry Kitten. Always need a hole filled, hm?” Sylus is closer now, his warmth at my backside, while his hands reach out and slide up and down my bare sides from where my slip had ridden up.

“Yes- Please Sy-” Another spank. “Sir! Sorry, Sir. M’so cock hungry I can’t think straight.” Zayne’s grip tightens on my chin at my words and I smirk up at him, not too shocked he’d like that title as well.

When we’re intimate we’re mostly vanilla. He loves eating me out and leaving wet kisses all over before he’s satisfied enough to dick me down. Sylus loves to be the one in control, ensuring roles and rules that we both make and agree on so that when we’re in moments of passion we know each other’s limits. He’s keen on the title ‘Sir’ these days after I convinced him to sit with me through studying while he was in his office cleaning off his guns. I’d responded to a question with “Yes Sir” in a teasing tone that resulted in me bent over his desk, homework abandoned. “Don’t think things are different just cause Zayne’s here, Sweetheart.” He takes two fingers and slides them through my wet lips, spreading and closing them to watch my slick drip out. With the same fingers he brings it to his cock he’d been freed long ago as he watched the show. His kitten giving the best head, almost envious of his partner. “Gonna fuck you open and I want you to continue, yeah?” I know it’s not a question as I dig my fingers into Zayne's hips while pressing mine back at the feel of his tip lining up.

"Yes, Sir." I give Zayne a toothy smile, his eyes lidded while he still struggles with his arousal. Seeing how Sylus and I interact with each other is clearly a turn on. His tip is constantly twitching and oozing precum that I lick up eagerly then slide his whole dick back down my throat.

"Fuck!" Zayne grips my hair in a tight, messy ponytail as his hips jerk upwards and he starts to subtly thrust through my bobbing until eventually I let him take the lead guiding my head while I leak all over Sylus's tip that easily slides in thanks to his skilled tongue.

There's many scenarios I'd daydream about when it came to having both my boyfriends at once. One did go a little like this but nothing compares to the real thing. Every little touch has me gushing and eager for the next.

Sylus has entered a bruising pace, he's found a spot nestled deep inside that only he can reach with his thick tip. It's snagging a bit, applying a pressure that we both feel. His huffing and deep moans spur me on, sucking Zayne as a release that earns me a beautiful whiny moan. His face is a deep blush, sweat now completely formed and streaking down his sideburns.

I can see in his gaze he's fighting to stay in the moment, too taken with pleasure. I feel a swell in my chest close to my heart as I moan around him. "Y/N, a-ha. . ." He's panting, unable to communicate and I hum around him, making him whimper again before tugging on my scalp, a cool sensation starting to caress my scalp.

"Zayne." Sylus voice booms in the room and it makes Zayne eyes widen. His arm is coated in soft flurries down to his wrist connecting to my hair which has partially froze at the base of the makeshift ponytail.

I let out a whiny moan myself as he gently pulls me off his dick with my built up saliva dribbling down to his balls. I pout up at him, my pout deepening as Sylus' slowed thrust come to a halt buried against my cervix.

"Zaaayne~"

"Kitten." Sylus warns. When Sylus barely offers any words I know his eyes must be doing the talking. Zayne has gotten control of his breathing, his legs returning flat to the bed.

"He's right, my love. I need to always be in control, I should never hurt you. Not when I can bring you pleasure, which is what you deserve." Zayne's hand falls from my hair as the flurries start to retreat and dissipate. My stiff ponytail melts and drops, cascading around my shoulders and back to meet Sylus' hands resting there.

I hadn't noticed, until I caught glimpse through teary eyes of the flurries vanishing, what happened and why things stopped.

Zayne had lost control of his Evol?

Something about getting Zayne to that point surges another wave of arousal through me. I know he'd never hurt me, no matter the circumstance, and him coming close to freezing my head in place for his own pleasure should frighten me yet. . . it makes me proud.

"Tsk. Just as I said, sick Kitten." Sylus smirks down at where our bodies meet watching and feeling my constant clenching. He delivers another spank, kneading my rosy flesh as it starts to redden into a large handprint. "She liked that, mmph- maybe even loved it."

"This is your doing." Zayne directs his comment towards Sylus.

"Aht- There will be no kink shaming in my bed. I can very well show you who's doing it really is." His eyes cut down to me, reaching a hand out to grip the back of my hair and tug me up against his chest, pushing deeper into my leaking cunt.

"Syl- mmh!" Sylus grips my throat, cutting off my words and a bit of air flow.

"Seems I'll be able to show you rather than play games with you, Doctor. This bad Kitten just can't seem to remember her manners." He lets out an airy laugh, "Clenching me tighter than a fucking Boa. Easy." He grits out while releasing my throat for me to breathe properly, moving his hands to my breast instead. He's kneeling back with me sitting in his lap, arched against his hands, squirming impatiently.

"Fine, since you're so eager to. Ride.'' I lift my hips soon as the words leave his lips and slam back down in relief. Sylus loves when I ride him. He always has me face him, demanding "I need to see those pretty eyes when you come undone". He must be doing this for Zayne, putting on a show for him.

One that he seems to be enjoying. He has his hand wrapped tightly around his cock, stroking up and down in slow, controlled wrist movements. He's using my drool as lube, squeezing when he gets to the tip to push out fresh precum.

Watching his lewd acts makes my hips speed up, hips rising higher towards Sylus' tip to slam back down. The silver haired man watches me in awe, toying with my nipples over the material as he huffs out soft moans.

"My lap is soaked, Darling. Ovulation must be here, hm?" Sylus leans forward to hug me close and lick a long stripe up my neck. I feel my belly burn with a familiar tightness as I clench harder, hips starting to slow as I reach my peak. "Tsk." Sylus takes control and slides his hands down to my waist, gripping firmly before absolutely pounding up into me.

"Ah! Yes- Yes, fuck, S-Sir feels s'good. . There!" Sylus hits a spot he's never struck before, a blinding pain shoots through me and my head snaps down on instinct, a few tears dropping onto a very prominent bulge. Sylus' mushroom tip pokes under my belly button with each thrust and pornographic moans fill the room from all three of us.

I catch sight of Zayne thrusting up into his fist, leaving just his tip in the tightest part of his grasp as ropes of cum shoot from his tip. It lands messily all over his hand, wrist, arm and abdomen. I clench around Sylus one last time before spasms hit as I come hard.

I squeal from Sylus' sudden deep thrust and bite to my neck as he too empties his load in my womb. Another thing he always does. Because of my job as a Hunter, I placed myself on birth control through Zayne but that doesn't affect Sylus' want/need of rounding my belly with his kids.

"Such a good fucking girl. . ." Sylus kisses his bite mark, proud of himself for leaving behind a reminder. "You squirted all over Zayne." Sylus chuckles as I look down with wide eyes to find Zayne covered in my juices, a thick string of it still connecting us. I look up to meet his eyes and he gives me a lazy smile.

"The most beautiful thing I've had the pleasure of being part of." Zayne speaks softly, his voice has an edge to it. His eyes trail down my body, stopping at where my slip falls to cover me when Sylus unwraps his arms from me. "Take it off."

Sylus wastes no time in my stead and I quickly raise my arms. He tosses it to the side and guides my arms back down, engulfing me into a self hug in his embrace. He breathes me in for a few seconds then he slowly unravels, pressing a kiss to my head before using my hips to gently remove me from his still erect dick.

"Come here, my little Snowflake." I can feel Sylus rubbing and gently pushing his cum back into me granting him soft moans. Once he's satisfied he gently nudges me forward and I nearly collapse onto Zayne but he's quick to catch me in a firm grip. "Aw, our sweet girl is tired?"

At the notion of not having Zayne inside of me I quickly shake my head, struggling a bit with shaky legs to crawl onto him. "No- No, please. I need you, Zay. Please-"

"Shh. There's no need to beg," Zayne's playful smile reaches his eyes as they crinkle in the corner and while staring into the comforting abyss of his irises I see his gaze slowly change as his eyes flicker between my eyes and lips. "Let me take good care of you."

He flips us similarly as I had earlier, only he cradles my head while supporting my back. His lips are slow and persistent against mine, I can taste his words. I love you's, I need you's- "I adore you so much, Y/N. This, with you both, means so much." He acknowledges Sylus, who is cleaned with a black towel resting across his waist as he sits against the headboard next to us.

His eyes are soft as he trails his fingertips along my scalp, inching his way down to brush them against Zayne's. While busy lining himself up, he slips his hand into Sylus' as he sinks inside.

"Hah~" His breath is warm against my open lips, soft moans sending him into a steady, needy pace. "Wanna fill you, my heart." His other hand struggles to find a spot to grip onto, over taken by my wet walls. I help him by guiding it to my breast, knowing that he loves to toy with them. Zayne catches on right away, placing a brisk kiss to my lips then trailing down to my neck. He nudges his nose near Sylus' marks then I feel his cold, wet tongue licking the area in prep for his own.

My entire body buzzes from their lustful craze. Both men are extraordinary when it comes to stamina in the bed and having to take them both tonight makes my pulse quicken, pussy clench, and toes curl. I want nothing more than to be completely theirs, forever and always.

"Y/N baby, I gotta move. Relax for me." Zayne's soft chuckle snaps me out of my haze and I blush, embarrassed from disassociating at a moment like now.

"I'm sorry-"

"Shh. . . Never be sorry for that, sweet girl. It's just- I need to release urgently."

I nod, willing myself to relax with a deep controlled breath and slowly I feel my walls loosen and Zayne twitches, grunting as his hips stutters forward, releasing a bit of precum. He presses a kiss to my temple then eases up into a kneeling position. I feel his thick cock slip deeper to my cervix sending a tingle up my spine.

Zayne is gentle and firm with gripping under my knees to push my legs back and onto his shoulders. He continues to rest inside while he leans into my left calf, pressing soft kisses and nibbles. When he hears my hitched breath and soft moans his hips start in slow, deep rolls.

My hands fly outwards to grip onto anything and my right lands on pining my right thigh to my chest while the other brushes Sylus' erect dick. He hisses and catches my wrist before I could do any damage, turning it to rub circles into my wrist with his thumb.

"Don't lose your mind just yet, Kitten." I know very well he's telling me to reserve energy for another round and with how deprived I've been I don't mind if they break me tonight.

I ease my wrist from his grasp and he allows me as I trail towards the black towel, flicking it with my fingertips to reveal him. He's warm in my palm as I struggle to grip him fully thanks to his girth. His touch to my scalp returns and anytime I grip him his fingers tugs deliciously. I try my best to keep with Zayne's thrust that have sped up, he's moved to my feet now, pressing kisses to my in-step arch.

"Fuck! Yes! There, please- Zayne!" I feel my stomach coil as quickly as it snaps, sending me into a quick intense orgasm. Sylus moves quick to kneel beside me, my hand slipping, as I watch him lean forward and grab the back of Zayne's neck. My eyes widen as he leads the flushed man towards him into a clashing kiss. For a moment they're still then Sylus leads the kiss, playing dirty tricks against Zayne to get him to open his mouth and lick into it.

I take Zayne's bruising thrusts and tight grip at my hip, feeling him swell and pump three hard times deep into my womb before spilling his seed. I feel warm, fuzzy and stuffed with cum. I whimper as he continues to rock into me with his soft hair brushing against my clit. Sylus' hand on his throat pushes him back from the kiss and Zayne's head droops as he sucks in air.

"Pull out." He listens and rests his hand on my tummy as he slowly pulls out trying not to bring his cum with him.

"Good-"

"Don't. Finish that." Zayne groans, gently pushing at Sylus' chest. He chuckles deeply, canines flashing as he leans in and steals a kiss from Zayne's cheek.

"Only if you promise to be just that."

And he does. They quickly understand each other as they work around my body for the rest of the night till Dawn.

🔖 ; Sweet Dreams ☁️

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lilianne-tarot · 2 months ago

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PICK A CARD: WHO ARE YOU GONNA DATE NEXT? ᯓ★

˚　　　　✦　　　.　　. 　 ˚　.　　　　　 . ✦

I. II. III.

˚　　　　✦　　　.　　. 　 ˚　.　　　　　 . ✦

How to Pick Your Pile: Take a deep breath, clear your mind, and look at the images below. Which one pulls you in the most? Trust your gut! Once you choose the image, The number below your chosen image is your pile. If more than one catches your eye, that just means there’s extra tea for you, go ahead and read both!

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˚　　　　✦　　　.　　. 　 ˚　.　　　　　 . ✦

⋆✴︎˚⋆ Pile I

OH- OHHHHHHHHH (I HAD to do this🤓) The moment I flipped these cards, I had to take a deep breath because WOW this spread is screaming romance, romance, ROMANCEThe energy here? Soft, dreamy, emotionally available, and actually willing to communicate their feelings like a functioning adult. (Shocking, I know.) This is the kind of person who has main character energy, but not in an obnoxious "look at me" way, more like a "low-key mysterious but actually an absolute sweetheart who accidentally makes people fall in love with them" type. They are also giving ‘hopeless romantic with a heart of gold’ vibes, but also kinda shy and dorky at times.

They’re deeply in touch with their emotions, thanks to all this Cups energy, which means they feel things deeply. We’re talking someone who sends you “thinking of you” texts just because, who remembers tiny details about you that even you forgot, and who probably makes killer playlists based on your mood. (OML😭) They might even be the type to write poetry or play an instrument. (If this person owns a guitar and has ever strummed it while looking out of a window dramatically, I will scream.) They’re also super romantic. They believe in love. Like, BELIEVE believe. They’re not out here for some casual nonsense; they’re here for the feels. If they’ve been hurt before, they’re still hopeful and open to love instead of being bitter. (We love emotional maturity.) Physically i am seeing doe-eyed, soft-smiling, artistic cutie vibes. BABE. BABE. This relationship is so soft, so wholesome, so emotionally fulfilling, if yall are people who had a relationship where you felt like you didn't even exist to the person then this NEXT relationship is totally different. You know how in movies there’s always that one couple who makes everyone else sick with how adorable they are? Yeah, that’s y’all (i’m really NOT jealous) . They’re also a partner in every sense of the word meaning they work with you, not against you. . If you’re struggling, they’re there to support you. If they’re struggling, you’ll actually know about it because they communicate. (A rare species, truly.) They’re most prolly a Water sign/ has strong water placements or just very emotionally intuitive. If you have someone with these placements around you, then this is your sign. 3 out of 4 cards are cups so i believe Y’all might bond over something artistic, music, painting, poetry, photography, film, something that requires emotions to create.They fall fast and hard, so if you’re used to people who are distant or confusing, this is gonna feel like a whole new world. This is the kind of love that feels like a warm hug after a long day, safe, sweet, and real.

this person is a walking green flag. Soft but passionate. Romantic but stable. Playful but serious about love. This is the kind of relationship that feels safe and exhilarating at the same time, like home, but with butterflies. If you’ve been manifesting someone emotionally available, thoughtful, and ready to go all in for you…well, here they come. Oh, and one last thing, the fact that three out of four cards are Cups? That’s no accident. This person is MEANT to stir up your emotions and bring you into a deeper love experience. It’s not just about dating; it’s about feeling something real again.

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─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

⋆✴︎˚⋆Pile II

First off, this person? Chaotic. But like, in the best way possible. The Fool and Page of Cups together are giving ✨ golden retriever energy ✨ with just a sprinkle of emotionally confused poet vibes. They’re the type to send you ten unhinged tiktok totally out of the blue with no explanation, and then disappear for three hours because they had an unexpected emotional breakdown. I had a friend like that who used to do this, and trust me these kind of people are strangely ADORABLE. They’re playful, optimistic, and have this lowkey naive, wide-eyed way of looking at life, but don’t be fooled, Strength is here, meaning they know how to handle their emotions. They just choose to exist in this dreamy, slightly reckless way. I’m getting someone with a youthful look, no matter their actual age. Soft features, expressive eyes that basically scream “I have deep thoughts but I get distracted by cute dogs”,

Okay, so, Page of Cups and 7 of Swords? Babe… this is giving situationship that could turn into a masterpiece or a disaster, depending on how you play it. There’s gonna be a lot of dreamy, flirty, almost cinematic moments where you’re both caught up in the fantasy of each other. But here’s the thing, with 7 of Swords meaning, there’s a hidden element to this person. Not necessarily in a bad way, but you might feel like they’re holding something back. Strength is telling me you might end up being the one keeping this relationship stable, because this person? Yeah, they’re fun, romantic, and spontaneous, but they need someone who grounds them. Otherwise, they’ll float off into whatever alternate reality they live in. You might find yourself teaching them how to actually deal with their feelings instead of turning everything into an inside joke or a quirky monologue.

This connection? It’s got potential. I was getting ‘JUST KISS ALREADY’ vibes from this spread so many times. But also, This person might have commitment issues at first, or they just don’t realize when they’ve caught feelings. This relationship will be fun, unexpected, and maybe a little messy at times. You’ll never be bored, but you might have to decide if you’re willing to wait for them to fully step up and be emotionally present. If you do? This could turn into one of those soulmate-tier love stories that start off as chaotic best friends and then evolve into something real. This person is gonna make you laugh so hard your stomach hurts, and you’re gonna make them feel like home. Just make sure they don’t get lost in the clouds before they realize what they have with you.

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─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

⋆✴︎˚⋆ Pile III

Picture someone who walks into a room and the air literally shifts, not in a dramatic, "I’m better than you" way, but in that "damn, why does this person feel like a wish come true?" kind of way. The Star as the headliner of this spread? BABY, this person is ethereal.

They’ve been through their fair share of life lessons, some of them painful as hell, but instead of becoming bitter, they’ve transmuted all that pain into wisdom and grace. (Honestly, teach me your ways, mysterious heartthrob.) They’re a dreamer, but not the delusional kind. I have a strong feeling that pile 3 already know their person at the very least, they’re connected to your past in a really poetic way. The 6 of Cups is screaming, "This ain't no random fling, this is destiny, baby!" There’s a familiarity about them, like the feeling of revisiting your childhood home after years of being away. There’s also a chance that this person is deeply sentimental, they might keep old love letters, hoard little trinkets from meaningful moments, or be the type to remember the exact date you first texted them "lol" and took it as a sign from the universe. They’re romantic, but in a quiet, "let me show you, not just tell you" kinda way.

Physically? ELEGANT. LUXURIOUS. GOURGEOUS. 10/10. I also have the feeling that for some of you, this person might be quite rich as well. They could be successful or at least super stable and independent, but there’s something soft and sentimental about them like they love deeply but don’t fall easily. One thing i would say that they don't fall easily. 4 of the Pentacles is telling me that they guard their heart like a bank vault. Not in a "toxic, emotionally unavailable" way, but in a "I don’t just give my energy to anyone, I need to be sure" kinda way. They might be financially stable or working towards major success, so they protect what they’ve built. At first, they might be reserved, taking their sweet time to open up, but once they do? BABY, THEY’RE ALL IN. Slow-burning but SO rewarding. This is the kind of love that feels like déjà vu, like you were meant to find each other. And the thing is, you’re worth the risk to them. Your connection makes them feel safe enough to let go of their tight grip on control. This isn’t a surface-level situationship, this is intentional, slow-burning, "I want to build something real with you" love.

(Also, be ready for someone who spoils you subtly, not in a flashy, Gucci gifts every day kinda way, but in "I remembered you liked that indie artist, so I got us front-row tickets" kinda way. 🥹) BUT one more thing, also think They’re going to be verrryyy slow to say ‘I love you’—but when they do? Oh, it means something. This is the kind of person who will show you they love you 100 different ways before they ever say it out loud.

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─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

Thank you so much for reading all the way through! I hope my reading resonated with you and that you had a lovely time going through it. If you enjoyed it, please like and reblog, it really means a lot! Let me know which pile you chose; I absolutely love hearing your thoughts and feedback on my readings! If my reading resonated you, you may consider buying my paid reading as it would really help me out financially♡

Note: tarot cards provide guidance and possible insights into what could happen based on current energies, thoughts, and actions. the cards can highlight potential paths or outcomes, but they do not fixedly predict the future. this is a general reading so take what resonates!

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cuntressgoingdigital · 23 days ago

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SUPER RICH KIDS | ufc fighter! abby anderson x model! reader

free palestine! click this link for more info

synopsis: you're a fairly notable model and a big fan of UFC newcomer, abby anderson. by a cruel twist of fate, you're caught liking a tik tok edit of abby on your main account. instead of backing down, you use unconventional methods to capture the attention of the fighter before the most important fight of her career.

notes: i have spent an unfathomable amount of time writing/rewriting this and i can't take it anymore! if i don't give in and post it now it's going to rot in my drafts forever

click here for my series masterlist.

cw: 18+ content MDNI, fem reader (she/her pronouns used), alcohol & drug use, oral (a! receiving), abby is gay & in denial + a huge fucking loser

word count: 10.5k

you had your phone set up against your vanity where you sat perfecting your makeup. you were only running to grab coffee with your friend who was stopping in town for a quick photoshoot. comments on your instagram live scrolled quickly on your phone as your ten thousand viewers all vied for your attention.

“what have you been watching?” you read a comment aloud. you hummed in thought for a moment. “i honestly haven’t had a lot of time to watch stuff recently. fashion week is coming up and y’all know that’s my favorite time of the year.” one last look in your vanity mirror, and you decided your makeup was officially done. “however,” you begin “my ex got me really into ufc, so i always make time for that.” the comments immediately start with their guesses about the identity of this ex, as per usual. tabloids loved to make every small hangout a dating rumor. you ignored those comments and doubled back to your statement. “really, think about it. hot women beating the shit out of each other. one of television’s greatest gifts.” crying laughing emojis started rolling in. “i’m actually really excited for this next fight card.”

a text from your friend dings on your phone alerting you that she’s on her way to the cafe. your cue to end the live. “okay babes, thank you so much for chatting with me! i have to go, but i love all of you. mwah!” you blew a kiss at the camera before pressing the button to stop the broadcast.

later that night, you’re laying in bed, staring at your phone. a crucial part of your nightly routine. it was as if your tik tok for you page had heard your earlier declaration and started showing you edits of different ufc fighters. you had no interest in the male fighters, scrolling past those videos with no hesitation. this idea did pique your interest. you tap over to the search tab, and type

abby anderson edits

she was by far your favorite fighter. tear jerking underdog story and the icing on top of the cake was how hot she was. that long blonde hair that was always shiny and soft looking. her perfectly toned arms that you frequently envisioned wrapped around your waist. her long fingers that always prompted the most embarrassingly sinful thoughts.

the post was a cinematic, yet concerningly horny, work of art. you double tapped the post and continued on with your idle scroll until you tossed your phone to the other end of the bed and fell asleep.

the repeated buzzing of your phone pulled you from your slumber. the sun was blocked by your blackout curtains, so you had no real concept of time until you looked down at your phone. only a little after 11AM. the next thing that caught your eye was numerous texts in your groupchat with your friends: charlotte, cassidy, and lynzee.

charlotte, you’d met at a grammy’s afterparty when she brought home the best new artist award. cassidy was your typical drug abusing miami rich girl skating by on daddy’s money. and lynzee was a model you had worked with so often that you became pretty close. after a few years of forcing everyone into close proximity, you were a merry band of semi-dysfunctional really rich friends.

lynzee: bitch PLEASE check twitter

char: oml thats fucking embarrassing

cass: girl atp you gotta delete all your accounts and move to mars

you realized very quickly all of these texts were directed at you. your hands were shaking as you opened twitter. what could it be this time?

your mentions were blowing up with the same screenshot. you had accidentally liked the edit of abby on your main account. the creator immediately noticed and posted the screenshot of the notification on twitter. you screamed into your pillow. there was no way to undo this. it was embarrassing, but not career ending. you thumbed back to the groupchat.

you: man fuck yall!!

you: idk ig im gna double down lmao

you reopen the twitter app and quote the original tweet.

uh oh. you guys caught me lmao

there was no real point in trying to claim you got hacked or that it was an accident. you would just ride the wave until everyone found something else to talk about.

and after a couple days they did. it was left as an inside joke for your friend group in which they sent you every video of abby that they came across, irrevocably altering everyone’s social media algorithms.

thursday night your manager called while you were enjoying a lovely meal of doordashed sushi. her grating high pitched voice would’ve ruined your dinner if you weren’t already so used to it.

“hey, tiff. what’s up?” you put the phone on speaker so you could pour your soy sauce and prepare your chopsticks.

“okay. hear me out– and listen to my full statement before you sigh, scoff, or say anything! i know how you are.” her words made you scowl, but you kept all reactionary noises to yourself. “okay, so tomorrow you’re hopping on a plane to las vegas. your most recent controversy with a certain ufc fighter was caught by some of the promotional execs at maison margiela.” you could only cringe in silence. did everyone know? “they want you to attend saturday’s fight card, show off some new pieces, maybe act cute and joke around, then you can go home.” tiffany paused. “now you may speak.”

“you just set this up without asking me? what if i had plans?”

“if you did, you didn’t run them by me and thus they don’t exist.”

truthfully, you didn’t have plans. you just didn’t want to relive the last 48 hours. people had finally given up teasing you online. in the past, people have called you every evil name under the sun, all of which you could brush off. this time you were publicly labeled as a horny freak. this time the allegations were true.

you let out the sigh that tiffany anticipated from the moment you pressed the green answer call button. “what time is my flight?”

“good girl.”

and just like that, the very next day you were touching down in las vegas after your red eye flight. moving through TSA and the gates were a breeze. you slept for a few hours before your usual stylist met you at your hotel room. they took some measurements, showed you a few outfit concepts, and were on their way. you spent most of the day in bed in your hotel room, drumming up the energy to sit through hair and makeup later that night.

abby’s fight was meant to begin around 10:30PM. while you had spent your time resting in bed, abby had been tirelessly working out, stretching, and psyching herself up. tonight was a big moment for her. she was slated to fight ellie williams, a certified fan favorite. her trainer was a hot shot old timer who retired a good twenty or so years ago. she essentially picked up his mantle, and everyone’s obsession with him trickled down into support for her. abby came from relatively humble beginnings. her trainer, isaac, had always remained rather private. he’d trained a few other fighters, but none of them had any real notoriety or staying power. abby wanted to break that pattern. she needed to prove herself tonight.

it also didn’t help that ellie had talked so much shit about her and her fighting track record. most of the time it was something you did for cameras and then laugh about behind the scenes. ellie’s demeanor never changed on or off camera. as months went on, during weigh in, press conferences, and a million other events, ellie never failed to make a snide comment. months later, abby’s animosity was festering. every meeting turned into a pissing match complete with swearing and the occasional low blow. there was now a deep seeded rivalry (read: hatred) between the two of them.

your hair and makeup had taken longer than expected, which pushed your stylist back, and now your driver was waiting and more irritated than usual. this night was already a clusterfuck and you hadn’t even gotten to the venue yet.

you: are yall coming out with me tn?

you: pls say yes or i’ll die actually

lynzee: ya my plane landed a couple hrs ago lmk when you’re leaving your little event

char: couldnt get a flight for tn but i’ll see u tmrwwww

cass: i’m omw to the hotel rn

no matter how stressful this night was, rest assured you would be getting trashed with your friends and none of it would matter in the morning. you tuck your phone into your bag and step out of the car. like always, there were a million camera flashes directed at you. dozens of people calling your name, asking some trivial question or another. there was only one question you were told to answer.

“what are you wearing tonight?” a female reporter shouted over the crowd.

“maison margiela. head to toe, baby.” you blew a kiss and waved at the cameras. while that exchange only lasted for approximately 120 seconds, the walk from the car to the venue entrance shaved at least ten years off of your lifespan.

you were escorted to your seat with a perfect vantage point of the octagon (and the numerous cameras set up throughout the stadium). these tickets had to have cost thousands of dollars. the crowd was going wild after the last fight that had apparently ended with a dislocated knee. you made a mental note to look up the replays later.

you gasped when the woman who had occupied the spot next to you reclaimed her seat. “oh my god! holy shit!”

it was one of the more popular female rappers in recent history. your glam team always played her music while getting you ready and you had grown to enjoy a few of her songs. the two of you chatted effortlessly, giggling and posing for pictures for passersby.

“hold on, let me get one for my instagram story!” you take a quick selfie of the two of you making kissy faces at each other, captioning it with:

abby anderson’s #1 and #2 fan (i am NOT #2)

you tag her and she quickly reposts it, causing your notifs to go wild. not even 15 minutes later, one of the stadium cameras zoomed in on your face. you could see the little name card they put under your image. runway model was in bold beneath your name.

a man with a microphone, whom you recognize as one of the in house reporters, waltzes up to you in the stands. “it’s so nice seeing you here tonight. you look gorgeous as always.”

you force out your best exaggerated fake laugh. “thank you, thank you. i’m so happy to be here.”

“the people have one big question on their mind. who are you rooting for tonight?” he pauses before turning the microphone towards you. you watch as the large screen in the center of the stadium flashed to a screenshot of your post that was barely 20 minutes old. their social media interns are really on top of it tonight. “now, some people may say the answer is just a little obvious.” he finally turns the microphone in your direction.

“you guys are really putting me on blast tonight, huh?” you giggle. “i’m here to watch anderson absolutely wash her competition. its no secret that i’m a really big fan. and,” you pause, trying to gauge how much you would regret uttering these words. management wanted cute, so you’d give it to them. “abby, if you see this and you’re into girls, my DMs are wide open.”

the stadium roared in laughter and gasps and you had a strong suspicion that nobody was focused on your outfit anymore.

meanwhile, abby is completely oblivious to the crowd and ruckus as isaac gives her words of encouragement as best as he could. he wasn’t quite an affectionate presence.

“you get out there, and you beat that girl until she cannot stand up. you hear me?”

abby nods. she closes her eyes and starts her deep breathing exercises that she always does right before a match.

her eyes snap open when she hears her friend, nora, gasp. she’s scrolling on her phone with misplaced fervor.

“what the fuck? don’t do shit like that!” abby shouts. she becomes mean before all of her matches. she’s normally a bit more graceful with her language and delivery. not by much, but the difference is noticeable.

after a few moments of silence, abby speaks again with a slightly raised voice. “what the fuck is your deal?”

nora was used to abby’s behavior before a fight, given she was always there as ringside moral support. she completely ignored abby’s sour attitude and turned her phone towards the fighter. “this model shouted you out and now you’re trending on twitter. you’ve also gained, like, 10k on instagram in the last couple days.”

abby was almost completely removed from social media. she didn’t know how to use it and hardly ever opened the app. her management team handled most of her socials, and she didn’t want it any other way. this was the first time she had ever heard your name.

“wait, wait, you have to see this clip.”

“nora get out of here if you’re gonna be a distraction!” isaac’s voice is stern and intimidating. she tunes him out and completely ignores his request.

nora holds her phone in front of abby’s face and immediately her eyes grow wide.

“abby, if you see this and you’re into girls, my DMs are wide open!”

her whole face was suddenly hot. you had said it so coolly. the sweet little giggle you had let out. she wanted to watch the video on repeat just to see the way your lips formed each syllable. she had never considered her sexuality. not until right now, in this exact moment, minutes before she was due out in the ring. there was never any need to. her one and only relationship her entire life had been with a man and that had only recently ended.

she had to admit you were pretty. the longer she stared at your perfectly arranged features, maybe she could see herself—

“get that shit outta here, nora. i’m serious!” isaac’s voice cut through abby’s thoughts. nora rushed out of the room and up into the stands, taking her place in abby’s corner.

the old man’s voice was eventually drowned out by the sound of her own rapidly beating heart. a runway model was interested in her?

you were insanely out of her league. maybe if she had been more famous, more talented, she would feel like she had a shot.

what was she even thinking?

“focus!” isaac yelled a few inches away from her face.

you were antsy in your seat waiting for the match to start. you had put your phone on do not disturb after your friends started rapidly sending messages in the groupchat.

cass: girl wtf why would you say that on LIVE television

lynzee: gay asf in 4k

all of a sudden, the music in the stadium cut and the announcer’s voice came over the loudspeaker.

“and now, we have one of the most anticipated fights of the night! in one corner, we have ellie ‘stealth killer’ williams!” cheers erupted in the stadium as ellie strutted out towards the octagon, flanked by her trainer, joel miller. her head was held high, and as usual, she looked smug. she was the popular pick as tonight’s winner.

“in the other corner, tonight’s underdog, abby anderson, the wolf of salt lake!” when abby came out, her furrowed brow and intense facial features immediately had you blushing. her skin tight black shorts that hugged her massive thighs and tiny sports bra left little to the imagination. all you could think about was placing sweet kisses along her biceps and chest, going lower and lower until her legs were slung over your shoulders for you to bury your face in her cunt and eat her out like it was the last meal you would ever be served.

all abby could think about were all the eyes on her. a few boos came from the crowd, as was expected. sometimes, ufc fans got a little too enthusiastic. the ellie diehards were definitely in the stadium tonight.

“ladies and gentlemen all across the world, it’s time!” the crowd chanted along with the announcer.

more importantly, you were in the stadium tonight. her self proclaimed number one fan. you had single handedly made her popularity skyrocket in only a few days’ time. she couldn’t disappoint you. even worse, it would be embarrassing for her to get her ass kicked publicly with you several feet away, catching every single second of it. so much was riding on this moment.

isaac had stationed himself in her corner of the octagon and she could feel his eyes boring holes into the back of her head. before she knew it, she was in the center of the ring, touching gloves with her opponent.

as soon as the round started, every single thought in her mind melted away. there was only one objective: beat the shit out of ellie williams.

the first round was painful to watch. ellie was known for her quick jabs and light feet, the exact opposite of abby. she was big, burly, and punched hard. ellie dodged her punches beautifully, landing a few kicks and jabs of her own. a few moments before the round ended, ellie connected a nasty kick with abby’s nose. her blood smeared down her face and dripped onto the mat. luckily, she had one minute to recoup back in her corner with isaac.

“all you have to do is outlast her. chill out, reserve that energy. she’ll run out of stamina eventually.” isaac’s voice was a lot calmer in comparison to his sharp tone earlier.

nora busied herself with tenderly wiping blood off of abby’s face and whispering in her ear “you’re good. it doesn’t look broken.”

you had to admit, that was a little hot.

god, you wished that was you.

their sixty seconds ended and it was back into the ring. the second round wasn’t much better. abby had avoided a good amount of ellie’s strikes, but the ones she ate were downright ugly. if the fight were to go to judge’s decision right now, abby would certainly lose. she was going to do everything in her power to prevent that. all of abby’s wins came from knockouts or submissions. technicality was never her strong suit. her adrenaline was at an all time high. she needed to get back in there. one solid punch. that was all she needed.

you were on the edge of your seat, much like everyone else in the stadium.

judging by her movements, it was clear ellie was exhausted. her punches had less momentum. there was an obvious change in strategy: dodge everything and wait for the final round to end. abby noticed this and planned to capitalize off of it. there was a careful pattern to ellie’s movements. she just needed to exploit it.

the entire arena was captured in anxious silence. abby’s right fist had made an audible connection with ellie’s cheek. she fell straight back onto the mat and abby ran to straddle her and keep punching. while barbaric, it was necessary to establish a knockout. doesn’t mean abby didn’t get off on the feeling. watching your opponent drop to the ground like that was a high that was irreplaceable by any drug in the world. that feeling enveloped her tenfold knowing that this time, it was ellie williams.

it only took a few seconds for the referees to intervene, declaring a clean, uncontested knockout. they had to peel abby off of ellie. both of their respective teams flooded the octagon, along with several interviewers.

abby still hadn’t come to. her adrenaline had yet to bottom out. she looked like a deer in headlights as a half dozen people shoved cameras in her face. she couldn’t hear anything. not her team’s congratulations. not the crowd’s uproar.

“you came into this octagon as the sort-of new kid on the block. this is your first time as a headline fighter. is there anything you want to say to everyone after that absolutely beautiful knockout?”

this was the only question abby had thoroughly processed.

“uh…” her voice was unsteady. “i wanna thank my dad, who always encouraged me to never stop fighting. thank you to my fans out there, whether you’ve been here from the very start of my career or you hopped on board an hour ago.”

was she talking about you and your post? the subtle mention nearly had you kicking your feet in the stands.

“and thank you to ellie for being such a cunt, because i don’t think i would’ve been able to hit as hard without a burning desire to put your ass back on that mat.”

the octagon erupts into shouting and swearing as a now conscious ellie started yelling inaudible insults. her trainer joined in on the ruckus creating quite the spectacle. abby geared up to scream back, but is quickly course corrected by isaac and nora leading her out of the ring and off camera.

you cheered all the way up until the moment abby fluttered out of the public eye, shouting until your throat felt sore. now, it was time for you to make your great escape. no use in sticking around to see a bunch of men get maimed in the title fight. especially, when you can instead hang out with your best friends.

you: ok im leaving the venue. meet @ the club around 12?

lynzee: yesssss

the car was already waiting outside when you rushed away trying to avoid any cameras. “please go as fast as possible.” you instructed your driver.

abby was immediately ushered to the makeshift infirmary in the basement of the venue. three different people were inspecting her for any serious injuries while nora prepped ice packs for her.

the adrenaline had her thoughts all over the place. above all the commotion, your words played on loop in her head. this was supposed to be a big moment for her. why were you overshadowing that?

“can everyone get the fuck out? i just need 15 minutes of silence.”

the medical team seemed hesitant, sharing concerned looks with both isaac and nora.

“you heard her! file out!” isaac’s shout sent all of them running.

quiet took over the room while abby tried to clear her mind. god, why couldn’t she rid her thoughts of you?

she turned to nora “show me how to repost something on my instagram story.”

nora’s eyebrows raised. “what do you mean?”

“what do you mean ‘what do i mean’?” abby couldn’t even hold eye contact with her friend. shame and embarrassment had completely taken over. “that model you were talking about…i wanna respond, or whatever.” her attempt at being nonchalant was failing miserably.

“ohhh someone has a crush!” nora teased. “abby you know you can just dm–“

“it’s not like that! she just got me a lot of attention and i wanna thank her.” nora snickered. “can you just do what i’m asking, please? without the commentary.” abby knew regardless of what was said, nora would never let this go. “just tell me or i’ll get someone else to.” this was a lie. she could barely tolerate asking nora.

“will i be getting paid for my duties as your social media manager?”

“nora i’m fucking ser–“

“damn, you’d think you’d be in a better mood after this win.” nora pulled out her phone. “alright, what do you wanna say?”

it was nearing 1AM and you were drunker than you intended to be. some pretty brunette with a heavy spanish accent had bought you more than enough drinks at the bar. it wasn’t long until you found yourself in a dark corner of the club, bodies pressed together, tongues down each other’s throat. her hands roamed down your body, eventually resting at the curve of your ass. you couldn’t tell how much time had passed before a group of three girls came to retrieve their friend. she hands you her phone, a gesture you assumed was intended for you to leave her your number. you oblige, even though you doubt you would care enough to text her back in the morning.

you attempted to sober up just enough to shuffle back to your friends on the dancefloor. every few seconds another person would brush by with an indecipherable “excuse me”, trying not to spill their drink. a few droplets of someone’s cocktails fell onto your bare arms, but you couldn’t be bothered to care. nothing mattered right now.

lynzee leaned down, her mouth next to your ear, she practically had to shout “we’re going to the bathroom!”

she attempted to hold you up as the group of you shoved your way through the crowd. you took a long look at yourself in the mirror. a mix of lipstick belonging to you and the girl who’s name you don’t remember is smeared along your chin.

lynzee snorts incredulously “damn girl, i see you were busy.”

you couldn’t manage the multitasking of a response and redoing your makeup. all you could do was hum in vague affirmation.

cassidy busied herself with crushing a pill on the bathroom counter and lining it up with her metal amex card.

“bitch, ew you’re gonna do that on the public bathroom counter?” you managed to drunkenly slur out.

cassidy rolled her eyes and smacked her teeth. “i’ve done worse.”

“okay well speed it up. we look hot, we need a pic.” lynzee spoke over the sounds of your friend’s deep inhales.

after a few camera flicks and a slew of different poses, the three of you prepared to brave the dancefloor once again.

“lynz, send them in the groupchat. do it now because you always fucking forget.” it was getting harder by the second for you to string along coherent sentences.

you took a brief look down at your phone screen and a single notification caught your eye.

a.ander.son reposted your story

you stopped dead in your tracks. “hold the fuck on.” your fingers made quick work of unlocking your phone and opening instagram. abby never posted on her story. she barely even made regular posts. text was overlaid on your original picture.

thanks for all your support <3

your drunken delusions were building. of all people she shouted you out. she had to have seen the clip of you attempting to flirt. it was meant to be. she liked you back!

“what the fuck is wrong with you?” cassidy asked between sniffles as she rubbed at her nose.

all you could do was turn your phone screen towards your friends. your excitement was more than evident.

lynzee rolled her eyes. “are you, like, 13? dude, if you wanna fuck her just dm her right now.”

“it’s not like that! i mean, i do wanna fuck her, but i don’t wanna just fuck her.” against your better judgement, you go to her profile and click on the messages tab. “what do i even say?” you whine. it took you a few tries to make the message vaguely understandable, but after a while you decided to leave well enough alone.

confrats on the win!! you look super hot even with blood on yoir face :P

after a match, win or lose, sleep always evaded abby. she had been devotedly researching you for the last couple hours. she had read and watched a multitude of interviews where you talk about your life and your accidental break as a model. she studied your runway walk and every magazine spread you had ever been in like there would be a test the very next day.

of course she was attracted to you. who wouldn’t be? you’re a model. well, she wasn’t attracted to you. not in that way.

okay sure, she’d thought about kissing girls in the past, but it was always a fleeting concept . there was a time where she thought she had a crush on nora, but that’s just the way girl friends are, right? there was nothing there. they had just always been really close.

but, she hardly knew you and for the last several hours all she could think about was kissing you. maybe she was just trying to move on from owen? trying to shift her perspective?

it's around 3AM when abby finally built up the courage to open the message. her heart raced as she read the line of text over and over. she tapped over to your instagram story (something nora had taught her to do earlier that day) and she sees a short video of you holding a very expensive bottle of liquor, pouring the liquid directly into the mouth of someone she could only assume to be a friend of yours.

you’re holding the girl by the chin, looking down into her eyes. the sight makes abby’s throat constrict. she could only imagine being in her position.

you holding her chin, head tilted back, mouth open, a string of spit exchanging between your mouths. the mere thought had her rubbing her thighs together, desperate for some reprieve.

what the fuck was she thinking?

that post was made hours ago, thus explaining the drunk text. there was no way you were anything near sober now. even if you weren’t, abby wasn’t quite sure how to respond to your text. instead, she locked her phone and decided to call nora bright and early the next morning.

well, abby didn’t know that read receipts were a thing. you and your friends were being driven to your hotel and you had been drunkenly babbling for the last half an hour.

“god, what if she’s not even gay?” tears began to well in your eyes as drunken theatrics took over. “i fucking embarrassed myself! i bet she’s laughing about it in a groupchat with her friends! that’s what we always do!”

lynzee, being the most sober of your trio, pulls out a crumpled napkin from her purse and dabs the tears that are running down your face.

“you two don’t understand how embarrassing it is to flirt with a straight girl! it is so fucking hard to be gay around here!” you attempted to take deep breaths through choked sobs. “what if this is a sign that i should get back with my ex?”

“NO!” lynzee and cassidy practically scream in unison.

cassidy deeply sighs with her hands over her eyes. “you’re hot. you can pull anyone you want. now, please calm down before you fuck up my high.”

and for the rest of the ride you quietly sobbed while lynzee rubbed your back and attempted to console you with the occasional “it’ll be fine.”

you don’t remember getting up to your hotel room, so when lynzee shakes you awake you take a few extra seconds to take in your surroundings.

“it’s 5PM. get up sleeping beauty.” she places a cold bottle of water and two painkillers into your hands. oh, how grateful you were for her right now.

the two of you order room service while lynzee recounts the events of the night to you.

“there’s actually a video of you cry–“

“don’t fucking show me that! in fact, delete it right fucking now!”

this reminds you of your drunk text to abby. you rush to pick up your phone from the nightstand, ignoring the low battery pop up. your heart is racing.

“can you see if she dmed me back? i can’t do it myself.”

lynzee scoffs. “god you’re so dramatic.” you hear her tap the screen of your phone a few times. “oooo–“

“let me see!” you climb off the bed and rush to snatch your phone back.

there was, in fact, a text from abby that was sent around 9AM.

abby’s hands were shaking when she sent the message. nora had groggily listened to a condensed version of abby’s sexuality crisis for the better part of an hour. nora convinced her to just give the situation a try if she felt so strongly about you.

“imagine fumbling a model all because you’re terrified of being gay.” nora was trying her hardest to keep abby in line. deep down, she wanted this for abby so she’d shut the fuck up about owen. “if you think you like her, just go on a date. if it doesn’t work, no harm, no foul.”

that finally convinced abby to just send the message. when she read it back to nora, she could only groan.

a.ander.son: i’ll be in vegas for the next week if you wanted to get dinner?

a.ander.son: or we can do something else?

a.ander.son: this is my first time here so i’m not really sure what people do around here haha

“it sounds like you’re inviting her to a business meeting, not a date. that wasn’t flirty at all!”

“should i send another–“

“no!” nora quickly exclaimed. “then you’ll look desperate. just wait for her to respond.”

she did just that for a few hours. it was nothing short of agonizing. finally, exhaustion put her out of her misery and she managed to get a few hours of sleep.

sadly, this was your last night in vegas. you had a flight to new york tomorrow afternoon to prepare for your runway appearance for fashion week. there was no way you would have your shit together in the next hour or two to make it to dinner either.

you: srry i just woke up!!

you: me & my friends are going to a penthouse party tn if you wanna pull up? we’ll prob be there around 11ish? you can be my +1 :)

the sound of her phone buzzing tore abby from her sleep. she wasted no time unlocking her phone and reading your message. she hadn’t ever been to a real party before. in the one semester of college she had completed she was invited to a frat party alongside owen and lasted about twenty minutes before she became overwhelmed and left. he hadn’t even bothered to walk her home.

she could tell this party would be drastically different. this wasn’t a bunch of college kids. it was likely a bunch of b-list celebrities and nepo babies. abby wasn’t anywhere near notable enough to hang with that crowd.

but, she needed to see you. who knows the next time you’ll be free? much less in the same city as her.

a.ander.son: ok sounds fun. i can meet you there?

you squealed in excitement and flopped back against your bed. ultimately, she would be your fourth plus one which would be pushing it if the guy hosting the party, some wannabe actor who’s dad is a prominent movie producer, hadn’t been begging for attention in your dms for the last several months. apparently, he didn’t believe you were gay. hopefully this would put his advances to rest.

abby called nora five times before she answered.

“what is it now? i was in the shower.”

“i have–“ abby glanced at her phone screen to check the time. “less than six hours to figure out an outfit for a penthouse party.” her thoughts were racing while she thought about every single detail of the night. “i didn’t pack anything fancy. god, and she’s gonna be dressed in designer–”

“take a deep breath, anderson.” there’s some shuffling on the line and abby hears the shower water turn off. “we’ve got a couple hours before shops close. we’ll find you something.”

it took a few hours and several shops to curate a suitable outfit for abby. a black linen button down that she purposely left unbuttoned halfway down to expose the perfect amount of her chest. a pair of tight fitting khaki slacks gripped her ass in the best way possible. the last, and arguably most important, piece of the outfit was a thin gold chain with a small wolf pendant attached to it that sat along the exposed skin of her chest. nora took the time to gel down and neatly plait abby’s hair. everything about her appearance had to be perfect.

it was nearing the meet up time and abby was running on max three hours of sleep. nora had abandoned her in favor of getting some sleep back in her hotel room. the feelings of anxiety and sleep deprivation were blending into this miserable haze of unending thought. she checked her phone every time it buzzed.

you: what’s your addy? i’ll send a car for you

you: gotta ride separately with my besties

you: just tell the dude at the door that youre with me

it didn’t take long for the driver to arrive after she sent the text with her address. the man didn’t bother turning back to look at her before speeding off. the whole ride, abby feverishly texted nora with updates.

nora: just take a couple shots it’ll make everything better!! have fun babe <3

when the car stopped abby was met with the sight of a twenty story building towering over her. the lobby area was well furnished with couches, a crystal chandelier light fixture, gold framed paintings, and roman-esque pillars. there was a lone man waiting downstairs. he was tall, bald, buff, and staring at her like she was the scum of the earth. if she hadn’t been trained as a professional fighter she would imagine his gaze would spark some semblance of fear.

“uh, i’m here for the party, i guess?”

he didn’t speak a word until she uttered your name and showed off the text thread between both of you.

“follow me.” the hulking man led her towards a glass elevator and her heart immediately dropped. the elevator was spacious, but all at once she felt claustrophobic. she had to make a concerted effort to steady her breathing. every second felt like an hour as the elevator ascended past all twenty floors. she busied her mind and hands texting you

a.ander.son: i think i’m here? i’m going up in the elevator

when the elevator finally opened she was met with an unfathomable amount of people. this had to be a fire code violation. the music was too loud and there were at least a hundred voices trying to shout over it. the claustrophobic feeling came back and was ten times worse.

there were two separate stories to the penthouse. the second story was a closed in space that overlooked the bottom floor. people had crowded along the stairs and were packed in on the awning. the modified kitchen and lounge area was swimming with people, all seemingly crowded around the bar towards the kitchen area. towards the back of the first floor were huge glass panels from floor to ceiling. she could see the terrace outfitted with a huge pool and a full service bar.

people were shoving past her with nary an “i’m sorry” or “excuse me”.

where the hell were you?

before she could gather her bearings she was approached by a clearly drunk man.

“holy shit!” he slurred. “you’re that hot ufc girl! ”

all abby could spare was a half-hearted awkward laugh. “yeah, i guess.”

“bro, can i get a pic? my friends won’t believe you’re here!” before she could reply he was already moving in, placing an arm around his shoulder. “dude, you beat the shit out of williams yesterday.” he flagged down his friend who already had a camera ready. she was wholly unprepared when the flash went off.

she hoped that wouldn’t be posted anywhere.

“oh my god, will you move?” somehow abby could hear your voice over the deafening music and chatter of the party guests.

you scoffed, clearly disgusted by the man in your vicinity. “get away from her, travis. she’s not gonna fuck you.” you gave the man a light shove, sending him stumbling backwards. “now fuck off!”

everything around her melted away. abby was completely in awe. your skin was glowing, hair perfectly groomed, dressed to the nines. she felt horribly underdressed next to you.

your squeal brought her back to reality. “holy shit, you actually came!” overcome with excitement, you threw your arms around her. the smell of your perfume made abby shudder.

she wanted you so bad.

“i’m such a big fan!” you went on. “i’ve been following your career for, like, forever.” finally you released her from the hug and immediately abby missed your warmth. “wait, is that weird to say?”

“no, no, i dont think its weird.” abby reassures you. it’s not like she hadn’t spent several hours last night researching your entire life. “it's nice to finally meet you. you look really pretty.” she felt like a fucking dork. this was like an eighth grade dance. except everyone was really famous, in their 20s, and people were snorting mysterious powders off the bartop.

“you look overwhelmed. is this your first big party?”

how was she failing so miserably at fitting in?

“is it that obvious?”

you intertwined your fingers and began to drag her through the crowd. “don’t worry, a drink will fix everything.” you plowed through the crowd until the two of you were on the terrace. “i can also probably find you any drug of your choice…pretty much anything.”

“no, no. i’m good. i get drug tested regularly before my matches.”

you nod in acknowledgement. how had you not thought of that?

“honestly, i don’t even really drink. my trainer is pretty strict.”

you gasp in surprise. “oh shit, you should’ve said something! i wouldn’t have invited you to a function with a bunch of sloppy drunk wannabes and b-listers.”

“no, its okay! i’m glad i got to tag along!” abby would’ve met you anywhere you requested. she would follow you to hell if it meant she could talk to you for a little longer. “i’ll have a couple drinks with you.”

abby smiles when your face brightens. “yay!”

you shoved your way through the crowd without a care in the world. a few people yelled a greeting at you, but you didn’t spare a passing glance. whilst being dragged, abby noticed a few of them eyeing her up and down. some of the looks had a predatory vibe, like they were waiting for a moment to devour her whole. the rest of them gazed at her in confusion, perhaps trying to place where they would know her from. all of it made her want to crawl into a ball and die on the spot. this was nothing like being in the octagon. it didn’t even compare.

abby doesn’t notice when you stop moving and runs into you, making you practically topple over. before you can fall too far, she gently pulls you by the hand, her other arm bracing you to prevent any impact.

abby parts her lips to apologize, but you speak before she can. “that was smooth, anderson. and kinda hot.”

suddenly, her words failed her.

you lean across the bar and hail over the poor bartender who is clearly up to his neck in drink orders.

you look over your shoulder at abby. “what do you want?”

she didn’t even know the names of cocktails. even if she did, everything had left her brain as soon as you took her hand. “whatever you’re having, i guess?”

“two shots of tequila. salt and lime, pretty please. and none of that bottom shelf shit!”

abby found your mannerisms nothing short of adorable. judging you solely from your interviews, she would’ve never guessed you were this brash in person. you were much softer when faced with the public. it was almost jarring.

“okay, this is good shit so it shouldn’t be too bad going down. ” you finally released abby’s hand to deliver her shot to her, a salt shaker in your other hand. “lick the back of your hand.”

abby did as she was instructed and you shook a small line of salt onto the wet trail of spit. the entire time you held eye contact with her. the whole ordeal felt oddly intimate.

“salt first, shot, then lime, ‘kay?”

she followed your lead and downed the shot. she tried so hard to steady her resolve, but her face gave her away. with the lime in her mouth she watched as your hand raised to thumb off small remnants of salt at the corner of her mouth. the feeling of your freshly done nails grazing her skin made goosebumps raise.

immediately after, your phone vibrates in your purse and you peek at the message.

lynzee: bitch you will never guess whos here…

the next message is a photo that you tap to open. you can’t keep yourself from groaning aloud. it was your ex that you had been crying about the night prior. the last thing you wanted tonight was to see her. she tormented you with the whole on again off again thing for years. anytime you saw each other in a setting like this, she somehow always made it in your pants at the end of the night. you were trying so hard to shut the door on that chapter of life.

“you alright?” abby quickly noticed the change in your demeanor.

you were doing everything in your power not to scream. “yeah. one of my evil exes is here.”

“one of? you have a lot of evil exes then?” abby hoped that didn’t come off as rude. she was trying to lighten the mood.

it does get a laugh out of you. “more than you’d think. we actually just broke up for good.” you let your words sit in the air for a few seconds before you felt the need to clarify. “well, not just, it was like six months ago.”

you huffed. “it’s hard being in the industry. everyone’s tirelessly trying to dig dirt up on you. friends, family, paparazzi. everyone’s telling a different story about my life and my relationships and she just feeds into it.” here you were talking about your ex with a girl you were trying so hard to fuck. “god, she’s such a fucking bitch.”

“yeah, me and my ex boyfriend broke things off a couple months ago. he told me i was putting my career before him, but i found out he was fucking some other girl while we were dating. i’m pretty sure they’re together now.” abby shrugged. “it didn’t really hurt. i guess i hadn’t had feelings for him for a while.” she was starting to regret getting this personal.

“so…” finally, you could address the elephant in the room. “ex boyfriend…we never really broached the subject.” the drinks in your system were making this conversation bearable. “i’m sure you saw that really embarrassing situation on tik tok.”

abby had no clue what you were talking about, but she let you go on.

“and the stuff i said right before your match. i didn’t know if this was a date, or if we were just hanging out, or if you even like girls…” you cut yourself off before you could keep rambling on.

abby was trying so hard not to think about it. she was shit at flirting and hadn’t been on a real date in ages. “if you want it to be a date, then it can be?” she sounded far more unsure of herself than she intended to. how do you tell the girl you’re on a date with that this was her first time being on a date with a girl. even in this moment she was confused about her sexuality.

“can i be really lame for a second?” you slid the two shot glasses back onto the bar. without waiting for a response you continued speaking. “can i get a picture? i know people have been asking you that all night, but i know my followers will find it funny.” you sighed. “well, its actually mostly for me. kind of cool to meet your idols, ya know?”

idol? abby wasn't sure on whether she should be flattered or embarrassed.

abby was almost thankful you gave her something else trivial to think about.

but, she was terrified of being photographed next to you. you looked a million times better than she did right now. she didn’t even know how to pose and you were a model. what was meant to be a cute exchange, was turning into a nerve wracking experience.

while you fiddled with your phone, abby busied herself with brushing a few wispy hairs that had escaped her braid behind her ears.

“cass!” you hailed over a girl that was the visual definition of ‘lights are on, but no one’s home’. her pupils were wide and she practically skipped over. “jesus christ, cass.” you rolled your eyes. “just take this picture for me.”

you stepped back against the glass balcony railing and waved abby towards you. she took a couple hesitant steps before the dizziness and nausea took over. even from several feet away she could see the busy city street thousands of feet below. all she could think about was the glass shattering and her collapsing over the railing.

“are you scared of heights?” your voice broke abby from her trance.

she couldn’t verbally admit that to you. a girl who beats people into submission for a living is afraid of heights? that’s embarrassing.

you could tell by the way her face paled that she was terrified. “hey,” you take her hand and pull her close, her chest flush with your back. “just don’t look down, babe.”

abby’s eyes snapped back to cassidy who was lining up the shot. she took at least a dozen photos from different angles and the whole time abby stood like a statue. when she’s finally done, cass practically shoves your phone back in your hands and turns on her heel to prance off once more.

“have fun…make good choices!” she calls back before disappearing into the crowd.

“that one of your friends?” abby asked whilst watching the girl skip off.

“yeah, that’s cassidy. she’s not really all there, but we love her anyways. you should meet my friends sometime.”

from there you and abby spent a ridiculous amount of time idly chatting over a couple more drinks and you were all over her. the clarification that this was in fact a date meant you had to turn up the charm. there was no way you were leaving this party without her in tow.

you were in a horrendous sex drought and all that had to change tonight.

you never let go of her hand, not even for a second. abby finally gathered the confidence to wrap her free arm around your waist, keeping your chest pressed against her’s. this killed two birds with one stone. you knew your closeness would make its way back to your ex, keeping her at least three yards from you at all times, and you got to be the eye candy of the woman you’d had a schoolgirl crush on for the last year.

as time went on and the alcohol took over, abby started to get a little more personal with her responses and (thankfully) more charismatic. she told you she ended up pursuing ufc after her father put her in boxing classes when she was younger. there were never any real opponents, just learning form and endurance. even then, her coach told her she had natural talent. with him being a neurologist, he was hesitant to let it escalate to real matches. this was hands down one of the worst professions to get into if you wanted to keep a working brain past age 35. alas, he couldn’t tell his daughter no. especially because he knew she would’ve done it anyway with or without his support. he served as her ring side doctor every match and died shortly before she went pro.

you knew all of this after being obsessed with her ever since her debut, but hearing the story in person made you want to sob.

“sorry. i didn't mean to kill the vibe.”

you shook your head “no, no! it’s okay.”

naturally, you got into your backstory and how you got into modeling. the story was actually almost embarrassing if you thought about it too long. you were really popular on tumblr during your teenage years and accidentally became one of those “aesthetic blog” it girls. a la joanna kuchta and barbie ferreira. you were invited to do a small shoot for a big brand and slowly fought your way to the top. now, you do editorial magazine covers and could walk the runway in your sleep.

despite her research, this was something abby didn’t know. you always told the story slightly differently during interviews.

before she can get another thought out, your lips were pressed against hers. she shuddered, unsure of what to do with her hands or any part of her body. she could taste the tequila and hint of lime that the two of you had shared together earlier. she wasn’t expecting this to have happened so publicly. there were dozens of people around, at least half of them were likely staring. that wouldn’t ruin this moment for abby. this kiss was all that had been on her mind (and yours quite frankly) from the moment that she saw that clip of you jokingly flirting with her before the match.

your chest was pressed against her’s and abby slowly moved to wrap her arm around your waist. for a moment you broke the kiss and eyed the crowd to the side of you. “sorry. i saw my ex walking over and didn’t want you to have to sit through that screaming match. but” your facial expression softened, a sheepish smile spreading across your lips. “i also did just want to kiss you, so it was a perfect excuse.”

“you definitely didn’t need to apologize.” abby was more than happy to serve as an ex deterrent. it was everything she dreamed of and more.

you take the comment as the go ahead to lean in to kiss her again. you wrap your arms around her neck as she presses her body against yours, the pendant on her necklace pressing into your skin. you needed to be infinitely closer to her. her arm wraps tighten around your waist, abby craving that same closeness. you softly whimpered against her lips before breaking the kiss that lasted long enough for your friends to have taken note and give you a thumbs up from afar. you looked at abby through your lashes and laced your fingers between hers.

“follow me.” without even giving her a moment to process, you were dragging her behind you and up the stairs through a door.

you shove past some people and hop a couch that was meant to be blocking off the hallway towards the bedrooms. you knew better, though. you round a corner and approach a door, pulling on the knob and feeling no resistance. “dumbass never locks his door.” you slid past the threshold of the room, pulling abby in with you.

the bedroom was huge, featuring a california king bed, with coats piled atop it, an impossibly large television mounted on the wall, an impossible number of racks of clothing, and a dark wood nightstand next to the bed with an array of pills, both crushed and uncrushed adorning the surface.

“who’s room is this?”

you gave a dismissive wave. “the asshole who's hosting. he’s been trying to get me in his bed for months. kinda ironic, honestly.”

did this mean you were going to–

“can you take my shoes off for me?” you ask as you plop down onto the white duvet covering the bed. like an obedient dog, abby immediately dropped to her knees and began undoing the straps and sliding them off your feet. she also took the time to slide off her shoes and leave them next to yours.

you lean back against the bed, looking up at her. abby’s heart was beating so fast she worried it would give out altogether. she had never done this before and the lingering fear of disappointing you was weighing down her body.

“well, dont get shy now.” you whisper. “or are you scared of me?”

abby bit into her cheek, shaming herself for allowing her face to give her hesitance away. she wanted this so badly, but didn’t know where to start.

you could tell by the blush on her cheeks and the way she was awkwardly shifting back and forth between both feet that she likely had no clue what she was doing. maybe you were jumping to conclusions. maybe, she was overwhelmed by the idea of fucking a literal model.

but, you could smell a baby gay from a mile away.

you beckoned her over. “come here. lay down, let me take care of you first.” once again, abby did exactly as she was told. she was entranced by the soft sounds of your voice. you could tell her to jump off a bridge and she would happily do so.

abby took your spot, leaned back against the bed, legs hanging off the edge. you pressed tender kisses along her neck and collarbones while you slowly undid the button and zipper on her pants. abby was trying to play it cool, but you certainly knew better. you slid down onto your knees, the carpeted floor sure to leave some marks by the time you were done here. with some help from abby you eased off her pants and her underwear beneath them.

“i wouldn’t typically skip right to the main event, but…” you held a hand up, showcasing your sharp acrylic nails. abby got the picture. “let me know if you want me to stop, okay?”

abby nods with a barely audible “okay” before you position her legs over your shoulders. the feeling of the tip of your nose and lips moving along her inner thighs has her barely able to breathe. your teeth graze along her sensitive skin and her body betrays her when she lets out a whimper.

by the time your tongue makes contact with her clit she’s already wet and aching. the way your tongue circles around the bundle of nerves allows abby’s body to finally release the built up tension, something you can immediately feel. the careful flicks of your tongue makes her a whimpering mess. she knew no one would be able to hear her over the music, but there was still something so weirdly shameful about being this eager.

you look up at her briefly, your mouth and chin shiny after burying your face in her cunt. “aw, you look so cute like this.”

abby could’ve came right there.

after the comment, you went right back to work. you’re being agonizingly slow on purpose. all for her validation. all so she can tell you through breaths of desperation that she needs more.

“fuck that’s—” she hisses at the feeling of your lips parting to suck on her clit. “you’re…really good.” she’s trying so hard to keep her thoughts straight while she’s being undone by you.

you pick up the pace a bit and abby instinctively bucks her hips against your tongue. she whines your name and you’re filled with a renewed sense of desire. slowly abby grows louder and has to bite into the heel of her palm just to smother the noise. you’re committed to going as long as she needed you to. even longer if she’d let you.

but, abby couldn’t last much longer. the feeling in her lower abdomen had her practically begging for release. “i think i’m gonna cum.” she hoped you would hear her strained whisper. she absolutely didn’t have it in her to repeat herself.

she assumes you get the message when the flicks of your tongue get faster and your grip on her thighs becomes tighter.

all at once, her orgasm hits her. again, the palm of her hand is flush against her mouth while she rides the intense wave of pleasure. you don’t stop until you’re sure she’s all the way through it.

she had never felt an orgasm like this before. in fact, she could count on one hand how many times owen had actually made her cum. he was never this attentive or gentle. or maybe you were just ungodly skilled? either way, she was more than happy to leave that wet spot on the duvet of whoever’s room this was.

when you stood and crawled on top of her, abby was still trying to regain feeling in her lower half. without words, your lips capture her’s and once again she starts to feel a heat pool between her legs. the taste of her on your lips is almost intoxicating. she needed to stay like this forever.

you let out a sing-songy “my turn.”

abby felt like she learned enough from you to finally be able to take on this task. it couldn’t be that hard. right?

the doorknob jiggles. both of you swiftly turn to the bedroom door.

you roll your eyes. “just ignore it. probably some girl who had too much to drink and needs a place to throw up.”

then, there was a series of loud knocks. you sigh in defeat. the vibe was officially killed.

you both rush to put your clothes back on and look vaguely presentable before you walked back out into the sea of people. when you opened the door there’s a man you only vaguely recognize. he looks the two of you over and it seems to click that he was definitely interrupting something.

“do you know where luke is?” he could barely stand and it was apparent that the question required all three of his brain cells to be hard at work.

you scoff. “how the fuck should i know?” without another word you’re hopping back over the couch barrier to make it to the main area of the penthouse. you walk hand in hand with abby, attempting to make your way back to the terrace.

over the music, you hear someone scream your name. you come face to face with charlotte and she waves you over.

“we need to get cassidy in the car back to the hotel, like, now. she’s throwing up over the railing of the terrace. can you grab her some water?” there was an urgent tone in her voice so you knew it was time to say your goodbyes.

“well. duty calls.” you breathed out a deep sigh. the universe seemingly didn’t want to see you orgasm tonight.

“i have to get home anyways. i haven’t exactly slept since the match.”

you kiss her one last time. “let me give you my number!” she hands you her phone and lets you type in those ten digits she had completely forgotten to ask for. “text me whenever you're not busy training or whatever. i’ll fly out to you, wherever you are.”

when you handed the phone back and waved goodbye, she looked down at the contact and smiled at the little pink heart you had put next to your name.

the only reason this got posted was bc i realized it would never feel "finished" so i guess this is just an introduction to any nonsense i want to write about them later

kisses to everyone who actually slogged through this <3

#abby anderson x you #abby anderson x reader #abby anderson x y/n #nisa writes #divider by cafekitsune

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