#when everyone else is just rolling with it

[venuslarkspur]

Who’s Gonna Marry The Pink Haired Girls?

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Summary: Squid Game characters with Pink Haired!Fem!Reader <3

Characters: Thanos x Reader, Se-Mi x Reader, Kang Dae-Ho x Reader, Cho Hyun Ju x Reader, Hwang Jun-Ho x Reader.

Warning: typical squid game violence, problematic language, mentions of homophobia and transphobia, slutshaming (none of the characters to reader!), slight angst, drug usage (not the reader),

Thanos (Choi Su-bong)

- You immediately caught his attention, you two stand out the most amongst the other players for your vibrant choice of hair.

- The older players find you slightly intimidating because you don’t fit into their fragile default settings, he don’t gaf though.

- forces everyone else in his group to swear themselves off you.

- Approaches you during the rush to the carousel during mingle, “Oi Señorita!” He says whilst pushing his way through the crowd, he gives you a smug look before speaking again “Join me princess, I’ll protect you.” You visibly cringed at his words, but joined him anyway.

- He does keep his promise, he grabs you and takes you into the room with him. But you’re met with relentless pet names.

- “You good Wifey?” He’d ask while you’re frantically checking the slot hole to check if Se-Mi is okay after he abandoned her on the carousel.

- (YALL KNOW THIS AUDIO) He’s super high once and you check up on him he said “Woah..angels have pink hair..I had no idea.”

- Rambles on about all the places he’s gonna take you to when you get out of here, has to persuade you to vote “O” first; regardless of your choice he would still hit on you non stop.

- You eventually give in to yourself and flirt back, your heart racing a bit; having no idea what would become of you both a few hours later.

Se-Mi (very delulu on this one, SHE’S ALIVE)

I say as they drag me away to the mental asylum.

- You’re immediately drawn to one another because you both stand out amidst the crowd. Thanos initially flirts with both of you; and you bond over it making the same eye rolling motion every time he flirts with one of the two of you.

- You two bond instantly, which starts your trio with yourself, Min-su and her. Nam-gyu finds it nauseating, Thanos just feels left out but leaves you two to it.

- You know that trend on Tik Tok where it’s like “Our friend group with all girls and 1 boy” yeah that’s you two and Min-su.

- When you sneak off to the bathroom to get away from the boys, she follows you. Checks up on you and then nervously shoots her shot, she leans in and gives you a long kiss which you reciprocated, whilst you hold her face. She tells you to stick with her next game. The threat of death really causes people to come closer in such short time.

- When the number 4 is called in Mingle, you watch as Min-su betrays her; however you shove past him and you immediately grab her hand and start searching for a new group, ignoring Thanos calling out to you saying “Hey Señorita! get back here!”

- You run in front of her, hand in hand, frantically searching for a group. Time seems to slow down until you’re grabbed into a room by Players 388 and 390. All you can do is desperately hug and cling to each other whilst thanking the two others who grabbed you again and again.

- You both vote to leave after that, your former teammate Nam-gyu comes at her with a fork, you don’t hesitate to defend her, you’re able to grab a nearby piece of glass that Min-su had thrown and swiftly stab him from behind, guilt immediately consumes you when seeing how he sunk to the floor; but your newly girlfriend’s life was on the line! so you let him sink to his knees and bleed out, as he sweared unspeakable words at you both.

- You’re glued to her side as the rebellion starts, never wanting to let go; only hoping for the best.

Kang Dae-Ho (featuring wing-man Jung Bae)

- Takes notice of you but pretends he hasn’t. It’s not just your breathtaking hair, but your incredible confidence.

- You stick out from the crowd and all the old dickheads in the game make degenerate or gross assumptions about you because of your hair colour and style.

- But it’s your calm and neutral tone which catches him by surprise as player 100 made assumptions about you; which of course fell into the “slut��� category, you however just replied with a nonchalant “you know nothing about me.” With the emphasis on ‘nothing’, you walked away from the old bastard, who couldn’t be more than wrong about you.

- But the old prick walks after you shouting at you to ‘look at him when he’s talking to you.’ Dae-Ho, who can sense your social battery dying as you stare back at the man with annoyance, steps between the two of you, before things got nasty. “Don’t speak to a lady that way.” He says and you grin in amusement, hiding the smirk on your face, enjoying this slightly but also somewhat worried for him. Your worry eases when player 001 steps between the two and defuses the situation, you look back to the strange man and mouth a ‘thank you’ to player 380.

- You noticed him and a friend of his struggling to find a 3rd player in Mingle, so you drag him and player 390 into a room with you last minute, he decides wants to thank you on the way down from the stairs, but he has to hide the fact he’s attracted to you as to not scare you. And the obvious fact that this is your first actual interaction.

“Hey.”

“Hi.”

“Thanks back there..” he says whilst gesturing to player 390 behind him.

“It’s no trouble.” You smile back.

Silence dawns on you both, but you keep on walking.

“Uh.. so I’ve noticed you around-“

“I know.” You replied knowingly, your tone teasing and flirty.

- Jung Bae watches this interaction knowingly, whilst Dae-Ho slaps himself in the face as you prance away, ‘if you didn’t like me before, you definitely don’t now’ he thinks to himself.

- Wonders how he can be so dumb until he sees his chance to redeem himself when the circle guards start handing out dinner. He pulls you aside and tells you what player 456 told him, there might be riots in the night, and you should stick by him. You smirked out of pure entertainment.

- “You gonna keep me safe?” You teased. You giggled but saw the disappointment on his face. Is he crushing on you? “Sorry..,thank you handsome! I’ll be there.” You replied and walked back to your bunk.

- A riot does in fact break out, after you voted “X”, so you curl under one of the bunks with him when the screams start. You two (not so) unexpectedly joined hands tightly, for each others benefit and your own as well.

- A brutal series of death matches probably isn’t the best place to find yourself a boyfriend, but you can’t help but wanna kiss him good luck when he goes off with the rest of the group to rebel, so you do, smashing your lips against his before he leaves. Wishing he wouldn’t go.

Cho Hyun-Ju

- You team up with her and another girl when “6 players” is announced on the 2nd game, she sees you immediately, you’re a bit had to miss as your vibrant hair sticks out. You’re immensely drawn to her strong sense of leadership and ambition; just what you loved in women!

- You make flirty remarks at her, she blushes and unknowing of how to react and just says a short “Thank you.” The sweet old woman in your group is pleasantly confused, “Two girls in love?”, she asks questions like that, until her son remarks to her about how “People can love who they want now ma!” And she lets out a confused but supportive “ah.” She means well, she has so many questions on why you ‘did that to your hair?’ But you she’s just being curious, so you answer all her questions.

- is hesitant to try anything romantic with you, she knows you’d face a lot of challenges in the outside world, with her being transgender and you both being a sapphic couple. But how can she plant these seeds of doubt within herself when you’re so sure and persistent.

- She can’t ignore how her heart flutters when you flirt with her, reminding her how perfect she is.

- You’re practically glued together during the start of the rebellion after having lost Young-Mi, you gush at her when she explains how to use the gun to the fellow players.

- You follow after her, ready to step up and go with her to fight. But she pulls you aside back to 007 and 149 and tells you to stay behind, you’re worried and annoyed but she tells you something which changes how you’re feeling. “You’re the last person I want to lose now.” She declared as she placed her hands on your shoulders. “When all this is over, I’ll buy you dinner.” You remarked whilst twirling your hair and she played a sad and also such a happy smile at you, “I’d like that.”

Hwang Jun-Ho

- Let’s say you’re already dating, he notices people glance at you because of your alternative style; but it doesn’t matter that much to him, you’ve been through heaven and hell with him so he doesn’t care how you choose to express yourself.

- You supported him during his quest of finding his brother, but noting happens to explain why he came back barely alive with a bullet lodged in his shoulder. You’re rightfully pissed off, of course you are.

- His mother adores you, she was unsure of you at first; your hair colour is unique, in a good way. You make her son happy so at the end of the day she doesn’t care.

- All the other police at the station recognise you immediately upon entrance, since you like picking him up after work or to get lunch, the fellow officers and receptionist referred to you as his wife; since you’re wearing a promise ring he’d bought you, they don’t know you haven’t tied the knot yet, but you don’t really mind.

- His mother does a lot of asking of when you’re gonna give her grandchildren, you avert your eyes and almost spat out your water the first time you got asked this question.

- He tells you he’s going on another search for the island, this time with help. You’re rightfully annoyed, last time he got shot?! So you make him swear that this will be the last time, and when he comes back you must try and be a normal family, and never speak of this again. He agrees (not that it took much convincing, he’s been waiting to wife you up tbh.)

- So now here you are waiting for his return, anxiously playing with your fingers.

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I love this series so much <3

[emptymanuscript]

I feel like one of the most important distinctions you can make is between the personal and the public.

There are things I want, personally, that I should not have because of the negative consequences.

When I am hurt, I want to hit back. This is totally acceptable as a personal feeling. It is not acceptable as a public policy. The monopoly of violence SHOULD belong to the state so that it can’t be used for personal advantage. There’s nothing preventing me in my rage from hitting back infinitely harder than whatever hurt was done to me. An interested party who is operating on pure emotional reactivity is the person least qualified to make the fairest decision. Turning that power over to a bureaucracy is the surest way to make the decision as neutral as it can be because it will move through a process that can’t feel emotions.

I, personally, absolutely want to get a rocket launcher and shoot it through the front door of the Fox news building. Just burn it all. They all fucking deserve to die, down to the cockroaches in the walls for being willing to live with them.

I, as a matter of public policy, absolutely believe that it is the duty of the law and society to protect the people at Fox from ME and my desires. I not only should not be allowed, I should be (and am, for anyone worried) actively prevented from taking any steps toward that desire.

Maturity and civilization both depend on the personal sacrifice of one’s own immediate desires for the sake of a larger and longer term good. Just because I want it doesn’t mean I should have it. It is instead requisite for me to think about the larger implications of fulfilling my desires.

And this can be damn basic. When I first wake up in the morning, I don’t want to get out of bed, feed myself, do all that basic life stuff. I want someone to bring everything to me and make it easy for me. Assuming I don’t just want to go back to sleep. But think about that from a public policy standpoint. That right there is the basis for slavery. So, no, even that very basic and natural desire should not be allowed to grow beyond that tiny little ennui in my heart. I should picture a very tiny violin and get going.

Frankly, personally, I hope every single Trump supporter experiences intense and personal betrayal, suffering until they literally pray to take their vote back because they have suffered so much. And then they should die anyway. Painfully. Pathetically. While I laugh at them. Until the American People reverse the election in sheer desperation for mercy.

And, as a matter of public policy, I know that is not ok. None of it. I’m not ok with the another political faction doing it. And the rules can’t change depending on which political faction is in power, otherwise they aren’t rules. Otherwise no one is ever safer or better off than how we treat the worst person because it’s only the matter of a vote to put someone else in that position.

There, but for a different electoral outcome, go I.

The first link of the chain binds everyone because we CANNOT control the chain.

In some ideal dream world, I would be perfectly in charge of everything and it would go exactly how I want and I could have every little desire AND make sure it didn’t run away from me and have everything prove I was perfectly correct about all my opinions and they would build statues to me because I was such a great and beloved overlord.

And pretty much the exact opposite of that is what you should expect from the real world.

It is NEVER you.

I will NEVER be the sole person in charge pulling all the strings.

No one is EVER the sole person in charge pulling all the strings.

Even absolute dictators have to deal with other powerful people. That’s literally the history of our democratic lineage. Enough powerful nobles forced an absolute monarch to cede them rights in writing for all time and that started the ball rolling to where we are, which none of them anticipated and they wouldn’t be ok with it.

It’s NEVER you. You cannot force the world to live up to your desires. You are ALWAYS in negotiation with everything else.

So you are NEVER safe from or immune to the public policies you press for.

You HAVE to fight for public policies to treat the very worst person with the minimum dignity and respect you feel you should be entitled to because you are NEVER more than a simple redefinition to being the very worst person. The people you love are NEVER more than one rash decision or accident away from suffering all the consequences you want to inflict on those you hate.

Public Policy NEEDS to be us checking our ego at the door and pushing for better than our best selves. Because public policy can enact the vicious impulses of our worst selves with infinitely greater power and horror.

Even for those you HATE, it is all too easy to see atrocities out of your nightmares play out in front of you while you pray to take it back because you didn’t mean THIS. This is too awful. This is inhuman. Because yes, it is. Public Policy isn’t human. It is emergent. And you CANNOT control the emergent properties. You cannot hold back its worst impulses because they’re not just yours.

The best you can do is try to give it all your most reasoned and generous mercy. All you can do is try and peel your pettiness and passions out of that inhuman clockwork in the hope that it won’t devour people if you don’t give it that directive.

Does that mean we can’t feel anger and hatred and fear and all those emotions?

That’s not how being human works. You could try and repress them but then it’ll just squeeze out somewhere else. No. You get all that. You get to feel it. You get to process it. You get to use it to make PERSONAL decisions.

I’m a Jew and I am officially saying, as far as I am concerned for myself, you can think of me as a Kike, think I am going to hell, block me, ignore me, refuse to use my business. You can throw the Musk gesture. You can say that the world would be better off without me because the Jews are evil and drink the blood of babies. You will have to live with me hating you back but that’s fine as a personal interaction. We don’t have to like each other. We can live together AND hate each other AND have it still function.

The COST for having all three of those things at once is that you still have to fight for my rights and protections in the public square and I still have to fight for yours. We both have to push for Public Policy to protect the other because we can’t predict who will end up where. Yes, in a perfectly just world, I firmly believe the Nazi would get the worst treatment. But we don’t live in a perfect world. And history has shown that it is frequently the worst people on top instead of on the bottom.

So it’s gotta go the other way, too. It’s NEVER you on top. But it jolly well can be the people you hate pulling the levers to put you on the bottom. So you have to check the power of the dictator because you can’t control who it will be for the same reason you have to protect the rights of the villains. Because it’s just one switch away from all the weapons you gave yourself from being turned on you.

Feel what you feel. But advocate for better. Or you are living on borrowed time.

I do actually care marginally about the guy in that reddit screenshot who voted for Trump and is now worried that he might lose his medicaid funding because I did not fucking stutter when I said healthcare is a human right but the people losing their internships and job offers to the hiring freeze are straight up hilarious.

[suh-lee]

' fuck you... fuck you. ' - thanos

𐔌♯ pairing ��� dom thanos x sub amab!reader

𐔌♯ warnings — smut mdni , slight feminization , blowjob (reader receiving) , drug usage (+ peer pressure) , cursing, implied korean speaking (stuff intended to be english will be italicized) , 'boy' used for reader, cockwarming mention

𐔌♯ word count — -1.7k

𐔌♯ authors note — hi.. had a small depressive episode so i halted my writing.. uhm.. anyways we are so back! and small note.. i literally do not know anything about drugs.. most of the substance use was written with a small amount of research.. if it isnt accurate please imagine it is..

you fucking hated it here. you didn't know where you were, what you were doing, or even the true nature of the other 455 players with you.

anybody could be planning anything against you.. at any time.. anywhere... and you just had no way of knowing.

you knew this was a bad attitude to have when you had nobody else to rely on at the moment, but you just couldn't help the feelings of doubt and possible betrayal.

everyday, as the other players went to grab their small portions of food, you just sat on one of the many bunkbeds and stared, trying to observe everyone possible.

"hey pretty boy," you heard someone say from the floor.

it was that bitch with the highlighter purple hair, thanos. you found him anything less than unendearing. thanos had a habit of constantly breaking out in a freestyle rap.. and they were never really good. as well as seeming to pick fights with everyone there.

yup, he was definitely not the person who you would try to become allies, or even friends, with, even if you were desperate here.

you tried your best to ignore him, continuing to stare off into the lines of people.

"hey bitch!" thanos yelled, "i'm talking to you!"

a soft groan escaped your lips as you slowly moved your head down to look at him, standing like an idiot on the floor.

"what?!" you said in a snappy tone, to which he responded with a smirk.

"i liked you better when you were quiet." he mumbled, climbing up the metal latter to the many bunk beds, finally reaching the one you were on a plopping down.

the slightest look of disgust was on your face as you stared him down, getting a glance of every small detail about him. "are you high?" you mumbled, noticing his bloodshot eyes and overly shaky hands.

"why, pretty boy? ya want some?" thanos said, a smirk placed on his face as he started to reach into the sweater of his tracksuit, where you assumed (more hoped) was where he hid the drugs.

"no, im fine." you spoke in a stern tone.

"awh! you're no fun." he frowned, pulling out a detailed cross-shaped necklace. he turned his head to make sure nobody else was around before lifting the top on the necklace, revealing a small collection of drugs of multiple colors. "....you sure?" he asked in a cocky tone. "c'mon man!! live a little!" he said a little louder than you would have liked.

"fuck you." you mumbled, rolling your eyes off to the side. you looked around at the people in the room, letting out a loud sigh. your gaze looked the purple-haired man up and down, "fine. give me one."

"shit?! yo.. i knew you'd come through!" he said, taking a pill out of the cross necklace and quickly putting it in your palm. "it's crazy strong though. like man."

you placed the colored pill into your mouth, confused if you should swallow or let it dissolve, but you chose the latter. the version of you that existed before participating in these games would've never dreamed of taking a drug... but here you were.

thanos stared at you, a look of anxious excitement placed on his face. the both of you made eye-contact with another blankly, waiting for the effects of the drug to hit you.

..and.. it finally did.

"holy shit.." you managed to mumble. the feeling of hunger in your body was lifted with the drug, as well as the feeling of stress. your mind felt float-y, even causing your body to do the same, even as you sat perfectly still.

"it's strong.. right?" he said as his eyes watched you."

"..yeah.. god.."

"it's not very beginner friendly.. but it'll definitely make this place more fuckin' bearable." he mumbled, scooting a little closer to you.

"how'd you know i was a beginner?" you asked, looking at him with disbelief.

"ay, pretty boy. let's be for real now." thanos started off, "your whole body language is fuckin' rookie if i've ever seen one.. you didn't even know what the fuck to do with the pill."

a sigh escaped your lips as he spoke, "how the fuck does anybody put up with you?" to which thanos chuckled.

"i dunno.. you seem to be doin' a damn good job at it though."

"fuck you." you mumbled, staring at him.

you guys talked for a while as the substance reached it's high in your body. after the conversation, you seemed to be able to tolerate thanos more... even throughout his annoying ass tactics. he seemed to have a difficult time before coming here.. as did you. a light was revealed in thanos with said conversation. one that you were shocked about.

you saw... an attractive male. you definitely couldn't deny that he was a physically attractive man, but you've seen more into his actual persona, and you like it. a lot.

"yo." he finally mumbled, "i'm not gonna deny this.. you're fuckin' pretty. like shit."

"you literally called me 'pretty boy'."

"c'mon man! you don't need to expose me like that." he said, a slight joking tone was hidden under his words.

you guys sat in silence for what could only feel like hours. you leaned a little closer to him.

"can i.. kiss you?" was the only thing you could say, it coming out of your mouth as a whisper.

thanos stared at you in shock, a moment of silence went on, almost making you regret asking, before a small nod appeared on thanos' face.

his gaze glanced around the room, making sure all of the eyes were off you guys before the both of you leaned into each other.. your lips quickly connecting. he put his right hand on the back of your head. it grabbing your (slightly) outgrown hair in a way that was somewhat comforting. your lips kissed, the both of you waiting before bringing your tongues into it. your lips simply sat on each others... until they didn't. thanos lightly bit your bottom lip, asking you to open your lips without actually asking you too. you waited a minute before doing so, his tongue slowly slipping into your mouth, and vise versa. the kiss still seemed slow, so you decided to pick up the speed of your tongue. thanos matched the speed of your tongue causing your arms to swing from the sheets on the bed to his back. your arms tightly wrapped around his torso as his other hand slid to your waist, it lightly rubbing up and down.

thanos waited a moment and carefully slid his cold hand under the fabric of your clothes. he continued to rub his hand against your skin, the icy touch of his fingers sending a shiver down your spine. you pulled away from the kiss and stared at him.

"your eyes.. they're pleading.." he said with a small laugh, his hand trailing up under your top. he did so slowly, the grazing of his fingers making your breath's speed to decrease. his hand stopped on the left side of your chest.

thanos leaned into your ear and whispered, "what a small and perky tit..." he said with a smirk on his face before pulling away and starting to fidget with the nipple.

you never thought having your chest referred to in a way commonly used for females would turn you on... but here you were.. your dick was rapidly getting hard, it slightly poking out through the fabric of your sweatpants.

this movement did not go unnoticed by thanos, his gaze slipping from your face to your pants. he let his hand slide out from under your shirt and placed it on the hem of the tracksuit pants. they were carefully tugged down, just enough to reach the end of your boxers. he placed his hand on your boxers now, looking at you for confirmation that you wanted this, and all you could do was quickly nod. you adjusted yourself to be completely laying down on the bunkbed, as he adjusted himself to hover above your pelvic area. he nodded before pulling your boxers down and watching your dick pop out almost immediately. he teasingly flicked it, receiving a whine from you.

"..how responsive." he teased before placing his mouth on the tip of it.

thanos slowly moved his head downward on your dick, stopping right before he reached your testicles. he looked up at you, before lifting his head up and slamming it back down onto your dick. he continued this a few times, having you quietly whimpering.

you watched his head lift up to look you in the eye, your dick making a 'pop!' sound as his mouth went off of it. "hey. you gotta be quiet, man!" he exclaimed in a hush tone. "the fuck you think that pissy old man's gonna do if he sees this!" he said, clearly referring to player 001. the man who had stopped him from beating up a player.

"sorry." you mumbled, your eyes pleading for him to ignore it and continue.

thanos looked at you with doubt before slamming his head back down onto your dick, your dick hitting the back of his throat with ease. his eyes teared up on reflex as he let out a quiet groan.

"thought we we're being quiet?" you said, teasing him through shaky breaths, to which you received no response.

you watched as his head quickly bopped up and down, each thrust of your dick reaching the back of his throat, you quickly decided you had to come and left no notice before your dick started to release the infamous white liquid. your nut squirted all around his mouth, his head bopping up and down a few more times to rid you of that high before lifting his head up.

thanos stared at you as he swallowed it before laying down, right next to you. he helped you pull your boxers and tracksuit pants back up.

you sat in silence, processing what had just happened. a hand being placed on yours interrupting your thoughts.

"so. pretty boy.. whatcha feel about cockwarming?"

[baeksqt]

𝐔𝐍𝐒𝐏𝐎𝐊𝐄𝐍 𝐏𝐋𝐀𝐘𝐒 — alexia putellas

alexia putellas x barcelona!reader

(a/n: on a roll trying to pump out my drafts cause I can feel the drought coming soon from uni >_< I’ve had this alexia piece gathering dust from last february)

word count: 2234

genre: somewhat fluff with angsty tendencies??

tw: emotional cheating

part two

summary: trying to keep your heart in check, but alexia’s charm keeps slipping through the cracks

You had always dreamed of playing for FC Barcelona. The moment you stepped onto the training grounds for the first time, it felt surreal, like walking through a dream you were afraid to wake up from. The weight of the crest on your chest, the legacy of the club, the camaraderie…it was everything you’d imagined.

What you hadn’t imagined was Alexia Putellas.

Alexia had a presence that couldn’t be ignored. As captain, she carried herself with an effortless confidence, but it wasn’t just her skill that made people gravitate towards her. It was how she made everyone feel like they belonged and were part of something greater. You admired that. Admired her.

But admiration was one thing. Whatever this thing brewing between the two of you? That was something else entirely.

It started subtly.

You noticed the lingering glances during drills, the way Alexia always seemed to pick you as a partner for rondos, and the teasing remarks that hovered just on the edge of something more. At first, you thought it was just the team’s natural warmth, a culture of closeness, of sisterhood. But then came the casual brushes of Alexia’s hand against your arm, the way she’d lean in just a little too close when you were reviewing plays, the way her eyes would linger just a second too long.

You weren’t unaware of the tension that danced just beneath the surface; rather, you were cautious. Caution was necessary because no one on your team was privy to the intricate details of your life back home. It wasn’t a secret in the traditional sense—more of a quiet truth you didn’t feel the need to broadcast. Lucia, your girlfriend, had been your unwavering supporter as you took the leap to move to the vibrant city of Barcelona. She understood the sacrifices involved, even as the miles stretched between you. You had made her a promise, a vow echoing in your mind: you would make it work, that your bond was resilient enough to withstand the distance and that nothing essential between you would change.

But things were changing, weren’t they?

After an intense afternoon training session, most of the team had already headed inside, but you stayed behind to run a few extra drills. You were focused, dribbling through a set of cones, when Alexia appeared at your side, effortlessly matching your pace.

“You know, overachieving isn’t always attractive.” Alexia teased, her voice light, but there was a glint of something more in her eyes.

You smirked, side-stepping around a cone. “Good thing I’m not trying to be attractive.”

“I don’t believe that for a second.” She chuckled, a rich sound that sent warmth prickling down your spine.

You rolled your eyes and tried to focus on the ball at your feet, but it was hard when Alexia was right there, watching you with that signature, half-lidded smirk.

“You always this serious?” Alexia asked, dribbling in sync with you.

“Serious wins games.” You said without missing a beat.

Alexia grinned. “Yeah, but flirting makes them fun.”

You barely managed to avoid tripping over the brightly coloured ball that had rolled onto the path. With a swift recovery, you straightened yourself just in time to see Alexia snatch it up, a playful glimmer dancing in her eyes that made her amusement unmistakable. “You’re unbearable,” you muttered half-heartedly, nudging her lightly with your shoulder in an attempt to redirect the conversation to a more comfortable territory. But Alexia didn’t shift away; instead, she leaned in just a bit closer, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. “You like having me around though.”

You swallowed hard, a knot forming in your throat as you grappled with an unfamiliar warmth creeping over you. The afternoon sun beat down relentlessly, but the flush in your cheeks hinted at something deeper—an awareness that you could not shake. “I like winning. You help with that.” You attempted to keep the atmosphere light, forcing out a nervous chuckle that barely masked your racing heart. Alexia, ever perceptive, tilted her head to the side, a playful spark dancing in her eyes as she regarded you with an amused smirk. “Good answer,” she replied, the corners of her lips curling up in delight. A quiet sigh of relief escaped your lips as Alexia leaned back a fraction, the teasing tension lingering in the air between you, thick and palpable.

In the locker room later, you sat down on the bench, wiping sweat from your brow. Your phone buzzed with a message from Lucia: Miss you. Call me later?

You stared at the screen, feeling the weight of the distance between them more than ever. You were loyal, you loved Lucia. But Alexia had a way of getting under your skin, of making you question things you didn’t want to question.

“You good?” a familiar voice broke through the haze of your thoughts, pulling you back into the bustling hallway. You looked up to find Alexia standing a few feet away, her silhouette framed by the harsh fluorescent lights. She leaned casually against the row of lockers, one leg crossed over the other, a relaxed posture that somehow emanated confidence. The warmth in her gaze was new; it held an unexpected softness that made your chest tighten slightly.

“Yeah,” you replied quickly, a hint of defensiveness creeping into your tone as you shoved your phone deep into the recesses of your bag. “Just tired.”

Alexia studied you for a moment, her brow slightly furrowed in concern, but she didn’t press further. Instead, she offered that signature smile of hers, bright, infectious, and impossibly charming. “Dinner tonight? A few of us are going out.”

You hesitated, feeling a wave of uncertainty wash over you. You were acutely aware of what this invitation could spell out—more time spent close to Alexia, infused with her teasing laughter and those lingering looks that made your heart race. Despite the swirl of apprehension, you found yourself nodding, the corners of your mouth lifting in an awkward smile. “Yeah,” you said, the word escaping as a soft agreement. “Sounds good.” 

As Alexia turned to walk away, her laughter trailing behind her like a melody, you let out a slow, deliberate exhale. You leaned against the cool metal of the locker, the weight of the day and your mixed feelings pressing down on you.

This was fine. This was friendly. This was nothing.

The problem was, Alexia didn’t let up.

On and off the pitch, she found ways to insert herself into your orbit, offering to run extra drills with her, sitting next to her during team meetings, and walking alongside her after training. And every time, there was that look, the one that made you feel like you were standing on the edge of something dangerous.

You regretted saying yes almost immediately.

Dinner with the team was intended to be a simple outing, a chance to unwind and bond over good food and drinks. Yet, the moment Alexia stepped into the bustling Barcelona restaurant, the atmosphere shifted. You should have sensed the impending chaos and politely declined the invitation, preferring the comfort of a quiet evening at home. Instead, here you were, surrounded by a vibrant mix of teammates at a long, rustic wooden table, laughter and lively chatter enveloping you like a warm embrace.

The aroma of grilled seafood and roasted vegetables wafted through the air, mingling with the sounds of clinking glasses and cheerful toasts. But amid the joviality, your thoughts were consumed by the presence of Alexia. She sat so close that every subtle movement caused your arms to graze against each other, sending a jolt of warmth through you. Her laughter rang out, bright and infectious, drawing everyone in, but for you, it was a reminder of the tension layered beneath the surface. You should have called Lucia, sought the solace of familiarity, and anchored your heart where it truly belonged. Instead, you played along, trapped in this delicate balance of camaraderie and unacknowledged longing.

“You don’t drink?” the blonde asked, raising an eyebrow as you stuck with water while the others sipped on glasses of wine. You smiled faintly. “Nah, not really my thing.”

“You’re always so serious, chica,” Alexia leaned in slightly, her voice low enough that only you could hear, “Ever thought about letting loose?”

You met her gaze, trying to ignore the way your heart thumped harder. “I’m plenty of fun,” you arched an eyebrow, “just…in my own way.”

Alexia smirked, eyes twinkling with something you couldn’t quite place. “I’ll believe it when I see it.”

The rest of the team was oblivious to the tension simmering between you two, caught up in their own conversations. You did your best to focus on the food, the chatter, anything but the way Alexia kept looking at her as if she was trying to figure her out.

Without any hint of hesitation, Alexia leaned closer, her breath gentle and warm against your ear, sending a shiver down your spine. “You know,” she whispered, her voice low and inviting, “if you ever want to talk about whatever it is you’re keeping locked away, I’m a really good listener.”

You froze in place, your fork paused mid-air, a piece of food forgotten as her words sank in. Alexia pulled back slightly, a playful, innocent smile dancing on her lips, but behind that façade, you sensed a deeper intention. She was observing you keenly, prodding and probing, pushing the boundaries to see what lay beneath your guarded exterior.

And the worst part? It was working.

The night stretched on, and you found yourself relaxing more than you intended. The conversation flowed easily, and you were reminded of how much you truly loved being here. How much you loved the game, the city, the team.

But every now and then, Alexia would say something, touch your arm softly, or glance at you in a way that made your thoughts spiral into dangerous territory. By the time you left the restaurant and the team spilled onto the lively Barcelona streets, you felt like you were walking a tightrope. 

“You heading home?” Alexia asked casually, falling into step beside you as you walked through the city. 

“Yeah, early training tomorrow.” You nodded.

Alexia smiled knowingly. “Always responsible.” 

“Someone has to be.” You shot her a look. 

You walked in silence for a moment, the cool air wrapping around you both like a gentle shroud, before Alexia broke the stillness. With her hands tucked into the back pockets of her jeans, she spoke in a softer tone, almost as if she were sharing a secret. “You know, I get it. Keeping parts of your life to yourself.”

You stiffened slightly at her words, glancing at her with curiosity and caution. “Do you?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

Alexia nodded, her expression thoughtful. “Yeah,” she replied, her gaze drifting to the ground ahead. “People expect things from us. Sometimes it’s just easier to keep certain things private.” She paused, taking a deep breath as if the weight of her confession lingered in the air. “But…it can get lonely too,” she added quietly, her eyes flickering with a hint of vulnerability.

You contemplated her words, the significance hanging between you like unspoken truths, debating in your mind whether to share your own feelings. After a moment's hesitation, you finally responded, “Yeah,” your voice low and reflective. “It can.”

As they approached the intersection where their paths would diverge, Alexia paused for a moment, an indecision flashing across her face. She looked up at you, her eyes glimmering in the soft glow of the streetlights. “Well,” she said, a small, almost hesitant smile forming on her lips. “Goodnight, chica.”

“Night, Alexia,” you replied, your voice slightly strained as you forced a smile back at her, feeling a mix of emotions swirling within you.

With that, you turned away a little too suddenly, your heart pounding in your chest as you walked briskly down the street. Each step felt heavier than the last, the sounds of the evening fading into a dull roar in your ears.

Once you finally arrived at your apartment, you slumped down onto your bed, the familiar comfort of your room juxtaposed against the storm brewing inside you. Your gaze fell on your phone, which lay silently beside you. An unread message from Lucia caught your eye, its simple declaration striking a chord deep within: I love you. Call me when you’re free.

A sigh escaped your lips as you ran a hand through your hair, frustration and longing intertwining in a tangled mess of emotion. You loved Lucia, you truly did, but the weight of unspoken words and unresolved feelings hung in the air around you, suffocating yet inescapable.

You lay in bed that night, staring at the ceiling, your phone resting on your chest. Lucia’s message glowed softly in the dark, but you couldn’t bring yourself to respond just yet. Your mind was still tangled in the evening, in the way Alexia looked at you, and spoke to you.

This isn’t a problem, you told yourself. I’m just overthinking it.

And yet, you knew better.

You sighed, finally picking up your phone and typing out a quick reply:  I love you too. I’ll call tomorrow, I promise. Training ran late.

A lie. A small one. But it was easier than explaining why she hadn’t called sooner.

[racke7]

Hmm. Tweaking the setting a little bit.

Danny might've "defeated" Pariah Dark, but (despite popular fanon) calling it "in single-combat" of any sort would be a massive overstatement.

(He was piloting a mecha-suit his parents made, and fighting alongside a lot of other ghosts, including Vlad.)

As such, Pariah Dark is unquestionably still the Ghost King. However, due to some misunderstandings from the side of the Justice League, they end up assuming that Danny did win in single-combat (which would make him the new Ghost King).

Pariah Dark hears about this right as he's about to go for a proper rematch with Danny, and decides (through the deranged logic of an unaging tyrannical ruler) that this is kind of funny.

Obviously Danny can't actually win against him in a duel, because obviously he hasn't miraculously gained any incredible powers since last time when he needed lots of outside help in order to win (he has, and he maybe could).

So, for the sake of making a mockery of the JL who dared to presume that he's lost his crown to the little ghost-brat? He's now the ghost-brat's dad.

He allowed his son to "defeat" him with all of his friends, because it was good enrichment for the kid, and he didn't want Danny's relationship with him to scare away those friends (because they're justifiably terrified of him). Letting him "win" basically means that they don't have to be scared of him (because Danny will protect his friends, and he has the power to win).

Danny agrees to faking this relationship on behalf of:

He won't have to fight Pariah Dark again (he nearly died the first time).

Amity Park doesn't get sucked into the Infinite Realms again (not a fun time).

Pariah Dark promises to keep his "eternal and endless conquest of all realms" on hold (very important).

Trolling (but not hurting) the Justice League (who Danny has complicated feelings about).

The look on Vlad's face would be fucking priceless.

Pariah Dark is a competitive bastard, so he obviously tries to be a "good parent" purely as a fuck you to anyone else who might be wanting to step up.

Danny isn't really sure how to feel about Pariah Dark deciding to be a parent with such gusto, but he's learned to roll with most things in his life (growing up in the Fenton-household doesn't allow for inflexibility because everyone there is some level of insane).

Danny's rogues are obviously more than a little bit creeped out by Pariah Dark buddying up with their fight-buddy, but once they start to realize that this is less about parenting Danny and more about scaring the shit out of some annoying mortals? They kind of shrug and roll with it too (being a dick to mortals is why most of them went through the Portal in the first place, it's great fun).

Of course, then Pariah Dark starts to actually get good at being a parent, and Danny starts being actually able to turn to him for parental advice. Which freaks out both of them, but at this point they're committed to the bit and can't just stop being parent-and-child (they have a PTA-meeting coming up next week).

(Clockwork is cackling to himself in his tower. It's unclear if he's laughing because he knew that this would happen, or because this completely blind-sided him and he's having a fucking blast with it.)

The Justice League have a lot of complicated feelings about all of this, because Pariah Dark is obviously evil (historically), and Danny doesn't have a fantastic reputation (Amity Park will praise him and spit on him in equal parts, and a government-organization is claiming that "all ghosts are evil") despite how he seems to be trying to do hero-things.

This is likely to make him slot into a similar position as Raven in their eyes. He can't be trusted (because of his relationship with Pariah Dark, and because of his nature as a ghost), but outright condemning him as evil seems... unwise (because Pariah Dark is at least biding his time, pretending at this, instead of actively trying to conquer them with his undead armies).

(And if Raven only arrives at the JL to ask for help after this whole shebang gets started? I'm guessing that Danny can pretty easily make a deal with Pariah Dark to go stomp on Triton together.)

Since I noticed a couple Ghost Prince Danny things I decided to make my own, even if I don't know much about the series.

Vlad being the ever stupid fruitloop he is decided to try and steal Pariah's things again and woke him up again. Wanting a rematch he immediately stormed back to Amity Park, but before he dragged it back into the Infinite Realms for round 2 he overheard Danny talking to his friends about how he got summoned by the Justice League and through some hilarious misunderstandings on their part now think that Phantom is Pariah Dark's son and in turn the Ghost Prince.

Pariah, who surprisingly is ALSO a little shit at times (and is pretty much being called a little baby ghost's dad), immediately jumps at the idea of actually doing this hilarious prank and steals the group for sometime and manage to strike a deal that as long as he doesn't do anything horrible he won't be stuffed back into his coffin and they can do the bit. This ends up leading to Pariah Dark acting like Phantom's less than good of a person dad who actually starts to reform because he's too committed to the bit. This ends up leading to him, and everyone else, discovering he has surprisingly good parental instincts, having caused everyone to stop and look at him in confusion the first few (hundred) times he instinctively did a good parent thing.

Eventually though, something happens where Danny needs help but can't go to his friends or family, he can't go to the JL for help since he doesn't trust them and he's made it instinct to never go to Vlad, so he goes to the one ghost he does trust with this, Pariah Dark. It's at this point that Pariah realizes that it's no longer a bit and that he's become the closest thing Danny has to an actual parent, because let's be honest here, even if Jack and Maddie are good here they're still severely neglective of Danny and there's only so much Jazz can do while being 2-3 years older than him, and all the other ghosts who help him are more like mentors than actual parental figures.

Usually a ghost would have their parents to teach them if they're there as well, but Danny doesn't have good human parents and he died before they did, pretty much leaving him an orphaned baby, and no Justice League, JL Dark, or GIW will stop Pariah Dark from being the parent Danny desperately needs.

[gothcsz]

El Cumpleañero | Javier Peña x F!Reader | ~8.3k wc | Explicit. Minors DNI.

Summary: It's Javier's birthday, so you show up to his party and things get fun.

Tags: friends with benefits dynamic, jealous!javi (can't help myself), flirting, dancing, javi is a little ooc here but idgaf i need him (in my head he's a bit younger in this au), some untranslated spanish, smut, unprotected p in v, oral (f receiving), back shots for days, a lil bit of exhibitionism on javi's part, creampie, one use of a degrading term (slut), some dirty talk, pussy pronouns, facial, no use of y/n, reader is afab and able-bodied, little to no physical descriptions of reader, any typos/grammar mistakes are of my own doing and i apologize in advance, if i missed any other tags pls let me know okay, thanks!

A/N: hiiii everyone! this is my humble submission to @yxtkiwiyxt's never have i ever challenge with my prompt being never have i ever woken someone else because i was too loud during sex 🙈 kiwi bb tysm for hosting such a lovely writing challenge for us, i hope you enjoy this smutty fic! oh, and i am dedicating this one to @letsmeetintheafterglow, amorcito, you left such me a juicy request in my inbox for javi that i just had to write! so, i merged it with the challenge prompt 🖤 hope you dream of him tambien ☁️ also, i couldn't help but project my fantasy of wanting to dance to corrido/banda music with javier. i feel like he's actually a pretty good dancer! swinging ya around to the beat of the song with his hand at your lower back and a modelo in the other. ugh. the song la niña fresa basically inspired the nickname javi calls reader 🍓 and just sets the vibes, i think. as always, let me know that you think and thank you for reading 🖤

The backyard is buzzing with the chatter and laughter of what feels like half the town, the smoky scent of barbecue wafting through the air and the twang of a corrido blasting from oversized speakers, making the ground shake.

You walk through the fenced yard, the southern breeze grazing your skin as familiar faces nod or wave in passing. Your eyes scan the crowd, skimming past clusters of people dancing and conversing, all of them gathered to celebrate someone who swore he didn’t want a fuss.

Of course his family didn’t listen. They turned his “keep it small” request into a blowout, like they always do, inviting anyone and everyone. Not that he could stay mad—he never really does.

When you spot the man of the hour, the corner of your lips lift instinctively and your feet seem to move on their own accord, pulling you toward him.

He’s by the bonfire, the glow of the flames painting his chiseled features in shades of gold and shadow. He stands with his hip jutting out, a cigarette balanced between his fingers, sharing it lazily with two girls you barely recognize.

They hang on to his every little move, trying to soak up whatever attention he might spare. It’s a scene you’ve witnessed too many times, and you really can’t blame them.

You’ve been in their shoes (still are, truth be told), waiting for even a flicker of his focus to land on you, and you know all too well where that desperation led.

To his bed, on his tongue, his cock—you shiver at the memory, your nipples pulling taut.

He’s the kind of man who doesn’t have to try to make hearts ache; it’s just who he is.

A walking daydream wrapped in leather and indifference, with that devil-may-care grin that promises trouble and delivers every time.

You roll your eyes and huff sassily, detouring toward one of the coolers instead. You grab a drink, making polite small talk with a couple of acquaintances, though you can’t keep your gaze from wandering back to him.

He’s already looking at you.

It stops you mid-sentence the way his brown eyes are fixed on you, heavy with intention.

The cigarette is at his lips, the faint glow of its cherry pulses when he sucks in then lets out a ribbon of smoke. 

He makes it look so damn hot, it’s almost enough to persuade you into picking up the bad habit.

The curly haired beauty next to him is chattering a mile a minute, but it’s clear he isn’t listening.

His focus remains locked on you, sweeping slowly—mischievously—down the length of your body. You can feel it, as sure as a touch, lingering at the deep neckline of your sweater then on the way your jeans hug your curves. It’s shameless, but that’s him, isn’t it?

Your smile tilts into a puckish smirk. Lifting your hand, you wiggle your fingers in a small wave.

It’s like striking a match. His gaze narrows slightly as if he’s trying to decide his next move.

He hands off the cigarette with a casual flick of his wrist and shifts his focus back to the girl beside him. She’s still rambling, her words tumbling over each other in an eager attempt to hold his attention.

He doesn’t bother pretending to care. Instead, he lets out an indulgent chuckle, shaking his head like whatever nonsense just came out of her mouth is equal parts adorable and absurd.

You almost feel bad for her. It’s hard not to fall for that sleazy charm—especially when it’s attached to a man that’s so fucking handsome.

When she swivels to chat with her friend, his eyes immediately find yours again. A cocky expression paints his countenance, one that practically asks: What the hell are you doing all the way over there?

You entertain the idea of making him wait, savoring the power in holding his attention hostage for just a moment longer. But who are you kidding? The magnetic pull he has over you is impossible to resist. It always is.

The small box tucked snugly in the back pocket of your jeans presses against you as you weave through the crowd, sidestepping a few overly tipsy guests and slipping past the fold-out tables scattered across the lawn. 

“Hey,” you say, sliding yourself effortlessly between the two girls, not caring about interrupting their conversation. Immediately, their sharp side-eyes practically stab you with twin daggers of irritation.

You don’t flinch. You’re not here for them, anyway.

You only care about the pair of deep brown eyes that make you feel like you’re the only person in the world when he looks at you. “Happy Birthday, Javier.”

A flicker of what looks like smugness and amusement crosses his face as he licks his lips, taking another measured drag.

He’s dressed in a variant of his signature look—a white button-up with a few buttons let loose to show off his neck and the top of his chest, despite the brisk autumn air, and a worn brown leather jacket accentuating his broad shoulders.

However, it’s the ridiculous tiara perched atop his head that catches your eye, and the sight makes you frown ever so slightly when you notice the matching glittery ones on his groupies, like it’s some inside joke you’re not a part of.

For some inexplicable reason—it rubs you the wrong way. You can’t believe you’re slightly jealous of it. How stupid.

“Thank you, fresita.” 

Ugh, that infuriating nickname. You’d been charmed by it at first, assuming it was something sweet and impish. It wasn’t until Chucho let it slip that it’s also used to describe a woman that’s spoiled and picky that you realized it wasn’t just affectionate; it was also dig at your finer tastes.

And so what if you are a little high maintenance?

You don’t give him the satisfaction of a reaction, even though he loves coaxing it out of you. Instead, you tilt your head slightly, letting a soft undercurrent of flirtation lace your voice as you ask, “Mind if I pull you aside? I’d like to give you your gift.”

His interest is evident in the way his brow raises and the girls bristle slightly, their expressions shifting to thinly veiled jealousy once they realize he’s no longer focused on them. You captured him the moment he saw you amidst the crowd.

“We were just finishin’ up,” Javi says casually, dropping the cigarette and crushing it beneath his boot. He flicks a glance at the two disappointed faces, his smirk widening. “Con permiso, chicas. Thanks for the smoke.”

As he steps away from them, you feel a little triumphant thrill surge in your chest. They look deflated, their pouty expressions almost comical as they watch him leave with you, muttering goodbyes under their breaths.

The curly haired woman stares you down, and you try not to let the smug victory of whisking him away be too obvious… though you can’t help but smile condescendingly before fully turning away. 

“Some fan club you’ve got,” you tease once the two of you are finally alone, near the entrance of the sunroom that’s a part of the house.

He smirks, leaning against the siding and tilting his head, once more eyeing you down like you’re the finest thing he’s ever seen. “You jealous?” 

You scoff, shaking your head in mock disbelief. “Absolutely not.” It’s a little white lie, since you had felt a twinge of that pesky envy, but you don’t want him to know that. He’d either give you shit for it, or on the more extreme end, rethink this arrangement he currently has with you.

And you’d rather not lose it. Not right now, at least. You’re having too much fun letting Javier fuck your brains out on a consistent basis. 

Slowly, you close the space between you, your fingers darting up to flick the tacky tiara perched on his head. “Cute.”

Before you can step back, his hands are on you—big and warm as they grip your waist and pull you flush against his chest.

The force of it has you sighing out in satisfaction. There’s something wholly fucking addictive about the way he handles you.

His hands know exactly where to place themselves, his fingers applying the perfect amount of pressure to set the butterflies in your stomach into a frenzy.

“No need to be, baby. You know you’re my favorite.” If your friends knew you were hooking up with the town slut, they’d definitely stage an intervention before you could finish your next sentence. Laying out all the reasons why letting Javier Peña into your bed was a one-way ticket to heartbreak city.

They’d call it desperation. They’d call it lowering your standards.

But what they don’t know is that standards start to feel awfully overrated when Javier has you pinned to a mattress, whispering filthy promises in your ear as his hands map every inch of your body. They don’t know what it’s like to have his full attention—his lips trailing worshipful kisses down your skin, his gravelly voice murmuring sweet nothings in Spanish that you don’t fully understand from how he slurs them together but feel all the same.

Being around him is electric, intoxicating, a high you’re not quite ready to give up.

So no, your friends don’t know. And as long as you can keep this thing between you and Javier your little secret, they never will.

“You gonna let me unwrap my gift or what?” His hand slides lower to cup your right cheek with shameless familiarity, giving it a frisky spank that makes you giggle.

This man and his obsession with your ass—it’s borderline ridiculous, and yet, you’re absolutely here for it.

“Later, maybe,” you reply with faux coyness, your finger dragging along his mustache then over to his pouty lips. He purses them, placing a kiss to the tip of your finger, “if you’re not too busy.”

His hold on your backside tightens, voice morphing into something more sultry, raspier, which is your absolute weakness. It makes your thighs rub together. “You know I always make time for you.”

You laugh softly at that. More often than not, you’re the one initiating while he only reaches out when it suits him. It’s not ideal at times, but you don’t get hung up on it.

You’re not about to ruin this by asking more of someone who doesn’t have it in him.

You reach back and pull the small box from your pocket. “Here’s your real gift,” you say, holding it out to him. Your voice softens, but there’s still a playful inflection. “Hope you like it.”

Curiosity fills those dark eyes as he takes the box, eyeing the tacky birthday wrapping paper with a soft smile. The sight of that grin on his face has your eyes morphing into hearts.

“You didn’t have to get me anything.”

“I know,” you reply with a shrug. “But I saw it at the thrift store and just knew it had to go to you.”

You angle yourself to press a light kiss to the tip of his chin, your lips brushing against the stubble before you nip at it gently with your teeth. “Open it.”

His nimble fingers pull apart the crinkled folds of the wrapping paper to reveal the small box inside. When he opens it, you see his immediate delight, and your heart does a traitorous little flip.

The golden chain bracelet glints under the string lights strung along the roof’s edge, somehow making it look nicer out here than how it had been displayed at the store.

“Damn, this is nice,” he says, genuinely appreciative. The praise sends a faint thrill up your spine, your bottom lip caught between your teeth as you watch him lift the bracelet out of the box to inspect it.

You’ve imagined how good the gold would look while his wrist is flexing as he grips your thighs, holding you open for him. Or when he’s feeling you up, rough and greedy, fingers digging into your soft hips as he takes your pussy how he wants.

“Put it on,” he holds his wrist and the bracelet out toward you. His tone carries that easy confidence, like he already knows you’ll obey without question.

Which you do, obviously. You carefully clasp it around his wrist, your fingers brushing his skin as you secure it, and that little brush feels like you’ve just snorted a line of adrenaline with how amped up your body gets.

“Looks good on you,” you admire your handiwork, though the truth is; he’d make anything look good. Even a paper crown. Or, you know, a tacky tiara.

“Gracias, fresita,” he replies smoothly, that familiar nickname rolling off his tongue.

“Are you ever going to stop calling me that?”

“Nah.”

Before you can come up with a witty retort, he pulls you against him again, One hand at your lower back, the other tucked into the back pocket of your jeans. His lips capture yours in a kiss that’s eager and completely unapologetic.

“Easy there, birthday boy—”

“Can’t help it,” he cuts you off, his voice rough against your lips. “Been waiting for you to show up all night.”

You can’t help but chase after that tasty mouth of his, your tongue licking against his, teeth biting into his lower lip and the slight tickle of his mustache makes you shiver. Then his hips grind against your thigh, his erection prominent, which in turn has heat flaring all over your body. 

“Let’s go inside,” he breaks away, tugging you toward the small steps leading into the sunroom.

You weren’t expecting to fuck him so early on in the night but you’re not about to complain about it. Every fiber of your body yearns for this man—but specifically your cunt. She’s obsessed.

The room looks like it’s in the middle of a renovation—a man cave in progress.

One wall boasts an unfinished bar, complete with half-empty bottles and shot glasses scattered across the surface. A brand-new pool table sits in the center of the room, its felt pristine, untouched by drunken games or spilled drinks. 

At the far end, a set of leather couches and a recliner face the large television set and entertainment center.

The double doors to the house are shut tight, leaving the room dim and private, save for the warmness of the string lights spilling in through the windows.

You’re caught up taking it all in when Javier sneaks up behind you, pressing hot, greedy kisses against your neck as his hands roam your body.

There’s nothing tentative about his touch—he cups your tits with both hands, squeezing them over your sweater as a deep groan rumbles in his throat. His need for you is palpable, a force that makes your knees weak even as he maneuvers you toward the pool table.

“Here, Javi?” you pant when he sucks at your weak spot under your jaw. “Let’s just go up to your room—”

“No,” he growls, spinning you around to face him, his dark eyes alight with lust. “Want you right here on this table.”

Before you can argue, his lips are on yours again. You let yourself melt into it, your hands reaching up to pluck the ridiculous tiara off his head and tossing it aside with a flick of your wrist.

His hair is soft under your fingers as you card through it, tugging lightly just to feel the way his body reacts, the way his kisses deepen in response.

When his tongue slides into your mouth, you surprise even yourself by wrapping your lips around it, sucking gently. You’re greedy and he loves it.

Javier’s grunt prompts your thighs to clench instinctively around him. His jacket hits the floor as he shrugs it off, lips trailing down your neck. You kick off your boots, his hands lifting you with ease to place you on the sturdy pool table.

Your sweater is gone before you know it. He’s in the middle of working on the button of your jeans, his fingers deft and impatient, when your eyes land on something that makes you freeze.

Or better yet, someone. There’s a figure slumped in one of the recliners at the far end of the room.

Your breath hitches, your body tensing. “Javi, stop.” Your words falter into a moan as his lips find your collarbone, sucking on your skin.

“What’s wrong?” he murmurs, barely pausing as he tugs your pants down your hips. Despite yourself, you lift slightly to help him, even as you frantically nudge your head toward the recliner.

“There’s someone here,” you whisper.

He stops, his head snapping up to follow your gaze. His expression shifts into a frustrated scowl when he sees the figure sprawled in the chair. “Goddamnit,” he mutters, reluctantly pulling away from you and heading over to investigate.

You watch as he approaches, his boots heavy on the hardwood. It’s his cousin Danny, completely passed out, his head lolling to the side and his mouth hanging open. Javier whistles sharply, snapping his fingers in front of his face. Nothing. He gives his shoulder a firm nudge once, twice—still nothing.

“Out cold,” Javier says, his tone both annoyed and amused as he turns back to you. “Took down almost a whole bottle of tequila earlier. He’s not gonna bother us.”

You hesitate, your eyes darting to the unconscious form. The idea of hooking up with someone uninvited in the room feels... complicated… exhilarating, maybe? You’ve never done it before.

But your reluctance evaporates the moment Javier closes the distance between you again, his hands sliding your jeans clean off, leaving you in nothing but your mismatched bra and panties.

He drinks you in, and the rest of the party—including the slumped figure in the corner—melts away under the weight of his attention.

No words are needed, not when he roughly tugs the cups of your bra down, letting your breasts spill free, nor when he dips his head, his stubble grazing your skin as his warm mouth captures one of your nipples.

Your breath catches, back arching your breasts into his warm, wet mouth. His tongue lazily circles and flicks over the hardened bud. Then he sucks harder, pulling a drawn-out moan from you before switching to the other side.

You bite your lip, determined to stifle the sighs of pleasure threatening to break. His knocked out cousin in the corner keeps you cautious, even as your body aches to let go.

Javier notices. Always does. He pulls away with a pop, a thin string of saliva connecting his pouty lips to your nipple. “Nu-uh,” he chides. “Don’t hold back.”

“I’m not trying to wake him up,” you counter, though your voice wavers from how good his mouth felt.

“You won’t,” he replies, almost dismissively, giving you a peck on the lips before he drops to his knees before you. He starts at your calves, leaving slow, deliberate kisses that send sparks dancing along your skin.

The faint scrape of his facial hair adds to the wonderful torment as his mouth works its way up, switching from leg to leg.

When he reaches the inside of your right knee, he kisses it almost sweetly, before dragging his tongue slowly in a hot stripe up to your inner thigh. You can’t stop the small shiver that ripples through you, your hands gripping the edge of the pool table for balance.

Javier finally reaches your pussy and you shudder as he presses an open-mouthed kiss to your clothed clit. The heat of his breath and the firm pressure of his lips through the cotton of your panties makes your back arch.

He hooks a finger into the fabric and pulls it to the side, diving in immediately. His tongue parts your folds, curling and slithering against your pearly clit before moving lower.

“Fuck,” you sigh, your hips bucking involuntarily, pressing yourself harder against his mouth.

He groans, enjoying how reactive you are, his fingers digging into the soft meat of your thighs while he holds you firmly in place. His mouth works with a singular focus, his tongue swirling and dipping into your entrance, then sliding back up to flick over your clit.

The feeling of his stupid mustache makes it that much better, scratching at your cunt lusciously. 

You can’t help it now—a soft, keening moan slips out of you, echoing faintly in the dimly lit room. Your head lolls around on your shoulders as pleasure coils at the pit of your stomach, the tension winding tighter with each stroke of his tongue.

“That’s it,” he practically purrs. “Let me hear you.”

His lips seal around your clit, sucking gently, and you swear it feels like you’ve been possessed—holding back is impossible. Another moan escapes you, louder this time, your thighs shaking in his grip as he devours you.

Javi pushes you over the edge so effortlessly that a cry of his name spits out of your throat before you can stop it, cutting through the room.

You're grateful this area of the house is directed away from the backyard, where the party celebrating him outside continues on, oblivious of his absence as he indulges in you.

Your orgasm settles like a heavy current, fingers nearly going numb from holding on to the pool table for dear life.

You’re still disoriented and flustered when Javier stands, looming over you, cupping the back of your head and bringing you in to passionately make out.

His mouth is coated in your tangy essence, making you taste yourself as he slips his tongue down your throat.

You whimper, clawing at his chest for more and he pulls away to turn you around, manhandling you onto your stomach on the table.

His hands are firm yet impatient as he grips one of your legs by the back of your knee and hooks it over the edge of the wooden border.

Javi stares down at your sex, partially exposed and glistening for him. Your panties are askew, one swollen pussy lip peeking out while a dark, damp patch spreads over the cotton where his tongue had devoured you moments ago.

“Fuck.” The lewd sight has him hastily undoing his belt and popping the button on his jeans, his dick hard and ready to bury himself inside your sweet cunt. 

Propping yourself up on your palms, you glance back at him over your shoulder, a teasing, blissed out smile playing on your lips despite the burning heat between your thighs. “I figured you’d want to savor me. Wait for later…” you coo, rolling your hips and causing your ass to jiggle, feeling giddy at how his eyes zero in on the motion.

“I savor you all the time, baby. Even during these nasty, quick fucks.” Him saying that has you over the fucking moon. “You can’t expect me to wait knowin’ this pussy needs me to fuck her real good.”

The hand adorned with your golden bracelet grabs your supple ass, kneading the flesh before landing a stinging spank that makes you jolt and let out a cry. The sharp sound carries, making your eyes flick nervously toward the recliner where his cousin still lies, unaware of the debauchery happening mere feet away.

Javier seems completely unbothered, casually toying with your panties as though you have all the time in the world. He hooks his finger into the soaked fabric, dragging it back and forth against your sticky folds, smearing your slick across your pussy lips.

Your hips move on their own, chasing the friction, and you bite your lip hard, trapping the needy moan building in your throat.

“Can I come over later?”

His question is so nonchalant it nearly makes you laugh, but the way he teases you has you too far gone to do so. You grind back against his touch, desperate for more, your lips parting in a breathy moan.

“Yes.” The thought of him showing up at your doorstep at three in the morning, bourbon on his lips, just for you to sink to your knees and take him down your throat makes your pussy clench around nothing, crying out for his cock as more of your arousal leaks against your panties. “Whenever.”

He hums in satisfaction, stepping closer and reaching for your jaw, tilting your head to the side roughly and meeting you for a kiss. The fabric of his shirt grazes your bare skin and he tugs your panties to the side again while his mouth continues to hold yours captive.

His cock nudges against your waiting entrance, teasing, the flushed head dragging over the fleshy cleft of your clit in languid taps.

When he finally pushes in, there’s no preamble—just the yummy stretch of him filling you to the fucking brim, shoving a strangled whine out of your mouth as he sets a brutal pace immediately, not giving you even a moment to adjust.

Your palms slip against the velvet of the pool table as you struggle to hold yourself up, but it’s no use. The force of his thrusts sends you collapsing forward onto your chest, scattering the neatly racked pool balls across the table.

They clatter and roll in all directions, but Javier doesn’t slow for a second. His grip on your waist tightens, forcing you to fuck yourself back on his dick.

“Shit,” he growls hoarsely, already breathless as he watches your ass bounce with every stroke. “You’re makin’ a loud fuckin’ mess,” he hisses, though there’s no real malice there—just straight horniness.

In one smooth motion, he grabs both your wrists with one large hand, pinning them to your lower back. He then angles your pelvis so that your clit is grinding against the smooth wooden border of the pool table while your tender nipples rub against the green felt.

The effects of that are immediate, your body feeling like it’s burning from the inside out. “Mmm, fuck yeah, keep doing that,” you moan desperately. 

The raunchy sound of your ass clapping against his thighs fills the room, a filthy rhythm accompanied by the feeling of his heavy balls brushing against your cunt. 

The noise feels impossibly loud, your whimpers and his grunts reverberating off the walls. Surely, his cousin will wake up—surely, someone will walk in on the shameless display Javier is putting on with your body.

Or maybe not, since Javier keeps fucking you all hot and wanton, especially when he hits your sweet spot and your ribbed, gushy walls hug around his dick like a vice.

Your forehead presses against the table as you chant his name, your vision swimming.

You try to glance toward the recliner where his cousin is passed out, but your eyes can’t focus. Everything’s a blur—two of everything, indistinct shapes swimming in the haze of your arousal.

The only thing you can truly focus on is Javier: the way his cock breaches your most intimate spaces, the heat of his body against yours, the sharp bite of his belt against the backs of your thighs.

You’re soaking him, ruining the hem of his half-buttoned shirt. But you can’t bring yourself to care. Not when he’s splitting you open so perfectly, his tight grip on your wrists keeping you pinned and utterly open for him to take.

Your sore clit continues to rub against the smooth wood of the table, now sticky from how shamelessly you’ve been humping against it while chasing your pleasure.

Between the stimulation on your clit, the rough scrape of the felt against your sensitive nipples, and the relentless pounding of his shaft brushing your g-spot—it’s all too much. 

Your body trembles, a loud cry ripping from your throat as your orgasm slams into you.

"Javi!" you spasm in his hold, nails digging into your palms as your wrists remain trapped beneath his firm grip. shoulders burning from his rough hold.

Your pussy clamps hard around him, wet and creamy as you come, soaking his cock and leaving no doubt about how thoroughly he fucked you.

Javier curses through gritted teeth, switching between Spanish and English as he ruts into you, his rhythm stuttering. “Fuck, fresita, you’re squeezin’ me so fuckin’ tight—just like that.”

He doesn’t falter, fucking you even as your orgasm settles over you like a heavy current.

He hauls you upright, pulling your back flush against his chest, his grip on your wrists unrelenting as he traps them between your bodies.

Both of his arms wrap tightly around your trembling frame, one hand sliding up to grab your tit, kneading it roughly while the other sprawls against your stomach and waist to hold you steady as he fucks up into you.

His mouth is at your ear now, his breath ragged. “Gonna bust inside this pretty pussy baby and you’re gonna let me, aren’t you?”

You nod weakly, biting down on your lip as your eyes flutter shut. “So fuckin’ willing to take my cum like a real slut,” the degrading name makes your clit twitch because he’s right—you are a real slut. Only for him. Always hungry and ready to please, to do anything to satisfy him and he knows it.

“You’re so goddamn perfect—fuck.” His hips jerk a few times before he groans deeply, his cock pulsing as he finishes deep inside you, his hold on your body tightening to the point where you wince but it hurts so good.

“What the fuck?”

The sharp voice cuts through the haze, yanking you back to reality. Your eyes snap open, and panic floods your system as you instinctively try to shield your almost-naked body.

Across the room, Danny sits up in the recliner, his hair a mess and his bleary eyes squinting in confusion. He looks like he’s been rudely yanked out of a drunken slumber, and unfortunately, it’s your fault.

Javier, of course, remains maddeningly calm. “Relax,” his voice still thick with that post-climax rasp as he mumbles in your ear.

Meanwhile, your body is burning—part embarrassment, part leftover heat from the sinful things Javier just did to you on this pool table.

You try to wriggle out of his grip, but his arms are like iron bands, keeping you firmly in place.

Danny rubs at his eyes, blinking hard as if trying to process what’s in front of him. His head tilts slightly, and for one horrifying second, you think he’s piecing it all together. But instead, he suddenly leans over the side of the recliner and starts retching, the sound loud and wet as he empties his stomach onto the carpet.

The sharp, acidic stench of vomit hits the air, mixing unpleasantly with the heady scent of sweat and sex. It’s enough to finally get Javier to loosen his hold.

He pulls out of you with a grunt, leaving you aching and exposed, and you both watch as his release starts to spill out of you, trickling over your swollen folds and dripping onto the table with obscene little plops.

But there’s no time to dwell on the mess. You scramble to grab your clothes, your movements frantic and clumsy as you yank your jeans up your legs and shove your arms into your sweater.

Javier’s doing the same, though far less hurried, like he’s still amused by the whole situation.

When you finally look up at him, his dark eyes are sparkling with mischief, and he throws you a roguish grin that almost makes you laugh despite yourself.

Danny, meanwhile, is still groaning and gagging, his face pale as a sheet. You feel a tiny pang of guilt, but before you can even think about offering help, Javier grabs your hand and tugs you toward the door.

“Aren’t you going to help him?” you whisper, trying to keep your voice low.

“Fuck no,” Javier replies without missing a beat. “Not my fault he couldn’t handle his liquor.”

He presses a kiss to the back of your hand, his lips warm and soft against your skin, and you can’t help but follow him.

You glance back over your shoulder as you’re being pulled toward the backyard, unable to stop yourself from throwing out a half-hearted, “Sorry!”

He doesn’t respond—he’s too busy dry heaving—but you and Javier are already sneaking out, stifling your laughter as the sounds of the party grow louder around you.

The music thrums through the air, its infectious rhythm pulling you in as your dance partner tightens his grip on your waist. His hands are firm, guiding you with confidence, but the musky cologne mixed with the sour tang of sweat is enough to make your nose crinkle if you focus too hard on it.

Still, you’re here out of spite, letting the sway of your hips speak louder than words as your body molds to his. The banda song carries you both across the makeshift dance floor, your movements fluid and natural as though the music itself has taken over.

Javier is just a few paces away, entangled with the curly-haired girl from earlier. His hands rest on her lower back, his body moving with ease. 

There’s a playful challenge in both of your eyes when your gazes finally meet, knowing how this little game of yours will end. 

Neither of you looks away, both determined to outdo the other, even in this small, ridiculous way.

Your dance partner spins you abruptly, breaking the moment. The move is smooth, you’ll give him that, and you find yourself face-to-face with him once again.

He’s not bad looking, honestly—sharp jawline, nice green eyes—but the cologne is killing the vibe, and his wandering hands are starting to push it.

Thankfully, the song winds to a close just as his fingers inch a little too far down your back. The music shifts, a different tune kicking in, and you step back, offering a polite smile as he thanks you for the dance.

“Got a number I can save?” he asks, hopeful and slightly cocky.

You grin, a little too sweetly, and rattle off your number without hesitation. You’ve got no intention of responding if he uses it, but you can’t resist the temptation to stir the pot. As he finally walks away, you feel it—a scorching stare burning into your back.

You don’t even have to look to know who it’s coming from.

“Baila conmigo.”

The familiar rasp of Javier’s voice cuts through the noise as he steps into your space. He takes a swig of his beer, his leather jacket gone, leaving him in just the white button-up that hugs his chest a little too well.

You cock a brow, crossing your arms. “What happened to your dance partner?”

“Sent her away,” he replies easily, his smirk infuriatingly smug. “Poor girl couldn’t catch the rhythm.”

You let out an amused huff, rolling your eyes. Of course, he’d say that. Before you can think better of it, you take his hand, allowing him to lead you toward la pista.

The moment you’re there, he pulls you flush against him, one large hand settling at your lower back while the other still clutches his beer. You fall into the simple two-step with ease, your bodies moving in perfect sync to the music. 

His thigh slots between yours, the friction sparking something electric, and you can’t help but press closer, your breaths mingling in the intimate space between you.

“Reminds me of that night at the club,” his lips brush at your ear. It’s a miracle you can still hear him over the loud music. “When you finally let me get between those pretty legs.”

The heat in his words, combined with the faint scent of his cologne and the alcohol on his breath, floods your senses. He smells and feels like everything your last dance partner wasn’t.

Whistles and cheers ripple through the crowd as you and Javi throw yourselves into the rhythm of the song, your bodies moving like two parts of the same melody.

You hadn’t expected him to be such a good dancer the first time you shared a dance—not until that night at the club. 

And just like his dancing, the way he fucked you afterward had blown every expectation out of the water.

The song comes to an end, leaving you both flushed and slightly winded, sweat clinging to your skin despite the cool night air. The cheers die down as a new track begins, and Javi’s lips quirk into a lopsided grin.

“C’mon, give me another one,” he urges, his voice still rich and sensual despite the exertion.

You laugh, shaking your head as you step back, hands on your hips. You hadn’t planned to stay this long, and now your body is screaming for mercy. “Raincheck, handsome. I gotta head home.”

Javi’s grin falters slightly, but it doesn’t fade completely as your hand drifts down his chest, fingers savoring the firmness of his body.

His broad shoulders and toned frame are just so enchanting, and you can’t resist indulging one last time before grabbing his beer. You take a long, slow sip, your eyes flicking up to meet his as you drain the bottle and set it aside on one of the plastic fold-out tables.

“Not gonna stick around for the cake?” he asks, that boyish charm in his tone as he steps closer.

You flash him a flirty smile. “Save me a piece.”

He opens his mouth to say something else, but the rowdy chaos of his friends and cousins cuts him off. They swarm him, loud and eager, tugging at his shoulders and shouting for him to take another shot.

He laughs, but his gaze finds yours, his warm brown eyes locking on to you one last time.

“Enjoy, Javi,” you tell him with a wink. “You know where to find me.”

That familiar smirk is at his lips as he’s pulled toward the makeshift bar. You watch him for a moment before turning to make your departure.

You’re cutting across the lawn when you hear a voice behind you.

“Need a ride home?”

It’s the guy you danced with earlier, his cologne still potent even in the open air. His gentlemanliness would’ve been charming if it weren’t for the obvious expectation in his tone.

You decline politely, offering a quick smile before brushing past him and unlocking your car.

What you don’t realize is that Javi sees the entire exchange from afar. He’d caught the tail end of the guy trailing after you, his gaze narrowing as he watched you disappear into the sea of parked cars.

A flicker of irritation tugged at his expression, but he stayed rooted to his spot, letting his friends push another shot into his hand.

Instead of following, he threw himself into his own celebration, his laugh loud and boisterous as if he hadn’t seen a damn thing. But he couldn’t stop thinking about you leaving with that guy, and the glint in his eyes that had been so bright when you were there dulled just slightly. 

Still, he let it go, for now.

He knew exactly where to find you, after all.

“Oh my god,” you mewl, your back arching against the cold tile of your kitchen floor. Javier thrusts into you with a raw, animalistic need, his cock driving so deep inside you that it feels like he’s carving himself into your very being.

The absurdity of the situation is a bit funny—you’re still fully clothed, minus your sleeping shorts having been thrown haphazardly across the room, a stark contrast to earlier when you’d been bare and spread for him on that damn pool table.

Just as you predicted, he showed up at your door in the dead of night, his silhouette illuminated by the dim porch light. You’d barely made it to the door before his desperate, insistent knocking threatened to wake the entire block.  

It felt like he might break it down if you didn’t open it fast enough. Whoever dropped him off didn’t even wait to see if you’d answer.

No words were exchanged when you finally let him in. His brown eyes, dark and searing, did all the talking.

He’d cupped your face with one rough hand, the other holding a plate with aluminum foil covering it, precariously balancing it in his palm as he kissed you with an appetite that left you breathless.

You let him back you into the kitchen, setting the plate on the counter, his body crowding yours until there was nowhere left to go.

And now, here you are, legs spread wide, the weight of him pressing you down into the tiles, his jacket still on, smelling like beer and bourbon as he ruts himself against you.

“Givin’ your number out, huh?” he growls against your lips, his words dripping with bitterness. His hand snakes up to wrap around your neck, firm but not harsh, forcing your hazy eyes to meet his. You feel the subtle coolness of the bracelet against your skin and that only makes it better. “That’s all it takes, fresita? One fuckin’ dance?”

Each word is punctuated by a sharp, punishing thrust that has you gasping for air.

Your hands scramble at the back of his jacket, trying to find some sort of anchor while his dick fucks into you over and over, your slick cunt clamping helplessly around him.

If your brain wasn’t fogged with pleasure, you’d call him out on his jealousy, tease him for letting something so trivial get under his skin. At least you were better about hiding it.

But god, it’s too fucking hot—seeing him like this, so undone, so unhinged, all because of you.

Javier, the man who always carries himself with that cool, confident swagger, who never seems to let anything faze him, is now losing his composure right here on your kitchen floor.

And all it took was watching some other guy’s attention on you to make him snap. If anyone is picky and spoiled here—it’s him.

“Answer me,” he demands, his grip on your throat tightening just enough to leave you lightheaded, his thrusts never faltering. His free hand grabs at your thigh, spreading you even wider for him, the angle forcing you to experience every inch of him.

“I—it was nothing,” you manage to cry, though your words are almost incoherent as he’s driving into you. “Javi, I—”

“You what?” he interrupts with a curt laugh, his teeth grazing the underside of your jaw before he bites down gently, making you squirm beneath him. “You think I’m gonna let you walk around, lettin’ some asshole think he’s got a chance with you?”

The thought alone seems to fuel him further, his movements growing rougher and you swear you’re on the edge of unraveling.

And as he watches the way your body responds to him—your nails digging into his back, your moans turning into screams—he knows he’s making his point loud and clear. 

Javi’s grip around your throat tightens, cutting off your breath just enough to stimulate you. The pressure makes you feel somehow, impossibly, even more turned on.

“He can’t fuck you like I can,” he grinds against you, his coarse and damp pubic hairs bristling against your sensitive clit, the friction of it almost too much. “No one can.” His face hovers so close to yours that you can feel his breath on your lips.

Your mouth falls open on instinct, tiny, wheezy moans spilling out as his nose brushes against yours.

Javier’s dark eyes feel like they’re boring straight into your soul, gleaming with hunger as he watches your every twitch, every little surrender. He leans in and kisses you all demanding and vehement. 

His lips claim yours like he’s trying to eat you whole, his tongue slipping inside to taste every gasp you give him.

“Listen to that,” he murmurs mockingly as he pulls back just enough to let his gaze drop between your bodies, watching your pussy swallow his cock. “Just listen to how wet you are, baby. Think he could ever make you sound like this?”

Your cheeks burn with embarrassment—and arousal—as the obscene, sloppy sounds of his length plunging into you fill the air, amplified by his words. The drive of his hips is merciless, each stroke drawing you closer with dizzying precision.

Your nails dig into his forearms, bending your body beneath him as your vision starts to be blotched with white spots.

You can feel it, the winding of your orgasm at your core pulling taut, about to burst. When it finally does, your pussy flutters and squeezes as waves of smoldering intensity crash over you.

“Puta madre,” he snarls, his head falling back from how good it feels to have you come around him.

Pulling out, Javier pins you down with his weight to keep you from squirming away. His cock, flushed, drooling, and shiny with your juices, hovers inches from your face as you lay flat on the floor.

Your swollen lips part instinctively, the scent of your own headiness making your mouth water.

“Tongue out, baby,” he commands, his voice rough but coaxing.

You obey, sticking your tongue out lazily, your half-lidded eyes locked onto his. The sight of you like this—wrecked, pliant, and waiting for him—is enough to undo him completely. His hand pumps his cock, the golden accessory on his wrist jolting with each move. 

With a low, rasping groan, he spills over you, thick, hot ropes of cum splattering across your face and tongue.

You moan softly, savoring the warmth, licking your lips and swallowing whatever lands in your mouth. The taste of him leaves your tongue and throat buzzing, and you revel in the messy intimacy of it.

He uses his fingers to wipe the remnants of his release from your cheeks, then pushes them into your mouth without hesitation.

“Suck,” he orders, and you comply, wrapping your lips around his fingers, swirling your tongue over them with eager enthusiasm. You get carried away, your tongue flicking and sucking greedily, and he chuckles darkly.

“Jealousy looks good on you,” you can’t help but tease, your voice carrying amusement as you both come down from the dazed fucking.

Javier sways a little, his inebriation finally catching up to him. He stumbles, but he steadies himself smoothly, like the world itself wouldn’t dare let him fall.

He wipes a hand down his face before meeting your gaze, still kneeling on the floor. “Not a fan of people playin’ with what’s mine,” he says, the statement edged with that possessiveness he tries to pretend isn’t there.

Usually, a line like that would have you rolling your eyes and telling the guy to take his ego down a notch. But with Javier? You don’t mind. At all. Something about the way he says it—like it’s a fact, not an opinion—makes your stomach flip in the worst (or best) way possible.

“Yours?” you challenge, sitting up on your forearms and arching a brow at him. “I thought this was casual.”

“It is,” he says without missing a beat, bringing his fingers up to caress the side of your face, more calm and sure, like he’s completely unaware of how contradictory his behavior is.

You narrow your eyes slightly, refusing to let him off the hook that easily despite melting under his touch. “Casual hookups don’t go into a frenzy after watching the other dance and flirt with someone else.”

He doesn’t even flinch at your words, doesn’t even bother to defend himself. Instead, he smirks—because of course he does—and stretches his arms over his head like the entire conversation is nothing but a minor inconvenience to him.

He straightens up then stands, extending a hand to you, his palm open and inviting, the gold band of the bracelet glinting in the low light.

You let him pull you up and let out a sound of exertion, your muscles still tense from rolling around on the hard floor with him.

“Dance, flirt with whoever you want. When I want you, I’m gonna have you.”

That’s possibly the hottest thing you’ve ever heard. “That so?” You try to sound unimpressed, but your voice betrays you, just the tiniest bit giddy.

“That’s so,” he concedes vaingloriously. “Don’t forget who makes you feel this satisfied.”

As if I could ever. “Cocky bastard,” you mutter, but the words lack any real bite.

He leans in, kissing you gently, then his voice drops into that deep, velvety murmur that makes your pussy tingle. “Yet you keep coming back.”

You don’t respond because, let’s face it, he’s not wrong. Especially not when he pairs those words with an affectionate kiss.

Instead, you finally roll your eyes, the most predictable move in your arsenal, and step around him to grab your discarded sleeping shorts.

Sliding them back on, you make your way to the counter, where the lonely styrofoam plate of half-smashed birthday cake waits for attention. Without a word, you pull it closer, grab a fork, and dig in.

Javier watches you with a grin still plastered across his face, leaning his hip against the counter. “Didn’t even offer the birthday boy the first bite, huh? Real cold.”

You stab a piece exaggeratedly, lifting it to your mouth, and chewing slowly, giving him a look that says cry about it.

But when you see the faint pout pulling at his lips—a deliberate act, no doubt—you sigh, scoop up another forkful, and hold it out. “Fine. Even though technically it’s not your birthday anymore.”

He leans in, not breaking the eye contact, and takes the bite straight from the fork, his lips brushing the tines with an unnecessary amount of flair.

You swear he’s showing off, but you don’t call him out on it, not when he groans softly in appreciation and you can’t help but admire him like this, playful and flirty in your kitchen.

“Feliz cumpleaños, Javi,” you say after a moment, softer now.

He swallows, his smirk shifting into something a little more genuine as he meets your gaze. “Gracias, fresita.”

For a moment, the air between you shifts—gentler, almost intimate. Then he reaches for the fork still in your hand and steals another bite, flashing you a look that drags you right back to reality.

i have a tag list for my works here, so if you're interested— pls check it out 🖤

@almostempty . @auteurdelabre . @miss-oranje-disco-dancer . @pepperstories . @greenwitchfromthewoods . @maiamore . @pedrohoe04 . @natalieispunk . @thewisesalmon . @bitchesuntitled . @puddles221b . @swankyorange . @bbyanarchist . @thottiewinemom . @heyhihello-4771 . @persephone-girl . @danaehldy . @sunflowerfive . @libre-sol . @harriedandharassed . @untamedheart81 . @moel-jiller . @honeyedmiller . @alexxavicry . @oldenoughtoknowbettersstuff . @almodovarispunk . @southernbe . @readingiskeepingmegoing . @pedrito-is-punk7 . @mrs-hardy-hunnam-butler-pascal . @la-vie-est-une-fleur29 . @lover-of-books-and-tea . @mysterious-moonstruck-musings . @almostfoxglove . @thundermartini . @pigeonmama . @piercethevic03 . @marisemonteiroo . @picketniffler . @getitoutofmymindwrites . @penascigarette . @bunniboo0015 . @kirsteng42 . @ivuravix . @joelmillerisapunk . @theestorm . @pasc4lfuzz .

[coqhee]

𓍯 ⸝⸝ JUST A BET ╱ L.HS ONESHOT

IN WHICH ✷ you bet heeseung that you can find him his perfect girl ∘ ∘ ∘ more

희승 x f!r ― f2l angst fluff && jealousy cursing kissing oc usage highschool au heeseung x oc (not the end relationship) ⨯ 5OO4

em's note ★ wouldn't be a banger if i DIDN'T include angst, actually kinda fw this one heavyyyy lawl, cause yall ever help your situationship get w someone else haha.. ha. ha.

ALL YOUR LIFE YOU HAD KNOWN LEE HEEESUNG TO BE STOIC TOWARDS GIRLS.

somehow it seemed that every girl in your school was in love with heeseung. of course, that was an exaggeration, but somehow every single pretty popular girl you knew would just get flat rejected by heeseung. 

a simple “sorry, i don’t like you like that,” would be all he was given and it was in no time that rumors spread that heeseung just wasn’t into girls given his track record.

at this point, you began to feel bad for the girls, even worse for him that he couldn’t find the one.  just how could you not like them though. they were even sweet and kind, and didn’t even have a bad personality.

everyone surrounding the two of you seemed to be in a relationship except him and you.

you, because you were hopelessly in love with your best friend, and heeseung, well because he just couldn’t seem to find the one and didn’t seem to care to find the one.

at first it started as a joke, when you were hanging out in your room supposedly, ‘studying,’ when you told him “you’re so picky with girls, let me set you up with someone,” 

heeseung had raised an eyebrow at your suggestion, a skeptical smirk tugging at his lips. “and you think you can find me the one?” he teased, crossing his arms back further against the chair near your desk, “haha, very funny y/n,”

“i know i can,” you shot back, your confidence only half-feigned. “you just need someone who gets you, and clearly, you’re incapable of finding her yourself.”

heeseung rolled your eyes at your bullshit statement, he wasn’t buying a single second of it.

“great so then what's my type huh?” he asked, clearly amused with your antics.

you paused, his question catching you off guard. “your type?” you repeated, stalling for time as you racked your brain trying to think of what his type was.

heeseung leaned forward, resting his chin on his hand as he smirked. “yeah, y/n. if you’re so sure you can find me ‘the one’, you must know what kind of girl i’m into.”

“oh, that’s easy,” you said quickly, refusing to let him see you falter. “someone smart, kind, sarcastic, funny—basically someone who can put up with your dumbass.”

heeseung raised an eyebrow, clearly amused. “so... basically you?”

you blinked, feeling your face heat up at his unexpected comment. “what? no! i meant someone like me, not me specifically,” you clarified, trying to sound dismissive. “i mean sort of? but like, not me obviously, you know?” you tried chuckling to brush off any arising emotions. 

afterall, he’s just your best friend. and everyone knows, don’t fall in love with your best friend or else it gets messy.

he laughed, the sound light and teasing. “relax, y/n, i’m just messing with you. but seriously, if you think you’ve got this all figured out, prove it. find her.”

“fine,” you said, crossing your arms. “give me a week. i’ll find you someone who’s exactly your type, and you’ll be thanking me when you two ride off into the sunset together.”

“deal,” he said, leaning back in his chair with a smug grin. “but just so you know, if you can’t pull this off, i’m never letting you live it down.”

“and if i do?” you countered, narrowing your eyes at him.

heeseung thought for a moment before shrugging. “then i owe you. big time. whatever you want.”

“you’re going to regret that,” you said, smirking as you stood up and grabbed your bag.

“we’ll see,” heeseung called after you, his voice laced with amusement.

the two of you went back to actually doing work, however, your mind raced with a mix of determination and unease. finding someone for heeseung sounded simple enough in theory—but why did the idea of him falling for someone else feel like a knot tightening in your chest?

─── ♡

HONESTLY, YOU WERE CONSIDERING JUST NOT SETTING HIM UP WITH ANYONE AND ADMITTING FAILURE.

while it would hurt seeing him getting along with one of your friends and potentially going out with them, you figured your pride would hurt more if you didn’t win this stupid bet. 

stupid you, stupid bet, stupid stakes, stupid prizes.

though, you wouldn’t let your own feelings get in the way of trying to make your best friend find his forever girl. that wouldn’t be fair—to him, to the girls he might actually click with, or even to yourself. you told yourself you were doing this out of genuine care, that it wasn’t some half-hearted attempt to distract yourself from the feelings you’d been burying for years.

maybe, just maybe, seeing him happy with someone else would finally push you to let go. watching him smile the way he always did when he was truly at ease, only this time with someone else by his side, might be the catalyst you needed to accept what you’d been trying to avoid: that heeseung would never see you the way you saw him.

you sighed, scrolling through your contacts in search of someone who might fit the impossible checklist you’d mentally created for heeseung. someone funny, smart, patient, and—above all—someone who wouldn’t make your chest ache every time they laughed together.

surely, that would make things easier. seeing him in love—real love—might make you realize that you weren’t the one for him, and that was okay. or at least, that’s what you told yourself. maybe in the process, you’d learn how to untangle your heart from his, stop feeling the way you did whenever he flashed that lopsided grin at you or leaned in just a little too close during your late-night study sessions.

maybe, for once, you could finally move on with your life.

but the thought of it stung in a way you didn’t want to admit. because deep down, you weren’t sure if seeing him happy with someone else would mend the ache in your chest—or make it worse.

your finger hovered over a name, one of your mutual friends who you thought might work. yeorin. she was sweet, easygoing, and had mentioned in passing that she thought heeseung was cute.

perfect. just…not for you.

your chest tightened at the thought, but you ignored it, convincing yourself it didn’t matter. this wasn’t about you. it was about him. so you texted her, casually suggesting a group hangout and strategically arranging it so she and heeseung would have plenty of time to talk.

the hangout itself seemed to go fine—or so you told yourself. you kept a careful eye on them from across the room, watching as they exchanged polite smiles and small talk. it didn’t hurt, not really, but you couldn’t deny the odd feeling that settled in your stomach when you saw the way yeorin laughed at his jokes.

you couldn’t lie and say that you weren’t happy when heeseung reported back to you, that she just “didn’t match his vibe,”

when heeseung reported back to you the next day, you couldn’t lie and say you weren’t relieved when he shrugged and said, “she just didn’t match my vibe.”

you raised an eyebrow, masking the quiet satisfaction bubbling up in your chest. “what’s that supposed to mean?”

“i don’t know,” heeseung replied, leaning back against the cafeteria table. “she’s nice and all, but it felt... off. like, there wasn’t anything to talk about,”

you masked your relief with quick witted jabs at him, with a chuckle, “maybe you’re the common denominator, and you’re just faulty.

he gave you a mock glare before cracking a smile. “yeah, or maybe she’s just not my type. you’re the expert here, aren’t you? isn’t it your job to figure this out?”

you laughed, though your mind was already racing to come up with the next plan. this wasn’t going to be easy. “okay,” 

─── ♡

YOU WERE CONTENT WITH TRYING AND FAILING, UNTIL YOU FAILED YOURSELF AND INTRODUCED HIM TO HER.

weeks of casual scouting, setting up dates with mutual friends that you knew were into him, and analyzing potential matches later, you finally introduced heeseung to her—a sweet, bright girl named hyejin from your calculus class.

you’d always thought she’d be perfect for him. she was kind, outgoing, and had that same quiet confidence that heeseung carried himself with. to your surprise (and mild horror), the two of them hit it off almost immediately.

they even looked good together, more so than you and him would ever.

you’d watched from a distance during the group outing you’d orchestrated, pretending not to care as heeseung and hyejin laughed together, their conversation flowing effortlessly. heeseung’s usual guarded demeanor had softened, and for the first time, you saw him genuinely invested in getting to know someone.

“you’re really good at this matchmaking thing,” your friend karina had whispered, nudging your side as she caught you watching them.

you forced a smile, brushing it off. “i guess so. he deserves to be happy, you know? thank god finally, hate that guy,” you attempted to joke, feeling your throat go dry.

karina hummed sensing your mock laugh, but kept quiet.

the final straw came during another hangout between the three of you, which was just you third wheeling on a date. hyejin had been running late, and while you and heeseung waited for her to arrive, he seemed distracted, checking his phone every few minutes.

“nervous or something?” you joked, nudging him with your elbow.

heeseung smiled sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck. “no, just...i don’t want her to feel left out when she gets here.”

“she’ll be fine,” you assured him, forcing a smile. “she likes you, remember? you’ve got nothing to worry about.”

when hyejin finally showed up, the way heeseung’s face lit up was all the confirmation you needed. you watched as he stood up to greet her, his usually calm demeanor breaking into a soft, boyish grin that you’d never seen directed at you.

and that’s when it hit you—this wasn’t just a game anymore. this wasn’t about proving you could find him the perfect girl. this was real, and heeseung was slipping further away from you with every passing day.

you kept up the charade, though. every time heeseung mentioned her name, you smiled and encouraged him, offering advice or teasing him about being “whipped” already.

“she’s different,” he’d said one afternoon when the two of you were hanging out in the library.

“different how?” you asked, trying to keep your tone light even as your stomach twisted.

“i don’t know,” he admitted, running a hand through his hair. “she’s just...easy to talk to. i feel like she actually gets me, you know?”

you nodded, swallowing the lump in your throat. “that’s great, hee. i’m happy for you.”

“guess you won our bet huh,” he joked, his full attention on texting hyejin back the second his phone lit up with a text from her.

“yeah. guess i did,” you hummed, too distracted to even fully register what he was saying anymore, too focused on the way his eyes lit up just seeing her text.

─── ♡

YOU FIGURED THAT WAS THE END OF YOU AND HIM.

and you weren’t wrong to think so. you couldn’t bare to see him with her. every single time you did, you felt like smashing your head into a locker just to push away the thought of how you just weren’t her.

plus who would want their talking phase hanging around his girl best friend, and it’s not even like she didn’t invite you to their hangouts. cause she did. and it hurt you more knowing that she was doing it because she didn’t mind that. 

because she was perfect, and she wasn’t two faced or anything like how you somewhere deep down hoped she was. you wished you could have a reason to hate her. but in reality, you hated her because you couldn’t find a reason to.

you started pulling away, not all at once, but little by little—enough for heeseung to notice, but not enough for him to call you out on it. you skipped out on hangouts with their new couple group, citing homework or vague excuses about being busy. when heeseung texted, you’d reply late, blaming it on being “swamped with assignments.” you even started sitting a few rows away in class, pretending not to notice when he looked for you.

but the truth was, you were avoiding him because being around him—around them—hurt more than you could handle.

you couldn’t tell which hurt more, talking to him, or not talking to him at all. both equally felt like you were ripping your heart out of your chest and stabbing it with a fork over, and over, and over.

the worst part was, heeseung still checked in on you. he’d send you little messages asking if you were okay, reminding you not to skip meals, and forwarding memes to make you laugh. it made it harder, knowing he still cared in some way, but it wasn’t the way you wanted.

the hardest pill to swallow was you only had yourself to blame it on. not heeseung, not hyejin, or any of your other friends that said they looked cute together.

“you’re being ridiculous, you know,” karina said one afternoon as the two of you sat in your usual spot in the library.

“i don’t know what you’re talking about,” you muttered, not looking up from your notes.

karina sighed, shutting her book with a dramatic thud. “you’re avoiding heeseung like he has the plague. do you really think he hasn’t noticed?”

“he doesn’t care,” you lied, the words bitter in your mouth. “he’s got hyejin now. he doesn’t need me around.”

karina frowned, leaning closer. “that’s not true, and you know it. just because he’s dating her doesn’t mean he’s forgotten about you. you’re his best friend, y/n. don’t throw that away because you’re jealous.”

you flinched at her bluntness but didn’t deny it. you hated how transparent you were, how easily karina could see through the wall you were trying to put up.

“it’s not jealousy,” you said finally, though even you didn’t believe it. “i just... i need space, from him, thats all.”

karina sighed again, but she didn’t press further. fine. but don’t let this space turn into a permanent gap, y/n. he’s going to notice eventually, and it’s going to hurt him too.”

her words stayed with you long after she left. maybe she was right, but you couldn’t help thinking it was better this way. better to let the distance grow now, while he had hyejin to lean on, than to risk clinging to something you’d already lost.

even though they weren’t officially dating, they might as well have been in your head the way you had took a step back from your friendship between the both of them.

so you kept your distance, even as it killed you to do so. you weren’t losing him, because you never had him. because if heeseung was happy with her, then wasn’t that enough?

─── ♡

THE NEXT TIME YOU SAW HEESEUNG FACE TO FACE WAS AT ANOTHER ONE OF THOSE GROUP OUTINGS.

you’d tried to avoid it, of course, but karina dragged you along, claiming you needed to “stop being a hermit” and “face your feelings head-on.” despite your protests, you found yourself sitting in a crowded booth at a diner, stuck between karina and jake while heeseung and hyejin sat directly across from you.

the whole setup was a slow burn of torture. heeseung was his usual self—laughing, teasing jake, and making jokes that made everyone around him burst into giggles. but you noticed the way his attention kept drifting to you, how he’d glance your way every so often as if trying to gauge what you were thinking.

you tried your best to put on your strongest face at least for tonight. pretend that everything that was fine.

“you’ve been quiet tonight,” heeseung said suddenly, his voice cutting through the chatter.

you blinked, startled, as everyone’s eyes turned to you. “oh, uh, just tired,” you said, forcing a smile.

“y/n’s always tired,” jake chimed in, nudging you with his elbow. “or at least that’s her go-to excuse for everything.”

“it’s a good excuse,” you shot back, grateful for the distraction.

heeseung’s gaze lingered on you for a moment longer, something unreadable in his expression, before hyejin said something to him, and his attention shifted back to her.

as the night went on, you couldn’t help but notice how effortlessly hyejin fit into the group. she laughed at all the right moments, added just enough to the conversation without overshadowing anyone, and seemed to understand heeseung in a way that made your stomach twist.

you hated how perfect she was.

“gonna go pay,” you mumbled to karina, sliding out of the booth before anyone could stop you. might as well pick up the bill to make up for all the hangouts you had missed.

once at the front counter paying for your shitty overpriced meal, you looked at the mirror behind the counter, looking yourself in the eye.

“pull yourself together,” you muttered under your breath, closing your eyes taking a sigh, waiting for the people in front of you to finish paying.

when you opened your eyes, you noticed heeseung’s familiar figure behind you when you looked into the mirror. you looked him up and down from the side noticing how tense he seemed.

heeseung didn’t move. instead crossing his arms over his chest. “you’ve been avoiding me.”

you froze, your heart hammering in your chest. “i don’t know what you’re talking about.”

he raised an eyebrow, clearly unconvinced. “you barely text back, you skip out on plans, and now you won’t even look me in the eye. what’s going on, y/n?”

your throat tightened, and you looked away, pretending to focus on finding something in your bag, fumbling around with the chapstick, wallet, and candy wrapper still remnant in it. “nothing’s going on. you’re imagining things.”

“don’t do that,” he said, his voice softening. “don’t shut me out.”

you swallowed hard, the weight of his words pressing down on you. for a moment, you thought about telling him the truth—about the jealousy, the hurt, and the feelings you’d been burying for years. but then you thought about hyejin, and how happy he seemed with her, and the words caught in your throat.

“i’m fine, heeseung,” you said finally, forcing a smile, looking him straight in the eye. “you don’t need to worry about me, go sit down at the table with karina, jake, and hyejin, i got the bill,”

“okay,” he said quietly. “but i’m here if you need me.”

as he left to go back to the table, your heart felt heavier than ever. because you knew you needed him. you just weren’t sure he needed you anymore.

─── ♡

THE DAYS THAT FOLLOWED WERE A BLUR OF AWKWARD SILENCES AND FORCED SMILES.

you continued to avoid heeseung as best as you could, half-heartedly pretending everything was fine, by smiling when you did happen to see him. but deep down, the weight of the distance between the two of you was starting to gnaw at you.

you couldn’t lie and say that you didn’t make specialized playlists about the breakup that never happened, since well. you were just never together. 

what surprised you the most was when hyejin asked you to go get coffee and chat. you weren’t close with her (or at least not anymore), and it confused you even more when she mentioned it would’ve just been the two of you. 

"hey," she greeted, her voice soft and calm. "glad you could make it."

“i just wanted to check in with you,” hyejin said, her eyes studying you with an understanding that made you feel both seen and vulnerable.

you slid into the seat across from her, still unsure of why she wanted to talk. "yeah i’m okay. what’s going on? you sounded like you really wanted to chat."

“well, it’s about…you,”

oh.

here's the part where she tells you that you need to stop being friends with heeseung and it’s getting in the way, and she’s not comfortable with him having extremely close female fri-

“thank you for introducing me to heeseung. he’s one hell of a guy, and so extremely kind. but, he’s not mine. i know it. i know his heart belongs to you,” she smiles, a grain of hurt coming from her voice, yet the way she grins, holding your hand in hers is more admirable than you could ever imagine.

you froze, your heart stopping for a moment. "what?" you managed to choke out, almost in disbelief. you couldn’t have heard her right. 

hyejin’s gaze softened, and she leaned in slightly, her voice quiet but firm. "y/n, I’ve seen it. the way he talks about you when you’re not around. it’s obvious. and i'm not blind to it. he’s been so incredibly worried that you’re pulling away, and it’s beyond just ‘worrying about a friend’,”

a cold wave of shock washed over you, mixing with a bitter sense of guilt that you hadn't known how to face. you felt like a coward. "but... but we’re just friends. we’ve been friends forever," you stammered, trying to keep your voice steady. “i didn’t want to get in between you two,”

hyejin squeezed your hand gently, her expression still calm but filled with understanding. "y/n, you're not getting in between us," she said softly. "i know you care about him, and i know you’re trying not to ruin anything, but heeseung’s been in love with you for a while now. i can see it just by the way he talks about you, even when he's not trying to." she laughs as though she’s recalling a memory from the back of her mind.

"and you? what about you? you’re okay with this?" you asked, your voice almost breaking. it was hard to ask, but you had to. you couldn’t go on pretending like everything was fine when she had been involved too.

hyejin smiled, soft and understanding. "you’re my friend, y/n. and i want what’s best for you. if that means giving up heeseung, then i’ll do it. you don’t have to worry about me. he’s not mine, and he never was. i’m just glad i got to meet someone like him, but he’s always been yours in a way. i already broke it off with him, we’re just friends now."

there was something in her words, a sense of grace and strength that you didn’t know she had, and it made you feel even more guilty for holding onto your feelings for so long. but it also gave you the push you needed. hyejin had let go, and maybe it was finally time for you to do the same.

"thank you," you whispered, your voice thick with emotion. "i didn’t expect this... i didn’t expect you to be so understanding."

hyejin gave you a small, warm smile. "of course. just promise me one thing?"

"anything."

"don’t let fear stop you from going after what you want. you deserve to be happy, y/n. you really do."

you nodded slowly, feeling the weight of her words settle deep inside of you. there was still so much uncertainty, so many what-ifs, but for the first time in a long time, you felt ready to face them head-on.

─── ♡

NO TIME LIKE THE PRESENT IT SEEMED.

as later that day, you found yourself sitting in your usual spot at the library, tapping your fingers against the table, waiting for heeseung. when he walked in, a casual smile on his face, your heart gave a little jump in your chest. but this time, it was different. you weren’t just happy to see him as a friend—you were hoping that maybe, just maybe, there could be more.

though, you knew from experience, it was better to not jump to conclusions and have high hopes.

he sat across from you, his usual laid-back demeanor in place, but there was something in his eyes that felt... different. maybe he was feeling it too. maybe he had been waiting for this moment just as much as you had.

"so," he said, leaning back in his chair, his voice light but with an undercurrent of tension, "what’s up? you seemed a little off the last time we talked."

“i need to apologize. to you.”

he nodded slowly, unsure of what you were going to say and how he’d react.

“i’m sorry for distancing myself after you and hyejin got close. i should’ve been happy for the two of you, i mean hell, i set the two of you up, but i couldn’t find it in myself to.” you took a deep breath, pausing. 

"because," you continued, your voice wavering slightly, "i was too focused on my own feelings. i didn’t realize how much it was affecting me until i saw you two together. and honestly, i felt like i was losing you, even though i knew i had no right to. i let my jealousy get the best of me, and i shouldn't have." you looked down at the table, tapping your index finger to distract your hands from doing something stupid.

“y/n i-” he began to respond, not missing a beat. you shook your head before beginning again. “i need to do this for myself,” you mumbled.

“truth is, when i set you up with people, i figured i just needed to get over loving you, and i obviously didn’t see myself fit as i was just your best friend. thing is, i just didn’t get over loving you and i pushed myself away out of fear of fucking things up, i’ve been an asshole and haven’t been giving you the respect and kindness you or hyejin deserve, and i’m sorry. i completely understand if you still like her, but i just need to get it out there,” you gave some sort of snort, before exhaling now that everything is out. 

heeseung’s expression softened, and he took a deep breath, letting out a small sigh as he processed your words.

“can i speak now?” he asked softly. you slowly looked up and nodded, taking in the expression on his face, unable to clearly make out what would fall out of his mouth next.

heeseung leaned forward slightly, his eyes intense yet gentle as he searched yours for a moment, as if trying to make sure you were ready for what he was about to say.

“i never wanted to make you feel like you were just my best friend," he began, his voice steady but laced with something deeper. "i’ve always known how much you mean to me, and i’ve always cared about you more than i ever let on.”

 a knot formed in your stomach as his words sank in.

“the truth is, i was just as afraid as you. afraid of ruining everything between us. afraid of messing things up, because what if you didn’t feel the same way? what if we couldn’t go back to being just... us?” he continued, his gaze unwavering. 

“so i tried to convince myself that i didn’t feel what i felt for you. i never really dated anyone else, hoping that maybe there was still something between us. then, when you started setting me up with your friends, i thought maybe i just needed to move on, to let go of what i felt for you. but no matter what, it never went away.”

you blinked, feeling like your world had just shifted ever so slightly, as if everything that had been buried was slowly coming to the surface. "so, what are you saying?" you asked, barely above a whisper, your voice shaking slightly with the weight of it all.

heeseung gave you a soft, almost hesitant smile. "i'm saying that i want to stop pretending. i want to stop running away from this... from us." he paused, his eyes softening. "i’ve always wanted you. and if you’ll have me, i want to try. i don’t want to hold back anymore."

you took a breath, feeling the tightness in your chest slowly dissolve as you let his words settle over you. "okay," you whispered, your heart pounding as you squeezed his hand. "let's do this."

─── ♡

YOU’D SPENT THE NEXT FEW DAYS HANGING OUT WITH HIM LIKE OLD TIMES

sometimes you’d catch him glancing at you in a way you couldn’t quite place, and other times, he’d drop little remarks that seemed to hint at something more than just friendship. as if you hadn’t already established you were beyond friends. just…not exactly what type of relationship you had.

one evening, as you were both sitting on your rooftop, watching the sun dip below the horizon, heeseung nudged your shoulder with his own.

“so, this is weird, huh?” he said, voice low.

you laughed softly, nodding. “just a little. but we’ll figure it out.”

“yeah,” he agreed, his voice a little softer. “i think we already have.”

you turned to look at him, meeting his gaze. there was something in his eyes—a mix of vulnerability and certainty—that made your heart race. it wasn’t that he hadn’t always been a little guarded, but there was a clarity now. as if you were both stepping into something new, together.

heeseung leaned in a little further, his breath warm against your cheek. you could feel his eyes searching yours, looking for confirmation, for something more than words.

“you still want to try this?” he murmured.

without thinking, you reached up to place your hand gently against his cheek. “yeah. i think i do.”

the space between you closed, with his lips on yours, and for the first time in a long while, everything felt right.

@ coqhee 2025. all rights reserved.

[snowluvvie]

₊˚⊹ ♡ . mutt!rafe cameron

MINORS DNI. | warnings — possessive behavior, toxic relationship, smut, oral (f. receiving), violence, blood, codependency, biting

mutt Rafe, who shows up on your front step with his hand in his mouth, chewing furiously at his fingernails, head hung because he had nowhere else to go

mutt Rafe, who offers to sleep on the couch in the most insincere, unconvincing tone of voice you’ve ever heard, and makes zero effort to hide his grin when you tell him he can just sleep in the bed

mutt Rafe who suddenly feels entitled to every inch of your house and everything you own just because you let him in. he eats whatever he wants out of your fridge, walks around shirtless, gets water all over your bathroom floor from shaking his hair out after he showers. you try to remind him that he’s a guest, but Rafe is too busy acting like it’s all his territory now

speaking of territory. you’re his and he won’t hear anything otherwise. he’s glued to you all the time when you guys are out—he doesn’t wanna do “his own thing” so he doesn’t see why you have to. why can’t he just be next to you all the time?

arm slung around your waist or over your shoulders, a cute back hug that turns into his bicep encircling your throat and squishing your cheeks together. he laughs like it’s a cute little show of affection, but you see the way his eyes dart around like he’s making sure other people see

bites you during sex, he can’t even help it. he gets so lost in rutting into you and proving he can make you cum harder than anyone else, when you’re in mating press with your legs over your head and he leans down to press open-mouthed kisses to your calves as he’s fucking you, they quickly turn into harsh bites that leave imprints that everyone will see tomorrow

when he’s about to go down to you, and he’s teasing you because of how much he loves to hear you beg, pressing kisses and licking stripes up your inner thigh, he also sneaks in a harsh bite. your thighs are so soft and inviting, how could he not? the way your back arches when you cry out in pain makes him so hard he gets dizzy

mutt Rafe whose bite pattern you’ve seen etched into your soft skin so often you could practically draw it from memory

mutt Rafe who sees a random guy bump into you and not say sorry at a decently crowded party and is immediately laying into him, dragging him outside by the back of his neck, kicking him until he’s crying. when you get outside and he hears you say “Rafe” in that stern voice, he stops immediately and leaves the guy on the ground to follow you as you leave

head hanging because he can tell you’re disappointed in him but he can’t figure out why. “I did it for you!” he’s following behind you and waving his hands around as he emphatically explains that “you don’t understand! I was protecting you, it was for you!”

if someone tries to hurt you, he has to put them down! that’s what you do when you love someone! you make the world a safer place for them, right? he assumes you just don’t understand what he’s saying, because he knows he’s right

you haven’t talked to him and you’re getting into bed in your cute little PJs, he looms in the doorway with his hands in his pockets, waiting. you roll your eyes and gesture for him to join you and he immediately clambers to get into bed next to you

you had planned on staying mad but when you feel his warm, hard body pushed up against you, his mouth against your cheek as he’s mouthing “don’t be mad” into your skin, your resolve shatters and you’re making out with him breathily. He keeps saying that—“c’mon, don’t be mad” through gasps and grunts the whole time he’s fucking you

mutt Rafe who eats more meat that anyone you’ve ever met in your life, yammering on about protein and iron intake. you don’t complain, though, when he brings home pounds of steak and cooks them for both of you

mutt Rafe who presents you with the most perfect medium rare steak, placing the plate down gently in your lap before he sits down next to you and subtly watches your face as you eat to make sure you like it

asks casually “was it good?” every time. so casually, putting on an oscar-winning performance of not caring, though when you hum “mm-hm” and say thank you with those eyes looking up at him, he gets a big dumb smile on his face as he takes both your plates to the kitchen

mutt Rafe who sulks around the house when you’re too busy to fuck him, which is made ten times more irritating by the fact that he always wants to fuck you and can’t seem to wrap his head around why you can’t be fucking twenty-four-seven

mutt Rafe who has zero concept of boundaries or personal time and doesn’t see why he can’t be with you whenever he wants? he feels entitled to your alone time, doesn’t see why you need it

mutt Rafe who slips into the shower with you so quietly you didn’t even know he was there until you see him, you screech at the top of your lungs and he laughs and has to catch you so you don’t slip and bust your head

he ignores your indignant fussing in favor of burying his face in your neck, and you’ve barely gotten in a single word before he has you pressed flush against the wall and has already buried himself inside of you with a low, satisfied moan

mutt Rafe who won’t get off of you, ever

mutt Rafe who pulls you onto his chest and squishes you into the crook of his armpit and is so, so warm and smells like leather polish and cologne and something else distinctly him

mutt Rafe who lays his head across your lap and stretches his shirtless body out across the whole couch. just to be annoying, at first, to get in your personal space and on your nerves, but his eyes drag shut when you start carding your fingers through his hair

mutt Rafe who gets frustrated when you won’t pay attention to him, if you’re laying in bed and reading or scrolling on your phone, he’ll stand at the end of the bed and yank on your legs, pull you down the bed and bite your feet and your calves as you screech with laughter and try to kick him

mutt Rafe who teaches you how to ride his dirt bike with hands guiding yours on the handbars and gripping your hips to guide your sitting position

when you take a tumble and bust your lip on the ground, blood running down your chin, he scoops you up off the ground like you weigh as much as a leaf. he squishes your face in his hand and gives you a sympathetic frown, telling you that “you’ll get it next time, yeah? takes practice.” he swipes some of the blood off your chin with his thumb and pops it in his mouth, like he wiped a little smudge of food off your face, and not your own blood

mutt Rafe who carries you home and leaves his dirt bike behind, and tells you you’re still the prettiest thing he’s ever seen even when your smile is stained with red

mutt Rafe who needs your reassurance that you’re proud of him, that he’s doing well, that he’s taking care of things, that he’s taking care of you. his eyes glaze over when you tell him you’re glad he’s around, he’s doing such a good job. he nods dumbly, head empty aside from the warm glow at your praise

mutt Rafe who watches you with intense eyes as you wrap a bandage around his knuckles. he decked someone for being mean to you again, so hard he almost broke his own hand and definitely broke the other guy’s nose

this time, you didn’t reprimand him. he’s trying to gauge your reaction, figure out what you’re thinking, but you’re keeping it tamped down because weirdly, you liked it a little this time. what does that say about you?

mutt Rafe who becomes junkyard guard dog Rafe—mean and singleminded and covered in blood—if you aren’t careful how you talk to him

[stvrnioloslvt]

fingers, a matt sturniolo blurb

ও

you sighed, tossing again around the bed, restless. no matter how much more tired you got, you just couldn't seem to fall asleep like you wanted, which was weird, really, considering you had spent the last two hours playing twister with the triplets.

and now, everyone laid in their own bed sound asleep, while you had to battle with the stupid ache between your legs. you didn't even know why you were in the mood all of a sudden, it just hit you right as you were falling asleep.

you pushed your thighs together harder, hoping to soothe the ache at least a little. you knew that the only way to get rid of it was to touch yourself, but you would never do it in someone else's bed, while said someone softly snored right next to you.

so all you had left was to push through it and wait for it to go away alone, praying it wouldn't take another hour.

you pressed your face in the soft pillow, carefully rubbing your legs together. next to you, matt blabbered something incoherent in his sleep before his eyes slowly peeled open, blinking tiredly a couple times to focus his eyes on you.

his hand reached for your shoulder, gently shaking you. you turned your head towards him, whispering confusedly "what's wrong?"

"i was going to ask you the same thing," he replied, the second half of the sentence being muffled by a yawn, a hand lazily rubbing his eyes. fuck, why was he hot even when half-asleep?

"nothing, just can't sleep," you said, sighing as once again you restrained yourself from sneakily reaching your hand between your legs and giving yourself the release your body craved.

matt shifted closer to you, slightly lifting up the duvet in the process, noticing right away your thighs rubbing against each other, your hips bucking up in the process almost imperceptibly.

his hand drew comforting circles on your hip, his lips immediately finding yours. you sighed into the kiss, melting in his arms. slowly, matt's hand travelled lower, pressing in the plump flesh of your thigh.

his other arm snaked around you, pulling you closer to his chest and hugging you tight.

he gave your thigh a little squeeze before his fingertips pressed tentatively on the wet cotton shorts you were wearing, drawing soft circles over your clit.

you gasped at the contact, eyes rolling back as you finally got the relief your body wanted so desperately. you hid your head in the crook of his neck, his skin muffling your needy moans as his fingers dipped inside your shorts and panties, running up and down your slit to collect your juices before circling your clit.

"fuck," he mumbled, his other hand locking in your hair and keeping you close there, "is this what you needed, doll?"

you nodded, your cheeks burning in embarrassment while you lightly nipped at the warm skin of his neck as he pushed two fingers inside you, curling them skillfully just like you liked it, stroking your walls just right.

your hands fisted the shirt on his chest, your moans turning into whines and whimpers as matt worked you closer to your orgasm.

"i know, doll, i know," he cooed, lovingly caressing your head while his fingers thrusted in and out of you, slick noises filling the room. "just needed daddy's fingers, mh? is that why you couldn't sleep?"

you nodded, too far gone to even put together a couple words together, your mind completely blank. nothing in that moment mattered, aside from the blissful feeling washing over you unexpectedly hard, leaving you a whimpering mess, tired and worn out, trembling in matt's arms.

you whined as the boy gently took out his fingers, fixing your clothes before slipping said fingers in his mouth to suck them clean.

"feeling better, doll?" he asked, watching lovingly as your eyes slowly became heavy and hard to keep open, your ragged breath turning into a soft, slow rhythm. he smiled, wrapping both arms around you before he let himself fall asleep.

© stvrnioloslvt

ও

ও so, I got uh... carried away. I also have a daddy kink. yeah.

[theyluvpeach]

¨your vibes are off.¨

chris needs a good high to sleep, so he hits you up. dealer!reader x client!chris blurb. ⋆ ★

Chris can't sleep.

He's been awake for 72 hours now. Every single time he watches the clock change to a new number, measuring the amount he hasn't had his head shoved between his pillow. He kisses teeth. His usual strain of weed from his dealer just isn't doing it for him anymore.

He doesn't like having his business all out there, but this is ridiculous. So he turns to Matt.

When Matt sends your Instagram he thinks he's tripping, why would you be a dealer?

He knows you, not personally but he's seen you around. bright outfits, big jewelry, small bottoms, tight shirts, bold makeup—He's sure everyone on campus knows your name. You're at frats everyweekend, clubs every other week.

You look like you hang out with unicorns and fairies in your free time, why on earth would you be a dealer?

He takes Matt's word though. He finds out that you're gonna be at their frat later tonight for one of his frat brother's birthday, which ultimately is perfect because he didn't feel like chasing you down.

You're not hard to spot.

Almost mesh white top, brown mini skirt, knee-high black boots, gold chains dance along your waist, and gold bangles on your arms to match. You're a sight alright.

When he comes up to you, you're leaning against the wall, hair splayed out behind you, 2 drinks in hand, and a dazed look on your face.

"Hi." You say glancing up to him with a small smile. "Chris, right? Youngest of the triplets?"

He gives a nod in return. "Mhnp..." You let out of a soft noise that leads to him locking eyes with you. The glitter that's on your lids clumps in your mascara and makes your eyes sparkle, your lips tinted in a cherry shade. He blinks at you.

You just look at him. You stare at him like you're trying to read his soul. He hates it. But he can't bring himself to look away from you.

He begins to pull out his wallet, "Matt already paid for you, s okay." He quickly shoves his wallet back into his pocket, "Hold this." You say handing him 1 of the 2 drinks you're holding, and he does. For some reason.

You reach into your bra and pull out a small glitter baggie. "Are you serious?"

You blink. "S just a bag." You roll your eyes. Chris is starting to get annoyed at how long this interaction is taking. He's been awake for far too long, and his eyes are starting to burn like crazy. He practically snatches the small bag from your hand.

Chris is pissed. "What the—?" Okay, the pink rolling paper is pushing it, but a bow wrapped around a joint?

"What is your deal—! I.." The more he stares down at the joint, the more he notices. He can see light purple and pink sprinkled throughout the joint. "What's in this?"

"Weed."

He scoffs. "Obviously, dumbass— what other shit did you put in here?"

If music wasn't blasting hard enough for you to feel it in your heart, everyone would hear how loud Chris is yelling at you.

You glare at him—The dazed look on your face slowly disappearing. "Lavender and rose. They help calm anxiety," You say, clutching the drink in your hand tighter, causing it to spill over. "It's a free joint, man, your brother already paid for it, he specifically asked for this one," You step away from the wall and maintain eye contact, you're close enough to feel his breath on your lips.

"But if my glitter bag and my bow bother you so much, you don't have to take it. So. Do. You. Want. It. Or. Not?" You hit the center of his chest with your acrylic nail repeatedly, as each word files out of your mouth. If Chris wasn't sleep deprived, he'd probably do something about it. Like dragging you off to his room and showing what else you could do with that big mouth. But right now, all he wants to do is smoke, get high, and pass the fuck out.

"I'll take it." He grumbles, staring directly down at you, refusing to be the one to break the eye contact you guys have been holding for so long.

"Yeah." You roll your eyes and step back. "That's what I thought." You say, snatching back the drink you gave him to hold and walking off.

He thinks you're an annoying little piece of work, but that doesn't stop him from staring at your ass as you walk away.

When you're finally out of his sight is when goes off to his room.

He lets out a deep sigh sigh as he closes his door behind him, the music of the party slightly muffled by his door. He feels his phone go off.

matt: yo

tf you say to n/n???

chris: ?

matt: she said your vibes are off

Chris scoffs. If he doesn't get high enough from your little mythical fairy joint he's finding you, immediately.

Chris sleeps like a baby that night.

tags 𝜗𝜚⋆₊˚: @inspiredangel

[fangdokja]

🔞“He says he’d do anything for you. But would you believe him?”

❤︎ Synopsis. Beneath his playful smile lies a predator in waiting—muscles honed for control, a filthy mind veiled by charm, and a dark obsession that festers with every glance you give him. You think he’s harmless, but when his restraint finally snaps, you’ll learn just how wrong you’ve been.

♡ Book. Whispers in the Dark (WITD): Subtle Devotion, Lingering Shadows.

♡ Pairing. Yandere! Best Friend x Fem. Reader

♡ Headcanons. Unspoken Desires - Part 1

♡ Word Count. 5,580

♡ TW. dom + top + older + sadistic yandere, general non-con + manipulation, fear play, isolation, monitoring, non-con kissing and/or touching, forced relationship, BDSM, depression and mental illnesses, implied suicidal tendencies, unhealthy coping mechanisms, masturbation, hinted needle play, degradation, name calling, implied drugging

♡ Note. Due to Tumblr content guidelines involving mental illnesses, self-harm, and suicide, some plot details of the original story were purposefully made ambiguous to fit the platform.

♡ A/N. Actually I was trying to write wholesome, then it went to my usual writing style oop. Though, I wouldn't really say this is explicit. Seems lax for me, but that also has its own appeal.

♡ Yandere! Best Friend who grew up with you in a tiny village nestled deep in the heart of a high fantasy world, where magic thrummed beneath the earth like a heartbeat and gods were whispered about in the rustling of leaves. A world where war and peace ebbed and flowed like the tides, and your childhood playgrounds were forests that spoke in riddles and rivers that glowed faintly under moonlight.

♡ Yandere! Best Friend who first met you when you saved his life—or maybe he saved yours. You can’t even remember anymore. But you were just kids back then, barely old enough to wield a knife, much less survive a wolf attack in the woods. He’d laughed with bloodied teeth and sparkling eyes, like almost dying was the best day of his life.

"You’re an idiot," you’d muttered as you yanked him out of the beast’s jaws, dragging him behind a tree.

"Yeah, but you saved me," he grinned through bloodied teeth, his grin wide enough to split his face.

"Only so I don’t have to explain to everyone else why I let you die."

"Sure, sure. Keep telling yourself that."

♡ Yandere! Best Friend who was always a little too much—too fast, too loud, too bright. The kind of kid whose presence filled every corner of a room, whose schemes were impossible to ignore, and whose laugh could somehow make you feel both exhausted and alive.

♡ Yandere! Best Friend who was the sun, burning at a temperature that should’ve incinerated him, and you? You were the moon, distant and cold, orbiting him only because you didn’t mind the warmth.

"You’re like a puppy," you said once, watching him pace excitedly as he rattled off yet another harebrained scheme.

"Like a what?" He froze mid-step, his eyes wide with mock offense.

"A puppy. Annoying, loud, and too full of energy."

"I am not annoying!" he exclaimed, throwing his arms out dramatically. "I’m charming."

"Sure you are."

"And loud? That’s just passion!"

"Passion’s another word for obnoxious, you know."

He gasped, clutching his chest like you’d stabbed him. "Take it back!"

"No."

"You’re heartless!"

♡ Yandere! Best Friend who was your partner in everything. You weren’t just two kids in a village—you were an unstoppable duo, a myth in the making. Climbing mountains to see if you could touch the clouds, sneaking into the elder’s home to steal forbidden scrolls, setting traps for monsters that only existed in bedtime stories.

"You’re going to get us caught," you whispered as he crouched beside the elder’s door, fiddling with the lock.

"Not if you keep watch," he replied, grinning like this was the most fun he’d ever had.

"Keep watch? I’m not an accomplice to your idiocy."

"Too late. You’re already here."

"By force."

"Uh-huh. And yet you’re still standing here, helping me."

You rolled your eyes, but your lips twitched into a reluctant smile. "I hate you sometimes."

"Only sometimes? I must be doing something right!"

Everyone else thought he was insane, but you always followed. Not because you believed in his harebrained schemes, but because his chaos made you feel alive in a way you didn’t understand.

♡ Yandere! Best Friend who was terrifyingly smart in ways that shouldn’t have been possible. He didn’t just think outside the box; he dismantled it, set it on fire, and then asked why it existed in the first place. He could weave together plans and schemes that made grown adults stammer in awe—or fear.

"You’re going to blow us up one day," you deadpanned as he rigged a trap out of nothing but twigs and string.

"Not ‘blow up,’" he corrected, his hands moving deftly. "Just… scare off the bad guys."

"Bad guys? You mean the squirrels?"

"They’re shifty little things."

"You’re insane."

"And yet, you’re still standing here."

"To see how you plan to die this time."

But he was also the same boy who fell into rivers because he forgot they were slippery, or who got stuck in a tree because he didn’t think about how he’d climb back down.

♡ Yandere! Best Friend who, even as a child, hated the idea of losing you. He didn’t show it in ways you’d notice—he wasn’t clingy or possessive yet—but he’d always insist on being there.

"You don’t have to follow me everywhere," you grumbled one day, watching him trail behind you.

"Yeah, but what if something happens to you?" he said, grinning like it was a joke.

"Like what? Tripping on a rock?"

"You joke, but rocks are deadly."

"You’re impossible."

"And you’re stuck with me."

Wherever you went, whatever you did, he was there. Even when he got mad at you, even when you got mad at him, the idea of being apart was something neither of you could bear.

────────────

♡ Yandere! Best Friend who, as you both grew older, turned your childhood games into full-fledged adventures.

♡ Yandere! Best Friend who always made sure you had his back, just as he had yours. It didn’t matter if you were facing bandits, cursed creatures, or labyrinths that seemed impossible to escape—he would always find a way to pull you through.

And you’d do the same for him, even when he tried to stop you. Especially when he tried to stop you.

♡ Yandere! Best Friend who hated how you always put yourself in danger for him.

Whether it was throwing yourself in front of an attack, volunteering to distract enemies so he could escape, or using the last of your strength to save him, it drove him absolutely insane.

He’d smile through gritted teeth, trying to play it off as his usual carefree self, but you could see the tightness in his jaw, the way his hands clenched into fists.

♡ Yandere! Best Friend who started to argue with you more and more because of it.

At first, it was just teasing jabs—“You know, one day you’re going to get yourself killed pulling stunts like that.”

But when you kept doing it, his tone grew sharper, his words harsher. “Do you even care about your own life? Do you think I’d just let you throw yourself away like that?!”

♡ Yandere! Best Friend who, despite his frustration, couldn’t stop you.

No matter how many times he argued, begged, or outright yelled at you to stop risking yourself, you always brushed him off with that infuriatingly calm logic of yours.

“If I didn’t, you’d be dead. So what’s the problem?” And every time you said it, he felt like his chest was going to explode—partly from anger, but mostly from fear.

♡ Yandere! Best Friend who would never admit it, but the thought of losing you terrified him more than anything else in the world.

He’d rather lose a limb, his powers, even his own mind, if it meant keeping you safe.

And the fact that you didn’t seem to value your life as much as he did made something dark and desperate coil in his chest.

♡ Yandere! Best Friend who, during one of your worst arguments, snapped. His usual charm and humor vanished, replaced by raw, unfiltered rage.

“Do you think I need your sacrifices? That I’m some helpless idiot who can’t survive without you throwing yourself in harm’s way? I’m not weak, and I don’t want to watch you die for me, do you understand that?!”

♡ Yandere! Best Friend who stormed off after that, leaving you both in silence for hours, maybe even days.

But when he came back, he wasn’t angry anymore.

His voice was calm, his smile soft, but there was something unsettling about the way he looked at you, like he was trying to memorize every inch of you in case you disappeared.

♡ Yandere! Best Friend who started to take more control over your adventures after that. He’d laugh and joke like normal, but he always seemed to steer you away from the most dangerous paths, even if it meant taking longer to reach your destination.

And if you ever tried to put yourself in harm’s way again, he’d find a way to stop you—whether it was with words, tricks, or, in the most extreme cases, outright forcing you to stay behind.

———

♡ Yandere! Best Friend who never thought he liked you as anything more than a best friend. You were his partner-in-crime, his constant, the only person who truly understood him. He couldn’t imagine his life without you, but that didn’t mean he liked you like that.

At least, that’s what he told himself.

♡ Yandere! Best Friend who felt something strange the first time you smiled at someone else like you smiled at him.

It was during one of your adventures—a random stranger you helped along the way. They cracked a joke, and for the first time, you laughed. Not your usual quiet, wry chuckle, but something brighter, something real. He grinned along with you, but inside, something cold and heavy settled in his chest.

♡ Yandere! Best Friend who didn’t understand why it bothered him so much when others got too close to you.

You’d always been his.

Not in a romantic way—just in the way best friends were.

You were his partner, his moon, the person he trusted more than anyone.

But when someone else tried to share your attention, that bad feeling in his chest twisted into something darker.

♡ Yandere! Best Friend who started noticing it more and more.

The way you’d listen to someone else’s plans without questioning them, even though you always teased his. The way you didn’t hesitate to step between someone else and danger, even though you knew it would make him furious. The way your expression softened when you thought no one was watching, as if you never looked at him like that.

♡ Yandere! Best Friend who told himself it was nothing, just a weird phase.

Maybe he was overthinking it.

He had no reason to be upset.

You were his best friend—you weren’t going anywhere. But the more he thought about it, the more that thought didn’t feel like enough.

♡ Yandere! Best Friend who started acting without realizing it. His smiles grew sharper when others talked to you, his words more cutting, his presence heavier. He’d laugh it off when you called him out, waving his hand like it was all a joke, but deep down, he knew it wasn’t.

He just couldn’t figure out why.

♡ Yandere! Best Friend who, during one of your adventures, snapped at you for the first time in a way that wasn’t about your safety.

It was something small—someone you met on the road had complimented you, and you’d actually smiled back.

He didn’t know what came over him, but before he could stop himself, he was already muttering, “You’re just going to smile at anyone now, huh? What’s next, inviting them to join us?”

♡ Yandere! Best Friend who immediately regretted it when you frowned and looked away. You didn’t argue back, didn’t tease him like usual. You just stayed quiet, which somehow felt worse than anything you could’ve said.

♡ Yandere! Best Friend who started avoiding the subject entirely after that. He went back to his usual carefree self—laughing, joking, pulling you into more wild adventures.

♡ Yandere! Best Friend who didn’t know why he felt this way until one night, while camping under the stars, he caught himself staring at you. The way the firelight flickered across your face, the way your usually emotionless eyes softened when you stared into the flames, the way you always sat close enough for him to feel your warmth but never closer.

Something in his chest ached, and for the first time, he realized why.

♡ Yandere! Best Friend who didn’t want to admit it. Didn’t want to ruin what you had, didn’t want to think about what it might mean.

But he couldn’t stop himself from wondering. Wondering if anyone else could make you smile the way he did.

Wondering if anyone else could be your constant.

———

♡ Yandere! Best Friend who isn’t stupid—he knows you don’t see him the way he sees you.

He can tell by the way you laugh around him, carefree and unguarded, like you’re sharing a joke with an older brother. By the way you roll your eyes at his antics, always more amused than annoyed.

By the way you lean on him, not like someone who’s in love, but like someone who trusts him to always be there, no matter what.

♡ Yandere! Best Friend who knows he’s just your best friend, the person who drags you on adventures and watches your back.

Nothing more, nothing less.

But that doesn’t stop the knot in his chest from tightening every time you treat him like something so casual.

Like he’s just another part of your world, instead of your entire world, the way you are to him.

♡ Yandere! Best Friend who wonders sometimes if he’s being selfish, wanting more than what you’re already giving him. You let him into your life, trusted him in a way you trusted no one else. But it wasn’t enough.

It was never enough.

♡ Yandere! Best Friend who pretends it doesn’t bother him, flashing his usual grin and cracking jokes whenever you call him out for being clingy.

“Can you blame me? You’re my favorite person in the world! No one else even comes close.” But underneath the laughter, his mind is racing, twisting, plotting.

Because if you couldn’t love him the way he loved you, then he’d just have to make sure no one else could either.

♡ Yandere! Best Friend who starts pushing the boundaries of your friendship without you even noticing.

Casual touches linger just a second too long, playful teasing takes on a sharper edge, and his protectiveness turns into something almost suffocating. If you notice, you don’t say anything—maybe because it’s easier to brush it off as just him being his usual self. But he knows better.

♡ Yandere! Best Friend who tells himself it’s fine.

That he can wait. That you’ll realize it eventually.

That you’ll see no one else will ever understand you the way he does, no one else will ever protect you the way he does, no one else will ever love you the way he does.

♡ Yandere! Best Friend who grows darker, quieter, when someone else gets too close to you. The usual charm and humor are still there, but there’s something off about the way he smiles, too sharp and too cold.

He won’t say anything at first, just watching, waiting, calculating.

But if they try to take you away, to pull you out of his orbit, that’s when things start to unravel.

♡ Yandere! Best Friend who starts isolating you without you even realizing it. He’s the only one who can keep up with you, the only one who knows how to handle your quirks and your flaws.

The only one who will never leave you. He plants the idea so carefully, so subtly, that you don’t even question it.

It’s just the way things are.

♡ Yandere! Best Friend who knows, deep down, that you don’t love him the way he loves you.

Not yet, at least. But that’s okay.

Because he doesn’t need your love—he just needs you.

♡ Yandere! Best Friend who tells himself it doesn’t matter how long it takes. Days, months, years—it’s all the same to him.

Because in the end, you’ll cave.

You’ll see that no one else could ever love you the way he does. That no one else could ever deserve you.

———

♡ Yandere! Best Friend who didn’t even realize how far gone he was until one day, when you were bathing, he accidentally walked in.

You didn’t scream, didn’t flinch, didn’t even care.

Just stared at him with those cold, emotionless eyes of yours and calmly said, “Door’s unlocked.”

As if it was nothing.

As if the sight of your bare skin, the water sliding down your body, wouldn’t haunt him for the rest of his life.

♡ Yandere! Best Friend who felt his breath catch in his throat, his usual wit failing him for once.

He laughed it off awkwardly, muttered some excuse about needing something, and stumbled out of the room, slamming the door behind him.

But the image of you was burned into his mind, refusing to fade no matter how hard he tried to shake it off.

♡ Yandere! Best Friend who hated himself for it, hated how much his body reacted to you.

He wasn’t supposed to think about you like this, wasn’t supposed to feel this way.

But no matter how much he tried to fight it, the memory of you kept creeping back in, setting his skin on fire and making his heart race.

♡ Yandere! Best Friend who found himself lying awake that night, your image replaying in his mind on an endless loop.

He could still see the way the water glistened on your skin, the way your hair clung to your shoulders, the way you looked at him so casually, so apathetically, as if you had no idea what you were doing to him.

———

♡ Yandere! Best Friend who you’ve always seen as a goofy, harmless puppy.

Sure, he’s tall and muscular—towering over most people effortlessly—but his easygoing attitude and boyish charm have always made him seem more like a loyal guard dog than anything remotely dangerous. You’ve never thought twice about sharing space with him, leaning on him, treating him like the oversized, overprotective best friend he appears to be.

♡ Yandere! Best Friend who knows exactly what you think of him. He plays his part so well: the playful idiot, the one who makes you laugh when you’re down, the one who keeps you safe without asking for anything in return.

And while some parts of that are true, they’re far from the whole story. Because the truth is, underneath that sunshine grin and those puppy-dog eyes, he’s not your harmless protector. He’s something much darker, much more dangerous, and he hides it all so well.

♡ Yandere! Best Friend who doesn’t just want you—he wants to own you.

Every glance, every laugh, every little touch you give him fuels something primal inside of him, something he keeps locked away beneath layers of charm and wit. Did you think his broad shoulders and ripped physique were just for show?

That all those hours spent training, honing his body, were just about looking good? No. It was for you. It’s always been for you. To keep you safe. To keep others away.

To ensure that when the time comes, no one—not even you—could stop him from taking what’s his.

———

♡ Yandere! Best Friend who goes home after a long day with you, his head swimming with the way your body brushed against his, the way your apathetic expression softened for just a second when you cracked one of your rare, sarcastic jokes.

It’s unbearable, the tension coiling tighter and tighter in his chest, and by the time he’s alone, he’s already burning up with the need for release.

♡ Yandere! Best Friend who hates how much power you have over him. Hates how weak you make him feel when he’s wrapped around your little finger, playing the role of your goofy best friend when all he really wants is to pin you down and make you look at him differently—to see him not as your protector, but as something darker.

Someone who could ruin you in ways you’ve never even imagined.

♡ Yandere! Best Friend who locks himself in his room, leaning back against the door with a sharp exhale, his muscles tight with tension.

The second his hand dips into his waistband, it’s like a dam breaking. He doesn’t even try to fight it anymore. His mind goes straight to you—how you’d feel, how you’d sound, how you’d look beneath him, your apathetic mask cracking under the weight of his touch.

♡ Yandere! Best Friend who starts slow, dragging his hand lazily over his length as he pictures the way you’d squirm beneath him, trying to keep your composure. He knows you’d fight him at first—of course you would—but he also knows how easily you’d give in if he played his cards right.

How easily he could shatter your walls and make you depend on him, need him, the way he needs you.

♡ Yandere! Best Friend who whispers your name under his breath, his voice rough with desperation as his strokes grow faster, harder, more erratic.

His mind races with all the things he wants to do to you, all the ways he wants to mark you, claim you, destroy you so completely that no one else could ever have you the way he does.

♡ Yandere! Best Friend who bites his lip to muffle the low, guttural sounds escaping his throat, his free hand gripping the edge of his desk so tightly his knuckles turn white.

He pictures you underneath him, tears welling in your eyes as you try to push him away, only to melt under his touch. The thought makes his head spin, and his hips jerk up involuntarily as he chases his release.

♡ Yandere! Best Friend who finally spills with a choked groan, your name falling from his lips like a broken prayer. The pleasure rips through him like a tidal wave, leaving him trembling and breathless, his body taut with the intensity of it.

But as the high fades, a darker satisfaction settles over him, mixed with a burning hunger that refuses to be quenched.

♡ Yandere! Best Friend who leans back against the wall, wiping a hand over his face as he catches his breath.

He feels no guilt, no shame—only a gnawing desire for more.

Because this isn’t enough. It’ll never be enough.

He wants you for real, not just in the dark recesses of his mind.

———

You lay there, the soft, rhythmic sound of your breathing the only thing that pierced the quiet of the night. The warmth of the small, candlelit room was comforting, a stark contrast to the cold, dark woods outside the village walls.

You were nestled in your bed, the soft fabric of your nightgown clinging to your body as you drifted in and out of consciousness, your dreams filled with the excitement of the adventures you and your best friend had shared throughout the years.

Unbeknownst to you, his eyes were fixated on your form, his gaze hungry and possessive. He'd been watching you for hours, his thoughts growing darker with every passing minute.

He knew you didn't see him the way he saw you, but that was a problem that could be rectified.

He took a deep breath, his hand moving to the bulge in his pants, and whispered to himself, "Mine. You're always mine." His grip tightened as he began to stroke himself, his eyes never leaving your peaceful face.

The sound of his zipper was the only disturbance in the stillness, and he felt his heart pound in his chest as he grew harder at the thought of you, his untouchable moon.

"Sleep tight, fucktoy," he murmured, a twisted smile playing on his lips, "because when you wake up, you'll finally know who you truly belong to."

The tension grew palpable as his strokes grew quicker, his breathing becoming ragged and erratic. He was lost in his own twisted fantasy, imagining the way your eyes would widen in shock and fear as you awoke to find him there, invading your personal space, claiming what he believed was rightfully his.

"You think you can ignore me?" he whispered harshly, the anger and frustration in his voice barely contained.

"You think I don't notice when you laugh with others, when you let them touch you?" His hand moved faster, his teeth clenched in determination. "You're mine, and you always will be. I'll make sure of it."

His eyes roved over your body, lingering on the curve of your hip, the swell of your breasts, and the delicate line of your neck. The urge to reach out and touch you, to mark you in some way, was almost overwhelming.

But no, not yet.

The anticipation was too sweet.

He sat on the edge of the bed, the soft mattress groaning slightly under his weight. The room was suffocating in its darkness, only the flickering candle on the bedside table casting dancing shadows across your peaceful face.

He could see the gentle rise and fall of your chest, the soft sound of your breaths echoing in the quiet space. It was a sound he'd become all too familiar with, a sweet melody that lulled him into a sense of security and power.

His hand moved under the covers, the fabric of his own trousers straining against his growing arousal. He gritted his teeth, trying to keep his breaths even as he touched himself.

His eyes never left you, studying every curve and line of your body as if he could burn the image into his mind. You were so close, yet so far away. It was infuriating, a constant reminder of what wasn't his.

Yet.

He corrected the thought in his head with a smirk.

You were his, had always been his, even if you didn't know it yet.

He'd make sure of it.

His hand stroked faster, the wet sounds of his self-indulgence seeming too loud in the otherwise silent room. He couldn't help but feel a twisted sense of triumph as he watched your chest rise and fall, oblivious to the dark desires that swirled around you like a tempest.

"Bitchy cumdump," he murmured under his breath, the word a vile whisper that seemed to hang in the air like a curse.

"Rape slut." He liked those names, the way they painted a picture of you that was so much more… palatable than the cold, untouchable moon you portrayed to him.

But you could also be warm, alive, full of passion and fire, and he knew it.

He just hadn't figured out how to make you burn for him alone.

His hand stroked himself roughly, his eyes never leaving your sleeping form. You had your back to him, the soft curves of your body hidden beneath the thin fabric of your nightgown.

It was almost translucent, revealing the shadowy outline of your curves, your skin so pale it seemed to glow in the moonlight filtering through the window.

His eyes roved over you greedily, taking in every detail, his mind racing with thoughts of what lay beneath that delicate exterior.

He reached out with his other hand, the one not busy with his own desires, and traced a line down your spine.

You shifted slightly, a soft sigh escaping your lips, but you remained asleep. The sound of his own breath grew heavier, his strokes more frantic as he felt the heat of your body through the fabric.

"Mine," he whispered again, his voice low and guttural.

It was a promise, a vow that echoed in the quiet of the room, a declaration of war against anyone who dared to claim you.

His breath hitched as he reached the peak of his desire, his hand moving faster and faster as he thought of claiming you, making you his in every way possible.

With a low, primal growl, he came, his seed spilling onto the bed sheets.

The warmth and wetness of his release brought him back to reality, his hand slowing as he stared at the evidence of his obsession with you.

His heart raced in his chest, a heady mix of longing and satisfaction coursing through his veins. He had never felt so alive, so powerful, so… right.

He leaned back against the headboard, his eyes still glued to your form. You hadn't stirred, hadn't woken up.

It was like you were a doll, a perfect creation made just for his amusement.

He felt a twisted sense of pride that you hadn't noticed his depravity, that his need for you was so strong it could only be expressed in the dark when you were at your most vulnerable.

But that would change.

Oh, how it would change.

As he withdraws his hand from the warmth of his climax, he was careful not to disturb you, his eyes lingering on the soft rise and fall of your chest. He reaches for a cloth beside the bed to clean up the mess he’s made, his mind racing with thoughts of what he’ll do next to claim you fully.

He’s always been the one to watch over you, the one to save you, the one who understands you better than anyone else.

But now, it’s no longer enough to just be your best friend.

He reaches under his bed, his hand brushing against the cold, rough fabric of a hidden bag.

The zipper whispers open, revealing an assortment of morally questionable items: ropes, gags, handcuffs, and a few bottles of clear liquid with handwritten labels. The scent of leather and something else—something darker—wafts out, mingling with the stale air of the room.

His breath hitches as he runs his fingers over the contents, feeling the weight of each item. They're tools of his obsession, tokens of the future he's crafting in his twisted mind.

His eyes flicker back to you, sleeping so peacefully, so utterly unaware of what's to come.

He pulls out a syringe from the bag, the cold metal glinting in the moonlight.

With practiced hands, he fills it with a pink liquid, the viscous substance swirling within the glass tube like a trapped, desperate thing.

It's a potion of his own making, something that would ensure that when the time came, you'd be too compliant to resist him.

He's not a complete monster—he doesn't want to take you by force, not yet at least.

But he knows that the path to your heart is paved with fear and obedience.

He rolls the plunger between his thumb and forefinger, feeling the liquid warm against his skin. The anticipation of using it on you makes his breath catch.

He watches you sleep, the fabric of your nightgown clinging to your body like a second skin. His eyes trace the gentle curves of your breasts and the way your hips dip before flaring out, the shadow between your thighs taunting him with what lies beneath.

The urge to claim you fully is overwhelming, but he reminds himself that patience is key.

Instead, he allows his gaze to linger, his hands straying to the syringe filled with his homemade potion—a blend of aphrodisiac and sedative that would make you pliable in his hands. He imagines pushing it into your soft flesh, watching as the liquid fills you, turning you into a vessel of his desires.

He reaches out with trembling hands, his breath shallow and ragged with anticipation. His fingertips graze the soft fabric of your nightgown, tracing the line of your slit, feeling the heat radiating from your body. You stir slightly in your sleep, but do not wake, oblivious to the violation he's about to commit. He gently parts the fabric, exposing your bare skin to the cool air of the room.

He takes one of the syringes filled with his potion and holds it up to the moonlight, admiring the way the liquid shimmers. "Soon, you'll be mine," he murmurs, his voice barely a whisper, thick with lust and possession.

He brings the needle closer, poised at the entrance of your pussy, savoring the moment. "And no one will ever be able to take you from me."

────────────

If you want to be added or removed from the tag list, just comment on the MASTERLIST of Whispers in the Dark (WITD): Subtle Devotion, Lingering Shadows. Thank you.

General TAG LIST of “Whispers In The Dark”: @keisocool , @elvabeth , @elloredef , @mjsjshhd , @lem-hhn

❤︎ Fang Dokja's Books.

♡ Book 1. A Heart Devoured (AHD): A Dark Yandere Anthology ♡ Book 2. 🔞Forbidden Fruits (FF): Intimate Obsessions, Unhinged Desires. ♡ Book 3. World Ablaze (WA) : For You, I'd Burn the World. ♡ Book 4. Whispers in the Dark (WITD): Subtle Devotion, Lingering Shadows.

[postmoe]

So, I'm getting around to doing Amphoreus and... we're at the bath house... and there is a special bath house for heroes.... can you imagine being taken in there without anyone else knowing just to be banged senselessly?

With Mydei and Phainon x Reader

girl we on the same wave length. I just added a bit to something i had going but didn't like it enough for the story i wanted lol.

non-con, helplessness, a bit of choking, bathhouse, ambrosia, master/servant dynamicish

Translations off google so (I went the Ancient Greek route)... Dominus - Master. He philtatē - dearest love. (feminine).

.

Amphoreus is full of many heroes, and though they are all strong and worthy of their titles, there are some that put true unease in others.

Like Mydei. Even with Phainon right next to him, trying to lighten the mood in the room, people still fear his sharp looks and dominating muscles. Everyone has seen what these two heroes can do, and no one wants to be on the wrong side of them.

Not to mention how protective they are of each other. Back and forth arguments seem like nothing when their anger is truly displayed, especially at people who speak ill of their partner.

And then there's you, their precious, priceless darling. A warning isn't good enough if you were to be picked on, broken bones, lost jobs, people are still debating whether or not the person who moved lands is dead or still alive.

So, when you're dragged from your station, or told to meet them somewhere, everyone drops everything to make sure you comply. Which is why, even if people did see you be hauled into the heroes bathhouse, you know calling for help would do nothing good.

That's why you stand there, sweat soaking through your white road, nipples poking into wet, sheer fabric, face stoic and hands holding a large jug of wine like it were any other client. They seem entertained enough by each other, hopefully today they will just leave you alone.

However, as Mydei pulls away from the heated kiss, grinning drunkenly your way and leaning his head against the edge of the in ground bath, you know there is no such luck. "He philtatē, come drink ambrosia with us," he practically moans, Phainon grinding his naked body in his lap, kissing and lapping up the sweat of his lovers neck.

You make a point to keep your eyes facing forward, not wanting to give them the thought that you're indulging in their actions, "No, thank you, dominus. I am working right now." That's not to say you would if you weren't on shift, but, it's as good an excuse as any other.

Phainon finally frees his mouth from the other's body, sculling the rest of his drink, red ambrosia trickling over his lips, down the cleft of his neck, and over the pecs of his chest before mixing with the bath water and disappearing. His eyes are hooded, cheeks dusted red with the effects of alcohol and lust, "Why the sudden harsh treatment, He philtatē, you were never this reserved when we first met."

With a bow of your head, avoiding his gaze, you say, "Kindess is part of the job. I welcomed you in, my job is done."

"Boo~" Phainon whines, rolling off of Mydei and sitting next to him in the water. "You're not like this after work or with your colleagues," he mutters, now holding out his empty cup, "Refill, please!"

You're not even going to ask how he knows what you're like when they're not around, already having the sneaking suspicion they've been following you and paying someone to tail you when they're gone. You crouch down to aim the jug into the goblet, only for Mydei to snatch the wine from your hands which makes you cry out a, "Hey!"

Within moments, you're being dragged into the water by a laughing Phainon. You thrash and splash the water as you're manhandled, thick fingers pulling your clinging robe over your head, leaving you in thin panties and the gold chains around your torso to help support your breasts. You're held tightly against his chest, coddled like a sweet pet until you stop moving so violently. Once you calm down enough, Mydei hands a cup to Phainon, who then promptly presses the rim to your tightly sealed lips, "Ambrosia~ Ambrosia for He philtatē~"

His other hand is roughly grabbing your jaw, the ache forcing your mouth to part enough for the liquid to slip through. You grunt, swallowing the sweet drink, a lot of it falling down your front, until the cup is empty. His hand is swaying in front of your face, the motion annoying you so you backhand the goblet, it flying and dunking in the water. He's so out of it that it takes him a minute to realise what you've done, the man laughing and messily petting your head in a playful manner.

Mydei exhales, sinking further into the bath to relax his muscles, "The whole trip he wouldn't shut up about you. 'When can we see (Y/n) again?' 'How much longer until we leave for (Y/n)?' 'Do you think if I send a letter, it'll reach her before we get back?' Couldn't even focus on fighting."

Phainon cheekily pinches your cheek, directing your attention back to him, "Funny he says that. Just whose name do you think he was calling every night we fucked?" You grab at his wrists once they start to slip to your cunt, fingers brushing your clit while your strength did nothing to hold him back. He didn't even acknowledge it, choosing instead to ask, "We have those new heroes, too. Should we introduce them to our private hole?" A wince escapes you as he slips a finger in, your pussy clenching from the intrusion. He swirls his digit around before adding another, "And what of Anaxa? Where is he?"

"Anaxa is still busy, he won't be back for another month," Mydei steps from the tiled ledge and stands in front of you, his large hands stroking over your shoulders, cupping your breasts in his palms and grazing the nipples with his thumbs. His eyes follow every move with a predatory gaze, "They certainly have proved their worth..."

You zone out as they talk about you like some object. Gritting your teeth, frustrated tears mix with the sweat on your face as you silently cry. What sort of a God or Titan or Deity would allow something such as this to happen to one of their subjects? It just proves how lost your soul really is from everyone else's. Everyone was right, you were abandoned by the titans the moment you were conceived.

Mydei pushes himself against your front, sandwiching you between him and Phainon so he can easily kiss your tears away, "Now look what you've done, you made her cry."

Phainon coos against your hair, his fingers hooking inside you to get a jerking reacting out of you, your hips trapped between the two, "It's okay, He philtatē, we won't share you if you don't want to. It actually makes me happy to see your heart is ours alone."

That's absolutely not true.

"Just be good for us tonight or else we might have to get them to 'help' hold you down," Mydei chuckles drunkenly as if his joke was actually something worth laughing at.

It pissed you off how he could just say something like that and get away with it. You pushed a sturdy hand against his chest, halting him from your boldness. (E/c) eyes look to the door, longing for anyone to enter and stop this madness. Your voice is quiet, moisture inside your mouth gone from the alcohol, bath heat and sexual actions of these men, "One day... One day someone will stop you."

The amused rumble from Phainon's chest made your heart sink. Then, when Mydei's fierce eyes sharped as his grin showed too many teeth to bring an intense foreboding to flood your veins, you shrank back into Phainon as he suddenly seemed to be the lesser of two evils. Mydei scoffed and gripped the base of your neck, your chin tilted up on the curve of his thumb and index as he held you just hard enough to make you wheeze and meet his eyes, "That day won't be a day you're alive."

When he finally let go, the world around you went white and your head couldn't tell which way gravity was holding you. Thankfully, you had your two heroes to keep you safe.

[munsonsmixtapes]

Smutty Steve request! Steve and reader are longtime friends, but he never thought of her *that* way until she shows up at a party or whatever in a this dress (that she got to finally get him to notice her) - like Dress by Taylor Swift inspired!

I got a little carried away with this one but I hope that’s okay lol

cw: MDNI (18+) smut (p in v) fingering, oral (f receiving)

Everyone knows how hopelessly in love with Steve you are. They can see how pathetically you look at him when he’s flirting with another girl. They can see it in the way you always go out of your way to touch him in a flirty manner. Everyone knows that you’re in love with Steve, well except for Steve.

You don’t know how obvious you can make it. You’ve asked him out multiple times and he always agrees, but he’s never aware that it’s a date. It’s just two friends hanging out. It’s to the point where you could tell him exactly how you feel and he still wouldn’t get it.

Steve isn’t stupid, you know that to be true, so why is he not getting your hints? How much longer are you going to have to spell it out for him until he finally gets it?

You stand in front of the house and take a deep breath as you smooth out your dress. It’s a little black thing. Something you would normally never wear, but after some convincing from Robin and Nancy at the mall, you caved and bought it.

It’s tight, hugging every single curve and heels you’re wearing make your legs look long even though it doesn’t matter because you can barely walk in there.

You hold on to Robin and Nancy for support as they lead you into the house, knowing that without them, you’d be walking like an animal who’s learning to walk for the first time. This is just saving you the embarrassment.

The second you walk through the door, Steve can’t seem to keep his eyes off of you. He’s not even paying attention to what Eddie, Jonathan, or Argyle are talking about. All he cares about is you.

Before he can stop himself, he’s making his way into the kitchen where you’re headed. Robin and Nancy let go of you and you hold onto the counter, trying to not make it obvious that you’re struggling.

“Can I get you a drink?” He asks and you nod enthusiastically. That would definitely make you forget about the pain of these stupid shoes.

“Please,” you nod and he’s quick to grab a solo cup and the red wine he knows you love. He pours it into the cup and watches you take a few sips, wondering what your pretty, red lips would look like with your mouth wide open as you moan his name over and over.

“Doesn’t y/n look great tonight, Steve?” Robin moves to stand beside him, nudging his shoulder with hers.

“Y-yeah,” he stutters, letting his eyes rake over your body. He’s never thought about you that way, but now he can’t stop thinking about burying his face between your thighs as your hands grab fistfuls of his hair, tugging on it.

You finally look at him and notice his cheeks flushing. You assume it’s the alcohol, but you can’t help but think that maybe it’s something else. Something dirty.

The tension between the two of you is now palpable as Steve steps forward and Robin and Nancy flee the kitchen, deciding that their work is now done.

You mimic Steve, stepping forward, only for your ankle to roll as you do so. Steve is quick to catch you, preventing you from falling to the floor. Those honey eyes are looking down at you in concern and you feel like you could just melt under his gaze.

He’s leaning so close that you’re sure he’s going to kiss you, but he doesn’t. He’s whispering something to you, those beautiful eyes boring into yours, but you can’t quite make out the words.

“Are you okay?” He asks, concern etching his features and you’re honored that he cares, but Steve always cares about you. About everyone. Always quick to take care of anyone who needs the attention.

You still remember the moment you fell in love with him. You were all park riding bikes because it was such a nice day. You didn’t know how to ride, but you wanted to feel included so you borrowed one of his bikes without having any prior experience.

You couldn’t stay steady, the bike moving this way and that and eventually, you fell over, the bike landing on top of you. Steve was quick to hurry over to you. Without a word, he pushed the bike off of you then carried you over to the blanket where the others who weren’t riding were sitting.

He pulled out a first aid kit from his pocket and cared for your scraped up knee. He was just so sweet and no one had ever done anything like that for you. He was your knight in shining armor and he didn’t even know it.

You’re brought to the present as helps you stand up, but your ankle gives out again as you wince at the pain coursing through it. Without another thought, Steve picks you up and carries you down the hallway to the nearest empty room which happens to be a bedroom.

Steve sets you on the bed and kneels in front of you, quick bring his hands up to your shoes, unbuckling the ankle straps. He pulls the shoes off your feet and without a word, he begins to massage your ankle that you rolled.

An involuntary moan falls from your lips at the feeling, his fingers working magic on your muscles. It’s easily the most pleasure you’ve ever felt and you wonder if he’s this talented with his fingers in other areas.

“Does that feel good?” He asks and you can just imagine him asking you the same question with his hand between your legs, his fingers pumping in and out as you moan over and over.

“Mhm,” you nod as he presses even harder into your skin, causing you to moan even louder and he’s trying his best to hide his hard on as he moves back ever so slightly, but it’s so obvious now, sticking straight out.

You need him to touch you now, your mind not even focused on your pain as all you can think about now is having his fingers inside you. You’re desperate for it now as he continues to massage your ankle. You’re focused on his touch, his soft skin against yours.

It’s torture to think about but you can’t help it. You want him, need him so bad that you feel like you could cry.

You grab him by the wrist and guide his hand towards your cunt as you spread your legs. His eyes widen and you can clearly see his pupils dilate as his hands grab hold of the waist band of your panties. He pulls them down as you spread your legs even wider, looking up at him with a flirty look.

Steve presses his his middle and ring fingers together before he brings them to your cunt slowly, looking you in the eye, giving you every opportunity to back out if this isn’t what you want.

As soon as his fingers slide inside, he knows he’s made the right choice as you moan again. He never thought he’d do this kind of thing with you, but now that he is, there’s no way he’s backing out. Watching you splayed out on the bed just for him, he feels like he’s in heaven.

His pumps are slow at first as he tries to get the hang of it, only using the tips of his fingers. But as he picks up the pace, he pushes in further with each pump, eating up the way you’re enjoying it.

You lie back flat, spreading your legs even wider, each knee pressing against the bed. As you lie back, he’s able to get a much better view of your sopping wet cunt as well as feeling it.

You’re so wet, and for him. He wonders if you’ve ever thought about him this way. If you’ve fantasized about the two of you in this position. He hasn’t. Not until tonight. And he’s kicking himself for just now realizing how hot you are. He’s always found you attractive, he has eyes, but never sexually.

Up until now, you’ve always been just a friend to him. But now he’s itching to get inside you, desperate to know what your lips look like, what you look like underneath your dress. He wants to rip it to shreds with his teeth until you’re in your underwear. He’ll then rip apart your bra until you’re naked underneath him, whining, begging for you to fuck him.

His fingers are pumping so hard and fast as you moan and whine, your nails digging into the bedding underneath you, not even trying to stifle the sounds you’re making considering that there are other people in the house, but it’s not like they can hear you anyway. The stereo is up too loud and they’re all too busy mingling.

You can feel your eyes rolling into the back of your head, on the verge of an orgasm. You feel his fingers curl, hitting just the right spot to make you climax, to make you feel better than you ever have in the bedroom.

He clearly knows what he’s doing as he curls his fingers again and again, making you moan over and over until you’re absolutely spent. Once he’s, he removes his fingers, licking up the slick from his fingers as his well deserved reward and now that he’s gotten a taste, he thinks he needs another, but this time directly from the source.

Steve looks down between your legs, his mouth watering as his need to get a taste of you intensifies. God, he wants it so bad, so desperate that he’s drooling, spit dribbling down his chin.

“Can’t believe this is all for me,” he tells you as his hands rest gently on your knees. You’re so wet now that it’s trailing down your thighs and before he can stop himself, Steve grabs hold of one of your thighs. He brings it to his mouth and licks the trail all the way up until he’s just inches from your cunt.

You gasp as he does this, but you can’t deny how good it feels, especially when he goes for another lick, his tongue leaving behind a stripe of spit as he does so. He then goes for your other thigh, doing the exact same thing, but going slower now, chuckling to himself as you squirm underneath him, begging for him to eat you out already.

“Alright, relax,” he tells you as he pulls away. He pushes you back down onto the mattress, keeping his hands on your shoulders as he leans in, his lips just inches from yours. You close your eyes, expecting a kiss, but when you open them, Steve’s on his knees again, grabbing hold of your thighs.

“Steve-” you sit up to look him in the eye, to show him how upset you are by his teasing.

“Yes, honey?” He asks, that mischievous glint in his eye as throws your legs onto his shoulders. You instantly melt at the nickname then lie back again. He’s got you right where he wants you and you know it. He still doesn’t seem to understand that you’d do anything he’d say because you’re just that much in love with him.

He buries his face into your cunt and you gasp as his mouth licks and sucks on your clit, your hands subconsciously sliding into his hair. He pushes your dress up to your waist as you push down into your cunt even more. Steve decides right there that if he’s going to die like this that it’s a pretty fucking good way to go.

You let up and tug on his hair instead as he continues to lick and suck on your clit. Your heels are digging into his back as your toes curl in pleasure. You’ve been eaten out before, but not like this, never like this.

He’s definitely done this before as he knows exactly what he’s doing, knows exactly how to make you feel good. His mouth moves down to your slit as he bites down, his teeth sliding across the sensitive skin as you moan, your nails digging into his scalp in response.

Your thighs press tightly against the side of his head as he continues with his teeth, biting down even harder, making you feel so good. He then goes back in with his tongue, needing yet another taste of you, desperate for it.

This is the best pussy he’s ever tasted and he’s fully content right now, deciding that he could do this for hours without getting tired. Especially with how you’re reacting to the whole thing.

Steve sticks his tongue inside you and that’s where you absolutely lose it. You’re coming again and he can your slick leaking out onto his tongue. It’s the sweetest thing, almost resembling candy and he can get enough as he swirls his tongue around, desperate for more.

You come one more time and he’s reluctant to remove himself from you, but he has to if he wants to continue. He pulls away from you as you orgasm one more time as sits back on his knees, watching you, thinking that you’re the most beautiful creature that ever was.

You reach out for him and he’s quick to take your hands, bringing himself down to hover over you. His lips hesitantly press against yours as his hands pin yours against the bed.

The kiss is messy, clumsy at first, but the two of you eventually get the hang of it as it becomes progressively more hungry, especially on your end. You need him. You need him in ways that are concerning. And if his rock hard cock is any indication, you think you’re going to get pretty lucky.

His tongue slides into your mouth as you move to untuck his shirt from his jeans. He parts from you only to let you slip it over his head and as soon as his shirt is on the floor, his lips are on yours again, even more hungry this time as he takes exactly what he wants from you.

Your hands move to his belt and unbuckle it quickly before moving on to the button of his jeans. Before he knows it, you’re unzipping them and pulling them as much as you can. Steve reaches into his pocket for a condom and tosses it to the side before finishing the job, tossing his jeans to the side, followed by his underwear.

You always knew he had a big dick, but now the proof is right in front of you. He’s so hard and all you want is to make him feel as good as he made you feel. You want to make him come over and over, to return to favor.

He then helps you sit up then reaches up and unzips your dress with ease, pulling it up over your head. It drops next to him as he stares at the pretty, black, lacy bra you’re wearing.

“God, you’re perfect,” he sighs as he stares at you, almost completely naked, and for him.

“You’re the perfect one,” you reply and Steve doesn’t know why he feels his cheeks heat. You’ve complimented so many times, but this time, it feels different. “Now c’mere,” you waved him over and he scoots closer as your hands cradle his face.

You press a kiss to his lips as you feel around the mattress for the condom. Once you have it in your hands, you push Steve onto the mattress before straddling his waist.

“Now it’s your turn to come,” you tell him as you rip the packet open with your teeth. Steve watches you roll the condom onto him then discard your bra before settling yourself onto his cock, not even giving him a chance to think before begin to ride him.

His hands move to your waist as his hips buck against yours, the two of you working together. He’s working harder than you are, pushing all of himself inside of you, or at least, trying to.

“Hey,” you tell him, taking on an authoritative tone and he immediately stops. “You don’t have to try so hard. Let me take care of you, okay?”

“Okay,” he nods then lies back, his fingers still digging into your waist as you pick it up again. He’s already moaning so you know you’ve gotten it right, already knowing what he likes.

You continue, moving even faster and his nails are digging so far into you that you’re sure that he’s going to break skin, but he quickly eases up, probably sensing that he’s hurting you.

“You sound so hot. Wanna make some more sounds for me?”

“Mhm,” he nods and he moans again as you lean over, your lips finding his once again, moving against his so softly which juxtaposes how you’re fucking him so hard.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” he whines into your mouth, already feeling he’s close which is so embarrassing for him since you’ve barely started, but he can’t help it. You’re just fucking him so good that he doesn’t think he’s not going to be able to walk afterwards. And he doesn’t even care. He wants you to do whatever you want to him. He wants to be your good boy.

“I knew you liked it rough,” you laugh as you watch him come completely undone underneath you. He’s already coming and he can’t stop, his orgasm completely taking over his body.

“Fuck, so good,” he whines as you keep up, trying to get one last climax out of him before you get off, watching him come down from it as you hurry to get dressed, but he reaches out and grabs hold of your waist, stopping you from going any where.

He discards the condom then gets under the covers, holding the blanket up for you. You get in beside him and he pulls you to his chest, bare skin to bare skin as he drops a kiss to your forehead.

The two of you lay there in the quiet, his hands moving up and down your back while yours plays with his hair, the only sound that can be heard is your breathing as the two of you think about nothing except what you’ve just done.

“Do you think we could do this again tomorrow night?” He asks, breaking the silence.

“Definitely,” you nod.

“Do you think that we could do it as a couple?” You move that you’re hovering over him, trying to make sure that you hear him right. There have been too many times when your fantasies took over so now you want to be one hundred percent sure.

“What did you just say?” You ask, maybe a bit too harshly and now you’ve got Steve stammering.

“Well, I was wondering if it would be okay if I was your boyfriend. Is that a tacky thing to ask after sex? Because I-”

You cut him off by pressing your lips to his, smiling into the kiss as his hand moves up to cradle the back of your head, his smile mimicking yours as you pull away far too soon for his liking.

“So is that a yes?”

“Of course it’s a yes,” you roll your eyes, giving him another kiss before lying back down on his chest.

[prettycopperpennies]

How They Act When They're Jealous

Including: Frontman/Player 001/Hwang In-ho | Player 333/Lee Myung-gi | Player 388/Kang Dae-ho | Player 230/Thanos/Choi Su-bong | Player 124/ Nam-gyu | The Recruiter

Squid Games x gn! Reader

Frontman/Player 001/Oh Young-il/Hwang In-ho

~ In-ho would not be very obvious about it

~The only real difference in his demeanor is his lingering gaze on you and whoever was chatting with you

~ He wouldn’t step in between the two of you. Not even as you noticeably got more bored or awkward

~ He would simply wait...

~ And let you come to him instead

~ He would, of course, welcome you with open arms and feigned unawareness

~ He’d wrap an arm around your waist with a small smile

~ And ask you where you went

~ “There you are, darling. I’ve been wondering where you are”

~ If you answered honestly or not, he wouldn’t press you for an explanation

~ But he’d feel much more at ease as you stuck close to him for the rest of the night

~ Occasionally glancing over to the person you left behind, making sure they kept their distance

~ And if he ever caught them looking in your direction he would give you quick, chaste kiss

~ Or brush a strand of hair from your face

~ Subtly showing them, and everyone else, who you are with

Player 333/Lee Myung-gi

~ At first you may not realize when Myung-gi was jealous

~ But over time you started to recognize the signs

~ Usually it was just him inserting himself in to whatever conversation you were having with the person who was the cause of his jealousy

~ He’d walk right over and plop himself down next to you

~ But he wouldn’t participate in the conversation

~ Just sit sullenly

~ Glaring down the person across from you

~ And if he was feeling especially jealous he might take your hand in his

~ Making sure the other person saw that move

~ He’d simply sit back and let his awkwardness kill the conversation

~ As soon as they left the two of you alone he’d immediately tell you how much he did not like them

~ You can try to tell him to stop

~ But he would insist he wasn’t trying to be rude, that person was simply very off putting

~ He would need a lot of assurances from you for the next couple days

~ Despite him consistently insisting he wasn’t jealous at all, he just really didn’t like that person

~ “Don’t laugh, I’m serious. There was something sketchy about them.”

Player 388/Kang Dae-ho

~ Dae-ho wouldn’t come over to you

~ Instead he would try to get you to come over to him

~ Immediately calling for you from across the room

~ Acting as if he has something interesting to show you

~ And fully not acknowledging the person you were having a conversation with

~ If you brushed him off he’d only insist harder

~ “Give me a second”

~ “Baby, c’mon, it’ll only take a second! I swear!”

~ And as soon as you inevitably fold and head over he’d be all smiles.

~ Wrapping you in a tight hug as he buried his head in the crook of your neck

~ If you asked him what he wanted to show you he’d admit he just missed you

~ And would be 100% clingier than usual for the rest of the time

~ But he absolutely wouldn’t admit to being jealous

~ Though as he leaned over to rest his head on your shoulder or reach out to intertwine your fingers with his own you knew the truth

Player 230/Thanos/Choi Su-bong

~ “Hey, pretty. Who’s this?”

~ Su-bong would be immediately by your side

~ And looking the other person up and down with a snide expression

~ He would “feign” interest as you introduced the two of them

~ His thinly veiled sarcastic attentiveness would be obvious to all three of you

~ He’d throw an arm around your shoulders, pulling you close

~ And just barely acknowledge the other person with a “huh” or “very interesting”

~ He’d almost exclusively be looking to you

~ But whenever he did glance over to the other person it would be with an expression of barely hidden disgust

~ It is when he openly rolls his eyes you finally give in and excuse the two of you

~ It doesn’t matter how much you chastise him, he is grinning widely

~ He’d let you get all your complaints out, not stopping you or denying anything 

~ Although it is questionable if he is listening

~ It also doesn’t help that he keeps pulling you in for a kiss or wrapping an arm around you as you tell him off

~ As long as he gets you away from the other person, and back to being the two of you, he is on cloud nine

Player 124/ Nam-gyu

~ Nam-gyu would watch you from afar

~ But his staring would be very obvious

~ Even the first time you didn’t know he was jealous, but you definitely felt his eyes on you

~ As soon as you come back to him he would lean in towards you, whispering in your ear

~ “Are you trying to make me jealous?”

~ It doesn’t matter how much you assure him you were not

~ He would be pouty for the rest of the night

~ Despite his upset disposition he’d still keep you close

~ Your hands would constantly be intertwined for the rest of the night

~ And somehow, even though you were right by his side, he’d manage to not look at you the entire time

~ The physical contact would be the only acknowledgment he’d give you

~ But as you let him carry out his antics his ego would slowly bolster

~ By the time you two are going home he would no longer be upset with you

~ And would be taking advantage of the fact you two were finally alone

The Recruiter

~ There is no politeness or following of societal expectations

~ The second he feels a tinge of jealousy he is dragging you away

~ “We were just talking”

~ “You were just talking. They were…”

~ He would be too angry to finish the thought

~ He trusts you, sure, but he doesn’t trust anyone else

~ He is low-key obsessed in love with you

~ And he is convinced anyone else who encounters you would feel the exact same way

~ He wouldn’t make any kind of move or say anything that would suggest he needs reassuring or comforting

~ But if you gave it to him anyways he would immediately melt for you

~ Letting you fawn over him and tell him how you only have eyes for him

~ If you didn’t say anything it would just make him more jealous

~ He would even be looking warily at the poor guy bagging your groceries at the store

~ But you’d have to be the one to come to him

~ Because he’d never admit to being jealous

[jinxlovebot]

"shh..they'll hear you!" - modern au!jinx x fem!reader smut

ᰔᩚ: public sex, fingering, reader receiving, voyeurism, dom!jinx, nearly getting caught, men dni!...

it was finally spooky movie night season! with october rolling in, and halloween a few weeks away you and your friends, since you were young, always binged watched spooky movies every Saturday until Halloween night. it was finally the first Saturday of October and movie night was being held in yours and jinx' house. you were so excited!, you adored halloween and went all out for it. you had halloween themed sweets, bowls, banners upon the door frames and even halloween blankets and cushion covers!. jinx thought it was adorable, how obsessed you were with halloween so she sneakily suggested movie night to be held in your guy's house.

fast forward to when everyone arrives, viktor, jayce, mel, vi, caitlyn and sevika bring various snacks and drinks to have for the movie. they all settle into their places, viktor and jayce on the arm chair, mel and sevika on the two seater couch, vi and caitlyn on the floor, and you and jinx on the L-shaped couch further back than the rest. you rathered that because not everyone will see what you two are doing especially if you get scared. you and jinx were fixing the last of the snacks into different bowls in the kitchen, "what movie are we watching tonight?" jinx asks her mouth full of smarties, you giggle, "terrifier!". jinx loved the terrifier franchise, you both make your way to the couch placing the bowls on the glass coffee table. you hand everyone a halloween blanket and get comfortable. you and jinx' legs tangled together underneath the fluffy blanket, jinx rests her head on yours and takes your hand.

halfway through the movie, jinx was getting bored. she watched this franchise copious amount of times (because of sienna duh!) and knew the ins and outs of what happens. you did aswell but still had your eyes fixed on the screen waiting for whats next. jinx smirked looking at you, the bloody scene on the TV making your skin glow red, knowing you were distracted jinx runs her fingernails up and down your thigh sending shivers all over your body. you turn to smile at her and advert your gaze back to the tv. jinx runs her fingertips from your thigh to the waistband of your orange and black striped pyjama shorts. gaze still fixed on the movie, you side eye jinx and raise your eye brow. she puts her cold hands under your shorts resting them on your lower stomach. you look at the others in the room, all cuddled up to one another not even paying attention to anything else other than the movie. you and jinx basically being behind everyone, you think to yourself, 'why not?' and turn to kiss jinx. one kiss turns into a heated makeout session, your heart beating with a fear of being caught you pull back. "lay between my legs and face the tv.. trust me" jinx whispers into your ear, you quietly switch positions as she asked. calmly down slightly when you see no one noticed.

jinx wastes no time and slides her hand underneath both your shorts and panties and feels your slick in between your folds. "you like this hm? knowing we could get caught any moment?" jinx coos into your ear, she uses your slick as lube and inserts a finger into your hole. whimpering, you press your lips together and look to see if anyone saw. mel reached to grab a bowl for sevika, and you tryed to look as normal as possible, mel lokked your way and saw your blown out expression, "are you scared?" mel giggled, you shook your head "nah!.. just on edge!" she smiled at you and turned back to the tv. you turn your head to the side to whisper to jinx, "we nearly got-" jinx slams your hand to your mouth and she puts two fingers inside you moving at a fast enough pace. your eyes widening with pleasure jinx removes her hand from your mouth and intertwines it with yours. "shhh..they'll hear you!" jinx says, her fingers working at a rhythmic pace, her thumb now attatching to your clit rubbing circles making you see stars. the movie now a blur in your mind, all you can focus on is jinx' long fingers.

"cum for me, toots." she whispers, your core snaps and you cum on jinx' fingers. "good girl." she brings her cum coated fingers to her mouth sucking them clean before kissing you. she fixes your shorts and underwear and hugs you close, you sink into her touch sleepy from the actions before. jinx brings her mouth to your ear, her warm breath on your skin "we're not finished baby.". you were in for a long ride.

................................................................................................

i miss halloween so much so i had to write this! i actually lowkey wish i had friends to do a spooky movie night with 🥲, anyways enjoy!

[steddieas-shegoes]

a birthday halfway forgot

for @corrodedcoffinfest pop-up event 'birthday boy' using the prompt 'birthday' and 'age 30'

rated e, minors dni | 3132 words | no cw | tags: famous corroded coffin, band manager steve, established relationship, fucking on a motorcycle is ill-advised but they do it anyway, hand jobs, anal sex, domestic fluff

🏍️🏍️🏍️🏍️🏍️🏍️🏍️🏍️🏍️🏍️🏍️🏍️🏍️🏍️

He’s looking at the calendar in shock. He didn’t know. He didn’t realize.

It’s January 26th.

It’s Eddie’s 30th birthday. It’s Gareth’s 27th birthday.

Somehow, he lost track of dates in all of the chaos of planning the next tour and being so focused on the April through September parts of the calendar.

“Shit.”

He immediately calls Jeff because he’s sure the next most mature human being in their codependent group of misfits hasn’t forgotten. There’s no way Jeff forgot.

“Shit,” he says when Steve asks.

He forgot.

“Okay. It’s not the end of the world! It’s still early.”

Steve looks at the clock. It is early, but they don’t have time to plan something.

“Make a reservation at that Italian place they both like. The one with the fried meatballs. I’ll get cake. It’ll be fine,” Steve is good in crisis. He’s proven time and time again how quickly he can fix problems on tour. He can do it for this, too. “They won’t know we forgot.”

“Forgot what?” Eddie asks from behind Steve.

“The appointment we made for everyone to see the doctor before tour!” Steve says, way too loud to be considered normal.

Luckily, Eddie is used to Steve being a little manic during the planning stages of tour and doesn’t question his volume or strained smile.

“Is that Gare? He was supposed to call me when he got up,” Eddie steps closer. “It’s almost noon; There’s no way he’s still asleep.”

“It’s Jeff.”

“Jeffery!” Eddie grabs the phone from Steve’s hand and waves his free hand around. “Haven’t you taken my husband away from me enough lately?”

Steve rolls his eyes. It’s not his fault they choose to handle most things themselves instead of outsourcing all the tour management to the label. It’s better if Steve and Jeff take care of things.

They talk for a few minutes and Steve decides he needs to pull out the phone book to find a bakery. It’s gonna be a hell of a challenge to find someone capable of personalizing a cake within a few hours, but if anyone can, it’s Steve.

Eddie ends up driving to Gareth’s instead of waiting for his call, which makes Steve’s life a lot easier. He finds a bakery— only had to call six before someone was willing— and tries not to worry too much about how much he’s paying just for a cake. They have money. They can afford an expensive cake.

Eddie and Gareth deserve it.

Steve cannot believe he forgot.

||||||||||||

“You forgot,” Eddie laughs.

The restaurant is empty except for the guys and a handful of staff ready to wait on their every want and need. There’s a balloon on the centerpiece of the table and one gift sitting next to it.

Steve groans.

“Jeff forgot, too.”

Eddie kisses his temple and walks over to the gift. Steve knows it’s Gareth’s gift. Eddie’s can’t be wrapped.

“Hey!” Jeff exclaims, but Eddie waves him off.

“We didn’t forget your birthdays, we just forgot what day it was entirely,” Steve continues. “Sorry, baby.”

“It’s okay,” Eddie says and really means it. Eddie doesn’t get upset about this stuff, Steve knows that. “Gareth and I had a bet.”

“That’s what you had to go over to talk to him about?” Steve looks over at Gareth, who is flirting with the waitress while everyone else sits at the table. “How much did you bet?”

“He bet that you guys forgot and wouldn’t remember until we told you. $200.”

“And you?”

Eddie laughs. “I bet that you’d remember in time to pull off a surprise but just barely. $500.”

“Wow. Does he even have that kinda money laying around?” Steve jokes. He does. They all do. They have more money than they need. Their money has money. Literally. It’s accruing interest in accounts.

“You know exactly how much money I have,” Gareth says as he lays an arm around Steve’s shoulders and smacks a kiss on his cheek. “You balanced my checkbook last week and I swear I’ve only spent a few grand since.”

Steve knows he’s joking, but his heart stutters in his chest anyway. Just because they have it doesn’t mean they should be frivolous with it. He knows they all know that, but Gareth is still quick to sign a check for pleasure sometimes.

“Happy birthday, Gare,” Steve says as he leans his head on top of Gareth’s. “Sorry we forgot a little.”

“Eh, it was only a little. We’re celebrating now. Plus, I’m only turning 27. Grandpa over here should start drafting his retirement announcement.”

“I would, but I haven’t developed arthritis yet,” Eddie says as he grabs one of the fried meatballs from the plate near the end of the table. “At the rate you crack your knuckles, you’ll be celebrating your 28th in a care facility.”

“Alright, enough. Let’s order drinks and stop making the staff nervous,” Steve starts to gather everyone to the table, take the lead the way he usually does. It’s natural, and easy, and fun. He likes being the beacon of responsibility for this group. It’s different from his role with the kids in Hawkins— less life or death most of the time— but still a glorified babysitter position. “Behave like the adults you claim to be.”

“Wayne Munson just came out of your mouth,” Eddie says as he sits. “Not sure I like it.”

Steve ignores the bait. He’ll never get them all to be decent guests at this restaurant if he keeps going back and forth with Eddie.

They spend so much time together already, but it’s never difficult to be around each other. They really are codependent at this point; Where one goes, at least one more will follow and he’ll bring beer and sarcasm.

Gareth opens his present, eyes shining when he sees that everyone chipped in to get him the record player he loved when they went to an old record shop in Chicago. It was considered antique and the owner of the shop wasn’t even interested in selling it to him, but Steve is a convincing guy, and the rest of the guys pulled out their own checkbooks to make it happen.

They grabbed a few records for him, too, but he’s already talking about the list he has and where they can find them. Everyone listens because it’s his birthday, only throwing in jibes occasionally instead of constantly. It’s his birthday so they’re taking it easy.

“I guess my gift is these fried meatballs,” Eddie finally says. He doesn’t sound disappointed; That’s how much he loves the fried meatballs.

“Your gift is at home,” Steve pats his knee, dismissive.

Eddie wiggles his brows. “From everyone or just you?”

“Part of it is from everyone,” Steve allows.

“I’m ready to go!” Eddie claps his hands. “Thanks for coming, happy birthday to my birthday twin, blah blah blah.”

Frankie rolls his eyes and reaches for one of the meatballs on Eddie’s plate.

“Just remember the part that came from all of us is not the part you’re so excited about,” he says with his mouth full.

“Love you all, but I definitely have no interest in fucking any of you. See ya!” He waves as he gets up and leaves.

Everyone looks at Steve. He pats Gareth on the shoulder and smiles at everyone else.

“See you guys tomorrow. Not early, though. Unless you wanna see something you’ll never forget,” Steve winks.

Everyone groans but they wave and say goodbye with smiles on their faces.

Eddie’s sitting in the passenger seat when Steve gets to the car. He’s a passenger princess through and through and Steve loves him for it.

“Step on it, baby!”

Steve steps on it, but maintains the speed limit because the last thing they need is a ticket.

||||||

He doesn’t park in the garage because he can’t.

Eddie’s immediately suspicious.

“It’s supposed to rain early in the morning. Don’t you wanna pull the car in?” He asks.

“Can’t.”

“You can’t?”

“I can’t.”

“Oh my god.”

Steve smirks. Eddie unbuckles his seatbelt and practically falls out of the car as he bangs on the garage door.

“Open it!” He yells at Steve, who has the button in the car, but thinks this is way more entertaining than doing what Eddie asks. He could always unlock the door and get inside that way, but he knows Eddie realizes what his present is now.

They went all out for his 30th. Even the kids got involved. Wayne picked it out. This has been their best kept secret for months.

The fact that Steve forgot today was the day is crazy in hindsight. He’s had this date circled as delivery day for nearly a month.

Steve finally pushes the button to open the door and Eddie barely waits for it to be lifted above his waist before he’s ducking inside. He screams. High-pitched, girlish in nature, entertaining as hell. Steve almost wishes he could’ve thought to bring the camcorder with him to record this special moment.

“Steve!” Eddie exclaims when he’s done squealing. “A Harley?!”

Steve casually walks into the garage and wraps his arm around Eddie’s waist, kissing his temple.

“Wayne said this is really close to the one you liked when you two went on that trip together,” Steve explains. “We can always paint it if the color isn’t right.”

“It’s perfect. Don’t touch it. It’s perfect,” he babbles, leaving Steve’s arm to sit on the seat, bouncing once as if to test how squishy the seat is.

It’s squishy. Steve checked.

“The helmet even has bats painted on it!” Eddie reaches for the helmet hanging from the handle. “And my name! Stevie!”

“And the helmet is required. Even if you’re just going to Gareth’s house or to the store. No helmet, no motorcycle,” Steve places his hands on his hips. He means business and Eddie knows it better than anyone that safety comes before fun, always.

“I know, I know. I can’t believe this,” Eddie says, still in awe. “I didn’t think you’d ever cave. Who convinced you?”

See, Eddie’s wanted his own bike for at least four years now, ever since he and Wayne went on a bike tour of the Appalachian Mountains. Steve wasn’t necessarily against it, he just knew they didn’t have much time at home to enjoy it, and he did worry that Eddie wouldn’t prioritize safety over fun if he got carried away.

He hates that Frankie of all people managed to convince him by saying there’s nothing hotter than fucking on a Harley.

He’s hoping Frankie’s right.

Instead of answering the question, Steve presses the button that closes the garage door and walks over to the bike.

“You ready for part two?”

“I don’t even know how this can get any better, but sure,” Eddie looks up at him with wide eyes.

Steve pulls off his shirt, kicks off his shoes, and strips off his pants and underwear. He shivers, but not because he’s cold. Winter looks a lot different in California than it did in Hawkins, that’s for sure.

“Oh my god. I must be dreaming,” Eddie grins as he leans back, making room for Steve to straddle his thighs on the bike.

It’s a sturdy bike, so he’s not too worried about it falling over while they do this, but a small voice in his head is still telling him to make small movements. He’s not letting Eddie fuck him on this thing until they test it like this.

Steve’s half-hard at the thought of Eddie holding him up on this thing, letting him bounce on his cock. Maybe he’s fantasized about Eddie being a mechanic fixing his car and Steve’s only way to pay for the labor is to ride him until they’re both sweaty and messy, oil stains leaving fingerprints on Steve’s skin.

That’s not what’s happening now, and won’t actually happen ever, but this is close enough.

“Been thinking about you touching me all day,” Steve admits. It’s true, but he’s playing it up a little, fluttering his eyelashes a little. “I wanna take a ride, too.”

“I’ve gotta be the luckiest man in the world,” Eddie groans as he wraps his hand around Steve’s length, squeezing the head of his cock and jerking his hand a few times to bring him to full hardness. “I’ve had this exact dream.”

“How’d the dream go?” Steve gasps as Eddie touches him the right way over and over. He’s good at this, always has been. He finds the right pace and pressure, and he just keeps going, listening for any sign that Steve’s not feeling perfect.

“I got to make you come and then lay you down on the seat and lick you clean,” Eddie ends on a moan. “Please let me do that, baby. I’ll do anything.”

Steve nods, would never stop Eddie from doing that. This sounds like a dream he’s had, too.

His hands hold onto Eddie’s shoulders as he tilts his hips up to push into Eddie’s grasp. He’s close, so close already. He doesn’t think they’ll ever stop being embarrassingly quick when they get their hands on each other.

It’s a gift to know someone so well that you feel like teenagers every time you touch each other.

“C’mon,” Eddie nips at Steve’s neck, breath hot against his skin. “Make a mess, baby.”

Steve’s always been good at following directions. He moans as he comes, paints his own stomach and Eddie’s hand, opens his eyes to see cum dripping onto the seat under him. He’s sure Eddie doesn’t mind.

He feels shaky, unstable, but only because the bike rocks under them as Eddie pulls his own shirt off and stands, moving Steve so he’s laying back. It’s far from comfortable, but it’s hot as hell.

Eddie licks the cum off Steve’s stomach and dick, takes his time while Steve sucks on his fingers. They’re both still worked up too much to stop, and now that Steve’s slowly coming down, he realizes he wants Eddie to fuck him. Now.

“Get your pants off,” Steve demands.

“Say please,” Eddie teases before sucking a bruise into Steve’s hip.

“Please,” Steve begs, because it’s Eddie’s birthday and he’s gonna do whatever Eddie wants. Eddie likes when he begs a little, even though they both know there’s no need for it. “Fuck me.”

“You look so good like this,” Eddie says as he shoves his pants off. “Not even sure I need to drive this thing if I can have you like this all the time.”

“No more band? Touring? Just fucking me on your motorcycle?” Steve’s laugh turns into a groan when Eddie’s finger circles his hole. “Not sure we can back out of this tour now.”

“You and I both know I’ll find plenty of places to fuck you on tour,” Eddie smiles down at him. “Comfy or do you need to move?”

Steve shakes his head. “I’m okay for now. Just want you inside me.”

Eddie opens him up efficiently, doesn’t rub against his prostate until he’s got three fingers inside him.

Trying to stay still is proving to be difficult, and Steve’s pretty sure their pushing the limits of the kickstand.

“C’mon, I’m good. I’m ready,” Steve says. “Fuck me, Eddie, c’mon.”

Fucking on a motorcycle is not easy to do, but they’ve actually fucked in more difficult positions before.

One time, Steve fucked Eddie over an amp backstage. It wasn’t wide enough for either of them to properly sit on, but they managed. They had bruises and some strange red marks for a day or two, but it was worth it.

Another time, the hotel they were staying in had a balcony. Kind of. It was barely more than a small extension of the room with an iron bar around it, but they put that iron bar to the test. It passed, they were sore.

They have to be slow, slower than they normally would be. Steve doesn’t wanna have to bring it in for scuff marks to be buffed out if it falls over on day one.

If he were less flexible, maybe a little older, he’d have to call it. His legs are tight around Eddie’s waist and he’s using more of his ab muscles than he’s used in years to maintain his own stability.

Eddie blankets himself over Steve, barely moving in and out of him. The friction of Steve’s leaking cock against his stomach is probably enough to get him there.

Eddie brushes Steve’s bangs off his face, kisses his forehead, and moans when Steve clenches around his cock.

“I love you so much,” Eddie whispers. “You’re the best gift.”

Steve kisses him, mouth open, tongue licking over his teeth. It’s wet and messy, and it’s perfect. The phone’s ringing inside the house, but they’re too close to care about trying to answer. They’ll leave a message.

They both come together, whimpering into each others’ mouths as Eddie’s hips stutter and Steve’s legs fall.

Eddie kisses the corner of his mouth, his jaw, his neck. He pulls out slowly, and they both wince at the loss of being filled and being surrounded.

“Let’s get cleaned up. I wanna take this for a ride,” Eddie helps Steve off the bike. “You got a helmet?”

Steve nods. “I assumed you’d want me to come with you at least once.”

“I’ve had dreams, Stevie.”

They both laugh and the phone starts ringing again. Eddie sighs and rushes to get inside.

“Hello?” Steve follows, closing the door behind him. His legs feel numb, almost enough to make him stumble. “Gare, you knew what my gift was and you’re still calling?”

Steve rolls his eyes.

“Of course I love it. No, you can’t come over for a ride tonight. No, you can’t drive it. No!” Steve is giggling as he kisses Eddie’s shoulder on his way past him to their room. “I don’t care if it’s your birthday, too. It’s my gift.”

Steve drops his clothes in the basket and goes into the bathroom to start the shower. He has no doubt that they’ll get messy again before the night’s over, but they should try to look decent if they’re taking the Harley out for a spin.

He hears Eddie telling Gareth not to call back until tomorrow as he steps into the hot water.

Gareth will worm his way into driving it by the end of the week, Steve’s sure of it. Eddie’s got a soft spot for him that can be seen from space. That’s why there’s a helmet for Gareth sitting in a box in the living room.

Steve thought of everything.

“Does cum stain leather?” Eddie asks as he steps into the shower.

Steve’s brows furrow.

Maybe he didn’t think of everything.