#Language challenges and competitions

[theenglishnook]

The Gamification Revolution in Language Learning

Level Up Your Language Skills Embarking on the journey of language acquisition has undergone a thrilling metamorphosis, ushered in by the captivating wave of the gamification of language learning. Imagine language learning not as a tedious task but as an immersive quest, where learners don the mantle of heroes in a digital realm, unlocking linguistic prowess and cultural insights. The…

[soaln]

can i request hcs of monster trio and ace/law getting jealous of someone stealing reader’s attention?

𝓗𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐂𝐀𝐍𝐎𝐍 ﹒ ౨ৎ

𓏵 ﹒ ┈ warnings : none, pure fluff, gender isn't mentioned I think ｡— ◟ 𖦹

𝓜𝐎𝐍𝐊𝐄𝐘 𝐃. 𝐋𝐔𝐅𝐅𝐘

Luffy, despite his carefree and unrefined nature, is open about his feelings for you. His youthful exuberance and boundless energy make his attachment to you both overwhelming and endearing. If someone tries to take your attention away, he doesn’t hesitate to express his feelings. His face scrunches up into an exaggerated pout, his lips puffing out as he declares, “Hey! That’s my [Y/N]!” in a tone that is both childish and possessive.

Luffy usually doesn’t care much about competition, but when it comes to you, he will go to great lengths to capture your attention. Whether it’s interrupting conversations with his signature enthusiasm or pulling you into a tight, playful hug, he makes sure everyone knows you are his priority.

If someone continues to ignore him, Luffy's behavior will become even more outrageous. He might start doing silly stunts, telling jokes, or even challenging the intruder to a goofy competition—all to get your attention back. His actions are loud, chaotic, and completely in character, but they stem from a place of genuine affection.

𝓡𝐎𝐑𝐎𝐍𝐎𝐀 𝐙𝐎𝐑𝐎

Zoro’s jealousy is as sharp and precise as his swordsmanship. He’s not one to wear his emotions openly, but when someone catches your attention, his stoic demeanor becomes a little more intense. His arms cross, his gaze narrows, and his silence speaks volumes. He doesn’t need words to convey his displeasure.

If the situation escalates, Zoro's pride won't allow him to stand by without taking action. He'll find a way to involve himself, often pretending that he needs your help with something trivial, like adjusting his swords or reaching for a drink. His movements are deliberate, and his tone remains casual, but his piercing gaze is always fixed on the intruder.

Zoro’s jealousy is subtle yet powerful. He doesn’t create a scene, but his actions and presence are enough to remind everyone—especially you—that he’s not someone to be underestimated when it comes to matters of the heart.

𝓥𝐈𝐍𝐒𝐌𝐎𝐊𝐄 𝐒𝐀𝐍𝐉𝐈

Sanji’s jealousy is as intense and dramatic as his personality. When someone tries to capture your attention, his romantic nature ignites like a storm. His words are filled with passion and possessiveness, and his voice drips with charming sweetness as he declares, “Darling, you should know, no one could ever treat you the way I do!”

His jealousy is anything but subtle. He showers you with flirtatious compliments while his eyes smolder with intensity, casting pointed glances at anyone he sees as a threat. Sanji's love language revolves around grand gestures, which he uses to remind you—and everyone else—that you are his muse, his one and only.

If the situation requires it, Sanji will go all out. He might prepare an extravagant meal just for you, presenting it with a theatrical bow and flourish. His jealousy is intertwined with passion, spectacle, and an unwavering devotion that is impossible to ignore.

𝓟𝐎𝐑𝐓𝐆𝐀𝐒 𝐃. 𝐀𝐂𝐄

Ace’s jealousy is subtle, reflecting his laid-back personality, yet it runs deep. When someone captures your attention, he observes from a distance, maintaining a calm expression while his gaze remains intense. A quiet tension fills the air, and a slight change in his demeanor reveals the depth of his feelings.

If the intruder persists, Ace will step in with his trademark charm and ease. His words are teasing, his tone light, but there’s a possessiveness lurking beneath the surface. “Careful, they might bite,” he might say with a smirk, his voice smooth and affectionate. “You wouldn’t want to get too close.”

Ace’s jealousy is never overt, but it’s always present. He doesn’t need grand gestures or dramatic declarations to remind you where his heart lies. His quiet confidence and subtle actions speak louder than words ever could.

𝓣𝐑𝐀𝐅𝐀𝐋𝐆𝐀𝐑 𝐃. 𝓦𝐀𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐋𝐀𝐖

Law's jealousy is a masterclass in restraint and quiet intensity. He doesn't engage in loud displays of emotion, but when someone attracts too much of your attention, his presence becomes unmistakable. He lingers in the background, his posture rigid and his gaze sharp, while his silence is heavy with unspoken possessiveness.

His actions are intentional and thoughtful. A gentle touch, a soft word, or a slight change in distance is enough to remind you—and everyone else—that you belong to him. “You seem… quite interested in them,” he might murmur, his tone cool but tinged with a hint of irritation.

When Law's patience begins to wear thin, his jealousy becomes more evident. A slight scowl, a protective arm around you, or a sharp glare at the intruder acts as a silent warning. His love is deep and intimate, and he won't hesitate to defend it with the same precision he uses in battle.

[spookyji]

just the tip! txt

nsfw mdni, listen to love language :)

to yeonjun, it’s a challenge, who’s gonna break first? you or him, who will beg for more, give in to raw desperation, the glint in his foxy eyes ‘cause even if you feel so good, he’s competitive, teasing you in a rasping voice, admit it, you want me to fuck you good, the type to draw out your begging, see how long you last before you break as he’s biting pretty hickeys into your neck, barely giving you 1% of the stimulation when you know he can fuck you senseless, gonna beg yet, baby? make you all teary cause you need it so bad, pussy drooling all over the sheets and sucking in the flushed tip of his cock with a lewd squelch,, hands restrained over your head so you can’t cheat by playing with yourself, it’s torture, isn’t it?

soobin’s obsessed with a slow morning fuck, he gets morning wood so easily and honestly, he might be the only one who really enjoys it, all sleepy and a bit turned on, burying his face in your hair and not wanting to leave the warm sheets, tip of his cock pushed into your pussy, he could sleep like this ‘cause it just feels so heavenly. the type to be so sensitive, though,, if you move a little he moans easily, caging you in with his arms so you’ll stay still, can’t leave at all… probably cockwarms with just the tip to make sure all his cum stays inside you from the night before. wake him up by riding him, god, soobin’s so obsessed with that, watching you sink down on his massive cock, so cute with a pout as you try to take all of him at once, hmm?

beomgyu’s a brat, he doesn’t even try. he’ll say it, ‘just the tip,’ but never means it, balls deep and full you the brim with his dick ‘cause he’s so impatient, sucker for quickies and sloppy fucks. come on, honey, just the tip, beomgyu groans, his head tilted to the side, hands already tugging at your shorts, what, you’re gonna interrupt his league game, get him all hard by humping his dick, and not let him fuck around a little? cock drooling precum when he pulls down his sweats, manspreading in his gaming chair, his chocolate brown eyes giving you that bratty stare. playfully thrusting up, dick rubbing against your pussy as you hover over him, just barely sinking down on the tip and beomgyu’s hands grab at your hips, pushing you down roughly, the sudden stretch making you whine. bulge in your tummy, barely a second before beomgyu’s dragging you over his cock like a warm n soft fleshlight, impatient as ever. think you can keep up?

taehyun thinks you could learn a lesson about patience, hmm? you told him you could handle it, needed his cock so badly, pleasepleaseplease just the tip? and now you’re whining and begging for more, trying to fuck yourself on his dick ‘cause he won’t give you more, thought you could make this quick, didn’t you beg for just the tip? soaked pussy wrapped ‘round the tip of his veiny cock and he won’t move, taehyun revels in watching you make a desperate mess of yourself, your fingernails digging into his forearms, giving him frustrated, needy eyes because you’re just dying to be fucked properly… learned the lesson yet?

huening kai’s the worst, lasts like 2 seconds ans he’s whining. please, just the tip, his broad chest pressed to your back and his heavy bulge pushing into the back of your thighs and ass, please, poor boy just gets so hard every time you cuddle he can’t help it. wants to “cockwarm,” but the second he pushes the tip in, kai’s so needy for more, big hands accidentally manhandling you to and thrusting in all the way, whimpering sorry ‘cause he couldn’t help himself, such a clumsy, big, sweet boy who’s obsessed with your pussy n the way it feels, but you love it, don’t you? sloppy, messy thrusts that fill you up so full, the heavy drag of his cock stretching your folds open, oh, kai’s gonna cum so quickly, isn’t he?

[ditzyrafe]

trying to be quiet, fighting to see who’s loudest first like does this make sense 😭😭

— trying to keep quiet w. stepbro!rafe

warnings — p in v, stepcest, unprotected sex, lewd language

the headboard thuds softly against the wall with each deliberate thrust. rafe's hand is clamped firmly over your mouth, fingers pressing against your lips, muffling the desperate gasps threatening to escape. his other hand grips your hip, anchoring you as he drives into you, slow and deep, then faster, harder, deliberately testing your control.

"shh," he breathes against your ear, his own breath coming in ragged bursts, betraying his effort to remain quiet. "don't want our parents hearing this, do we?" there's a challenge in his low murmur, a competitive glint in the dark eyes boring into yours over his hand.

you shake your head against his palm, squeezing your eyes shut as he hits a particular sensitive spot, a strangled whimper vibrating against his fingers. it's a game you both play sometimes — who can last longer, who breaks first, especially when your parents finding out about your taboo relationship is on the line. tonight, with thin walls and proximity to your parents fast asleep in the other room, the stakes feel higher, the challenge more intense.

rafe changes the angle, grinding down, eliciting another muffled sound from you, a desperate plea trying to push past his hand. you bite down on his fingers slightly, not hard, just enough to register your rising desperation. he groans softly, a low rumble in his chest, accepting the challenge. his thrusts become more punishing, aimed at shattering your composure.

his thumb strokes over your lips, still pressed firmly against them, a strange intimate gesture amidst the raw intensity. "shit- think m'gonna lose too fast," he growls, his voice strained. he pulls back almost completely before slamming into you with devastating force.

that's what does it. the sudden, overwhelming pressure breaks through your defences. a loud, choked cry rips past his hand, undeniable, echoing slightly in the tense quiet. your body arches sharply, convulsing around him as your orgasm hit like a tidal wave.

a triumphant, guttural groan tears from rafe's throat almost simultaneously, his own control shattering as your climax triggers his. he collapses against you, pounding into you with a final few frantic, unrestrained thrusts before spilling his seed deep inside of you. he buries his face in your neck, his ragged breathing loud in the otherwise quiet room. he pulls his hand away from your mouth, leaving your lips wet and tingling.

"fuck, sis," he pants against your skin, a low chuckle vibrating through his chest. "think you lost this round."

taglist ; @13hischiers @rafesprecious @mayanqueenxx @bbshann @zoenighshade555 @feverg1rl @rafesgreasycurtainbangs @onxlyemery @yncoded @millie--billie @laniirackssss @slut4you @g3t2kn0w @kravitzwhore @dollyfiles @kild4re @zzhenyac @sparklyananas @dsfault @athaliahxoxo @allislths (join here) | divider creds ; @/anitalenia @/fairytopea

© written by ditzyrafe — do not steal or claim as ur own, stealing will result in me blocking u, any resemblance to any other story is simply coincidental!

[woninggg]

girll i crave, I CRAVEEE opposites attract, rival coworkers enemies to lovers typa smut with cheol and i think you are only one who can write this. i love your work and live for your work. thank you sooo muchhh for decide to write here💖

🐇:ahhh ty so much my love this made my day also this was so fun yet so hard to write(since English is not my first language) but I kinda love the result hehe

bite back~ 崔胜澈 Rival!Coworker!Choi Seungcheol × Rival!Coworker!Reader

Warnings: office AU, smut, degradation, dom cheol, desk sex, unprotected sex, minor choking, and mutual obsession disguised as hatred.

ᶻᶻ..more content under the cut┈✦

The worst thing about Choi Seungcheol wasn’t that he was good at his job.

No, that wasn’t it. If anything, you would have respected him for that. You didn’t mind competition—in fact, you thrived on it. But Seungcheol was a different breed of competitor. He wasn’t just good, he was arrogant about it. A smug, self centered, insufferable bastard who made sure you knew exactly where he stood in the company hierarchy.

And unfortunately, that spot was right next to yours.

The rivalry started the moment you joined. He had been the golden boy of the company, the one everyone looked up to, until you showed up. You weren’t intimidated by his reputation, nor were you interested in playing second to anyone. And from the moment you went head-to-head in your first project, you knew neither of you would back down.

It wasn’t just competition. It was war.

You challenged every one of his ideas. He shot down every one of yours. You undercut his suggestions in meetings, he made sure to find flaws in every pitch you presented. He stole deals right out from under you, and you made sure to return the favor.

And somehow, despite your mutual hatred, the company refused to separate you.

“You two work well together” your boss had said once, completely ignoring the way you and Seungcheol were glaring daggers at each other across the conference table.

Work well together. Right. If by “well” he meant in the same way oil and water did, then sure.

And tonight was no different.

You were stuck in the office well past midnight, both of you hunched over your respective desks, working on a last minute client proposal. Management had assigned it to both of you, because of course they had—insisting that your “combined talents” would deliver the best results.

You could barely focus with him in the room. every time he shifted, every time he sighed, every time his damn pen scratched against the paper, it grated on your nerves.

“Can you stop breathing so loud?” you snapped, eyes shooting daggers at him.

“Sorry, sweetheart. Didn’t realize my existence was such a burden on you.” Seungcheol’s voice dripped with sarcasm, not bothering to look up from his own paperwork.

Your eyes narrowed at the sound of his voice, your grip on your pen tightening until you feared it might snap.

“Don’t call me that,” you spat back. The last thing you needed was for him to think he could get under your skin. But it was already too late.

He chuckled under his breath, the sound irritatingly deep. “You’re really in a mood tonight, huh? What’s wrong, project not turning out the way you wanted?”

You gritted your teeth. “My project is fine.”

“Mm. Sure about that?” He finally looked up from his laptop, leaning back in his chair with that signature smirk you wanted to slap off his face. “Because from where I’m sitting, it looks like you’re struggling.”

Your eye twitched. You had never hit a coworker before, but tonight might be the night.

“For fuck’s sake” you muttered, shoving your chair back and standing abruptly. “Do you ever get tired of hearing yourself talk?”

He mirrored your movement, standing as well, and you hated that he was taller, and that he could look down at you like he was amused.

“I don’t know” he mused, taking a slow step closer. “Do you ever get tired of trying to prove you’re better than me?”

Your jaw clenched. “I don’t have to prove anything. I am better than you.”

His smirk widened, his tongue running along the inside of his cheek. “Keep telling yourself that, sweetheart.”

The way he said 'sweetheart' was like nails on a chalkboard, and it made something snap inside you.

Maybe it was the exhaustion. Maybe it was the stress. Maybe it was the way the tension between you had been building for so long, thick and suffocating.

Or maybe it was just him.

The unbearable way he looked at you, like he was daring you to break first.

So you did.

You shoved him—both hands pressed against his chest, pushing with all your strength.

He barely stumbled.

Instead, he grabbed your wrists before you could pull away, spinning you around and pressing your back against your desk.

“What the hell are you—”

“You’ve been waiting to do that, haven’t you?” he murmured, voice low.

You refused to back down. Your chin lifted defiantly. “What, shove you? Yeah. Since the day I met you.”

His fingers tightened around your wrists. “I wasn’t talking about that.”

The air grew thick with something you hadn’t noticed before—or maybe you had, but had ignored it because acknowledging it would mean admitting that you felt something other than pure hatred for him.

“You hate me, right?” he murmured, pressing in closer, his thigh sliding between yours. “So tell me to stop.”

Your nails dug into his wrists, your heartbeat pounding in your ears. “Fuck you.”

His lips curled. “That’s what I thought.”

Before you could protest, his mouth was on yours. His hand moved, fingers wrapping around your jaw, grip just tight enough to make you suck in a breath.

The kiss wasn’t soft. It wasn’t sweet. It was violent, all teeth and dominance and raw frustration.

His hands slid down, gripping your hips so tight it hurt, lifting you onto the desk as his body slotted between your legs. You yanked at his shirt, pulling him even closer, biting down on his lip just to make him groan.

“This doesn’t mean anything,” you panted against his mouth.

He laughed darkly, his fingers already working the buttons of your blouse. “Of course not.”

And yet, the way he dragged his hands down your body like he needed to memorize every inch, told a different story.

Your skirt was shoved up, your underwear pushed aside, and then— a sharp gasp left your lips as his fingers slid inside you, finding you embarrassingly wet.

He groaned, his forehead pressing against yours. “Fuck. This whole ? You’ve been this soaked, and you’ve been acting like you hate me?”

You bit your lip, refusing to answer, but he wasn’t having it.

“Tell me,” he murmured, curling his fingers, dragging a moan from you. “Tell me how bad you want it.”

You shook your head, breathless, defiant. “You don’t get to win.”

He chuckled. “Sweetheart, I already won the moment you let me touch you.”

Your cheeks burned with fury, and you bucked your hips, trying to dislodge his hand. But it was too late. His thumb found your clit, circling it in a way that made your knees tremble.

You wanted to slap the smug grin off his face, to wipe the victory from his eyes. But as he continued to kiss you, all thought of anything other than the heat between you disappeared. Your hands moved of their own accord, reaching up to tangle in his hair, pulling him closer. You didn’t want this, you told yourself, but your body had other ideas.

Seungcheol’s other hand reached up his thumb brushing against the swell of your breast, making your breath hitch. The friction of his trousers against your thighs was agonizing, the fabric rough against your sensitive skin. You could feel his erection pressing into your stomach, demanding attention.

“Say you hate me again,” he whispered against your ear, his breath hot and tickling. “Say it while you’re dripping all over my fingers.”

You bit back a moan, hating how much his words affected you. But you weren’t about to let him have the satisfaction of knowing how much you craved this.

So, you spat out the words with all the venom you had left. “I fucking hate you, Choi Seungcheol.”

His eyes darkened, his smile turning feral. “Keep saying it” he murmured, his thumb moving faster on your clit. “Let’s see if you can convince either of us.”

Your body betrayed you, arching into his touch, a whimper escaping your throat. “I hate you, I hate you, I hate you—”

Seungcheol’s eyes burned into yours, he cut you off by sliding another finger inside you, stretching you out, as you felt the beginnings of a climax building.

His pace was brutal, pumping his fingers into you with no hesitation, curling them just right until your legs threatened to give out.

“Fuck, you’re tight,” he groaned, his lips ghosting over the shell of your ear. “Bet you touch yourself thinking about me.”

You swallowed down the moan rising in your throat, your eyes squeezed shut. You clenched around his fingers, making him chuckle. “That’s what I thought.”

You were so close, so fucking close, but you’d be damned if you gave him the satisfaction of knowing it.

“Fucking asshole,” you bit out, even as your body begged for release.

His fingers pulled out of you instantly, leaving you empty, and you were about to curse at him until he grabbed your hips, yanking you back against him roughly.

“You want it rough?” he taunted, the sound of his belt unbuckling making your stomach tighten with anticipation. You didn’t answer, your breathing ragged.

You hated him for making you feel like this, for reducing you to this quivering mess of need. You hated him, hated the way his hands felt on you, hated how badly you wanted more. God, you despised Choi Seungcheol, and yet here you were, letting him do whatever he wanted to your body.

He slammed into you, all at once, stretching you open so suddenly that all you could do was gasp. The words died on your tongue, your nails digging into his arms, and his low groan against your ear sent a shiver down your spine.

“Look at you” he murmured, as he pulled out just enough to thrust back in, the force pushing you further up the desk. “So fucking cocky in the office, but now? You’re letting me fuck you open without a fight?”

You smirked, breathless. “Didn’t say I wouldn’t fight.”

And just to prove your point, you lifted your leg, wrapping it around his waist and rolling your hips deliberately. He cursed, his fingers flexing against your skin before he retaliated, grabbing the back of your knee and pushing your leg higher, forcing you open even more.

“You really wanna test me right now?” he growled, punctuating the words with a brutal thrust that had your head falling back against the desk.

Your moan echoed through the quiet office, and you knew the moment he heard it that you’d lost the upper hand.

"That’s more like it,” he muttered, dragging his lips along your jaw before biting down just enough to leave a mark. “All that attitude, but at the end of the day, this is what you really wanted, isn’t it?”

You refused to give him that satisfaction. “Fuck you.”

“You are.”

Your glare was half-hearted at best, especially when he pulled back just to watch himself sink into you again, a low groan slipping past his lips. “Shit. You’re squeezing me so tight. You sure you hate me?”

You bit your lip, refusing to answer, but the way your body responded to him told the truth.

Seungcheol knew it. And he was eating it up.

“I could make you cum just like this, couldn’t I?” he murmured against your ear, rolling his hips in a way that had you gasping. “Just from my cock stretching you open, fucking you deep, making you feel exactly how you’re supposed to?”

Your hands fisted in his shirt, your pride hanging by a thread. You couldn’t let him win. But then he moved his hand from your thigh to your throat, tilting your chin up so you had no choice but to meet his gaze.

His grip wasn’t tight—just enough pressure to keep you grounded, and make your head spin with something you didn’t want to name.

“Say it.” His voice was a low command, rough and dripping with dominance. “Say you need me to make you cum.”

You swallowed hard, your pulse racing against his palm. Suddenly his other hand slipped between your bodies, fingers finding your clit with practiced ease.

Your entire body jolted at the contact, a choked moan escaping your lips before you could stop it. The overstimulation of his cock driving into you, his hand wrapped around your throat, and now his fingers rubbing slow, deliberate circles—it was too much.

“Seungcheol—”

“Say it.” His lips brushed against your jaw. “Or should I stop?”

You gasped, shaking your head immediately. “Don’t.”

He smirked against your skin, but his movements slowed, teasing. “Then say it.”

Your pride was shattered, as your body trembled with need. You couldn’t hold out anymore, not when the pleasure was coiling so tight in your stomach, threatening to snap.

“Fuck—I need you,” you whispered, barely audible.

Seungcheol groaned, his cock twitching inside you, but it wasn’t enough. “Louder.”

You squeezed your eyes shut, your face burning“I need you to make me cum.”

The satisfaction in his chuckle made you want to slap him, but you didn’t have time to dwell on it.

Because the moment the words left your mouth, he was relentless. His thrusts turned brutal, his fingers pressing harder against your clit, his grip on your throat tightening just slightly.

“That’s my girl,” he murmured, possessive and smug.

The way he said it sent you spiraling, making the pleasure crashing over you like a tidal wave. Your entire body tensed, your walls fluttering around him as your orgasm hit you like a truck. You were barely aware of the sounds you were making—half moan, half desperate cry, until you felt him groan against your skin.

“Fuck, that’s it,” he whined, his rhythm faltering. “Look at you—fuck—so pretty when you cum for me.”

His hips stuttered, his hands gripping you even tighter as he thrust deep one last time, his own release hitting him with a guttural groan. You felt, the warmth, and the way he pulsed inside you—and fuck, you shouldn’t have liked it as much as you did.

For a long moment, neither of you moved, both of you catching your breath, the only sound in the room the ragged inhales and exhales of two people who had just crossed a line they could never uncross.

Then, slowly, Seungcheol leaned down, pressing his forehead against yours, his breath still uneven.

“Still think you don’t need me?” he murmured, a smirk tugging at his lips.

Your glare was weak, your limbs too spent to push him away. “Shut up.”

He chuckled softly, the sound vibrating through your chest, “So, are we going to pretend like this never happened or...?”

his fingers brushed along your thigh almost absentmindedly as he pulled out, leaving you feeling cold and exposed. You reached down to fix your skirt, your cheeks still flushed with the intensity of your orgasm.

And that’s when it hit you.

This wasn’t the end.

This was just the beginning.

more.┈✦

[amethystarachnid]

BET

⤷ JAMES B. “BUCKY” BARNES

ᯓ★ Pairing: James B. “Bucky” Barnes x fem!reader

ᯓ★ Genre: romance, angst and fluff

ᯓ★ Request from: not requested but taken from MARVEL bingo

ᯓ★ Story type: one shot

ᯓ★ Word count: 10k (damn this surprises me too)

ᯓ★ Summary: When Bucky Barnes suddenly starts talking to you you don't think much of it and when he asks you out on a date you couldn't be happier, Bucky truly is everything you could ever want in a man, a man that really loves you...At least that's what you thought until you discovered that it was real all just a bet.

ᯓ★ TW(s): mentions of virginity and virginity loss, small mentions of a smut scene

ᯓ★ AU: college au

ᯓ★ Request: not requested

ᯓ★ Comment if you want to be added to the taglist (specify if you want the everything taglist or for a specific character)

ᯓ★ Songs & Superheroes tales - The Game (to make a request, follow the rules on the link!)

ᯓ★ MARVEL Bingo (requests closed)

ᯓ★ Masterlist

ᯓ★ If you are a Charles Xavier fan click on this link!

ᯓ★ English isn’t my first language and this isn’t proof read

The music is loud, pulsing through the walls of the frat house as Bucky sits slouched on a couch, one arm draped lazily over the back. The night is already wearing on him, but he knows he’s going to be here until Sam and Steve call it a night, which—based on the collection of red solo cups by their feet—might be a while.

They’re all trading stories from the semester, voices buzzing with that blend of laughter and cheap beer. Sam is in the middle of recounting his latest dare when he nudges Bucky’s arm, catching his attention.

“Bet you couldn’t last a month with someone like her,” Sam says, nodding toward the corner of the room.

Bucky glances up, following Sam’s gaze until he spots you. You’re perched near the bookshelf, alone and fidgeting with your drink as you flip through a book someone left behind. He’s seen you around campus before, usually with your nose buried in a novel or surrounded by a pile of textbooks. There’s something unassuming about you, something quiet and untouchable. His friends know he’s more the type to go for a party girl—someone loud, someone who doesn’t ask too many questions.

“What, the bookworm?” Bucky scoffs, raising an eyebrow. But his friends don’t let up, and soon Steve and Sam are egging him on.

“You’re always chasing the same type,” Steve chimes in. “What are you afraid of, that she’d actually challenge you?”

Bucky laughs, rolling his eyes. He knows he should shut it down, but their teasing digs at him, scratching at that competitive edge that’s always lurking just beneath his smirk.

“All right,” Bucky finally says, shrugging. “I’ll do it. One month.”

His friends exchange knowing grins, slapping him on the back. But as soon as the words leave his mouth, Bucky feels a strange knot settle low in his stomach—a feeling he’s not used to. He brushes it off. It’s just a game, a challenge. It’s not like he’s actually going to care.

The next day, you’re tucked into your usual corner in the library, surrounded by a fortress of books. You barely notice him when he walks up, leaning against the edge of the table with a casual confidence that doesn’t match the usual quiet of the space.

“Mind if I join you?” His voice is smooth, low enough that you almost have to lean in to hear him clearly.

You glance up, surprised to see Bucky Barnes standing there, a small smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. You’ve seen him around campus—he’s hard to miss with that leather jacket and effortlessly messy hair, the type of guy who always has someone laughing beside him.

“Sure,” you murmur, unsure of what else to say as you move your books aside, offering him a seat. You’re used to people mostly ignoring you here. It’s your refuge, your sanctuary. So when he sits across from you, stretching out as if he belongs there, it feels jarringly out of place.

“You look like you’re buried in work,” he observes, nodding at the mountain of papers in front of you. “What’s got you so busy?”

You hesitate, but something in his easygoing manner convinces you to answer. “Just…assignments. Trying to keep up with everything.” You give him a small smile, your guard still up but feeling oddly curious.

“What’s your major?” he asks, and the question catches you off guard. Most people don’t bother to ask; they assume or don’t care enough to wonder. He listens as you talk about your studies, nodding, asking small questions. Before you know it, you’re telling him more than you intended, falling into an easy rhythm that surprises you.

It becomes a pattern. Over the next few weeks, he finds reasons to run into you—at the coffee shop, in the library, even in the quad between classes. Each time, he stays a little longer, asks a little more, his eyes holding yours with that subtle intensity he wears so well. At first, you’re wary, cautious of his attention. But Bucky is good, easing his way in like he has all the time in the world, his jokes and questions slowly weaving a thread of trust between you two.

And Bucky? He’s surprised at how much he finds himself drawn to you. Each time you laugh, he catches himself watching, feeling something strange and warm unfurl in his chest. There’s a gentleness in you, a quiet intelligence, that keeps him coming back even as he reminds himself this isn’t supposed to mean anything.

But the longer he spends time with you, the more he feels the weight of what he agreed to, creeping up on him every time he catches your smile, every time you look at him like he’s someone worth knowing.

He tells himself it’s just part of the bet. But deep down, he knows he’s starting to cross a line he never meant to touch.

It’s been a few weeks since Bucky started spending time with you, and against every reminder he gives himself, he’s found himself looking forward to it more than he wants to admit. He tells himself it’s harmless—he’s just getting to know you, just finding ways to pass the time. But he knows he’s lying, especially when he starts finding excuses to see you outside of the library or when he catches himself glancing at his phone, hoping for a text from you.

One night, back at the frat house, he’s lounging with Sam and Steve again, half-listening to their conversation when Sam nudges him.

“So, Barnes. How’s it going with the bookworm?” Sam asks with a knowing smirk. Bucky rolls his eyes, trying to brush it off, but Sam isn’t so easily deterred. “Don’t tell me you’re catching feelings.”

Bucky scoffs, forcing a laugh to keep the truth buried. “It’s going fine. Like I said, a month’s no problem.”

Sam exchanges a glance with Steve, a wicked grin spreading across his face. “Let’s make this interesting then. If you really want to win this thing, you’ve got to take it further.”

Bucky’s jaw clenches. “Further?” He has a bad feeling about where this is going.

Steve raises his eyebrows. “Come on, Buck. You’ve been hanging out with her, sure, but we’re talking about actually making her fall for you. Ask her out, and, you know—” He raises an eyebrow meaningfully.

“Sleep with her,” Sam adds bluntly, laughing. “Seal the deal, and there’s two hundred bucks in it for you.”

Bucky hesitates, that uncomfortable knot tightening in his stomach again. He tells himself it’s just a stupid bet. He’s done things like this before—gotten close to people just to prove he could, had plenty of meaningless hookups that never meant a thing. He’s Bucky Barnes, the guy who doesn’t do commitment or complications. But for some reason, picturing it with you makes him feel…off.

“Fine,” he says after a beat, his voice steady, betraying nothing of the uncertainty he’s trying to ignore. “Two hundred bucks. Done.”

The next day, he texts you, his fingers hovering over the keys a little too long before he finally sends, Hey, you free Friday? Let me take you out somewhere nice.

When you see his message, your heart skips a beat. It’s been a while since anyone has asked you on an actual date, and even longer since you’ve felt genuinely excited about someone. Bucky’s been different from the start—warm, attentive, and surprisingly easy to talk to. You’ve caught yourself looking forward to his company, replaying the moments he laughs at one of your jokes or leans in close enough for you to catch a hint of his cologne.

After a second, you type back, Yeah, I’d love to! You add a smiley face, feeling almost giddy as you press send.

The days leading up to Friday drag by, each one marked with bursts of nerves and anticipation. You spend a little more time getting ready than usual, finally deciding on a simple but pretty dress that makes you feel confident. When Bucky picks you up, his usual leather jacket replaced with a dark button-up, you feel a thrill of excitement. He looks genuinely happy to see you, his eyes scanning over you appreciatively as he gives you a lopsided grin.

“You look amazing,” he says, his gaze warm. There’s something softer in his eyes, something that makes you blush.

“Thanks,” you mumble, smiling as you walk beside him. He leads you to a small Italian place tucked away from campus, the kind of cozy, dimly lit restaurant you wouldn’t have expected him to know about. The conversation flows easily between you two, laughter spilling out as you talk about classes, hometowns, and childhood memories.

The night feels magical, almost surreal, and you start to wonder if maybe, just maybe, there’s something real here. Every time his hand brushes against yours, a spark shoots up your spine. And when he reaches across the table, fingers lightly grazing your wrist as he laughs at something you said, your heart flutters in a way that’s both thrilling and terrifying.

After dinner, he suggests taking a walk, and soon you’re strolling through the quiet streets, the chill of the night air making you shiver just slightly. Without a word, Bucky slips his arm around your shoulders, pulling you close. It feels so natural, like you belong there.

“You know, I don’t think I’ve ever been on a date this nice,” you admit, smiling up at him, your voice soft.

He chuckles, though it sounds slightly strained. “Really? I find that hard to believe.”

You shrug, trying to brush it off. “I guess I’ve just never…met anyone like you before.”

There’s a flash of something in his eyes—guilt, maybe, or regret. But it’s gone as quickly as it came, replaced with that charming grin. He steps closer, his arm slipping from your shoulders, and you hold your breath as he cups your cheek, his thumb brushing lightly against your skin.

“You’re pretty amazing, you know that?” he murmurs, his voice low.

You feel like the world has stopped, your heart pounding in your chest. This is the moment you’ve been dreaming of, the moment where everything finally falls into place.

But for Bucky, something sharp and painful twists inside him. He can feel the weight of what he’s doing pressing down on him, can see the way your eyes look at him with such unguarded trust, and it’s enough to make his stomach turn. He’s never felt guilty over a stupid bet before, but right now, the idea of hurting you feels unbearable.

“Hey,” he says softly, his hand still on your cheek. “You trust me, right?”

Your eyes widen, and you nod slowly, too caught up in the moment to notice the tension in his gaze. “Yeah,” you whisper, a small smile forming on your lips.

He leans in, pressing his forehead against yours as he takes a steadying breath. “Good,” he says, trying to keep his voice steady. Because if he’s going to go through with this, he tells himself he has to believe that none of it matters—that he won’t let himself care. But even as he kisses you, his lips soft and warm against yours, he knows he’s lying to himself.

The days after that first date drift into a series of moments that feel surreal, almost like they’re happening to someone else. You find yourself checking your phone at odd times, waiting for his texts, smiling down at your screen whenever his name lights up. Bucky is a part of your routine now, and it feels strange, thrilling even, like there’s this magnetic force that draws you to him despite every bit of caution you try to hold onto.

Every time you’re with him, the outside world fades. He makes you laugh with stories about his friends, leaning in close, his voice warm and low as if he’s sharing some secret just for you. You catch yourself stealing glances when he’s not looking—at the way his jaw clenches when he’s lost in thought or how his eyes soften when he looks at you, a mix of curiosity and something you can’t quite name.

It’s after one of your study sessions at the library that Bucky invites you over to his dorm room for the first time. He tells you he’s got some old movies you’ve probably never seen, and, honestly, he’s right—you’d never pictured Bucky as the type to own black-and-white classics, but that’s exactly what he has, a surprisingly large collection lined up on a low shelf near his TV. He insists you pick one, and soon you’re sitting side by side on his couch, your legs tucked up beneath you, feeling almost shy in the soft glow of the screen.

The movie starts, but his arm stretches along the back of the couch, barely brushing your shoulders. The faintest touch sends electricity through you, but you stay quiet, not wanting to ruin the moment. Then, halfway through the movie, he shifts, glancing at you.

“You can get closer, you know,” he murmurs, his eyes glinting with something mischievous yet gentle.

Your heart flutters as you scoot closer, until you’re tucked into his side, his arm draped around you in a way that feels possessive yet comforting. He smells faintly like cedar and something distinctly him, a scent that’s becoming familiar. Before you know it, your head is resting on his shoulder, his hand absently tracing patterns on your arm, and you feel like you could stay there forever.

Time slips by in a collection of small, perfect moments. There are more dates—little coffee shops tucked away from campus, a bookstore where he buys you a copy of a novel you mentioned in passing, a late-night diner where you both end up after laughing so hard that you can’t breathe. You never expected him to be so attentive, so eager to listen to your stories and learn every detail about your life. He even surprises you with your favorite snack on study nights, tossing it to you with a grin before leaning in close to steal a bite for himself.

One evening, after a long day of classes and a surprise text from Bucky inviting you over, you find yourself curled up on his couch once again. This time, he’s stretched out beside you, one arm tucked under his head while the other rests around your shoulders. His fingers brush against your arm absently, and you can’t help but notice how natural this feels. It’s terrifying, too, the way he seems to melt into your life so effortlessly, as if he’s always been there.

You glance up at him, catching him mid-laugh as he recounts an embarrassing story about Sam, who apparently tried to show off on a skateboard and ended up with a sprained ankle.

“You’re terrible,” you tease, nudging him with your shoulder, though you’re laughing too.

“Oh, come on. It was hilarious,” he insists, grinning down at you. He tilts his head, his gaze dropping to your lips for just a second, and your laughter fades as something shifts between you.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” you ask softly, your voice barely more than a whisper.

He shrugs, the corner of his mouth twitching in a faint smile. “I just…can’t believe you’re real sometimes.”

The words catch you off guard, and for a moment, you’re too stunned to reply. But then he leans down, his lips brushing yours with a tenderness that makes your chest ache. The kiss deepens slowly, each touch feeling like a promise, and you lose yourself in the warmth of his embrace, forgetting every doubt, every insecurity that ever kept you guarded.

As the weeks pass, you find yourself falling harder than you ever expected. Bucky seems to find every crack in your armor, every scar and hidden fear, and instead of pulling away, he draws closer, listening to your stories and letting you into his own in ways that leave you breathless. He’s there to listen on your tough days, wrapping his arms around you and murmuring words of reassurance. He’s there on your good days, too, laughing with you, pressing kisses to your forehead as if he can’t believe his luck.

One night, you’re back on his couch, cuddled up under a thick blanket as a storm rages outside, the rain tapping against the windows. You’re nestled against him, his arm holding you close, and he’s quiet, his fingers tracing patterns along your shoulder absentmindedly.

“Bucky?” you ask, breaking the comfortable silence.

“Hmm?” he murmurs, his gaze dropping to yours, his eyes soft and warm in the dim light.

“Thank you,” you say, your voice barely a whisper. “For everything.”

He frowns slightly, shifting so he can look at you fully. “You don’t have to thank me for that,” he says, his thumb brushing against your cheek. “Being with you…it’s the easiest thing in the world.”

You smile, warmth spreading through your chest, and he kisses you again, slow and soft, like he’s savoring every second. It’s moments like this that make you feel like maybe, just maybe, you’re finally safe with someone, that this is something real.

But for Bucky, each moment with you is a double-edged sword. He’s never felt this way before—this calm, this…connected. Every time you laugh at one of his jokes or lean against him, trusting and unguarded, he feels that awful twist of guilt, the memory of that stupid bet lurking in the back of his mind.

He’s supposed to ask for more. That’s what Sam and Steve were expecting, weren’t they? They wanted him to win the bet, to seal the deal and prove he could pull this off. But every time he thinks about going further, about pushing this relationship into a place where he can’t turn back, he feels that nagging ache, that quiet, gnawing feeling that he’s crossing a line he can’t uncross.

He knows he needs to tell you. He needs to come clean, but every time he opens his mouth, the words get stuck in his throat. You look at him with those bright, trusting eyes, and he can’t bring himself to shatter the way you see him. So he holds his silence, hoping that somehow, he can bury the truth forever, that maybe you’ll never have to know.

One evening, as you’re lying together on his couch, you let out a contented sigh, resting your head on his chest as his hand traces lazy patterns along your back.

“Bucky?” you whisper, your voice soft.

He glances down at you, his fingers pausing as he meets your gaze. “Yeah?”

You hesitate, then take a steadying breath. “I…I think I’m falling for you.”

The words hang in the air, vulnerable and open, and for a second, his face goes still, his eyes widening just slightly. Then, his expression softens, and he tightens his arms around you, his hand coming up to cup your cheek.

“You have no idea how much that means to me,” he murmurs, his voice thick with emotion. But as he kisses you, the warmth of his touch hiding the flicker of guilt behind his eyes, a single thought haunts him.

She deserves the truth.

That night, Bucky barely sleeps, lying awake with the knowledge that he’s in far too deep to ever come out of this unscathed. Every soft breath you take beside him reminds him of how much he’s risking by staying silent. He knows he has to tell you, but he’s terrified—terrified that this fragile, beautiful thing you’ve built together will shatter, that you’ll look at him with betrayal instead of trust.

In the morning, he makes a decision. He’ll find a way to tell you, he promises himself, but he wants one more day, one more memory before he risks everything. Just one last perfect day where he can pretend that none of it was ever a lie.

So he takes you out, leading you down to the pier just as the sun begins to set, casting the sky in hues of pink and gold. You laugh, leaning into him, and he wraps his arms around you from behind, resting his chin on your shoulder.

“It’s beautiful,” you murmur, watching the waves lap against the shore.

“Yeah,” he replies, his voice soft. “It is.”

But as he stands there, holding you close, he knows that the beauty of this moment is fleeting, that the truth waiting in his chest is too big to ignore. And tonight, when he finally gathers the courage to tell you, he knows there’s a chance he’ll lose you forever. But for now, he lets himself savor this last quiet moment, memorizing the feeling of you in his arms, the warmth of your laughter as it fills the air.

For now, he holds onto the hope that maybe, somehow, you’ll understand.

The sunset fades, leaving the world painted in muted purples and blues, but neither of you seem ready to break away from each other. Bucky holds you close, feeling the steady rhythm of your breath against his chest as if it’s his own. He knows he should say something—that he needs to say something—but the words seem so impossible now, tangled up in his chest. The truth would ruin this moment, shatter whatever he’s built with you. And so, he tells himself it can wait just a little longer.

As the evening slips into night, Bucky leads you back to his dorm room, his hand intertwined with yours. You can feel the heat of his palm, the way his fingers wrap around yours as if he never wants to let go. The air feels charged, every touch electric, each shared glance simmering with something that feels fragile and exhilarating. Neither of you says much, as though speaking would break the quiet spell between you.

Once you’re inside, Bucky hesitates. He turns to you, his expression vulnerable, softer than you’ve ever seen it. "You don’t have to stay if you don’t want to,” he murmurs, his thumb brushing against the back of your hand.

“I want to,” you say, the words escaping before you can even think. There’s no hesitation in your voice, only a gentle certainty that makes his chest tighten. The way you look at him, so open and trusting, makes his heart ache with a mix of guilt and longing.

Bucky’s eyes search yours, lingering for a moment that stretches into forever. He reaches up, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear before his fingers trail down to your jaw, cradling your face as if you’re something fragile and precious. Slowly, he leans down, capturing your lips in a kiss that’s softer than any before. It’s unhurried, tender, as if he’s savoring every second.

The kiss deepens, and you can feel yourself melting into him, your heart pounding so hard you think it might burst. His hands move to your waist, steady and grounding, and he pulls you closer until there’s no space left between you. You can feel the strength of him, the warmth radiating through his clothes, and it makes your head spin.

Before long, you find yourselves tangled together on his bed, the world outside fading into nothingness. Each kiss is deeper than the last, each touch laced with a longing neither of you can deny. There’s a gentleness to Bucky’s movements, a quiet patience as he explores the curve of your shoulder, the softness of your waist, as if he’s memorizing every inch of you. He’s slow and careful, constantly looking at you as if to make sure this is what you want.

“Are you okay?” he whispers, his voice rough with barely-contained emotion.

You nod, feeling breathless but certain. “I’ve never been more sure of anything.”

His eyes darken, filled with a tenderness that makes your chest ache, and then he’s kissing you again, deeper this time, his hands skimming over your skin with a reverence that leaves you feeling cherished. You lose track of time, surrendering to the way he makes you feel—safe, wanted, like you’re the only thing in the world that matters.

When you finally fall back against the bed, your bodies wrapped around each other, you’re exhausted yet filled with a warmth that feels all-encompassing. The reality of what just happened settles in, but instead of feeling nervous, you feel at peace, secure in the quiet intimacy that has grown between you.

Bucky shifts beside you, pulling you closer until your head rests against his chest, his arm draped protectively around your shoulders. The steady thump of his heartbeat lulls you into a peaceful daze, and you feel his fingers trace small circles on your back, soothing and grounding.

You’re both quiet for a long time, the silence comfortable as you bask in each other’s presence. Eventually, though, you feel a need to tell him something you’ve been holding back, something you hadn’t planned on revealing but that feels right to share in this moment.

“Bucky,” you begin softly, lifting your head to look at him. He gazes down at you, his eyes warm and attentive, as if you’re the only thing he sees. “I…I want you to know that this was my first time.”

The words hang in the air, and for a moment, you’re afraid he’ll pull away, that he’ll think you were too inexperienced or that you should have told him sooner. But he doesn’t flinch or hesitate. His hand moves up to gently cradle your cheek, his thumb brushing softly against your skin.

“Your first?” he echoes, his voice filled with a mixture of surprise and something that sounds almost like reverence.

You nod, feeling your cheeks heat as you look down, suddenly self-conscious. “Yeah…I wanted it to be with someone who made me feel safe. Someone I trusted.”

Bucky’s chest rises and falls slowly as he takes this in, his expression softening. He seems almost humbled, like he’s just been given something rare and delicate. He leans down, pressing a kiss to your forehead before resting his own against yours.

“You have no idea how much that means to me,” he murmurs, his voice thick with emotion. There’s a vulnerability in his gaze, as if he’s holding back a hundred things he wants to say but can’t find the words for.

You smile, the last traces of your nervousness melting away. “Thank you, Bucky…for making it so special.”

He pulls you close, wrapping his arms around you like he’s afraid to let you go. “I’d do anything to make you feel special,” he whispers, his breath warm against your skin.

You nestle into his chest, listening to the steady rhythm of his heartbeat, feeling safe and cherished in a way you never have before. And as you lie there, drifting between sleep and wakefulness, you wonder if this is what it feels like to be truly, deeply in love.

But as you fall asleep in his arms, Bucky lies awake, his heart heavy with the weight of everything he’s kept from you. He knows he should be content, that he should just let himself savor this night and the closeness you’ve shared. But the memory of that stupid, careless bet gnaws at him, a dark cloud looming over everything.

He runs a hand through his hair, staring up at the ceiling, feeling torn between the desire to protect you from the truth and the fear that he’s already crossed a line he can’t uncross. The realization that you trusted him enough to give him something so deeply personal makes the weight of his lie even heavier, almost unbearable. He swallows hard, tightening his hold on you as he resolves to tell you the truth—soon, somehow, even if it means risking everything.

But tonight, he lets himself stay silent. He closes his eyes, breathing in the scent of your hair, the warmth of your body against his, and allows himself to believe, if only for a moment, that this can last.

The morning sunlight filters softly through the blinds, casting warm, golden patterns across the bed. You stir beside him, your movements gentle as you wake up, and Bucky watches you with a quiet awe, his heart racing as he takes in the peaceful expression on your face. For a moment, it feels like he’s exactly where he’s meant to be.

You blink up at him, your face lighting up with a sleepy smile that makes his chest tighten.

“Good morning,” you murmur, your voice soft and a little shy, as if the night is still too fresh, too beautiful to fully believe.

He grins, brushing a strand of hair from your face. “Morning,” he replies, his voice low and warm. His fingers trail down to your hand, giving it a gentle squeeze, and you squeeze back, a shared moment of silent understanding passing between you.

The morning stretches on in a gentle haze of quiet touches and soft words. Bucky makes you coffee, insisting you stay curled up under his blanket while he brings it over to you, and you laugh, watching him with a mix of affection and disbelief. This side of him—the playful, thoughtful side—is something you never expected to see, and it makes you fall for him even harder.

You’re both lounging on his bed, your legs tangled together, talking in low voices about everything and nothing. He tells you stories about his childhood, tales about him and Steve getting into trouble, and you share your own memories, laughing as he reacts with wide eyes and exaggerated shock.

It feels so real, so natural, that you almost forget about everything outside this room, about the possibility that this could be something fleeting. You feel like you’ve found a place that’s safe, a person who makes you feel more like yourself than you ever have before.

But in the quiet moments, when you catch him staring at you with that far-off look, you wonder if there’s something he’s not telling you, a hesitation lurking behind his gaze. You don’t press, not wanting to shatter the peace between you. But part of you wonders if you’re seeing a glimpse of something deeper, something you’re not yet ready to confront.

As you leave his dorm room later that morning, he kisses you softly, lingering as if he’s trying to memorize the taste of your lips, the feel of your hand in his. There’s an unspoken promise in his touch, a silent assurance that this isn’t the end.

Later that afternoon, you make your way back to the frat house, humming softly as you climb the steps to Bucky's door. You left your notebook there, a little blue book you’re pretty sure you’ll need for your upcoming assignment. You barely slept last night, too caught up in the warmth of his touch, the memory of his whispered words that lingered long after you left his dorm this morning. You’re nervous, too; you feel so much for him that it scares you.

As you approach his room, laughter drifts out into the hallway, low voices filtering through the partially open door. You recognize Bucky’s laugh, the familiar sound stirring warmth in your chest, but the laughter feels different, carefree and loud. And then you hear a familiar voice—Sam’s—cutting through, low and joking.

"Guess she fell for it pretty hard, huh?" Sam’s voice sounds amused, lighthearted, as if he’s talking about something trivial.

You freeze, your hand hovering inches from the door. Something about his tone makes you hesitate, a strange, unsettling feeling creeping into your chest.

"Come on, Bucky," Sam presses, “don’t act all innocent now. I saw you this morning, looking like you just won the lottery.” You can hear the grin in his voice, a laugh bubbling beneath it. “So? How was it?”

Bucky laughs, the sound uncomfortable, but he doesn’t argue. “Yeah, yeah,” he says, his voice casual, light. “It was… good.”

You feel a stab in your chest, a faint panic that tells you to leave, to walk away before you hear any more. But your feet don’t move, and you find yourself listening, every word driving another splinter into your heart.

Steve’s voice joins in, chuckling. “Well, you earned it, man. She had no clue, huh?”

“No clue,” Bucky murmurs, his voice softer now, almost unreadable. You can picture him there, maybe rubbing the back of his neck the way he does when he’s nervous. But the words are there, undeniable.

Sam laughs again, louder this time. “And hey, bet’s a bet,” he says, and then there’s a pause before you hear the unmistakable rustling of bills being exchanged. “Two hundred dollars, as promised. Can’t say you didn’t earn it, though—you even managed to get her into bed. Didn’t think you had it in you, but here we are!”

Your vision blurs, the words echoing in your mind, distorting into something raw and jagged. Every affectionate touch, every gentle kiss, every whispered promise from the past few weeks twists into something ugly, something unrecognizable. You feel sick, the image of Bucky’s earnest smile, his soft words about wanting to make you feel special, tainted beyond repair. Everything you felt for him, the trust you’d handed him so freely, crumbles beneath the weight of their laughter.

Slowly, you turn and leave, gripping the strap of your bag tightly as you make your way out of the frat house. You don’t let yourself cry, not yet, not when you still feel the echo of his betrayal throbbing in your chest, too raw, too painful to acknowledge fully.

Hours later, you’re back in your dorm room, your heart aching as you sit in silence, the truth settling over you in waves. Part of you wants to believe it was a misunderstanding, that maybe there’s an explanation you’re missing. But the memory of their laughter, the casual way Sam handed him that money, makes the truth impossible to ignore.

A knock on your door interrupts your thoughts, and your heart skips a beat as you hear Bucky’s voice calling your name softly from the hallway. It’s just him now, his voice hesitant, almost as if he senses that something’s wrong. You take a steadying breath, steeling yourself before you answer the door.

When you open it, Bucky’s eyes light up, and he steps forward, a soft smile on his face as he reaches for your hand. “Hey, you,” he murmurs, his voice warm. But when he sees the look on your face, he pauses, his smile fading. “What’s wrong?”

For a moment, you can’t bring yourself to speak. You can only look at him, trying to reconcile the gentle, caring person you thought you knew with the man who took a bet to seduce you. You pull your hand away from his, ignoring the confusion in his gaze as he watches you.

“Were you even going to tell me?” Your voice comes out quieter than you intended, a dull ache threading through every word. “Or were you just going to take the money and pretend it never happened?”

Bucky blinks, his brow furrowing in confusion. “Tell you what? I—I don’t understand.”

A bitter laugh escapes your lips, and you look away, wrapping your arms around yourself as if it’ll keep you from falling apart. “Don’t play dumb, Bucky. I heard you. I was at the frat house earlier, and I heard everything.”

He freezes, his face going pale, and you see the truth in his eyes, clear as day. He opens his mouth, stumbling over his words. “Y/N, I—I didn’t… I didn’t mean for you to find out like this.”

The admission twists the knife deeper, and you feel yourself trembling as you look back at him, tears stinging your eyes. “So, it’s true, then? All of it? This whole… this whole thing was just for some stupid bet?”

He reaches for you, his expression desperate, his hands hovering just inches from your arms. “Y/N, please. Just let me explain. It wasn’t like that, I swear. It started that way, but then… then it became real. I fell for you, okay? Everything we did, everything we shared—it was real.”

You shake your head, pulling away from him, the anger and betrayal simmering beneath the surface. “Real? You think that makes this okay? Do you have any idea what you’ve done?” Your voice breaks, and a tear slips down your cheek before you can stop it. “I trusted you, Bucky. I thought… I thought you cared about me.”

His face crumples, and he takes a step closer, his hand reaching out as if to wipe away the tear on your cheek. “I do care about you. More than anything, Y/N. That’s why I wanted to tell you, I just—”

“Wanted to tell me?” you interrupt, your voice shaking. “When, Bucky? After you cashed in your winnings? After I found out on my own?”

The silence stretches between you, heavy and unbearable, and Bucky’s shoulders sag as he looks away, guilt etched deeply into his face.

“Do you even realize how humiliating this is?” you continue, your voice a mixture of anger and heartbreak. “I trusted you with something… something I’d never given anyone. And the whole time, it was just part of a game to you.”

His eyes snap back to yours, filled with anguish, his voice barely a whisper. “It was never just a game, not after the first night. I swear, Y/N, I was going to tell you everything. I just… I didn’t want to lose you.”

“You didn’t want to lose me?” you repeat, laughing bitterly. “You lost me the moment you made that bet. You had no right to… to play with me like that, to make me believe that any of it was real.”

He looks at you, his blue eyes full of desperation, his voice breaking. “Y/N, please. I know I messed up. I know I hurt you, but I need you to believe me when I say I never meant for any of this to happen.”

“Just stop,” you whisper, the weight of it all crashing over you. “You don’t get to do this. You don’t get to make me feel sorry for you when you’re the one who lied.”

Bucky’s face falls, and he drops his gaze, his shoulders slumping in defeat. “I know. I know I don’t deserve your forgiveness. But please, just… give me a chance to make it right.”

Your heart aches, torn between the memories of every gentle touch, every whispered word, and the undeniable truth of his betrayal. Part of you wants to believe him, wants to believe that somewhere in all of this, there was something real. But the pain is too deep, the wound too fresh, and you don’t know if you can ever look at him the same way again.

“I can’t do this,” you say, your voice barely more than a whisper. “I can’t just forget what you did. You hurt me, Bucky. And right now, I don’t even know who you are anymore.”

He flinches, as if your words physically hurt him, and he nods slowly, a look of resignation in his eyes. “I understand. I’ll… I’ll leave, if that’s what you want.”

You nod, wrapping your arms around yourself as he takes a step back, his gaze lingering on you one last time before he turns and walks toward the door. Just as he reaches it, he pauses, his hand resting on the doorknob as he glances back at you, his voice soft, broken.

“For what it’s worth, Y/N… I love you. I know I don’t deserve to say that, but it’s the truth.”

You don’t reply, staring at him with tear-filled eyes as he finally steps out of your dorm, the door closing softly behind him. The silence that follows is deafening, and you sink to the floor, the weight of everything crashing down as you realize that the person you thought you loved never truly existed.

The days blur together in a haze of heartbreak and emptiness. You go through the motions, attending classes, completing assignments, and showing up to study groups, but it all feels mechanical, like you’re on autopilot. It’s as if something inside you has shut down, leaving only an echo of who you were before you met him, before he became the center of your world.

It doesn’t take long for your friends to notice the change. They ask if you’re okay, if something happened, if maybe you just need a break. But you give them the same answer each time—a nod, a small smile, and an assurance that you’re just tired. It’s easier than explaining the mess of emotions tangled inside you, the hurt that seems too big to fit into words.

Late at night, lying alone in your dorm room, you can still feel the warmth of his arms around you, the softness of his voice in the quiet hours when he’d whisper promises you thought would last forever. The memory feels cruel now, tainted by the knowledge that it was all built on a lie. And yet, despite everything, you miss him. You hate yourself for it, but you miss the way he looked at you, the way he made you feel safe, special, as if you were the only person in the world who mattered.

Bucky isn’t doing any better. In fact, he’s a mess. Days have passed, but the guilt, the emptiness—it lingers, gnawing at him, refusing to let him move on. He can barely sleep, haunted by the look in your eyes, the betrayal, the hurt he put there. Every time he closes his eyes, he sees you, hears the way your voice cracked when you told him you didn’t know who he was anymore. And the worst part is, he doesn’t blame you. He knows he did this, that he ruined everything, and now he has to live with the consequences.

Sam and Steve notice almost immediately. Bucky, the confident, charming guy they’d known for years, looks hollow, as if he’s carrying a weight he can’t shake. He barely speaks, keeps to himself, and they rarely see him at the frat house anymore. Instead, he spends most of his time shut up in his dorm, a shadow of the person he used to be.

One evening, as the sun dips below the horizon, Sam and Steve exchange a glance, silently agreeing that they need to intervene. They knock on his door, and when he doesn’t answer, Sam pushes it open, finding him lying on his bed, staring blankly at the ceiling.

“Hey, man,” Sam says, stepping inside. Steve follows, closing the door behind them as they both approach Bucky’s bed.

Bucky doesn’t react right away, his gaze still fixed on the ceiling. But eventually, he sits up, running a hand through his hair, looking exhausted and defeated.

“What’s up, guys?” he mumbles, though his voice lacks any real curiosity.

“We should be asking you that,” Steve says, his tone softer than usual. “You haven’t been yourself lately. Ever since things ended with Y/N, it’s like… you’re a completely different person.”

At the sound of your name, Bucky’s face falls, and he lets out a long, shaky breath. “Yeah,” he says quietly, almost to himself. “That’s because I am.”

Sam frowns, studying Bucky’s expression, the guilt etched into every line of his face. “Look, man, we didn’t mean for things to get this serious. But if you cared about her, really cared… why didn’t you just tell her the truth from the start?”

Bucky shakes his head, his hands gripping the edge of the bed so tightly his knuckles turn white. “I don’t know,” he whispers, his voice breaking. “I was scared, I guess. I knew I’d screwed up, and every time I tried to tell her, I just… couldn’t. I thought I could fix things, somehow, make it up to her without her ever finding out.” He lets out a bitter laugh, shaking his head. “Stupid, right?”

Steve sighs, sitting beside him on the bed. “Not stupid, just… a mistake. A big one, yeah, but you’re not the first guy to mess up. You’re just… Bucky, this isn’t like you. I’ve never seen you like this over anyone before.”

Bucky looks away, a sad smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “That’s because I’ve never felt this way before. Not like this. I love her, Steve. And I threw it all away over some stupid bet that meant nothing. I hurt her in ways I can’t even fix.”

Sam places a hand on his shoulder, giving it a firm squeeze. “So what are you gonna do about it? You can’t just sit here, wallowing. If she meant that much to you, then maybe you owe it to her—and to yourself—to try and make it right.”

Bucky laughs, but it’s empty, hollow. “And how am I supposed to do that, Sam? She told me herself she doesn’t know who I am. She doesn’t trust me. I don’t deserve another chance.”

Steve exchanges a look with Sam, and then he says, “Maybe. But you can’t just give up without trying. If you really love her, Bucky, you have to prove it. Show her that you’re not just the guy who hurt her, that you’re willing to fight for her. And if she doesn’t take you back… at least you’ll know you tried.”

Bucky sighs, leaning forward, resting his elbows on his knees as he stares at the floor. “I don’t know if she’ll ever forgive me. I don’t even know if I deserve it.”

Sam crosses his arms, his expression softening. “Look, man, I get that you’re hurting. But don’t you think she’s hurting, too? She’s probably out there feeling just as broken, wondering if anything between you was ever real.”

Bucky swallows hard, his chest tightening at the thought. He knows you’re hurting, knows you trusted him with something precious, something he didn’t deserve. And knowing that he’s the reason for your pain… it’s a feeling he wouldn’t wish on anyone.

Over the next few days, Bucky wrestles with himself, caught between the fear of making things worse and the desire to show you that he’s truly sorry, that he wants to be the man you thought he was. He writes and rewrites texts he never sends, shows up outside your dorm but never works up the courage to knock. He’s terrified, but he can’t ignore the way his heart aches for you, the empty, gnawing feeling that only seems to grow with each passing day.

Finally, he decides to try one last time. He doesn’t know if you’ll listen, doesn’t know if you’ll even give him a chance. But he has to try—to give you the truth, no matter how painful it might be.

And so, as the evening sun begins to dip below the horizon, casting a warm, golden glow over campus, Bucky finds himself standing outside your dorm, his heart pounding as he gathers the courage to knock. He knows this is his last chance, that this is the moment that will decide everything. And he only hopes, as he takes a deep breath and raises his hand to the door, that you’ll give him the chance to show you that he’s not the man who hurt you—that he’s ready to fight for you, no matter what it takes.

The knock on your door is soft, almost hesitant, but it’s enough to pull you from your thoughts. You’ve been lying on your bed, staring at the ceiling, trying to find the strength to move forward, to somehow patch yourself up after everything that happened. When you open the door, you see him standing there, his eyes filled with an uncertainty that’s almost heartbreaking. He’s gripping a small notebook in his hands—your notebook, the one you left in his room—and his gaze is fixed on you with a desperation you’ve never seen before.

“Hi,” he says quietly, his voice barely above a whisper.

You don’t reply right away, the sight of him dredging up the familiar ache in your chest. Part of you wants to slam the door and hide, to keep yourself safe from any more hurt. But you don’t. Instead, you meet his gaze, forcing yourself to remain steady.

“Hi,” you reply, your voice guarded.

He shifts on his feet, glancing down at the notebook before offering it to you. “I, uh… you left this. Thought you might need it.”

You take it from him, feeling the familiar weight of it in your hands. “Thanks.”

A heavy silence hangs between you, one that neither of you seems willing to break. Bucky swallows, his face creased with an anxious, uncertain look that makes him seem vulnerable in a way you’ve never seen before.

“Can we… can we talk?” he asks, his voice almost pleading. “Please. I know I don’t deserve it, but I just need to say a few things. If you don’t want to listen, I’ll understand, and I’ll leave you alone. I just… I need you to know the truth.”

You hesitate, but finally, you nod, stepping back to let him into your room. He steps inside, closing the door softly behind him, and takes a seat in the small chair by your desk while you remain standing, arms crossed protectively over your chest.

For a moment, he just looks at you, his gaze heavy with regret. Then he sighs, running a hand through his hair.

“I know you have every right to hate me,” he starts, his voice barely steady. “I know I messed up in ways I can’t even fix. And I know… I know what I did was horrible. I just—” He swallows, his throat tight. “I just need you to know that it wasn’t all a lie. When we started this… when we first got close, I didn’t expect any of this to happen. I didn’t think I’d feel the way I did.”

You look down, his words stirring a fresh wave of pain in your chest. “But it was a bet, Bucky,” you murmur, your voice trembling. “You… you did all of that just to win some money. To you, it was just a game.”

He flinches, guilt flashing in his eyes, and he nods. “I know. I won’t make excuses for it—I was stupid, and I hurt you. But somewhere along the way, it stopped being about the bet. It stopped being a game. And I started… I started caring about you, more than I’ve ever cared about anyone.”

You feel tears prickling at the corners of your eyes, but you force yourself to keep your voice steady. “Then why didn’t you just tell me the truth?”

He sighs, running a hand through his hair again, his expression tortured. “Because I was scared. I was terrified that you’d look at me the way you’re looking at me now, that I’d lose you. I know that doesn’t make it better, but it’s the truth. I tried to find the right time, tried to find the right words, but I kept putting it off, thinking maybe… maybe I could make it up to you before you ever found out.” He looks down, his voice breaking. “But that was stupid. I should’ve just been honest with you from the start.”

You take a shaky breath, feeling the full weight of everything he’s saying. Part of you wants to believe him, wants to forgive him, but the wound he left is still fresh, still raw. “I trusted you, Bucky,” you whisper, your voice barely audible. “I thought… I thought what we had was real.”

He looks up at you, his eyes filled with a desperate sincerity that takes you off guard. “It was real. For me, it was real. And I know that doesn’t change anything, but I need you to know that. I never meant to hurt you, and I’ll spend as long as it takes to make it up to you if you’ll let me.”

You study him for a long moment, searching his face, trying to find some indication of sincerity, something to show that he’s truly sorry. And when you see the remorse in his eyes, the sadness that mirrors your own, you feel something in your chest soften, just slightly.

“Bucky,” you begin softly, forcing yourself to stay strong, “I can’t just go back to how things were. I can’t pretend this didn’t happen. You hurt me more than anyone ever has, and it’s going to take time for me to get past that.”

He nods, his expression resigned, but he doesn’t look away. “I understand. And I don’t expect you to forgive me right away. I just… I just want the chance to prove to you that I’m more than the guy who hurt you. Even if we can’t go back, I want to be there for you, even if it’s just as a friend.”

You let his words sink in, feeling a flicker of hope amidst the ache in your heart. Part of you still longs for what you had, for the closeness you shared, but you know that you can’t rush back into it. If Bucky truly wants a second chance, he’ll have to earn it, piece by piece, day by day.

“Maybe…” You hesitate, feeling vulnerable but determined. “Maybe we can start as friends. Just… friends. No promises, no expectations. If you’re willing to do that, to rebuild things from the ground up… then maybe, someday, I’ll be able to trust you again.”

Relief floods his face, and he nods, a small, hopeful smile tugging at his lips. “I’ll take that. Anything you’re willing to give, I’ll take it. I’ll prove to you that I can be better. I’ll prove that I’m worth your trust.”

You give him a tentative smile, and for the first time in days, you feel a flicker of hope. It’s small and fragile, but it’s enough to remind you that maybe healing is possible.

Over the next few weeks, Bucky becomes a constant but careful presence in your life. He shows up when you need help with an assignment, offers a listening ear when you need to vent about a long day, and joins you for coffee on campus, keeping the conversation light and easy. He respects your boundaries, never pushing for more, never expecting anything beyond friendship. You’re surprised at how attentive he is, how willing he is to wait, to prove that he’s serious about making things right.

Slowly, the walls around your heart begin to crack. You start to feel comfortable with him again, to let your guard down, if only a little. You catch him glancing at you sometimes, a soft, almost wistful look in his eyes, as if he’s seeing something precious he thought he’d lost forever. It’s in these moments that you remember why you fell for him in the first place, why his smile used to make your heart race, why his touch felt like home.

One day, as you’re both sitting on a bench by the campus pond, he turns to you, a hesitant smile on his face. “I know we’re just friends right now, and I’m okay with that. But I want you to know that I’m grateful for every moment I get to spend with you, even if it’s just like this.”

You feel a warmth spread through you, a sense of peace you haven’t felt in a long time. “Thank you, Bucky,” you say softly. “For not giving up. For being patient with me.”

He reaches out, hesitating for a moment before resting his hand on yours, his touch warm and steady. “I’ll wait as long as it takes. I’ll prove to you that I’m here for you, no matter what.”

And as you look into his eyes, you feel a flicker of something you thought was lost—a tentative, fragile hope that maybe things could be different this time. That he could truly be the person he’s trying to be, the person you wanted him to be all along. And though you know there’s a long road ahead, you’re finally willing to take that first step with him, trusting that maybe, this time, he won’t let you down.

The night is alive with music and laughter as you step into the crowded frat house. It’s your first time back here since everything happened, and you can’t deny the nervous flutter in your stomach as you take in the familiar scene. But tonight feels different—Bucky is by your side, watching you with a gentle smile as he guides you through the chaos of people, his hand warm and steady on your arm.

Over the past few weeks, things between you and Bucky have been slowly mending. He’s proven himself time and time again, showing up when it mattered, respecting your boundaries, and never pressuring you for more than you were willing to give. He’s become someone you can lean on, someone who’s earned back your trust bit by bit. And, to your own surprise, you feel something new blossoming between you—something deeper, stronger, and more genuine than before.

When you reach the main room, you spot Sam and Steve near the keg, both of them giving you a thumbs-up as soon as they see you with Bucky. You laugh, rolling your eyes, but Bucky just grins, shrugging as if to say, They’re harmless.

“Glad you came tonight,” he says, leaning closer so you can hear him over the noise. “I was worried you might skip.”

You shrug, glancing up at him. “Well, I figured it was about time I faced the frat house again.”

He chuckles, a warm, rich sound that sends a spark of something familiar through you. It’s the same feeling you used to get when you first met, when you were just getting to know him, before anything got complicated. Only now, it feels even better—because you’re finally on solid ground with him, without secrets or lies standing between you.

As the night goes on, you find yourself enjoying the party, laughing with friends, and even dancing a bit. Bucky stays close, his presence a comforting, steady anchor amidst the noise and chaos. He’s attentive, offering you drinks and glancing over every so often to make sure you’re comfortable. And every time you catch his gaze, you feel your heart race just a little faster.

At one point, as you’re talking with a friend, you feel Bucky’s hand gently touch your arm, and he leans in close, his voice soft and intimate against your ear. “Want to get some air?”

You nod, letting him lead you through the throngs of people until you step out onto the back porch. The cool night air is a welcome relief from the warmth inside, and you breathe deeply, taking in the quiet calm of the evening. Bucky leans against the railing, watching you with a soft, almost nervous smile, his hands tucked into his pockets.

“I’ve been wanting to tell you something,” he begins, his voice low and steady, as if he’s thought about this moment a thousand times. “I know we’ve been rebuilding things, and I know you wanted to take it slow. But, Y/N… being with you these past few weeks, even just as friends, has been everything to me. And I can’t stop thinking about you. About us.”

Your heart stirs at his words, and you feel a warmth spread through you, a sense of longing that’s been building quietly since the day he asked for a second chance.

“Bucky,” you say softly, stepping a little closer. “I… I feel the same. It’s been hard, letting go of the past. But I think—no, I know—I’ve forgiven you. You’ve shown me who you really are, and… I like that person.”

His eyes brighten at your words, and he reaches out, his hand brushing your cheek as his thumb strokes gently across your skin. He leans closer, his gaze searching your face as if to make sure you’re truly ready for this.

“Can I kiss you?” he whispers, his voice barely audible in the quiet night air.

You feel your heart skip a beat, and you give him a small, almost shy nod, your pulse racing as he leans in, closing the distance between you. The moment his lips meet yours, it’s like the world melts away, leaving only the warmth of his touch, the softness of his mouth against yours. It’s gentle at first, tentative, as if he’s afraid of breaking the spell. But as you respond, his hand slips to the back of your neck, pulling you a little closer, deepening the kiss with a quiet, aching intensity.

When you finally pull away, he rests his forehead against yours, both of you catching your breath, sharing a smile that’s equal parts relief and joy.

“Y/N,” he murmurs, his voice full of warmth, “I promise, I’m not going to mess this up again. I want this with you—for real, no games.”

You smile, reaching up to run a hand through his hair. “Good, because you’re stuck with me now.”

He laughs, pulling you into a tight hug, and you bury your face in his shoulder, feeling a happiness you haven’t felt in a long time. You’re finally ready to move forward with him, to start fresh, knowing that this time, it’s real.

maybe I should've made it more angsty? I love angst, request angst people! lol

[amoressb]

───── TWO IDIOTS IN LOVE 西村 力 N. RK

ꪆৎ ⋆˚࿔ just two best friends being oblivious to their love for each other ｡｡ bestfriend!riki x reader . fluff & wc. 1.0k ; kissing, skinship ｡｡

──── ARCHiVE

riki and you had been best friends since middle school. the type of best friends who communicated through facial expressions alone, who texted each other memes at three in the morning, and who had an entire language of inside jokes no one else could understand. you two bickered like an old married couple, stole food off each other’s plates without permission, and shared your wildest dreams without hesitation.

too bad you two were completely oblivious to the fact that you were in love with each other. so when riki surprised you with tickets to universal studios, you had tackled him in a hug, nearly knocking him over.

“you are officially my favorite person ever,” you declared, eyes sparkling. “i better be, these tickets were not cheap,” riki joked, though he looked pretty pleased with himself.

the moment you two stepped into the park, the chaos began. both running from ride to ride like little kids, shoving each other playfully as you two argued over what to do next. you screamed the loudest on roller coasters (riki swore you shattered his eardrum on jurassic world), while riki attempted to set a new personal record for how many butterbeer flavored treats a person could consume in one day.

“are you sure you should be eating another one?” you asked, raising an eyebrow as riki took a huge bite of a butterbeer flavored churro.

riki waved you off, “please, my stomach is built for this.”

not even an hour later, he was groaning on a bench, his head in your lap as you laughed mercilessly at his misery.

“laugh it up,” he grumbled. “oh, i will,” you teased, poking his cheek. “this is what you get for underestimating butterbeer.”

by nightfall, you two finally made your way to super nintendo world. the moment you stepped in, both of you were hit with an overwhelming sense of nostalgia. the neon lit mushroom kingdom surrounded you and riki, the familiar game music playing softly in the background.

“riki.” you grabbed his arm, shaking him with excitement. “we’re in mario land!”

“i know,” riki grinned. “this is literally my childhood dream come true!”

“okay, we have to go on mario kart : bowsers challenge,” you said, practically vibrating with excitement.

“oh, absolutely,” riki agreed. “and i’m so ready to destroy you.”

“in your dreams, loser.”

as soon as you got into your karts, the competition began. you threw yourselves into the ride, dodging banana peels, throwing shells, and laughing way too hard when one of you got hit. by the time you two stumbled off, breathless and giddy, you and him were still arguing about who had won.

“i definitely won,” you declared.

“you literally lost at the finish line,” riki shot back. “just accept that i’m superior.”

“please yeah right—” you groaned and shoved his shoulder.

it was supposed to be playful, but riki, being the clumsy guy that he was, lost his balance. instinctively, he grabbed onto your wrist, but that just made you stumble too and suddenly—you two crashed into each other.

your faces were way too close.

neither of you moved. you could feel rikis breath against your lips and you were very aware of the fact that your hands were gripping his hoodie while his fingers were curled around your wrist.

everything around you—the neon lights, the distant game music, the sound of other people laughing—blurred into the background. the only thing that existed in that moment was him.

and then riki, looking dazed and definitely not thinking straight, mumbled, “if i kissed you right now, would that be really stupid or only kind of stupid?”

your brain short circuited. “wh—” you opened your mouth, but no words came out. “did you just—”

riki blinked, his own words catching up to him. his face immediately turned bright red. “i—i didn’t mean to say that out loud,” he stammered.

you stared at him, your heart pounding. the worst part? you didn’t hate the idea. in fact, it was like something clicked in your brain—all the teasing, all the lingering touches, all the everything suddenly made sense.

“oh my gosh,” you whispered. “what?” riki asked nervously.

“i’m in love with you.” the words slipped out before you could stop them and as soon as you said them, your eyes went wide. “oh no.”

“oh no?” riki repeated, staring at you. “why oh no?”

“because..” you groaned, covering your face. “because now i can’t pretend i don’t have feelings for you and now our friendship is going to be so weird, and i—”

“y/n.”

you peeked through your fingers. riki was staring at you, wide eyed, looking like you had just revealed the greatest secret in the universe and then…he grinned.

“you love me,” he repeated, and he sounded way too smug about it. you scowled, “shut up.”

“no, this is amazing,” riki said, his grin widening. “because guess what?”

“what.”

“i’m also in love with you.”

you blinked. “wait…what?”

“you heard me,” riki said, rocking back on his heels. “i love you. i have probably always loved you and if we weren’t in the middle of mario land, i would definitely be kissing you right now.” you gaped at him, “we’re in mario land, riki.”

“i know,” he smirked. “which is why i’m gonna kiss you right here and make it the most iconic confession in history.”

you barely had time to react before riki leaned in, his hand cupping your cheek as he kissed you—warm, soft, and so so long overdue. eventually you melted into him, your hands fisting his hoodie.

when you pulled apart, your face was on fire. “that was—”

“amazing?” riki grinned. “i was gonna say stupid, but sure.” riki laughed, wrapping an arm around your shoulders. “you totally lost mario kart, by the way.” you groaned, “you’re lucky i love you.”

“yeah you do” he smiled. you rolled your eyes playfully with a smile as you lean into his arms, head sort of resting on his shoulder/chest, his hand that was around your shoulder intertwined with your right hand.

and just like that, two oblivious idiots in love finally got their happy ending…at mario land, of all places.

⋆｡°✩ @miukidoll @liwinly @sugarikiz

[astrologydray]

The Lubby-dubby side of the Venus signs 🥰😍😘😫

😈Aries Venus:

They love teasing, playful banter, and a little bit of competitive flirting. If they’re wrestling with you for fun, they’re into you😭.

Aries Venus shows love through big, impulsive acts—surprise dates, random “I love you” texts, or whisking you away on an adventure.

Hugs? More like bone-crushing embraces. Kisses? Always fiery and full of urgency.

Aries Venus won’t sugarcoat things, but their honesty means you’ll always know where you stand with them.

They need excitement in relationships—think spontaneous road trips, fun challenges, or chasing each other around the house just for fun🥰.

😈Taurus Venus:

Taurus Venus loves physical touch—expect long hugs, hand-holding, and falling asleep tangled together. They show love through warmth and closeness.

Expect candlelit dinners, cozy nights in, soft blankets, and music that sets the mood. Taurus Venus loves creating ambiance😫.

They prove their love through consistency, loyalty, and little everyday gestures—cooking for you, remembering your favorite things, and making sure you feel secure.

They want to be yours and yours alone—they’re protective, a little jealous, and love when you’re just as obsessed with them😚.

They express love through gifts, delicious food, and making sure you’re comfortable—they want you to be pampered and adored🤩.

😈Gemini Venus:

Expect clever comebacks, inside jokes, and playful sarcasm—it’s their way of keeping things exciting.

Gemini Venus bonds through talking, debating, and exchanging ideas. Deep late-night talks, sending memes, and random fun facts? That’s their love language🧠.

They’re the type to randomly text you “wyd” every hour and expect a full conversation about nothing. If they overshare, they’re hooked on you❤️‍🔥.

Love should feel like a never-ending sleepover—laughing, talking about anything and everything, and never running out of things to do together.

Compliments, sweet texts, and witty one-liners are their way of saying “I love you.” They’ll always make you feel mentally stimulated and adored🥰.

😈Cancer Venus:

snuggling, forehead kisses, and wrapping you up in a warm embrace make them feel safe and connected❤️.

Cooking for you, making sure you’re eating well, checking in on your feelings—they show love by taking care of you in little, thoughtful ways.

They form deep emotional bonds and need reassurance that you feel the same way. They be emotionally attached af😫🥰.

Cancer Venus wants to build a cozy, intimate world with their person—expect sweet traditions, a shared playlist, or a comfy home full of love.

If they love you, they will be protective. They may get jealous easily, but it’s just because they feel so deeply😤.

😈Leo Venus:

Expect big hugs, dramatic kisses, and constant compliments. Leo Venus isn’t shy about showing their love loud and proud.

Posting you on social media, bragging about you to friends, wanting to match outfits—they love making their love public and undeniable. Showing you off as they should😫.

When they love you, they’re all in. They’ll defend your honor, hype you up, and make sure you know you’re theirs.

Think romantic surprises, heartfelt love letters, and planning unforgettable dates. Love with them feels like a movie moment🤩.

Once they commit, they’re ride or die. They want a love that feels powerful, unbreakable, and meant to be🤞🏾.

😈Virgo Venus:

They show love by helping, fixing, and making your life easier—whether it’s remembering your schedule, bringing you food, or handling the little things you forget. Very thoughtful 🤔.

They notice everything—your likes, dislikes, habits, and moods. If they love you, they’ll adjust themselves to fit your needs effortlessly.

When a Virgo Venus commits, they’re all in. They don’t fall in love easily, but once they do, they’re steady, trustworthy, and always there for you.

They remember the little things—your favorite coffee order, what makes you anxious, or the book you said you wanted months ago❤️.

Instead of grand gestures, they show up for you daily, proving their love through consistency, effort, and devotion.

😈Libra Venus:

Even in love, they never stop flirting. Expect sweet compliments, lingering eye contact, and teasing banter that keeps the spark alive❤️‍🔥.

They adore romance and will shower you with affection, gifts, and quality time—but they also want to be adored in return.

Whether it’s holding hands, cuddling, or whispering sweet things, they love gentle, elegant forms of intimacy😫.

They’ll create romantic dates with candles and soft music, write heartfelt love notes, or plan something special just to make you smile.

Love should feel easy, fun, and full of connection—they want someone they can talk to for hours and still feel completely enchanted by.

😈Scorpio Venus:

When they love you, you become their world. They’re not interested in casual affection—they want something real and unbreakable.

If they’re in love, they’ll make sure you’re safe, defended, and completely theirs. A little jealous? Maybe. But only because they love so deeply🖤.

They won’t always say how much they love you—but you’ll feel it in the way they look at you, touch you, and fight for you😫.

They don’t do superficial romance, but expect intense, meaningful gestures, like sharing secrets they tell no one else or remembering tiny details about you forever.

they want growth, depth, and transformation. If they love you, they’ll push you to evolve into your best self🤞🏾.

😈Sagittarius Venus:

Expect random road trips, last-minute date ideas, and a relationship that feels like a never-ending adventure. They want a love that’s exciting and free🏃🏾.

They want a partner they can grow with, debate with, and experience new things with—mental stimulation is a must!

They’ll tell you exactly how they feel, and while they value independence, they’re incredibly devoted to the person who can keep up with them.

They won’t cling, but if they keep coming back to you even with all their options, that’s how you know you have their heart.

They might not always be romantic, but when they do express love, it’s bold, dramatic, and full of enthusiasm🤪.

😈Capricorn Venus:

When they’re in love, they’re all in for the long haul. They want to build something solid and lasting with their partner.

they show love through providing, taking care of you, and making sure you’re supported. If they’re taking care of the logistics of your life, that’s love 💕.

They show up for you, day in and day out. Whether it’s supporting your career goals or just being there when you need them, they’re always dependable.

They might not wear their heart on their sleeve, but they’re extremely affectionate in subtle ways—holding your hand, offering gentle touches, or showing interest in your day.

they’re drawn to partners who are ambitious, responsible, and goal-oriented. If you earn their admiration, they’ll show love through undying support😚.

😈Aquarius Venus:

They show affection by engaging in thought-provoking conversations, debates, and sharing ideas. If they’re excited to discuss something with you, it’s a sign they’re deeply connected.

They love someone who embraces their individuality. Expect unexpected surprises that reflect their quirky nature—random gifts, offbeat date ideas, or spontaneous adventures.

They’ll love you by encouraging you to follow your dreams, be your own person, and express your full potential🤞🏾.

They may not be outwardly emotional, but their love runs deep. If they open up to you emotionally, it’s a sign they truly trust you. They express love through actions, ideas, and long-term commitment🥹.

While they care deeply, they need space and independence. They show love by giving their partner room to grow and encouraging personal freedom.

😈Pisces Venus:

Pisces Venus loves through empathy and emotional depth. They want to connect on a soul level, often feeling like their love is fated or destined.

They show love through gentle acts of care, like offering comfort when you’re down, listening to your deepest thoughts, or simply being there when you need them.

Pisces Venus is very attuned to their partner’s emotional needs. They can sense when you’re feeling off or need reassurance, and they’ll go out of their way to make you feel loved and cared for😘.

They love expressing affection through art, poetry, or music—whether it’s sharing a song that reminds them of you or painting something inspired by their love for you😍.

Expect soft touches, sweet words, and an overall nurturing energy. They want to make you feel cherished in the most gentle and unhurried way🥰.

[rockingbytheseaside]

✦ You surprise them with terms of endearment in their language

(Or, pretending that Teyvat uses certain languages based on the regions.) 

Pierro, Capitano, Dottore, Scaramouche, Pantalone, Childe 

✧ You don’t remember what prompted you to emit this word specifically, however, its occurrence was as natural as the auroras in the Snezhayan sky. During a typical day, when you were casually conversing with Pierro, you just replied with:

“Of course, just be careful, mel.” (honey)

It was out before you could register it, and you hoped he didn’t catch on. But it's known that nothing passes by the Jester unnoticed. Pierro’s gaze was uncharacteristically stunned, yet it softened the moment he turned to you. 

“It’s been… centuries since you called me that.” 

You averted your gaze away in shame, muttering a small apology. But the Director stepped closer to you, his gloved fingers brushing underneath your chin to look you tenderly in the eyes. 

“No, no. I do not seek an apology. You often called me melimelum (honey apple) during our days of guilelessness. Go on. Utter these words for me once more. I must know whether you remember them as much as I do.” 

Meeting his gaze, you stammered upon your words but managed to convey “mi mel” (my honey) for him again despite your coy disposition. The Jester smiled as if an eon-long frost had been melted off his heart. Thus, he leaned closer to relish your lips in his, whispering.  

“That’s more like it, corculum (sweetheart). These words are always sweeter when uttered by your lips.” 

✧ It is no one's surprise that you and Capitano participate in convivial challenges. Who else would match the harbinger’s fierce ambition for competition if it weren't for you, his partner? From duels, training, and games, to even… endearing nicknames. Yes, just loudly calling each other cute nicknames until the other gives up, in the privacy of your own home. 

“You may be the strongest man in Tevyat, Capitano, but!” - you loudly proclaimed “I can still defeat you in a battle of wits.” 

“Your words bring forth a challenge that I seek, my beloved. If you dare to challenge me, know that I will not back down.” 

“Hmph!” - you crossed your arms, a triumphant smile already gracing your features. “My dear, sweet Captain. Don’t be so sure of yourself. It’s clear that I love you more.” 

“Absurd,” - Capitano clenched his fists, his resolve is unshaken. “My love for you brings mountains to dust and the seas to dry. It is clear that I love you more.” 

“Tsk, tsk. I can still express my love in a far wider range, geliebter (loved one).” - There it was. Your special attack as you spoke confidently back. “ You better not underestimate me.” 

The Captain froze, his stance now rigid. Even through his pitch-black helmet, you could see you seized him off-guard. A word he has not heard in centuries, even more so, you put in the effort to pronounce it correctly. The Harbinger stepped closer, his sharp fingers gently cupping your cheeks.

“My dear, cherished, loved engelchen (little angel). Where did you learn that from? Such sweet words will not be tolerated. I shall memorize the entire dictionary to out-win you in this battle of precious monikers.” 

“Oh yeah? We’ll see, herzblatt (sweetheart), because I did my research! So I win!” - you mumbled proudly, even when Capitano kept squishing your face by squeezing your cheeks lovingly. 

Your little ‘warfare’ was left at that, and you didn’t think much of it afterward. A successful conquest; or so you credulously thought. Little did you expect, that in a couple of days, Capitano would burst into the room, a thick book in his hand labeled ‘Dictionary & Encyclopedia of Teyvat's Ancient Languages’.

“My dear, you won’t believe this! I have found a compelling addition to what I must call you, notlazohtlé." (my precious thing)

“U-um, Capitano. You didn't actually spend days trying to memorize a whole… dictionary, did you?”

“Nonsense. A warrior never backs down from a challenge. Especially one bestowed upon him by his yōltzin.” (lover)

✧ When Il Dottore heard you speak, he had to ensure the grip on his book was firm. He swore he almost dropped it but made sure to conceal it, as his back was facing you while he stood in front of bookshelves. 

“What did you just say?”

“Habibi” - you retorted simply. “Or, do you prefer azizam?” (my dear)

There was a prolonged silence coming from the Doctor. The sound of this native tongue brought a conflicting range of abrupt disgust and wistful familiarity. Yet Dottore clenched his jaw; there wasn’t an ounce of humor in his voice, and he would much rather go on pretending he hadn’t heard you say those words. 

"What are those harebrained names you are calling me? Has your time in Sumeru made you so asinine?"

You were not surprised he reacted this way. Nonetheless, It was futile to hide your solemn disappointment, so you sighed - "Never mind..." 

The book he had been flicking through was gradually set aside. Although you couldn’t read his expression, he remained eerily still. 

"Say it again." 

"Hm?" 

"I said,” - Il Dottore suddenly turned, stepping closer to firmly set his hands on the table, looming over you. “Say it again." 

Oh no, you thought. “I said habibi. Like people in the Sumeru desert region often say… But I thought you’d loathe it so maybe aziz-” 

Your words were cut off, as the Harbinger cupped your jawline and made sure to silence your doubts with his own lips. The sudden kiss was as sweet and warm as honey, and as ardent and fiery as the blazing deserts of Sumeru. 

“I was not being serious.” - He explained after leaning away, even if his scoff came out stilted. He didn’t mean to be rude, instead, he was impressed you went your way to learn these expressions. His hold on your jaw abates in an instance “Call me whatever you want.

You blink - “Well, you studied like… twenty languages since you were a student. So I wanted to gauge your reaction. What about ‘my heart’? was it kalbi, or…?” 

“...Ya balsam qalbi (O balm of my heart), you just called me a dog.”

The Doctor couldn’t help but laugh at your antic. Your sweet attempts at endearment were beyond him, especially when you fumbled on pronunciation. Thus, he settled with teasing you, locking his lips back with yours. You could feel his love wash over you like the gentle breeze blowing across the sand; carrying away any lingering worries and leaving you with the joy of being with him.

✧ Scaramouche abhors seeing couples being all mushy and sweet in public. Lovers giggling when embracing under the shade? Ugh. Calling each other cute nicknames as they walk? Disgusting. Stealing discreet kisses while no one is looking? Nauseating! 

His reaction is nothing new for you, as he frequently crossed his arms in annoyance. Particularly after a nearby married couple passed by the two of you, one of them saying “Anata, don't forget to buy some sugar and flour on our way home.” - Just people going on with their lives. What you didn't expect was how the Puppeteer would latch to your arm and accuse you:

“Why are you not calling me that!?” 

You blinked in bewilderment - “...what?” 

Scaramouche huffed, his expression sour - “You know what! Dropping the semi-formalities and using Anata (dear). Don't make me repeat myself.” 

“But that's how married couples refer to each other.”

“So?” 

Silence. The two of you awkwardly stood still, frozen. And then it clicked. “I can’t believe my ears… The 6th of The Fatui Harbinger,” 

“Wait, I take it back –” 

“Is asking me,” 

“Don’t. Don’t you da–” 

“To use anata, like a precious spouse would do to their loved one! Aaa!” - you gushed and beamed, your tone countering Scaramouche’s flustered groans, while he tugged at his hat to conceal his furrowed eyebrows. “Should I welcome you home with a cute pink apron, telling you that dinner and a bath are ready, too? Or maybe, offer you something else… ” 

“You’re insufferable. I regret even bringing this up now.” 

“Fine, Fine. I'll stop." - you sighed after a hearty chuckle. “Sometimes, rigid formalities can appear as an insult too, you know. After all, what sort of sweetheart would I be if I didn’t consider your troubles."

You mused innocently at the mental image of using terms of endearment like a married couple. However, your imagination was interrupted as the Harbinger took it upon himself to grab your waist, pulling you flush against him.

"Did I tell you to stop? If we're going to pretend to be a cute, married couple - then do so properly. Besides, what was that part about offering something else when greeting me back home?” 

✧ When you prepare little surprises for your beloved Pantalone, you often come up to him with contagious excitement, eager to show what nick-nacks and artifacts you brought along. This time, you recently returned from an expedition in Liyue, and as always your affluent partner greeted you with honeyed enthusiasm, embracing you tightly as you spoke of your adventures.

“Pantalone, Pantalone!” - You exclaimed gleefully “I learned something new while I was staying in Liyue Harbour!” 

“Oh? And do tell, sweetheart, what is it that caught your curiosity this time?” - Pantalone spoke elegantly, helping you undress from your adventuring garbs. 

“I was familiarizing myself with certain literary texts and it led me down a rabbit hole of traditional phrases common in Liyue… And I figured out how to call you precious! Bǎobǎo!” (baby) 

Pantalone’s eyes shot wide open with renowned zeal. He grinned and clasped his hands, “Oh, my treasure! How adorable of you! And did you go all the way out just to learn this for me? Let me hear you say it again.”

“Bǎobǎo! It suits you! Or maybe you prefer xīn'gān?” (heart and soul)

Pantalone was ecstatic, his smile further widening - “My, my, you certainly worked on your pronunciation. Your stay in Liyue paid off then, because dear, you are making me swoon with your adorable surprises. Pray tell, what other phrases did you learn?” 

“Well, I was told that lǎogōng (hubby) is good.”

“Mhm, yes, yes.” - Pantalone nodded.

“Also huài bāo,” (naughty)

“O-oh?”

“And wǒ yào nǐ,” (I want you)

“O-.... oh,”

“And also shǐjìn yīdiǎn (go harder), but I was told this one is a little bit intense.”

The Regrator became motionless. You gazed at him with such pure naïveté, so oblivious that your charming perception didn't grasp the weight of these foreign words. He placed his hands on your shoulders firmly and inquired seriously:  

“My sweetheart. Who, exactly, taught you all this?”

“Well, so. There was this lady who had a small perfumery shop by Chihu Rock. I think her name was Ying'er.” - you pondered but smiled “She was a nice lady, she taught me all these phrases, and said they would work like a charm!”

Pantalone had to exert all his mental strength to avoid fainting or exploding. He is unsure of what exactly, but one more word from you and he'd drop to his knees with a ring for you. Rather than translating your earlier words, the Harbinger lets out a shaky sigh and focuses on controlling his hitched breathing.

“Oh, Shǎguā (silly). If you were unsure of the words' meanings, you could have just asked me and I would have demonstrated. Personally.”

✧ It was another day at Tartaglia’s family home in Snezhnaya. You visit him often and his family has long since welcomed you as part of their household. Especially the siblings, as Teucer and Tonia always welcome you with tight embraces whenever you arrive. 

When you found your beloved Childe in the kitchen, he innately greeted you with a kiss on the cheek, asking: “You’re right on time, sweetpea. We’re planning on making homemade meat dumplings. Maybe some borscht as a side dish too. Is that okay with you?” 

To which you simply nodded, already moving to help - “Of course, milyy (sweet). Do you need me to start with the bullion?” 

The Harbinger stopped. He never heard you use native terms, but when he registered your words, his head quickly snapped toward you in astonishment.

“Do my ears deceive me?! Did you just call me…!” 

Aha, so you got him. You tried to hide your giddiness, a faint grin threatening to appear - “Well, I just tried to use something new. You love nicknames, right? So perhaps…” 

“Say it again!” - The man practically leaped at you, his eyes now glowing with elation as he hyped you up to reveal your cards. 

“Okay, okay big guy, just take it easy. I just said milyy (sweet). Maybe you’d like it if I said… lyubimyy (darling)?”

Tartaglia gasps as your sweet words hit his ears, but then a wide grin spreads across his face. “Oh, is this a challenge? If so, fight me! I will shower you with more love for each sweet word coming out of your mouth. But I warn you, you'll have to use them a lot more often from now on.” 

He kisses your cheeks again, this time with even more passion and fervor while he cupped your cheeks. His lips felt like waves crashing against the shore, and each one left an invisible imprint of love and adoration on your soul. As you chuckle at his affectionate antics, small hushed voices interrupt you two. 

Teucer and his sister Tonia were peeking behind the kitchen door, giggling as they eavesdropped on you two. However, when Tartaglia caught their gazes, the rascals scurried away giggling.

“Hey! Quite sneaking in! Did your parents not teach you to give adults some privacy?” 

Latin: melimelum (honey-apple), mel (honey), corculum (sweetheart) German: geliebter (Loved one), herzblatt (sweetheart), engelchen (little angel) Nahuatl (Aztec): notlazohtlé (my darling/precious thing), yōltzin (lover) Persian: azizam (my dear) Arabic: habibi (my dear), Ya balsam qalbi (O balm of my heart), qalbi (my heart), kalbi (my dog, lmao)  Japanese: Anata (informal you, dear for couples)  Mandarin: Bǎobǎo (baby), lǎogōng (hubby), huài bāo (naughty), wǒ yào nǐ,” (I want you), shǐjìn yīdiǎn (go harder), Shǎguā (silly melon) Russian: milyy (sweet), lyubimyy (darling)

*While I speak Arabic, and Russian and know a little bit of Japanese; If you have some additional info on the linguistic part, or speculation or spot some inaccuracies - please, please, please 🙏 kindly share them with me! I am open to fixing any mistakes. Or if you just have headcanons and love projecting certain languages onto these characters like I do - share them with me! 

Thank you 

[cbeargyu]

I hate and need him so much !!

summary: you and beomgyu are the top students in your university’s music program—but that’s the only thing you have in common. constantly clashing over leadership and vision, your rivalry is infamous across campus. but when a heated late-night argument over your final project spirals out of control, you both cross a line neither of you can walk back from. tension turns to obsession, and hate becomes the hottest kind of desire...

pairing: enemy!beomgyu x fem!reader

genre: enemies with benefits, smut, angst, college au, slow burn, toxic dynamics, musical rivalry.

warnings: explicit sexual content, strong language, toxic dynamics, public tension, dominance & submission themes, rough sex, mentions of physical aggression (non-violent), mutual degradation, possessiveness, slight exhibitionism, slight humiliation, dirty talk, praise kin, overstimulation, begging.[18+ ONLY MDI]

wc: 5,94k

notes: my tiktok is flooded with beomgyu videos + beomgyu in those photos... I'm thinking... 🫦💦

you’ve never met someone as fucking insufferable as choi beomgyu.

you’re top of your class in music theory and composition. sharp mind, sharper tongue, perfectionist to the bone. and unfortunately, so is he. same major, same year, same goddamn classes—and ever since first year, you’ve been stuck in this sick, twisted competition that neither of you ever agreed to, but neither of you can let go of either.

he’s loud. smug. sarcastic. every time he opens his mouth, it’s like he’s begging you to punch him. he thinks he’s the most brilliant mind to grace the university halls and you? you’re just a stubborn little brat who got lucky with a few good scores.

you, on the other hand, think he’s a cocky little shit with too much talent and zero humility. a show-off. a provocateur. someone who gets under your skin just for the thrill of it.

and worse, he knows it.

“i don’t know how the fuck you got the leader position,” he says, arms crossed over his chest as he leans back against the piano like he owns the place. “but if you keep running this project like this, we’re all going to look like idiots.”

you’re standing near the whiteboard, marker still in your hand from the rehearsal plan you were setting up. you were already exhausted—it’s late, your head’s pounding, and everyone else already left the music room because they knew this was coming.

you and beomgyu. again.

“then don’t be part of it,” you snap, glaring at him over your shoulder. “no one’s forcing you to stay.”

“you’re unbelievable,” he scoffs, pushing himself off the piano and walking closer. “you act like you know everything. like your way is the only way. but guess what? newsflash—this isn’t high school anymore, princess. not everyone’s going to kiss your ass.”

“fuck you,” you hiss, dropping the marker and turning to face him fully now.

“oh, that’s rich.” he laughs—short, bitter, mocking. “you can’t handle being challenged, huh? the second someone calls you out, you throw a fit.”

“you’re not ‘challenging’ me, you’re being a fucking asshole,” you step closer too now, chests nearly touching. “you think just because you play guitar and write edgy lyrics, you’re some kind of genius?”

his jaw clenches. “i am a fucking genius. unlike you, i don’t treat people like shit to feel superior.”

“no, you just think you’re better than everyone and talk like you’re god’s gift to music.”

“keep pushing me, sweetheart,” he growls, eyes narrowing. “see what happens.”

and maybe it’s the hour. or the pent-up rage. or how his breath is hot against your lips now, because neither of you moved away.

maybe it’s the way your heart’s been racing around him since the first semester, and you’ve been too fucking proud to admit it.

but when he grabs your wrist, pulling you flush against him, and your mouths crash together in something that’s not a kiss, not yet—more like a war—you don’t stop it.

you kiss him like you’re trying to shut him up. he kisses you like he’s trying to make you forget your name.

it’s teeth. it’s tongue. it’s bruises forming before either of you even start taking clothes off. his hands are gripping your waist like he’s waited years for this, and your fingers are tangled in his hair, pulling hard, like you want to hurt him and fuck him at the same time.

you gasp when his lips leave yours, only to trail down your neck, biting hard enough to make you whimper. your back hits the wall behind you with a dull thud, and you’re too far gone to care if anyone hears.

“still think you’re in control?” he mutters against your skin, voice low, mocking, laced with heat.

“fuck you,” you spit, breathless.

he grins. that goddamn grin.

“yeah?” he grabs your chin, tilting your face so you have to look at him. “then why are you fucking shaking for me, bitch?”

you slap him.

not hard enough to hurt. just enough to sting.

his smirk drops for a second—and then he laughs, low and wild, before grabbing your wrists and slamming them above your head.

“god, you’re such a brat,” he growls. “always running your mouth, always trying to act like you’re better than me. but here you are, letting me pin you like a fucking slut.”

“go to hell,” you snap, squirming against him.

he leans in, presses his mouth to your ear. “after i’m done with you.”

he kisses you again—hard, possessive, angry. his hand slides under your shirt, up your ribs, dragging slow just to hear you breathe harder.

“take this shit off,” he says against your lips, tugging at your shirt, and you don’t hesitate.

the air is cold, but his hands are hotter than sin. they roam, greedy, rough, like he wants to memorize every inch of you just so he can ruin it.

“beomgyu—” his name escapes your mouth in a shaky moan when he sucks a bruise right beneath your collarbone.

“what, bitch?” he mutters, pulling your bra down like it’s in his way. “you like that? you like when i touch you like this?”

you don’t answer. your pride won’t let you.

so he smirks, teeth flashing. “still pretending you hate me?”

you glare. “i do.”

he chuckles darkly. “then hate me with your legs around my waist.”

and you do. you hook your legs around him as he lifts you off the floor, grinding into you, cock already hard through his jeans and pressed right against where you need him most.

“fuck,” you whisper, head falling back.

“yeah,” he breathes, mouth trailing down to your chest. “that’s what i thought.”

his fingers find the waistband of your pants, tugging them down with a sort of impatient frustration that makes your whole body ache. he kisses down your stomach as he does it, slow only to torment you.

“been dreaming about this,” he mutters. “ruining that smart little mouth of yours. showing you who really runs this fucking class.”

“keep talking,” you pant, “and i’ll bite your tongue off.”

he laughs again—low, dangerous.

“you’re such a bitch,” he says. “and you’re gonna let me fuck you anyway.”

and you do.

you don’t know how you ended up half-naked on the piano bench, legs spread, his mouth buried between your thighs like he’s starving.

maybe it was the way you clawed at his shirt like you wanted to rip his skin off. maybe it was how he shoved you down with a growl, like he couldn’t stand another second without tasting you.

either way, you’re too far gone to give a fuck.

“fuck—beomgyu—” you choke out, fingers tangling in his messy hair.

he groans into your cunt, licking you slow just to hear you whimper, then fast just to fuck with you. his hands are bruising your thighs, holding you still like he’s scared you’ll run.

“you’re loud now,” he says, voice muffled against your skin, “but in class you act so fucking high and mighty.”

“shut up—” your voice cracks when he flicks his tongue over your clit, again, again, again.

“no,” he growls, looking up at you with spit and you all over his mouth. “you don’t get to shut me up. not when you’re moaning like a little toy.”

you reach down, grabbing his jaw, pulling him up to kiss him hard—tasting yourself on his tongue, nails dragging down his back.

“you’re fucking disgusting,” you whisper against his lips.

he bites your bottom lip, just enough to make you gasp. “and you love it.”

you do.

you hate him. but you want him so bad it’s making your head spin.

when he finally unzips his jeans and pulls his cock out, thick and flushed and leaking, your mouth goes dry.

“don’t stare like you’re impressed,” he teases, pumping himself once. “you act like you’re not dying for this.”

you glare, then smirk. “i’ve had better.”

“is that so?”

he grabs your hips, pulls you to the edge of the bench, and slams into you without warning.

your whole body arches.

“fuck—!” you cry out, nails digging into his arms.

he doesn’t give you a second to adjust. doesn’t slow down. he fucks you like he’s punishing you for every word you’ve ever thrown at him, every smug look you’ve ever given.

“better than this?” he grits out, snapping his hips harder. “you’re dripping, you fucking liar.”

“shut up—”

“nah. say it. say who’s fucking you this good.”

“go to hell,” you growl, grabbing the back of his neck, dragging his mouth to yours.

he kisses you like he wants to bruise your soul. you kiss him like you want to rip his heart out.

“fuck, you feel good,” he groans against your mouth. “tight little cunt acting like she doesn’t need me.”

you moan. you hate that he’s right. that your body’s betraying you, clenching around him, begging for more.

“fucking bastard,” you hiss, throwing your head back when he hits that spot deep inside you.

“say it again,” he pants, pounding into you. “call me every name you want, i know you’re close.”

“pathetic, arrogant, loud-mouthed little shit—” you gasp, legs shaking.

“that’s right,” he growls. “cum for me, fucking hate me while you do it.”

you do.

you fall apart under him, clenching around him so tight he swears and grabs your waist like he’s losing control.

and a second later, he’s cumming too—deep inside you, jaw clenched, eyes shut, letting out a low, broken groan of your name like it physically hurts.

the room’s silent except for the sound of your heavy breathing.

he collapses against you, forehead resting on your shoulder.

you push him off.

“we’re not doing this again,” you mutter, standing up and adjusting your clothes.

he smirks, still breathless, watching you like he already knows better.

“we’ll see, sweetheart.”

he’s been staring at you like he wants to kill you since class started.

arms crossed, jaw clenched, foot tapping like a fucking metronome of rage.

you ignore him. or try to.

but when professor kim announces your proposal will lead the ensemble showcase, and not his—oh, the way his eyes meet yours. burning. hateful. hungry.

you smirk, just to piss him off.

after class, you don’t even make it out the door.

“come with me,” he snaps, grabbing your wrist, dragging you through the empty hallway before you can protest.

“fuck off, beomgyu—”

he pushes open an empty rehearsal room and shoves you inside.

you spin on him. “what the fuck is your problem?!”

“you are,” he growls, slamming the door shut. “fucking show-off. always need to win, huh?”

you scoff. “maybe if your idea hadn’t been shit—”

he grabs your face and kisses you so hard your back hits the wall, again.

and you let him.

because you’re both too far gone now.

you kiss him back, biting his lip, tugging his hair like you’re trying to hurt him—like you want him to hurt you back.

his hands are everywhere. under your shirt, gripping your waist, yanking down your pants without a word.

“so fucking full of yourself,” he mutters, yanking your underwear down roughly. “bet you soaked your panties the second you saw me lose.”

you slap him again.

he just grins. “hit me harder if you want, baby. i know you like it rough.”

you grab his belt, undoing it fast. “shut up and fuck me.”

“say please.”

“fuck you.”

he shoves you against the wall, lifts your leg, and thrusts in—raw, fast, brutal.

you cry out, hands slamming against the wall for support.

“god—fuck—beomgyu—”

“that’s right,” he pants, pounding into you like he wants to erase your fucking mind. “say my name. say it like you mean it.”

your moans echo through the empty room. it’s reckless. loud. stupid.

anyone could walk in.

and maybe that’s why it feels so good.

“you look so pretty when you lose control,” he growls, biting your neck. “not so smug now, huh?”

you clench around him, mouth open in a silent moan.

he hisses. “you’re close.”

“no—shut up—i’m not—”

“liar,” he snarls, fucking you deeper. “you’re so wet i can feel you shaking.”

“piece of shit—”

“say it again.”

“fuck you—”

“you are.”

he grabs your face again, kisses you hard, and you break—cumming around him with a cry you can’t hold back.

he follows seconds later, groaning against your mouth, cock twitching inside you as he spills himself deep.

you both freeze.

silence.

then—footsteps outside the door.

your eyes widen.

he smirks.

“we should do this more often.”

he’s pacing in the classroom like a storm trapped in four walls. jacket thrown on the floor, hair a mess, frustration radiating off of him.

“i just don’t get how you always win,” he spits, glaring at the floor.

you raise an eyebrow, calm, bored. “because i’m better.”

he whips around. “fuck you.”

you smile. “you’d love that, wouldn’t you?”

his breath catches. just for a second. and you see it.

that crack in his anger. the want under all that pride.

you stand, walking slowly to him.

“what’s wrong, gyu?” you murmur, dragging a finger up his chest. “you mad because you lost again? or because you can't stop thinking about how good i made you feel last time?”

his jaw tightens. his eyes drop to your lips.

“i hate you,” he says, but his voice is already shaking.

you hum. “lie better.”

and then your hand slips between his legs, cupping him over his jeans—slow. gentle. cruel.

he gasps. you feel how hard he is already.

“fuck—don’t—” he tries to step back.

you press your body into his, pinning him to the wall.

“don’t what?” you whisper against his ear. “don’t touch you? don’t make you beg?”

he whimpers.

actual whimpers.

“please…”

you grin.

“look at you,” you whisper. “so hard just from me teasing you. you want me that bad?”

he nods, red-faced, biting his lip.

“use your words, baby.”

“please,” he whispers, breathless, “please touch me. i need it. i need you.”

you pull back slightly, watching him.

he drops to his knees.

and that’s when your power hits him full force.

beomgyu, the cocky bastard, the arrogant top of your class, on the floor, looking up at you like you’re his fucking god.

“say it again.”

“please…” he swallows hard, pupils blown wide. “i need you to touch me. to use me. i’ll do anything. just—just don’t stop.”

you sit down on the chair, legs spread.

“come here.”

he crawls between your legs without hesitation.

you grab his jaw. “good boy.”

his breath stutters.

“can i… can i taste you?” he asks, voice so low and wrecked you barely hear it.

you smirk. “you can try.”

after he buried his face between your thighs, you had to muffle your moans with your hand, desperate not to cry out. but it was pointless—the university was already empty, and anyone left wouldn’t dare come near that classroom with the way the air practically sizzled around you.

you should’ve left right then, should’ve played it safe. but the heat between you was too much, too consuming. so instead, you stumbled out together, breathless and shaking, and made it back to your apartment—ready to finish what you never should’ve started in public.

“you’re so pretty when you cry,” you murmur, dragging your fingers down his chest.

he’s panting, cheeks flushed, wrists tied to the bedpost with your silk scarf. thighs trembling. body covered in marks from your mouth.

his cock is red, leaking, twitching.

“please,” he chokes out, voice wrecked. “i-i can’t—please let me come—”

you tilt your head. “already?”

you’ve edged him three times now. never letting him finish. always pulling away just when his moans start turning desperate.

“you really are weak, aren’t you?” you coo, wrapping your fingers around him again, slowly, cruelly.

his head falls back with a loud whimper. “fuck—yes, i am, i am—just for you—”

“look at you,” you murmur, stroking him torturously slow. “the same guy who told me he hated me. now you’re begging like a good little slut.”

his whole body jolts.

you lean closer, lips brushing his ear. “you like it when i talk to you like that?”

he nods frantically, eyes glossy. “yes—yes, please—more—”

you tighten your grip, pace quickening.

“you like being mine?”

“yes—yes, i’m yours—only yours—please don’t stop—”

“you’re not gonna come yet,” you whisper. “not until i say so.”

he sobs, hips jerking, trying to chase the friction. “please—please, i’ll do anything—i’ll be so good—just let me—”

you straddle him.

his eyes widen.

you don’t even have to say anything—he’s already moaning.

“you wanna come inside me, baby?” you whisper, dragging your folds over his aching tip, not letting him in.

he’s shaking. “please, please, i need to, i need to—i’ll be good—fuck—i’ll make you feel so good, i swear—just let me—let me—”

you slide down onto him all at once.

his scream is broken. his whole body arches.

“thank you—fuck, thank you—” he babbles, clutching the headboard with white knuckles.

“you’re so deep,” you moan, starting to ride him, slow and heavy. “you feel so good when you shut up and take it.”

he’s sobbing now. overwhelmed. blissed out.

“gonna fill me up?” you whisper, kissing his jaw. “gonna come like the good little boy you are?”

he nods, barely able to speak. “yes—yes, please—please—can i—please—”

“do it,” you growl in his ear.

he breaks.

he cries out your name, cumming so hard it makes his entire body shake, eyes rolling back as he trembles under you. it doesn’t stop—he keeps twitching, breathless, whimpering, completely ruined.

you don’t stop moving.

his eyes widen in panic.

“w-wait—too much—i can’t—”

you just smirk.

“you said you’d do anything, baby. don’t disappoint me now.”

you barely step inside the third-floor bathroom before you feel it.

the shift.

he’s already there, waiting — back against the wall, eyes on you like he’s been planning something. calculating. hungry.

but this time… he doesn’t look shy.

he doesn’t look desperate.

he looks like a fucking storm.

you close the door slowly, a smirk playing on your lips. “someone’s eager.”

he doesn’t answer.

he just pushes himself off the wall, takes three steps forward, and corners you against the door. his body flush against yours.

his voice is low, dark.

“you think you’re in control, don’t you?”

you blink, caught off guard.

“you think you can tease me in front of everyone, make me sit pretty and beg for you like a fucking toy,” he growls, gripping your chin, tilting your head up. “but you forget something, babe.”

his breath is hot against your ear.

“you want this just as bad as i do. and you’re not as untouchable as you act.”

you scoff, but it dies in your throat when he grabs your wrists and pins them above your head with one hand, the other sliding down your waist and under your skirt like he owns every inch of you.

“gonna prove it,” he murmurs, kissing your jaw, then biting down harder than he should. “gonna fuck the brat out of you.”

“you’re dreaming if you think—”

“shut up,” he snaps, shoving his knee between your legs, forcing them open. “you had your turn. now it’s mine.”

your breath catches when he drops to his knees, yanks your underwear down and presses his mouth right where you need him. no warning. no build-up. just pure, messy heat.

you whimper, trying to squirm, but his grip on your thighs is brutal. “stay fucking still.”

he eats you like he’s starving.

like this is punishment.

like he wants to ruin you.

and he does — slowly. with groans that vibrate against your core. with tongue strokes that make your knees buckle. with lips that suck until you're gasping, trembling, begging—

“beomgyu, i’m gonna—”

he stops.

just like that.

you cry out in frustration, but he stands and shoves two fingers in your mouth, making you taste yourself.

“you don’t get to cum yet,” he smirks. “not until you say it.”

you glare at him, trying to keep whatever pride you have left. he leans in, lips brushing yours.

“say you need me.”

you don’t.

you won’t—

he grabs your hips and slams into you so hard you choke on your breath.

you almost scream, biting your hand to stay quiet as he fucks into you like he’s trying to destroy you. like he wants you sore. shaking. marked.

“say it,” he demands again, slamming deeper. “say you fucking need me.”

“fuck—i need you,” you gasp, losing it. “i fucking need you, okay?”

he smiles, dark and satisfied.

“good girl.”

and he keeps going.

you swear you black out a little when you finally cum, legs wrapped around him, walls clenching so tight he nearly loses control. but he doesn’t. he keeps going, overstimulating you until you're crying into his shoulder.

when he’s done, he pulls out, breathing hard, eyes glazed.

you’re a mess — flushed, dripping, lips bruised, hair wild.

he zips up, fixes his shirt, then grabs your jaw again.

“next time you wanna play boss,” he whispers, “remember who actually makes you fall apart.”

and then he’s gone — just like that.

leaving you shaking against the door, breathless, ruined.

it’s late. everyone’s gone, except for you and beomgyu. you both stay back to finish up the final arrangements for the project. the studio is dim, the only light coming from the desk lamps and the soft glow of the instruments scattered around the room. a low hum of the sound system mixes with the quiet shuffle of papers as you go over the details. you’re too focused, too determined to let anything distract you. not even him.

but he’s watching you.

you feel it before you see him. his eyes on you, the way his gaze lingers too long, too intense. he’s not the quiet, obedient beomgyu you’re used to. no, tonight, there’s a shift in the air, something darker, something that makes your heartbeat quicken.

you look up at him. he’s standing near the piano, leaning against it with his arms crossed, his usual casual look replaced by a more dangerous edge. his jaw is clenched, his eyes narrowed in that way that makes your pulse race. his voice is rough when he finally speaks, cutting through the silence.

“you’ve been ignoring me all night,” he says, the words low and biting. “like i don’t fucking matter.”

you raise an eyebrow, setting your pen down slowly. “i’m busy,” you say, voice steady, though there’s a hint of something else in it. something that shows you know exactly where this is headed.

“busy?” his lips curl into a sneer as he pushes off the piano, taking a slow step toward you. “you were too busy when i was begging for your attention. and now… now you’re too busy to notice how badly i want you.”

the words hit you like a shockwave, and your breath catches. but you stand your ground. “and what do you want from me, beomgyu? you really think you can just—”

“shut up,” he growls, closing the distance between you in an instant. his hands grip your hips, pushing you back against the desk. the suddenness of it has you gasping, your breath hitching in your throat. “i’ve had enough of you acting like you’re in control. you’re not. not tonight.”

his hands slide up your waist, pinning you against the desk, and the heat between you is undeniable. you try to fight it, but you know—you know—you’re not going anywhere. he’s stronger. he’s in charge now.

he lifts you effortlessly, his fingers digging into your thighs as he spins you around, his lips brushing your ear as he presses his body against yours. “this project’s been a fucking joke, but i’m about to show you who’s really leading this.”

you shiver at the feel of his hot breath on your skin. you try to push back, but he’s already got you where he wants you. his hands roam over you like he’s starved, hungry for every inch of your body.

before you can react, his lips crash onto yours. the kiss is aggressive, desperate. his tongue pushes into your mouth with no warning, like he’s claiming you, taking you without hesitation. you moan into it, your own hands finding purchase on his shirt, tugging him closer.

he breaks the kiss with a growl, his lips trailing down your neck, nipping at your skin as his hands begin to strip you down. he’s rough, unrelenting, as if he’s been holding back for too long. and now, now he wants to punish you for making him wait.

“tell me,” he whispers, his fingers tugging at your shirt. “tell me you want me. say it, and i’ll give it to you. all of it.”

you swallow, trying to keep your composure. you’re not going to give him the satisfaction that easily. but beomgyu’s hands are everywhere—on your chest, your waist, pulling you closer until you can feel the hardness of him pressing against your stomach. you can’t deny it. you want him. god, you want him so badly. but you won’t admit it that easily.

“fuck you,” you spit out, pushing at his chest, though your body betrays you, grinding against him involuntarily.

beomgyu smirks, completely unphased. his eyes darken, and he leans in, his lips brushing against your ear again. “you will, bitch. you’re going to beg for it.”

suddenly, he spins you back around, shoving you against the desk once more. he’s fast, too fast for you to react, and before you can even think, he’s pulling your skirt up, exposing you. his fingers are already there, teasing, stroking over your sensitive skin with slow precision.

“tell me you want it,” he murmurs, voice thick with lust. “say it.”

you close your eyes, breathing hard, your hands gripping the edge of the desk as you feel him push against you. his movements are slow, torturous, his teasing driving you crazy.

“please…” you mutter, barely audible, but he hears it. that’s all he needs.

“good girl,” he says, his voice dark with satisfaction. “you don’t get to hold back anymore. not when i’m in control.”

then, he’s inside you. deep. hard. he doesn’t give you time to adjust, doesn’t give you time to breathe. the desk rattles under the force of his thrusts, your body rocking with each movement. his hands grip your hips, slamming into you with ruthless precision, fucking you like he owns you.

you cry out, your fingers digging into the desk, but he doesn’t care. he just keeps going, taking what he wants. you’re powerless against him, lost in the rhythm of his hips, the relentless pace he’s setting.

“tell me you need me,” he demands, his breath hot against your neck as he fucks you harder. “say it. now.”

“fuck,” you gasp, unable to stop the words that spill from your lips. “i need you, beomgyu. i fucking need you.”

his grin is wicked, satisfied. “good. now you’re mine.”

and he pushes you to the edge, pushing harder, faster, until you come undone. your body shakes with the force of your orgasm, your fingers gripping the desk so hard you’re sure it’ll leave marks. and even when you think you can’t take anymore, he doesn’t stop. he keeps going, fucking you through it, until you’re begging for mercy.

your legs are shaking, but he doesn’t stop.

beomgyu grabs your arm, spinning you around again, his lips dragging down your neck, your collarbone, teeth grazing just enough to make you gasp. “did you think i was done with you?” he mutters, voice dripping with dark amusement. “we’re just getting started, baby.”

he lifts you like you weigh nothing and carries you to the worn leather couch in the corner of the studio. he drops you onto it and spreads your legs without hesitation. you don’t even have time to catch your breath before he drops to his knees and buries his face between your thighs.

“oh fuck—beomgyu—” your voice cracks as his tongue licks a long, slow stripe up your core.

his hands grip your thighs tightly, pinning you open as he devours you like he’s starving. he sucks, licks, flicks his tongue in maddening circles, then flattens it against your clit until your hips buck off the couch.

“taste so fucking good,” he growls, voice muffled against your wetness. “you gonna cum on my mouth, baby?”

you whimper, fingers tangled in his hair, pulling him closer. “shit, yes—fuck—don’t stop—”

but he does stop. the bastard smirks up at you, lips wet, eyes burning. “nah. not yet. i want you ruined when i’m done.”

before you can curse him out, he’s pulling you up, flipping you over. your knees sink into the couch as he grabs your waist, angling your ass up. you barely manage to breathe before he’s slamming back into you from behind.

“fuck!” you cry out, your voice echoing off the walls. the angle is brutal, perfect. you’re melting, unraveling around him, every thrust punching the air out of your lungs.

“you hear that?” he pants, fucking you hard and fast. “that’s the sound of your pussy getting absolutely wrecked.”

you can barely answer, but your body responds—arching into him, pushing back, greedy for more. he grabs your hair, yanking your head back so he can whisper in your ear.

“you love this, don’t you? getting fucked like a little slut. look at you—can’t even talk, just taking my cock like you were made for it.”

you moan, dizzy from the filth spilling out of his mouth and the relentless way he’s driving into you.

then he flips you again, pulling you on top of him as he falls back onto the couch. “ride me,” he commands, hands gripping your ass. “show me how much you fucking want it.”

you don’t hesitate. you sink down onto him, both of you groaning at the contact. your hands grip his shoulders as you start to move—slow at first, then faster, grinding down as he thrusts up to meet you. the friction, the heat—it’s too much. you're bouncing on him like your life depends on it, tits bouncing, eyes locked on his as you both fall apart.

“fucking ride me, just like that. shit—look at you,” he groans, his head falling back, his fingers bruising your hips. “so fucking tight, fuck—gonna cum if you keep that up.”

you’re right there with him. you’re shaking, sweating, losing control. your climax builds like a tidal wave, and he knows. He feels it.

“you gonna cum, baby? gonna cream all over my cock like a good little slut?”

“fuck yes—yes—beomgyu—!” you scream as your orgasm crashes over you, your whole body convulsing as pleasure rips through you.

he follows right after, grabbing your hips, slamming you down onto him one last time as he spills inside you with a raw, guttural moan. you collapse on top of him, both of you panting, sweaty, ruined.

the studio is silent again, except for the ticking of the clock on the wall and the lazy hum of the soundboard. you’re both still half-naked on the couch, skin slick with sweat, catching your breath. beomgyu’s chest rises and falls beneath you, his fingers lazily tracing shapes on your bare back.

“you look fucked out,” he murmurs, smirking against your temple.

you hum, eyes closed. “that’s because you fucked me out.”

there’s a beat of silence. and then he chuckles—low, dark, dangerous. “not yet...”

before you can respond, he’s flipping you over again, pinning your wrists above your head with one hand, his body hovering over yours.

“beomgyu, what the fuck—” you start, but he cuts you off with a kiss so filthy, so consuming, it leaves you gasping.

his voice is gravel when he pulls back. “you think i’m done with you? you really think that was enough?” his knee parts your thighs again, sliding between them, pressing right where you're still throbbing. “you’re dripping for me, baby. don’t even try to lie.”

you arch into him involuntarily, and he grins like he owns you. “god, you’re fucking desperate. like a little cum-drunk slut.”

he lets go of your wrists and slides down your body, dragging his tongue along your stomach, your hipbone, your inner thigh—until he's right where you need him again. he spreads you open and stares, admiring the mess he made of you.

“fuck, look at you,” he growls. “so wrecked. so perfect.”

then his mouth is on you again. this time, it’s not teasing. it’s relentless. his tongue fucks into you, circles your clit, sucks until you're writhing, crying out, begging.

“please—please, fuck—”

but he doesn’t stop there.

he stands, wiping his mouth, then grabs you by the waist and drags you to the edge of the couch. “on your knees,” he orders, voice rough. “hands on the floor. ass up.”

you obey without thinking—your body knows what it wants now. you feel his hand grip your ass, spreading you wide, and then the thick head of his cock pressing back inside you.

he grabs your jaw suddenly, fingers sliding between your lips, forcing them open. “open up,” he growls, his voice low and demanding. you moan around his fingers as he shoves them deep into your mouth, pressing them down on your tongue. “suck,” he commands, and you do—eyes fluttering shut, lips wrapped around his fingers like it’s instinct.

“that’s it, baby. just like that,” he murmurs, pulling them out slick and glistening, only to trail them down your body—between your thighs—before lining himself up again. “now i’m gonna fuck you nice and deep, just how you like it. don’t fucking run.”

he bottoms out in one thrust.

you scream.

“yeah, that’s right,” he pants, thrusting deep and hard. “let them fucking hear you. let everyone know how good I fuck this tight little pussy.”

the position hits everything. his hand wraps around your throat from behind, pulling your body up as he fucks you like an animal. it’s filthy, raw, and fucking perfect.

“say it,” he demands. “say you’re mine.”

“i’m yours,” you gasp, tears pricking your eyes from the intensity. “i’m fucking yours, beomgyu.”

he growls, slamming into you harder, faster, the sound of skin against skin echoing in the studio. “damn right you are.”

and then he flips you over one more time—flat on your back this time, legs over his shoulders as he pounds into you, eyes locked on yours like he wants to watch every second of you coming apart again.

“you’re gonna cum for me again, baby,” he says between ragged breaths. “you’re gonna soak my cock, and then i’m gonna fill you up again. you want that?”

“fuck, yes—please—do it—”

that’s all it takes. your orgasm hits like a damn freight train, your whole body seizing up as he keeps thrusting, watching you shatter beneath him.

and when you cum, crying his name, he loses it.

he buries himself deep, groaning as he spills inside you again, hips twitching, body shaking. and then he collapses on top of you, both of you gasping for air, completely, utterly wrecked.

you lie there in silence, your body trembling from overstimulation, your mind fuzzy with pleasure.

“you’re not leaving this studio tonight.”

after a long moment, he strokes your back lazily and mutters, “next time you ignore me, i’ll fuck you right on top of the damn mixing board.”

you laugh breathlessly, still trembling. “i dare you.”

“oh, you will, sweetheart,” he smirks, voice low and dangerous. “you fucking will.”

“we’re not leaving this studio tonight.”

[heartshapedmisery]

𝐥𝐨𝐨𝐬𝐞𝐧 𝐮𝐩 | art donaldson

summary ― .ﾟ‪‪ ˖ art is your tennis coach, but after he tells you to "loosen up" a bit, you're not sure if your boundaries are strictly professional anymore.

warnings ― .ﾟ‪‪ ˖  MINORS DNI ! ( 18+ ) | language, graphic smut, unprotected sex ( wrap it before u tap it y'all ), soft!dom!art, sub!reader, sexual tension, art gives reader a massage, praise kink, p in v sex, fingering, if i missed anything, please let me know!

word count ― .ﾟ‪‪ ˖ 3.2k +

pairing ― .ﾟ‪‪ ˖ standford!art donaldson x fem!stanford!reader

author’s note ― .ﾟ‪‪ ˖  saw challengers the other day .... its all i can think about rn so i made a fic! hope u enjoy! also i know nothing about physical therapy so if this makes no sense I'm sorry

publishing date ― .ﾟ‪‪ ˖  may 5th, 2024 | © HEARTSHAPEDMISERY

tags ― .ﾟ‪‪ ˖ @madnessandobsession @hashtagtobefuckinghonest @mitskilover23

A bead of sweat rolled down your temple as your feet carried you quickly across the tennis court, your eyes refusing to leave the bright yellow ball that was coming towards you from the opposite side of the net.

"Keep your eye on the ball, sweetheart!" Art barked, a few blonde strands of his hair falling in his eyes as he watched you simply miss the ball once again.

The nickname caught you off guard, dismantling your focus and causing you to falter your movements. Your arm swung out far enough, but your racket was just below the ball, allowing it to fly right over it and hit the concrete behind you. A tinge of pain seared through your right shoulder, making you wince.

"Shit!" You grumbled in annoyance, your eyes refusing to meet Art's since you knew he would scold you for your miss.

You threw the racket in your hand down at your feet, irritated that you hadn't kept the ball going back and forth between you and Art for more than 2 times in your last 5 tries.

Your mind was somewhere else; normally you were a beast on the court, dominating your competition (all thanks to Art). Today, not so much.

"What was that, the 6th time?" Art scoffed, waving his racket about in the air. "What's wrong with your shoulder?" he pointed his racket in your direction, a look of concern written on his face.

You didn't answer him, walking off the court over to the bench and grabbing your water bottle. He followed you, taking the bottle from your hand when you were done and squirting the liquid into his mouth. Your eyes watched him carefully, following the water droplets as a few fell from the corner of his mouth.

"You're tense, I can see it all over you when you're moving around out there," he said, motioning to your shoulders and neck. Your eyes caught the way his polo clung to his toned chest, sweat starting to seep through from his constant movement.

"I'm fine," you told him, shrugging his words off. "Just a little distracted, is all."

A lopsided grin cracked across his face, not buying your excuses.

"Come here," he motioned for you to move towards him, which you hesitantly responded to before walking to him. Carefully, his hands grabbed your shoulders and spun you around, your back meeting his front harsher than you had expected.

Your heartbeat quickly picked up, the feeling of his hands on your bare shoulders felt hot and heavy on your skin.

This wasn't the first time Art has caught you off guard like this. You had noticed over the past few months how touchy he could be, whether he was correcting your form or bidding you good job after a match with a rub on the back.

And no matter how much you denied it, you couldn't help but love every second of it. Despite being your coach, he had an effect on you that no one else did. He drove you wild, but of course, he never realized that.

At least, you thought he didn't.

"Your shoulders are very tight, especially your right one. That's why you're not getting a lot of movement," he spoke softly in your ear, his fingers running up the sides of your arms before finally gripping your shoulders. His fingers squeezed your flesh gently, burning against your skin enough to make you let out a sigh he undoubtedly heard.

"You need to loosen up a little bit, sweetheart. All this stress is messing you up, and we can't have that." his voice was smooth and sultry, a total contrast to what it had been only moments before on the court.

His fingers kneaded at the muscles at the top of your back, working out all of the kinks and knots that inhabited your shoulders. Your eyes quickly fell shut as you leaned into his touch, getting lost in the feeling of his hands on you.

"Ah," you breathed out, the feeling of his thumb reaching a spot that unraveled the tension in your right shoulder. "Right there."

You couldn't see it, but a wide smile bloomed across his face at your words, his thumb moving to massage the muscle deeper than before. You let out a breath groan, which (as much as he hated to admit it) indubitably went straight to his lower half.

He didn't expect you to be so responsive to his touch. It surprised him, but that didn't mean he was opposed to it.

"Yeah?" He breathed. "Does that feel better?"

He knew exactly what he was doing, even though you were so oblivious to his shenanigans.

"Yes," you groaned, allowing your head to fall back slightly. You breathed in deeply as he continued his work at your muscles, watching you revel in the relief at the top of your back.

To anyone else, his actions only looked like a coach helping his player work out an injury. But to you and Art, this was months of tension finally boiling over. The way his hands worked across your skin, the pleasurable sighs you let out. It was the two of you crossing a boundary you had never expected to abandon.

"Art!" a voice sounded from the opposite side of the court, making your eyes snap open. His hands stopped their movements, but he didn't remove them from your shoulders as he looked over his shoulder at whoever was trying to get his attention.

It was Mike, the Athletic Director at Stanford.

"Mike," he stated, greeting him with a nod. His voice almost sounded disappointed, not appreciating that he had interrupted the two of you. "What can I do you for?"

His hands finally left your shoulders, your skin feeling dull and light from their wake. You quickly snapped yourself back to reality, brushing away the hot feeling in your chest as you watched the exchange between Art and Mike.

"I just have some paperwork for you to fill out for the semester," he said, "Won't take long."

You watched Art's expression lighten, giving him a slight nod before agreeing to meet him in his office and Mike dismissing himself from the court.

Your gaze met Art's as he turned back to grab his gym bag off the bench and slung it over his shoulder. You watched him carefully, before taking your own bag off the bench.

"Put some ice on that shoulder," he pointed to your right side as he slipped his Ray Bans onto his face to shield his eyes from the sun. "I'll come check on it later, okay?"

You nodded, your mind already racing at the thought. You watched him as he walked away from your view, a feeling of excitement and confusion bubbling in your chest.

You didn't see him again until after lunch. You had been wandering around your small apartment in nothing but a tank top and pajama shorts (due to the blistering California heat outside) with a bag of ice taped around your shoulder, trying to keep your mind occupied until Art arrived.

Your afternoon classes had been canceled so you decided to take it easy at home, trying to keep your arm relaxed as much as possible.

When you heard a simple knock at your door, the feeling from earlier that morning had returned, rising in your chest and making your neck hot at the thought of him. He stood nonchalantly at your door when you swung it open, greeting him with a warm smile.

"Hey," you said, moving out of the way to let him in. He sent you a small smile back, following you into your tiny living room.

"How's the shoulder?" he rasped, taking a look at the ice pack on your arm that was starting to leak.

"Pretty good, hasn't really changed much. Still a little sore, though." you told him honestly, still confused as to why you had tweaked it so bad.

"Mind if I take a look at it?" he asked, gently running his hand up the side of your arm. The sensation sent chills down your spine as you nodded simply. He had to stop doing that or else you were going to go crazy.

"Here, sit down between my legs with your back towards me," he motioned to the couch, sitting behind you before moving to remove the athletic tape from the ice pack. You could feel his warmth behind you, his breath hot against your shoulder as he peered at your injury.

Your breath hitched as you felt his finger hook under the right strap of your tank top, your head turning slightly to catch his eye.

"Do you mind if I move this down?" he asked gently, eager to make sure you were okay with him touching you like this. You nodded, a little quicker than you had anticipated.

"Yeah, that's fine," you breathed, before turning back around. Carefully, he pulled the strap down, exposing your bare shoulder to him. Your eyes fluttered shut at the feeling of his calloused hands against your smooth skin, his fingers slowly beginning to knead at your muscles.

"I feel a lot of tension here still," he told you, his hand gently moving to raise your arm up slightly over your head. You felt a pop in your joints, an instant feeling of relief washing through your shoulder. A breathy moan escaped your lips at the movement, grateful that it felt better already.

"Shit," you breathed, thankful for his skillful hands. "That feels good."

Art let out a breathy laugh, making your heart swell. "Lean back against me, I want to try something."

You followed his instructions, your back meeting his toned chest, sinking into his embrace. The smell of his cologne invaded your senses, making you sigh.

Carefully, he wrapped his arm around your collarbone, his left hand laying flat against the front of your shoulder while his right hand gripped the back of your bicep where your arm met your shoulder.

His hands were slow and gentle but still had you unwinding more with each movement. His left hand gently pushed your shoulder back as his right pushed your arm forward, earning another pop in your joints.

"Oh my god," you groaned under your breath, your hand subconsciously moving to grip his muscular forearm without realizing it.

"That's it, sweetheart," he cooed in your ear as you let out a sigh of relief. "Does that feel better?"

'So much better," you told him honestly, still holding onto his arm. Your eyes quickly fell down to it, an idea circling in your mind before your hand slowly began to move. He watched you carefully, his eyes following your freshly manicured hand moved to settle over his, before carefully moving his hand down your chest.

"But I think I'm still a little tense, Art," you breathed, biting your lip as his fingers ghosted over your hardened nipple before you moved it down further to your abdomen. His mind finally caught on to what you were trying to get at, a sly smirk cracking across his face.

"Could you help me?" you whispered, settling his hand on your lower stomach, dangerously close to where you wanted him most.

He didn't respond, his hand simply moving from underneath yours and allowing his fingers to slip underneath the waistband of your skimpy shorts, your breath hitching. He moved his free hand from your arm and down to your thigh, gently spreading them apart.

You felt him exhale a deep breath, before finally answering your request. "Of course. Anything to help my star player."

His fingers broke the barrier of your panties just as the words left his mouth, dipping into your soaked core without warning. You let out a moan as his lips pressed gentle kisses to your bare shoulder before moving up your neck and settling just below your ear.

His middle and ring fingers played at your clit, rubbing it gently before dipping back into you, curling his fingers inside of you sweetly.

A moan sounded from your plump lips, your head falling back on his shoulder. Your hand gripped his bicep as he continued to give you what you wanted, writhing in pleasure at his movements.

You could feel his hard-on press into your back as you sunk into his embrace, turning you on even more.

"How does that feel, baby?" he rasped, kissing your temple as he could feel you beginning to unravel on his fingers. "Is this what you wanted?"

You whimpered, biting your lip as you nodded your head. "Yes!"

As his fingers moved quickly inside of you, you felt his free hand wrap around your torso before moving up to your chest, his fingers ghosting over your hardened nipple.

"Please, Art," you whimpered, so close to your high. He took your words as a sign to keep going and allowed his fingers to fondle your breast, which sent you over the edge.

"Fuck, I'm-" you whined, your words caught dead in your throat as your orgasm washed over you, a defeated moan sounding from your chest.

He was mesmerized as he watched you, the way your head kicked back against his chest and you gripped his thigh as you came down from your climax. The pure ecstasy was seeping from you, and it drove him wild that he brought you to this state.

Carefully, he removed his fingers from your soaked core, bringing them to his mouth before sucking them clean. Your head snapped around to watch him, going feral at the way he reveled at the taste of you. You couldn't tear your eyes away from him.

Your hands cupped the sides of his head, your fingers running through his blonde locks of hair. His eyes fell on your wet, plump lips before he smashed his own against them without warning.

A whine of approval sounded from the back of your throat, your body quickly crawling into his lap, straddling him as you sunk deeper into the kiss. His hands ran up the sides of your thighs before settling on the flesh of your ass, squeezing it as he held your core down against his hard-on.

His lips finally pulled away from yours, both of you out of breath as you met each other's gaze once again. He was quick to attack your neck, leaving sloppy and wet kisses all over your skin as he rocked your hips over his erection for any sort of release he could get.

Your fingers tugged at the hair at the nape of his neck, earning a low groan to sound from his chest, which went straight to your core. You were growing impatient, pulling away from him in order to tug your tank top over your head. His eyes fell to your bare chest, a look of pure lust haunting them.

You quickly stood up from his lap to remove your shorts along with your underwear, giving him the opportunity to rid himself of his clothes as well. Your eyes nearly bugged out of your head as his hard-on slapped against his lower stomach once he pulled his boxers off, his tip reddened and already leaking with precum.

"Come here, baby," he said soothingly, his hands pulling you back into his lap once more, your bare chest flush with his. Your faces were inches apart, your lips parted as you watched him reach between your bodies and grasp his cock, slowly giving it a few pumps before he aligned himself with your core.

You raised your hips a little, hovering over him to allow him to guide himself into you, a deep moan ripping from your chest when you finally sank down on him.

"Fuck," he groaned, the feeling of your wet core overriding his senses. You stretched around him so sweetly, taking him so well he couldn't help but moan.

Your hands settled comfortably on his shoulders, using them to help stabilize yourself as you began to rock your hips into a steady motion. You couldn't help but bite your lip, unable to keep your moans from falling out of your mouth.

He filled you to the brim, reaching a part of you deep inside that had never fully been satisfied. It made you ecstatic; you couldn't get enough of him.

"Fuck me, Art," you moaned, pulling at the hair at the nape of his neck. "Fuck me hard."

He let out a shaky breath at your bluntness but obeyed you nonetheless. His hands gripped your hips roughly before he began a steady pace of fucking up into you, making you reel your head back in pleasure.

"Look at you, taking me so well," he moaned in between whimpers of pleasure, gripping your hips harder as he quickened his thrusts. You were a blubbering mess at this point, your head falling to the crook of his shoulder to muffle your cries.

His arm wrapped around your torso to keep you steady, his free hand moving to rake through your hair and pull your head back up to meet his gaze. He watched you intently as tears formed in your eyes, your orgasm not too far away.

"So pretty," he cooed, cupping your face. "All for me, right?"

"I'm yours, Art," you whimpered, clawing at his bicep as you felt yourself tipping over the edge. "All yours. Fuck, I'm close!"

Your moans were like music to his ears, sounding so melodic as your eyes fluttered shut in lust. With a few quick final thrusts, your second orgasm washed over you, making you writhe with pleasure as a nearly pornographic moan ripped from your chest.

He gripped your hips as he stilled his movements, his eyes intently watching you as your face contorted with your climax. He nearly came at the sight, letting out a shaky moan as you slumped back against him, completely fucked out.

"Fuck," you breathed, looking up at him as he panted heavily, a lazy smile on his face.

Suddenly, you remembered he hadn't come yet, and your body was already sliding off of him and sinking to your knees between his legs before you could even think otherwise.

"Wait, no you don't have to-" he assured you as he sat up, but you were already shushing him and taking him into your hand, gently pumping him as you gripped his thigh for leverage.

His eyes were blown out with lust as he watched you jerk him off, relaxing into your touch as a whimper escaped his throat. You looked so sexy sitting in between his legs, so eager to help him reach his climax. It didn't take long before he was letting out a guttural groan and painting your chest with his release.

His chest heaved up and down as he pulled himself back together, taking in your appearance before him. He never wanted to forget you like this; your face flushed and dewey with sweat from the orgasm he had just given you.

"Sorry, baby," he breathed, sitting up to grab your tank top and wipe you clean with it. You sent him a small smile, thankful for the gesture before you got back on the couch next to him and curled into his side. He grabbed the blanket that was hanging over the back of the couch and laid it over the two of you, trying to make you as comfortable as possible.

The sudden realization that you had just fucked your tennis coach began to seep into your brain as you felt the warmth of his skin on yours, goosebumps running down your spine at the thought.

Fuck, this was going to make for an interesting practice tomorrow. . .

[flux1563]

A Dare to Remember ft Eunbi, Minju

Words : 6k

Tags : squirting, rough sex, multiple creampie, multiple orgasms

The airplane's wheels screeched against the tarmac, jolting Minju and Eunbi from their sleepy embrace. They looked out the small oval window at the lush, unfamiliar landscape as the aircraft taxied to the gate. The scent of tropical flowers wafted through the cabin as the door swung open, mixing with the stale air of the plane. Bali, the island of gods and unbridled beauty, welcomed them with open arms.

"We're finally here," Minju whispered to Eunbi, her eyes sparkling with excitement. She playfully tugged at the hem of her friend's skirt, which had ridden up slightly during their nap. "Let's make this week one to remember, yeah?"

Eunbi giggled, her cheeks flushing. "You bet we will," she murmured, a hint of mischief in her voice.

The two friends collected their luggage and stepped out into the warm, humid air, feeling it envelop them like a lover's embrace. The vibrant sounds of the bustling airport surrounded them as they made their way through customs, the exotic languages a symphony to their ears.

In the taxi, they chattered away about their plans for the week. They had rented a luxurious villa, nestled between the emerald rice fields and the azure sea. It was a place where they could truly unwind and indulge in the pleasures of life, away from the prying eyes of their small town in Korea.

As the vehicle wove through the chaotic streets of Kuta, the heart of Bali's nightlife, Minju leaned in close to Eunbi, her voice low and conspiratorial. "You know what we should do to spice up our vacation?"

Eunbi's eyes grew wide with curiosity. "What?"

Minju smirked. "A little competition."

The taxi pulled up to the grand entrance of their villa, and the driver popped the trunk with a flourish. As they stepped out, Minju elaborated, her eyes gleaming with a wild idea. "Let's see who can...you know, hook up with the most guys. It'll be our own little challenge."

Eunbi's eyes narrowed, a competitive fire igniting within her. "You're on," she said, her voice filled with excitement and a touch of defiance.

The villa was a paradise, with a private pool that shimmered like a jewel in the sunlight. Their bags were whisked away by the friendly staff, leaving them to explore their surroundings. The walls of their suite were adorned with intricate carvings that told ancient tales of love and passion, setting the stage for the adventure that lay ahead.

"This place is perfect," Eunbi said, her voice filled with awe. "Now, let's get started on those registration papers."

They retreated to their separate rooms, each a sanctuary of comfort with four-poster beds draped in fine linens and private balconies that beckoned with a view of the swaying palm trees. Minju watched as Eunbi pulled out a notebook and pen, placing it on the nightstand with a determined look.

"No fabric touching our bodies, right?" Minju asked, her voice a mix of excitement and challenge.

"Right," Eunbi nodded, a devilish smile playing on her lips. "Let's keep it interesting. No clothes, no barriers."

Minju watched as Eunbi sailed out of the room, her heart racing with a mix of anticipation and apprehension. This was it; the game was on. She quickly undressed and lay on the bed, her body glistening with a sheen of sweat from the warm Bali air. She felt a thrill run through her as she imagined the parade of men who would soon be crossing the threshold.

The sun dipped below the horizon, casting the villa in a warm, golden glow. The sound of the waves crashing against the shore served as a soothing backdrop to the nervous energy that crackled through the air. Eunbi stood on her balcony, her bare skin kissed by the soft breeze. She had decided to wait for the first contestant to arrive. Her heart thumped in her chest as she heard the faint sound of footsteps approaching the villa.

A knock at the door made her jump. She took a deep breath, steeling herself for what was to come. She opened the door to find a tall, tanned local man with a charming smile. His eyes swept over her naked body, a blatant hunger in his gaze that sent a shiver down her spine.

"Hi," she managed to say, her voice a sultry whisper. "I've been expecting you."

He stepped into the room, shutting the door behind him with a click that echoed through the suite. He didn't waste any time, closing the distance between them in two strides. His strong hands found her waist, pulling her against his firm body. His kiss was fiery and demanding, his tongue dancing with hers in a passionate tango.

Eunbi's body responded instinctively, her legs parting slightly to allow him closer. He took advantage of the invitation, his hands roaming her curves, exploring every inch of her bare skin. His kisses grew more insistent, moving down her neck to her collarbone, then lower to her firm breasts. He took a nipple in his mouth, suckling gently, eliciting a gasp from Eunbi. Her knees grew weak as his fingers traveled lower, finding the slick heat between her thighs.

The man's touch was like nothing she had ever experienced before—rough yet tender, claiming yet reverent. She felt a strange sense of empowerment as she gave herself over to the moment, allowing him to lead her in this erotic dance. The competition had begun, and she was ready to give it her all.

Eunbi guided him to the bed, her breath coming in shallow gasps as his hands continued to explore her body. He laid her down, his eyes never leaving hers as he positioned himself between her legs. He entered her with a smooth, practiced ease that made her moan with pleasure. His rhythm was intoxicating, a slow and steady build that had her arching off the mattress.

Their bodies moved in a silent symphony of desire, their skin slick with sweat as they lost themselves in the primal rhythm. The bed creaked in time with their passionate thrusts, a testament to their unbridled lust. Eunbi's hands roamed his muscular back, her nails digging in as he picked up the pace. Their whispers grew louder, turning into a cacophony of dirty praise and encouragement that filled the room.

"You're so tight, baby," he groaned, his hips slamming into hers. "You feel so good."

"Keep going," Eunbi panted, her voice thick with desire. "I want to feel you fill me up."

He obliged, his strokes growing more forceful, each one pushing her closer to the edge. The room was alive with the sound of their skin slapping together, the sweet sound of pleasure echoing through the villa.

"Yes," she screamed, her body tightening around him as she climaxed. "Keep going, fill me up. Give me everything you've got."

The man's pace grew erratic as he approached his own release, his grip on her hips tightening. With one final, powerful thrust, he emptied himself inside her, their bodies shuddering with the intensity of the moment. They lay there, panting and tangled together, the air thick with the scent of sex.

Eunbi felt a sense of victory as she watched the man roll off her, a satisfied smile playing on her lips. She had won the first round, but the week was long, and she knew Minju would not make it easy for her. The game was on, and she was ready to play.

Her thoughts were interrupted by another knock on the door. She glanced at the notebook on the nightstand, her heart racing. The next contestant had arrived, eager to stake his claim in their wild competition. She slid out of the bed, her legs unsteady from the last round, and padded to the door.

As she opened it, she found a line of men waiting outside, each more handsome than the last. They had heard about the contest and had come from all corners of the island to take part. The thought of it made Eunbi's pulse quicken. She had never been so desired, so wanted.

The first man in line stepped into the room, a cocky grin on his face. He was young, with a lean, muscular body and a mischievous glint in his eye. "I've been waiting for you," he said, his English tinged with an Australian accent.

Eunbi's smile grew wicked as she led him to the bed, her body already preparing for the next round. This one would be rough, she decided, her competitive spirit driving her to push the boundaries. He pinned her down, his strong hands holding her wrists as he kissed her neck, leaving a trail of love bites in his wake. His teeth grazed her sensitive skin, making her gasp.

He was aggressive, taking her with a fervor that left her breathless. Each thrust was punctuated by the sound of the bed frame hitting the wall. She could feel the tension building inside her again, a delicious ache that grew with each bruising kiss and bite. He whispered dirty words in her ear, his breath hot and ragged, and she found herself responding with equal vigor.

The night stretched on, a blur of faces and sensations. Eunbi's body was a canvas of pleasure and pain, each encounter more intense than the last. Some men were gentle, worshipping her body with tender kisses and soft caresses. Others were more demanding, pushing her limits with each stroke. There was the quiet, intense artist who painted her in hues of passion with his fingertips, and the burly biker whose rough hands left her feeling both used and adored.

Through it all, she kept count, scribbling names and details in her notebook with a trembling hand. Each orgasm brought her closer to victory, and she reveled in the power she wielded over these men. Yet, she knew she had to be careful. The competition was only just beginning, and she didn't want to burn out too soon.

As the first rays of dawn began to peek through the curtains, Eunbi collapsed onto the bed, her body sore but satisfied. She had fucked them all, each one leaving his mark on her body and her soul. But she knew that she had to keep going, to push through the pain and the pleasure. The prize was in her sights, and she was not about to let Minju win without a fight.

The men came and went, a never-ending parade of desire and need. Each time she felt a new cock fill her up, she would grip the bed sheets and whisper sweet nothings into their ears, making them believe they were the best she had ever had. The sweet sound of their moans and grunts became a symphony that played in the background of her thoughts, fueling her determination.

And then it happened. With a particularly skilled and energetic partner, she felt something new, something she had never experienced before. Her body tightened around him as a warm gush of liquid spurted from her, soaking the bed and leaving her panting for breath. He looked at her with amazement, his eyes wide with surprise. "You squirted," he murmured, his voice filled with awe.

Eunbi giggled, feeling a newfound sense of power. "It was amazing," she gasped, her voice still shaking from the intensity of the orgasm. She leaned in and kissed him deeply, tasting the salt of his sweat on his skin. "You're really good at that."

Her newfound squirting ability became a secret weapon in their competition. Each time she felt a man's warmth filling her up, she would whisper those magic words, "Keep cumming on my womb, fill it," urging them to give her all they had. It was a heady feeling, one that made her feel alive and in control. The men responded with a fervor she hadn't anticipated, their eyes glazing over with lust as they worked to satisfy her every demand.

Days turned into nights and back again, as Eunbi and Minju's game of conquest grew more intense. The villa's walls echoed with the sounds of passion, the air thick with the scent of sex and sweat. Eunbi's body grew more sensitive with each new lover, making each climax more explosive than the last. Her cries of pleasure could be heard throughout the night, a siren's call that drew even more men to her doorstep.

As the week progressed, Eunbi's list grew longer, filling page after page of her notebook. She had lost track of the number of men she had taken to her bed, each one leaving her feeling both drained and exhilarated. Yet, she never once considered backing down. The thrill of the challenge had become a drug, a high that she craved with every breath.

One evening, as the sun painted the sky with a riot of colors, Eunbi found herself with a particularly eager participant. He was older, with a silver fox charm that made her knees wobble. His hands were rough and calloused, yet gentle as they explored her body. He took his time, savoring every inch of her as if she were the last woman he would ever touch. His kisses were tender, yet filled with an urgency that made her heart race.

As he slid into her, she felt herself opening up to him in a way she hadn't with the others. His strokes were deep and deliberate, each one hitting that perfect spot that made her toes curl. She clung to him, her nails digging into his back as she begged for more. "Keep cumming on my womb," she murmured, her voice a breathless whisper. "I want to feel you fill me up."

The man's eyes grew dark with lust as he obeyed, his movements growing more forceful. The sound of their bodies slapping together filled the room as he drove into her, over and over again. With a roar, he released his seed, and she felt the warmth spread within her, a delicious sensation that made her shiver with pleasure.

The week had been a whirlwind of passion and competition. Eunbi had pushed herself to the limits, her body aching yet craving more. Each day had melded into the next, a blur of sun-kissed skin and whispered promises of pleasure. Her once pristine bed now bore the stains of countless encounters, a testament to the marathon of lust she had endured.

As she lay there, her body trembling from the last climax, she couldn't help but feel a sense of pride. She had done it—200 men had claimed her, leaving her feeling more alive than she had ever felt before. The taste of victory was sweet on her lips, a heady concoction of sweat and cum. She glanced over at the notebook, the number scribbled in her shaky handwriting. "200," she murmured, her voice filled with amazement and satisfaction.

The final night of their competition approached, and with it, the tension grew palpable. Both women knew that their endurance was being tested, their bodies pushed to the brink. Yet, as they lay in their beds, listening to the distant laughter and waves crashing against the shore, they couldn't help but feel a sense of camaraderie. They had shared this wild, unforgettable experience together, and no matter who won, they had both conquered their fears and desires in a way they never thought possible.

Eunbi's final day was upon her, and she approached it with a mix of excitement and trepidation. She had one more encounter to go, one final man to add to her tally. As the hours ticked by, she found herself both dreading and eagerly awaiting the moment. Would she be able to handle it? Would she be able to give him the experience he sought?

The door to her room opened, and in stepped the final contestant—a mysterious figure who had been watching from the sidelines all week. His eyes were dark and intense, his body sculpted like a Greek god. He walked over to her with purpose, and she felt her heart race in anticipation. This one, she knew, would be different.

He didn't waste any time with pleasantries, instead he began to touch her, his hands skimming her skin with a confidence that sent shivers down her spine. His kisses were demanding, his teeth grazing her lips in a way that made her gasp. He picked her up effortlessly, laying her on the bed, and began to explore her body with a hunger that matched her own.

Eunbi had been with many men, but none had ever made her feel like this. Each touch was electric, sending waves of pleasure crashing through her. He knew exactly where to touch, exactly how much pressure to apply. It was as if he had studied her, learned her body's secrets, and was now using them to his advantage.

Her legs spread wide, she offered herself to him, her pussy slick and swollen from the week's exertions. He took his time, savoring every inch of her, leaving no part untouched. His tongue danced around her clit, teasing it into a frenzy before plunging into her depths. She writhed beneath him, her body a tapestry of sensation.

When he finally entered her, it was with a slow, deliberate stroke that made her moan with pleasure. He filled her completely, stretching her to the point of pain, yet it was a sweet agony she had grown to crave. His rhythm was relentless, each thrust sending a fresh wave of cum spilling from her over-sensitive womb.

Their bodies moved in perfect harmony, a dance of desire that had been a week in the making. Eunbi could feel the pressure building, her orgasm threatening to consume her. She met his eyes, her own glazed with passion, and whispered, "I want you to breed me. Give me your all."

With a roar, he complied, pumping into her with a ferocity that made the bed shake. She felt his hot seed fill her, the sensation so intense it was almost painful. Yet, she reveled in it, her body clenching around him as she climaxed once more.

As he pulled out, she lay there, panting and exhausted, her body drenched in sweat and cum. She had done it—she had conquered her fears, pushed past her limits, and claimed victory. The competition had taken its toll, but Eunbi felt a sense of triumph that washed away any hint of fatigue.

Minju Side :

As Eunbi's cries of pleasure pierced the stillness of the villa, Minju couldn't help but feel a twinge of jealousy. She lay on her bed, the sheets twisted around her body like a lover's embrace, listening to the muffled sounds of her friend's passionate encounter. Her own body thrummed with need, her pussy pulsing with anticipation for the first man she would claim in their wild competition.

The door to her room creaked open, and she held her breath, her heart racing in excitement. A shadow fell across the threshold, and she made out the silhouette of a man, his features obscured by the dim light. She watched as he approached the bed, his eyes gleaming with lust.

He was nothing like the gentle, loving men she had known back home. His touch was rough, his kiss bruising as he claimed her mouth. She could feel his hand at her throat, his grip firm yet not unpleasantly so—it was a show of dominance, a silent declaration of his intentions.

With a sudden jerk, he pulled her up and pushed her down onto the bed, her cheek pressed against the cool, crisp linen. He grabbed her by the hair, forcing her to look back at him. His eyes gleamed with a dark, almost sadistic hunger that sent a shiver down her spine. He was going to be rough, and she could feel her body responding with a mix of fear and excitement.

Minju gasped as he bent her over, pushing her down onto her hands and knees. He didn't bother with preamble, instead, he took a firm grip of her hips and yanked her back towards him. She felt the tip of his cock brush against her cunt before he thrust inside without warning, filling her in one swift motion. She yelped with surprise, the sensation of his thickness stretching her out sending shockwaves through her body.

He began to fuck her hard, his hips slapping against her ass with a rhythmic thud that echoed through the room. Each time he pulled out, he'd smack her cheeks before plunging back in, the sting adding to the intensity of each thrust. She felt her pussy grow wetter with every spank, her body begging for more of the delicious pain-pleasure that danced along her nerve endings.

"How does it feel, baby?" he grunted, his grip on her hips tightening.

Minju moaned, her voice thick with lust. "It feels...amazing. You're so big, so deep."

The man chuckled darkly, his teeth gritted with the effort of holding back. "Keep talking, sweetheart. Tell me how much you love it."

Her words spilled out in a breathless stream, each one more explicit than the last. "Your cock feels so good, so thick, stretching me open. I've never felt so full."

He rewarded her with a particularly deep thrust that made her cry out. "That's it," he encouraged. "Tell me how much you love being my little whore."

Minju's cheeks flushed at the harsh words, but she found herself craving more. "I love it," she whispered, her voice barely audible. "I love being your whore, being filled with your cum."

The man's strokes grew more erratic as he approached his climax, his breaths coming in harsh pants. "You're going to take it all, aren't you?"

"Yes," she gasped, her body trembling. "I'll take everything you give me."

With a final, powerful thrust, he came, his warm seed flooding her insides. He collapsed on top of her, their bodies slick with sweat and cum. Minju lay there, her breath coming in ragged gasps, feeling both used and utterly satisfied.

As the man withdrew, she couldn't help but feel a sense of loss, despite the ache in her body. She had never experienced such raw, animalistic sex before, and it had awakened a side of her she didn't know existed. The competition had taken an unexpected turn, but she was ready to face whatever the week had in store for her.

The next man to enter her room was a stark contrast to the first. He had a gentle demeanor, his eyes soft and kind. He approached her with care, as if she were a fragile treasure to be cherished. Minju felt a twinge of doubt—was she ready for tenderness after the rough treatment she had just received?

But as he began to kiss her, she realized that she was craving something different. She wrapped her legs around his waist, urging him to take her with the same fiery passion as the first, but he resisted, instead choosing to explore her body with feather-light touches and whispered sweet nothings. She found herself arching into his caresses, her body begging for more.

"I want you to go rough," she panted, her voice strained with desire. "Please, make it hard."

He hesitated, his eyes searching hers for consent. She nodded eagerly, her cheeks flushed with excitement. He took her cue, his gentle strokes turning into firm, demanding thrusts that made her cry out. She had never felt so alive, so wanted. Her nails dug into his back as she urged him deeper, her body craving the delicious friction.

"You're so good at this," she murmured, her voice thick with lust. "I've never felt so...so alive."

He grunted in response, his grip on her hips tightening as he picked up the pace. His cock hit that perfect spot inside her with every thrust, and she felt herself climbing towards another shattering orgasm. The man's eyes never left hers, his gaze intense and focused. It was as if he could see into her very soul, as if he knew exactly what she needed to push her over the edge.

And when she did, it was with a scream that tore through the quiet night, her body convulsing around him. He followed shortly after, his own release a testament to the power of their connection. They collapsed onto the bed, their hearts racing in unison.

Minju lay there, her body trembling with the aftershocks of pleasure. She had done it again, conquered another challenge in their wild game. Yet, she couldn't shake the feeling that this encounter had meant something more, something beyond the competition.

But there was no time to ponder as the door to her room swung open once more, admitting another eager participant. The cycle repeated with an almost mechanical precision—the feel of a stranger's cock claiming her, the sweet agony of climax, and the warmth of his seed filling her up. Each man brought a new wave of sensation, a different flavor of lust to savor and record in her notebook.

Her body grew sore, her pussy tender from the relentless onslaught, yet she remained insatiable, craving the next round. Each encounter blurred into the next, a never-ending symphony of passion and pain. The men came and went, a faceless procession of desire that fueled her competitive spirit. She had lost track of time, her existence now a series of moans and cries that filled the air, a crescendo of pleasure that never seemed to end.

But tonight, something was different. As the latest participant slammed into her, she felt it building—that peculiar tension that had been coiled within her for days. Her body began to quiver, her muscles tightening around him in a vice-like grip. And then it happened. The sensation was unlike anything she had ever felt before—a sudden, explosive release of fluid that soaked the bed beneath her. She looked down, astonishment etched on her face as she watched herself gush with each powerful thrust.

"Oh my god," she gasped, her voice filled with a mix of shock and excitement. "I'm squirting."

The man's eyes widened in amazement, his own arousal spiking at the sight of her pleasure. "Keep going," he urged, his strokes growing more frenzied. "Let me see you drench the bed."

And she did, her body responding to his words with a fervor that surprised even her. With every pump of his hips, she squirted more, the sensation growing stronger and more intense. The room grew wet with the sound of her release, a testament to her unbridled passion.

It was as if her body had discovered a new form of climax, one that left her trembling and begging for more. Each time she felt the pressure build, she whispered the words that had become her mantra—"breed me, fill me up." And he did, one after the other, eager to leave their mark on the canvas of her womb.

The days grew hotter, the competition fiercer. Minju's body became a battleground of pleasure and pain, her moans a constant symphony that resonated through the villa. Her appetite for depravity grew with each encounter, her masochistic tendencies revealing themselves in full force. She craved the sting of a firm hand on her ass, the burn of a bite on her neck, the sharp tug of her hair as a man claimed her.

Her voice never faltered, a siren's call that grew more demanding with each passing hour. "Spank me," she'd command, her ass reddening under their palms. "Choke me," she'd beg, her eyes fluttering as they tightened their grip around her throat. "Make me squirt," she'd demand, her cunt spasming around their cocks as they pounded into her. And they did, eager to satisfy her every whim, to be the one who brought her to that ultimate release.

As she lay there, her body a battleground of ecstasy and endurance, she couldn't believe it had been a week since their competition had begun. Her notebook lay open beside her, the number "200" scribbled in her handwriting, a testament to the men who had claimed her, filled her, and left her trembling with pleasure. It was a number that once seemed insurmountable, but now, it was a badge of honor, a symbol of her triumph.

The door to her room creaked open once more, and she turned her head, her eyes half-lidded with lust and exhaustion. In the doorway stood a man, his silhouette outlined by the soft glow of the moonlight. He was the last contestant, the one who would determine the victor in their week-long quest for carnality.

Her eyes widened as he stepped into the room, allowing the light to reveal the monstrous cock that jutted from his hips. It was the largest she had ever seen, a thick, veiny beast that made her quiver with a mix of fear and excitement. She had faced many challenges in the past week, but this one was the ultimate test.

With a smug smile, he approached the bed, his massive cock swaying with each step. He didn't say a word as he climbed on top of her, his weight pressing her into the mattress. He positioned himself at her entrance, his tip nudging against her swollen folds. She could feel her pussy contract around the sheer size of him, a silent plea for mercy that went unheard.

"I've been waiting for this," he murmured, his voice deep and filled with promise. "I've heard about your little game, and I'm here to make sure you remember me."

With that, he pushed into her, inch by torturous inch. She felt herself stretching to accommodate his girth, her muscles protesting before giving way to the sweet agony of fullness.

"Fuck, it's too big," Minju whimpered, her eyes rolling back as the man's monster cock continued to press deeper. He took his time, watching her face contort with every movement, his own expression a mix of triumph and lust. Her body fought against the intrusion, but she knew she had to take him—this was the final round, and she wouldn't let Eunbi win without a fight.

He chuckled darkly, his eyes gleaming with excitement. "You can handle it," he whispered, his breath hot against her ear. "Take it all, baby. Take it all for the win."

Her jaw clenched as she forced herself to relax, her pussy stretching to accept his massive length. She felt herself being split apart, the pressure intense, bordering on pain. But with each inch he sank into her, she felt a new kind of thrill—a challenge that she had to conquer. She could feel her body adjusting, her muscles wrapping around him like a tight fist.

"Look at you," he murmured, his voice thick with arousal. "You're already squirting around my cock."

Minju bit her lip, her eyes squeezed shut. She hadn't realized it was happening—the initial penetration had been so overwhelming that she couldn't focus on anything but the pressure building within her. Yet, as he began to move, she could feel the wetness trapped inside her, a pool of desire waiting to be unleashed.

He picked up his pace, his strokes deep and deliberate. With every thrust, she felt her pussy clench around him, the sensation of her squirting internal. It was as if she was a dam holding back a flood of pleasure, the water rising with each beat of her heart.

"Let it go," he urged, his hands gripping her hips. "Show me what you can do."

The words acted like a dam breaking, and she felt it—a rush of liquid heat that filled her to the brim. Her body tightened, her muscles clamping down on his cock as she climaxed around him. Yet, the squirt remained contained, a delicious secret that only they knew.

Her chest heaved as she caught her breath, her eyes fluttering open to meet his. He grinned, a knowing glint in his eye. "That's just the warm-up," he said, his voice low and seductive. "You can take more."

And so he began to move again, his strokes slower, more deliberate. Each one was calculated to push her closer to the edge, to coax out another explosive climax. She could feel the tension building once more, her body responding to his expert touch.

He leaned down, his breath hot on her neck. "How does it feel, having my cock fill you up so completely?"

"It feels...amazing," she breathed, her voice barely above a whisper. "So full."

The man's grin grew wider, his teeth glinting in the moonlight. He began to fuck her with more vigor, his hips pistoning into her with a brutal rhythm. Each thrust sent a fresh wave of pain through her, but she found herself craving it, begging for more. Her body was a maelstrom of sensation, the pressure in her pussy growing with every beat of her heart.

"Ahh, I'm going to cum," she screamed, her body bucking beneath him.

The man's eyes gleamed with triumph as he watched her approach climax. He knew he had her, that she was his to use and discard. Yet, something in the way she writhed and begged for more made him feel alive. He pounded into her, his own release building.

"Fuck, your dick was so good," Minju gasped out between moans. "I can't stop cumming."

Her words seemed to fuel his desire even more, his strokes growing more urgent. He leaned down, his teeth grazing her earlobe. "You like that, don't you, slut?" he murmured, his voice thick with arousal. "You like feeling me fill you up?"

"Yes," she moaned, her eyes rolling back into her head. "I love it. Breed me. Make me squirt again."

He chuckled darkly, his grip on her hips tightening. "With pleasure," he growled, and with one final, powerful thrust, he emptied himself into her. She felt the warmth of his cum fill her, the sensation of his seed shooting into her womb sending her spiraling over the edge once more.

As he pulled out, the pressure grew too much. Her pussy contracted around nothingness, desperately seeking the release it had come to crave. And then it came, a geyser of cum that shot out of her, soaking the sheets and painting the bed beneath her. Her body trembled with the intensity of it, her muscles spasming as she squirted over and over again.

Her vision swam, stars dancing before her eyes. Her orgasm was so intense it was almost painful, her body no longer her own. The only thing that remained was the feeling of her pussy pulsing, the sweet agony of her squirt that seemed to have no end.

As the man stepped back, admiring his handiwork, Minju felt a wave of exhaustion wash over her. Her legs gave out, and she collapsed onto the bed, her body quivering uncontrollably. She had never felt so used, so utterly spent.

The room spun, and she felt her consciousness slipping away. The competition had pushed her to her limits, and she had emerged the victor. Yet, as the darkness claimed her, she couldn't help but wonder if it had all been worth it.

Her body lay there, a testament to the week's excesses, as the final droplets of cum trailed down her inner thighs. Her mind was a blur, her thoughts scattered like leaves in the wind. The only thing she knew for certain was that she had never felt more alive, more desired, more...complete.

As consciousness returned, Minju felt the sticky warmth between her legs and the heaviness in her belly. She groaned, her eyes fluttering open to see Eunbi leaning against the wall, a concerned look etched on her face. "Are you okay?" Eunbi asked, her voice filled with a mix of worry and amazement.

Minju took a moment to gather her breath, her chest rising and falling with the effort. She nodded weakly. "I think so," she managed to murmur. "What happened?"

Eunbi's eyes widened as she recounted the scene she had walked in on. "You kept squirting non-stop," she said, her voice filled with awe. "It lasted for a very long time."

The reality of what had happened hit her like a ton of bricks. She had done it—she had pushed herself to the edge and beyond, conquering the final challenge of their depraved competition. The thought filled her with a sense of victory, but also a hint of fear. What had she become in this week of unbridled lust?

"How many did you get?" Eunbi asked, her voice tentative.

Minju couldn't help but smile through the haze of pleasure and exhaustion. "Two hundred," she said, her voice a mix of pride and disbelief. "Same as you."

Eunbi's eyes widened. "No way," she breathed, her voice filled with both amazement and envy.

"It's true," Minju said with a tired laugh. "We're tied."

Eunbi nodded, her expression thoughtful. "So, what's next?" she asked, her eyes gleaming with mischief. "Should we try to beat our records on our next vacation?"

Minju considered this for a moment, her body still trembling from the exertion of the past week. "I don't know if I can do that again," she admitted, though the challenge in her voice was unmistakable. "But I do like the idea of another game."

The two women lay there, their bodies still entangled, their thoughts racing. They had pushed each other to the brink of their sexual limits, and yet, there was a bond between them that had only grown stronger with each shared experience.

[vssail]

player two | damian wayne x reader

summary: you become damian's second player. suddenly, he can't stop losing

a/n: 1k words // english is not my first language // maybe a bit ooc

After what felt like thirty eternal minutes, you turned off the computer. It was your turn to do the report of that night’s mission, and while you were doing that task on the cave, Damian and Jon went up to the manor.

You headed up too to say goodbye and go to your home, finally. It wasn’t hard to find them – just as you got into the hall, you heard them cursing the other. They were at the manor’s living room, spread on the couch and playing some videogame. You were curious of what they were playing, so you approached them, staying behind of the couch.

It was the typical fighting game, like Mortal Kombat or Street Fighter. The only difference was that the characters were heroes. Damian was playing with Batman and Jon with Superman. Not very surprising, but you were startled by how competitive they were. You arrived just in time to see Batman clear Superman.

“I told you Batman’s attacks were better,” a very smug Damian said.

Damian sensed you behind him (well, he probably heard you padding on the hall but he was invested on his game) and turned around to look at you. He had a second sense to read your thoughts. Maybe it was part of league training.

“Do you want to play?” He asked you with a challenging look. His voice was sharp, like always, but those graced with good hearing (like a certain half-kryptonian with superhearing in the room) could notice an unusual fondness in his voice.

“I don’t know how to play,” you muttered. You weren’t really into videogames, for starters. And Animal Crossing didn’t look like it had much in common with the game they were playing. You had zero experience.

Since Jon was lying flat on the couch and out of your view, you missed the knowing look he gave to Damian. And also the kick he gave him with his foot to wake him up – his dear friend was slow when it came to you.

“I can teach you,” he offered, as he looked down to Jon with a murderous glare.

You thought about it. You didn’t really have anything better to do at home – well, you should be sleeping, but one night staying up late wouldn’t kill you. So you turned around the couch and plopped beside Damian, in the little space left, because Jon was occupying more than half of the couch.

“Here,” Jon gave you his controller while he got up. “Gonna grab something at the kitchen, be right back.”

But while you stared at the controller, again, you missed the glaring battle between your two friends. One amused, the other plotting a murder.

(“It’s your chance, loverboy.”)

(“I will kill you.”)

When Damian returned to look at you, you had moved to the selection screen, looking at the characters.

Jon really didn’t care about the threat. He left the room, humming, clearly amused.

“Wonder Woman, Nightwing, Flash… there are so many league members,” you noticed. “Look, there’s even a Robin! Why aren’t you using him?”

Damian growled. “That’s Drake’s suit.”

You chuckled.

“Well, I want to use him.”

Damian snapped at you with a betrayed look. But when he met with your playful and amused gaze, he lost. He hated how easy you could soften him. Defeated, but a frown still in his face, he showed you the controls.

“Jump with the triangle, dodge with the square and hit with the O,” he explained, his matter-of-fact voice shining. “To use an special attack, press down both sticks.”

“The bottons that roll? Press them down?” you wondered.

“Yes, like this.” His hands covered yours, guiding your grip, and his calloused thumbs pressed down gently over yours. You felt a click under your fingers and let out an oh. He felt a click too, just as he looked up and met your eyes way too much close than he expected. He stepped back quickly and kept explaining like nothing happened.

The controller was pretty easy to understand. Almost too easy. That’s when the Fire Nation attacked, and Damian showed you a table with combos. Way too much movements, and too much buttons to use in less than 2 seconds. You looked at the list. Then at him, wide lost dear eyes.

He held back a laugh. You fought crime at night alongside him, even got into multiversal messes. But what defeated you were videogame combos.

Jon came back with a pizza and a very entertained look. Of course, he had superheard everything.

“Let’s start,” he said, nudging you with his elbow. “I promise I’ll go as easy as I can on you.”

“How’s the game going, YN?”

He asked you, but he looked at Damian. The little Wayne looked back, glaring at him for dear life.

“Amazing!” You beamed with excitment, oblivious – for the third time of the night – to the murdering gazes your friends were exchanging. “I lost like 20 times at the start, but then I won one round, and I’m on a streak of five wins now!”

Damian turned the other way, avoiding Jon’s knowing and smug eyes. He clearly knew what happened.

Damian, after 20 hilarious defeatings and feeling bad for you, let you win one round to cheer you up. That alone was weird coming from him. You exploited with joy, praising your Robin and hugging Damian – again, something he barely allowed anyone to do. After this, either Damian wanted to keep your mood up so he’s been losing on purpose, or – Jon’s favorite theory – he died in real life when you jumped in his arms, talking about your Robin (even if you were talking to your character in the game). And since then, Damian has been unable to concentrate back into the game – that, or he wanted you to jump on his arms again.

Damian didn’t dare to look at Jon. He didn’t need to. The smirk on that bastard that he called friend was practically audible. But for once, he couldn’t bring himself to care – not when your laughter filled the room and you were urging him to start another round. And definitely not when you leaned into him after every “victory”, praising his Robin (he didn’t care that it was Drake’s suit anymore). Game over, indeed.

[v6quewrlds]

❝ goodies, j. burrow. ❞  ‎ ‎ ┉  

‎ ‎ ⁎⠀┉⠀summary: ja'marr is a lot of things, subtle is not one of them. when he drops the bomb of joe's no nut november pact, it's only fair you make it as difficult for him to stick to it as possible, right?

‎ ‎ ⁎⠀┉⠀author's note: the idea that started this entire nnn series lol lsu joe 😵‍💫. day six of my no nut november series.

‎ ‎ ⁎⠀┉⠀warnings: smut, please do not interact with my work if you are under 18. language, established relationship, arkansas slander, reader is a menace, sexting, dick pic, unprotected sex, mention of the pull-out method, handjob.

‎ ‎ ⁎⠀┉⠀pairing: lsu!joe burrow x reader.

‎ ‎ ⁎⠀┉⠀word count: 6.2k.

Your living room buzzed with the chatter of friends and the distant sounds of a video game battle royale. You leaned into the couch, your elbow digging into the cushion as you listened to Alani and Portia's latest gossip, their laughter echoing off the walls. Across from you, Joe, Ja'Marr, and Justin were huddled around the TV, controllers in hand, immersed in a digital world of basketball glory. The aroma of pizza and the occasional snort of laughter filled the air.

Ja'Marr looked up from the screen and caught your eye, a sly smile spreading across his face. "So, Joe," he said, pausing the game, "How's No Nut November treating you?"

Joe's thumbs hovered over his controller, his eyes flicking over to you before returning to the screen. "It's fine, man. No big deal."

But your ears had perked up at the mention of the infamous challenge. You felt your eyebrows furrow in reaction to Joe's participation in something so ludicrous. "No Nut November?" you echoed, your voice laced with disbelief.

Ja'Marr chuckled, leaning back into the couch. "Yeah, Joe suggested we do it this season. You know, build up that testosterone for the big games."

Your eyes widened. "Wait, so you're telling me that if I showed up at your place, begging you to fuck me, you’d turn me down?” You challenged, your voice a blend of playfulness and disbelief.

Joe, ever the poker face, barely glanced away from the TV. "Well, you're not begging," he quipped, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. "And it's not just about saying no. It's about self-discipline."

You rolled your eyes and whispered to Alani and Portia, "Can you believe this?" The three of you stifled your laughter, exchanging knowing glances.

"Hold up," Portia said, leaning towards you, "If Joe's really into this 'No Nut November' shit, maybe we can make a bet of our own."

Your eyes sparkled with mischief. "Yeah, like how much you think it'll take for him to crack?"

Your competitive spirit ignited. "I bet he won't make it through the week."

Alani and Portia's giggles grew louder, their eyes gleaming with excitement. "Okay," Alani drawled out as she thought for a moment. "We'll bet on it. If you can get Joe to break before the week is over, we'll buy your drinks for the rest of the month. But if he makes it, you're cleaning the apartment for the month."

Your mouth twitched with a smirk. "You're on," you said, tossing your hair over your shoulder. You knew Joe's resolve was iron-clad, but you had a few tricks up your sleeve.

"Are you seriously betting on my bet? That's cold, babe," Joe called out from the couch without taking his eyes off the TV, a hint of amusement in his voice. You stuck your tongue out at him before turning to your friends, your eyes gleaming with determination. "Game on," you said, raising your hand for a high five.

-

The week began with a series of subtle teases from you. You would strut into the room wearing nothing but Joe's oversized t-shirts, your bare legs leaving little to the imagination. You would bake his favorite cookies, their warm, sweet scent wafting through the apartment when he'd stop by to see you. You would casually drop sexually charged innuendos into typical conversations, watching Joe's reactions with a devilish glint in your eye.

But Joe remained unfazed, his resolve stronger than ever. Each day, he'd give you a knowing smile and say, "Good luck with that," before retreating back to his phone or his laptop. The tension grew thicker than the smell of those freshly baked cookies, and the conversations between the two of you were more heated than the Baton Rouge summer humidity.

One evening, as the week dragged on, you sat on the couch with Joe, your legs thrown over his lap, watching the latest episode of your favorite TV drama. You could feel the heat radiating from him, his muscular thighs tense beneath you. The room was dimly lit by the flickering TV screen, casting a warm glow on your faces. You leaned in closer, your breath hot against his neck, whispering sweet promises and nibbling on his ear. His grip on your thigh tightened, and you knew you had his full attention.

"Come on, Joe," you purred, your voice dripping with seductive challenge. "You can't tell me you're not feeling it."

Joe's jaw clenched, his eyes never leaving the TV. "Babe, I'm serious. This is a commitment I made. And I'm not losing."

Your smile grew wider, your eyes glinting with amusement. "Oh, I know you're serious," you whispered, your hand sliding up to his chest, feeling the steady thump of his heart. "But I'm just saying, you've got to be close to the edge by now."

Joe's eyes darted to yours, a spark of annoyance mixed with lust. "I can handle it," he said firmly, his voice strained.

The days turned into a dance of temptation and denial. You upped your game, slipping into his apartment while he studied, dressed in his favorite set underneath an oversized hoodie, your moisturized skin glowing in the soft lamplight. You would whisper dirty thoughts in his ear, your breath tickling his skin, your fingers tracing the waistband of his sweatpants, feeling the growing bulge beneath. Each time, Joe would push you away with a gruff laugh, calling you relentless.

But you were more determined than ever. You knew Joe's weaknesses, the way he liked his kisses—needy, all tongue as you moaned into each other's mouths—and the way his eyes would glaze over when you touched him just right.

-

One evening, you decided to bring in the big guns. As you sat side by side in your bedroom, you leaned over and whispered, "Babe, I need you to help me with something."

Joe looked up from his laptop, his blue eyes piercing through the darkness. "What's up?"

You bit your bottom lip, your heart racing. "I can't focus on my homework," you whined, your voice low and seductive. "I'm just too distracted."

Joe raised an eyebrow. "What do you need my help with?"

You leaned closer, your hand sliding onto his thigh. "Well, you know what usually helps me focus..." You trailed off, your eyes flicking down to his crotch before meeting his gaze again.

Joe sighed, setting his laptop aside. "You're not playing fair," he said, though the smirk on his face betrayed the seriousness of his words. You giggled as you shrugged playfully. "But I need you, Joe. I really do."

The air grew thick with tension as Joe contemplated his options. He knew he was close to breaking, and your touch was making it increasingly difficult to hold out. You slid your hand up to his waistband, your thumb brushing against the bulge that had formed in his shorts. His breath hitched, his resolve wavering like a candle in a storm.

"Babe, I can't. You know the rules," Joe murmured, trying to ignore the heat building in his pants. But you weren't one to back down easily. You leaned in closer, your breath hot against his ear. "Please, Joe. Just a little bit," you begged, your voice a seductive purr.

Joe's hand shot up, gripping the back of your neck firmly, his eyes flashing with desire. "Babe, you're going to be the death of me," he groaned.

Your grin grew even wider, your brown eyes sparkling with mischief. You sat up, straddling him, your hips pressing into his lap. "Is that a yes?"

Joe's gaze drifted down to your full lips before he pushed you away, a little too roughly, his breathing ragged. "Nope. Not happening," he said, his voice finding its gruff firmness.

You pouted, your eyes glinting with determination. "Come on, Joe, I'm begging," you whispered, your voice filled with a mix of amusement and desperation.

Joe leaned back, his hand still on the back of your neck, his thumb stroking the sensitive skin there. "You know I can't," he said, his voice strained.

You leaned in, your breasts brushing against his chest. "But baby, I'm horny," you whined, your voice dripping with exaggerated need.

Joe's eyes narrowed, and he chuckled. "You're always horny."

You rolled your eyes as you shifted away from the bed, Joe's smug grin following you. "Fine," you said, pouting. "But you know this isn't over."

Joe chuckled, standing up and stretching. "I'll make it up to you after the month's over," he promised, leaning in to kiss your forehead.

-

By Friday night, you were more than ready to throw in the towel on your little bet. Joe would be playing against Arkansas Saturday night, and you knew he would practically be MIA most of the day. Sitting in the living room of your apartment, you had all but accepted defeat.

"You know what," you said to Alani and Portia, "I think I'm gonna lose."

Your friends exchanged knowing glances, their smiles smug. "You can't give up now," Alani said, nibbling on a slice of pizza. "You're so close to breaking him."

Portia nodded in agreement, her eyes glued to the TV. "Besides, the game's tomorrow. They're playing an SEC rival tomorrow, he might get caught up in the adrenaline and forget all about the challenge."

You scoffed. "Yeah, because Joe Burrow—Joe Cool if you will—is just gonna forget about his sacred 'No Nut November' because they beat Arkansas... a trash SEC team." But deep down, you knew they had a point. The pressure was on, and you had one last shot to win the bet.

That night, as the clock ticked closer to midnight, you lay on the couch, scrolling through your phone. Your mind was unable to focus on the trash reality show that had become a Friday night tradition for the three roommates. Alani and Portia were sprawled out on the floor, surrounded by snack wrappers and empty soda cans, their laughter bouncing off the walls.

Your phone buzzed in your hand, and you looked down to see a text from Joe. Your heart skipped a beat as you read the message.

You're home, right?

You responded, playing it cool.

Yeah, why?

Good.

Came his curt reply, followed by a photo that made you gasp. It was a picture of Joe's covered but visibly erect length, straining against the fabric of his shorts. Your eyes widened as you took in the sight, your pulse quickening.

Your boyfriend had never been one to send many pictures of himself, let alone pictures that bordered on nudes. You felt a thrill of victory run through you as you realized Joe was finally cracking under the pressure.

You texted back, your thumbs flying over the screen.

Oh, is that for me?

Joe's response was swift.

Yeah, it is. Fuck No Nut November.

The words sent a jolt of excitement through your body. You looked over at your roommates, who were now watching you with confused expressions.

"Joe just sent me a dick pic," you sang, rising to your feet, the excitement in your voice palpable.

Alani and Portia's laughter abruptly cut off, their eyes snapping to you in disbelief. "Wait, what?" Alani squealed, reaching for your phone. You dodged her hand, holding the device away with a grin.

Your phone pinged again with another incoming text from Joe.

Open the door.

Your eyes gleamed with victory as you strutted over to the door, your hips swaying with confidence. You threw it open to reveal Joe standing in the hallway, his expression a mix of frustration and need. He stepped into the apartment without saying a word, his eyes locked onto yours.

Your boyfriend was a beautiful man. Dirty blonde hair, blue eyes, clocking in well over 6 feet tall, with a gorgeous smile. But as he towered over you in the doorway, visibly frustrated with pink brushes of color over the bridge of his nose and the apples of his Louisiana sun-tanned cheeks, you couldn't help but feel as if he'd never been more beautiful.

"You told them?" Joe's voice was a mix of annoyance and amusement as he stepped into the apartment, closing the door firmly behind him, hand already reaching for the flesh of your hip. You nodded, unable to suppress the wide grin on your face.

"You sent me a dick pic, Joseph Burrow," you said with a smirk, leaning into his broad frame. The sight of him standing there, looking so flustered and needy, had your heart racing.

Joe rolled his eyes, his grip on your hips tightening. "I know," he said, his voice gruff. "I’ll get you guys your 20 bucks in a minute. Right now, I’ve got something more important to handle."

With that, he scooped you into his arms, his eyes dark with desire. You squealed with surprise, your friends’ laughter trailing behind the two of you as Joe carried you into your bedroom, kicking the door shut.

Alani and Portia giggled, retreating to the front door to give you two space. "Take all the time you need, we’ll find somewhere else to spend the night. Just don’t break the bed!" Alani called out as she closed the door behind her, leaving you and Joe alone in the apartment.

The room was bathed in a soft moonlight, the only sound was the rustling of your clothes as Joe laid you on the bed. He hovered over you, his gaze intense as he reached for the hem of your shirt. Your heart thundered in your chest as you watched Joe's strong, calloused hands peel away the layers of fabric, revealing your bare skin. His touch was like fire, leaving trails of heat wherever he went.

"So, Mr. Self-discipline," you smirked up at Joe as he hovered above you, the bed creaking under your combined weight, "What lesson have we learned this week?"

Joe's eyes narrowed in mock anger as he grabbed the waistband of your shorts, pulling them down. "The only lesson I've learned is that you're a distraction," he murmured, his voice thick with desire.

Your laughter turned into a breathy moan as Joe's mouth found your neck, kissing and sucking as he worked his way down your body. His hands skimmed over your curves, igniting a trail of pleasure that made your toes curl. You felt his erection press against your thigh, and you wrapped your legs around his waist, pulling him closer.

"I think we've both learned some things," you whispered, arching your back as Joe's teeth grazed your collarbone. His hands moved your hair away from your face to trail his kisses down to the valley between your breasts. Your eyes fluttered shut, and you couldn't help but whimper. "But the most important one is that I always win," you said, your voice filled with triumph.

Joe chuckled darkly, his eyes meeting yours as he peeled your panties away from your skin. "We'll see about that," he murmured, his voice a mix of challenge and lust. He held back a groan of appreciation as he took in the sight of your bare pussy, already glistening with need.

Your hands found the bottom of his shirt, tugging at the fabric until it was over his head, revealing his broad, muscular chest. You traced the lines of his obliques with your fingertips, feeling his muscles tighten beneath your touch. Joe leaned down to kiss you, his tongue sliding into your mouth with the same urgency that was building between your thighs.

He broke the kiss to pull his shorts off, his erection springing free, standing tall and proud. You licked your lips as you took in the sight of him, feeling a fresh wave of arousal wash over you.

Joe leaned over you, his breath warm and minty as he whispered, "You're so needy, baby. Couldn't go a week without me, huh?" You felt a rush of heat to your cheeks, but you didn't deny it. Your body was begging for his touch, your pussy throbbing with anticipation.

You smiled into the kiss he pressed to your lips. "Not as much as you, clearly."

Joe's smirk grew into a grin as he hovered above you, his cock standing proudly at attention. "Clearly," he murmured, his hand moving down to stroke your thigh, teasing the sensitive skin of your inner leg.

Your eyes fluttered closed as Joe's touch grew bolder, his fingers tracing the edge of your pussy. You were already wet for him, and you knew you wouldn't be able to hold out much longer. "You're so fucking beautiful, sweetheart," he whispered, his voice hoarse with need.

"Show me how much you've missed me, Joey," you urged, your voice breathy.

For a moment, he just stared at you, his eyes a stormy sea of blue. Then, with a curse, he gave in, pushing inside you with one swift stroke that made you arch off the bed with pleasure. Your nails dug into the sheets, your body stretching to accommodate his size. He was thick, and you felt every inch of him, filling you completely.

"Fuck," Joe groaned, burying his face in your neck. His hips began to move, setting a rhythm that had your toes curling and your legs shaking. You wrapped your arms around his shoulders, your breasts bouncing with each thrust. The friction was exquisite, and you knew it wouldn't be long before you both started spiraling towards your climaxes.

Your hands trailed up from his back into the strands of his hair, his hips beginning to set a relentless pace that sent waves of ecstasy crashing over you. You could feel the tension in his body, the desperation that mirrored your own. You moaned his name, urging him on, your breath coming in pants that matched the rhythm of his thrusts.

"Jesus, babe," Joe grunted, his movements growing more erratic as he continued working you both to your orgasms. You could feel the muscles in his arms tensing, his hand reached down to draw your thigh to rest against his waist. His fingers squeezed at the soft, supple flesh until you knew you'd have bruises in the morning.

But you didn't care. All that mattered was the feeling of him inside you and the way he filled you so completely.

Your moans grew louder, filling the room as you gave in to the pleasure that had been denied for too long. You felt his muscles tense, his grip on your thigh tighten, and knew he was close to losing his battle against the bet.

"You're gonna break, baby," you whispered, your voice a seductive purr. "You're gonna lose the challenge."

Joe's eyes snapped to yours, a challenge gleaming in your depths. "Don't you fucking start with that shit right now," he growled, his breathing ragged despite the corners of his mouth twitching into a smile.

Joe groaned, the sound of pure agony and pleasure as he fought the urge to come too quickly. Your eyes glittered with excitement, your heart racing as you watched him struggle. But you weren't about to let him win.

He had hell to pay for making you wait.

You slid your hand down between your bodies, your fingertips circling your clit as Joe's cock hit just the right spot inside you. The combination was electric, and you could feel the beginnings of your orgasm building.

Your laugh was breathless, a sweet sound that seemed to push him closer to the edge. You sat up, your breasts bouncing with the movement, and kissed him deeply, your tongue dancing with his.

Joe’s eyes rolled back into his head, a low groan escaping his throat. He could feel his self-control slipping away, the pressure building to a crescendo that he hadn’t felt in weeks. He knew he was going to lose this bet, but he also knew it was going to be more than worth it.

"Let me know when you need to pull out." your voice seemed to curl around him, your eyes gleaming with mischief as you watched Joe’s face contort with pleasure.

"Fuck off, you’re enjoying this way too much," Joe murmured, his jaw clenched as he tried to hold back. "You're on the pill, remember?" He continued, his voice strained as he pushed into you deeper.

Your eyes sparkled with mischief as you nodded, your hands running over his back. "Mmhmm," you hummed, your hips rocking into his. "But I'm not ready to bring a little light-skinned baby into this world."

Joe groaned, his grip on your hips tightening. "Goddamn, babe," he warned, his voice strained. "Can't say shit like that when I'm about three seconds away from making it a reality."

"Pull out, dummy," you laughed, knowing he just wanted to prolong the inevitable.

He pulled out with a gasp, his cock glistening with your arousal. You couldn’t help but feel a pang of disappointment, your body begging for more. But you knew the game was still on.

He hissed out a strained, "Fuck," and your eyes widened as you watched Joe’s hand wrap around his throbbing cock, the veins bulging with the painful pulse of his ruined orgasm. The sight of his angry, red tip was almost too much for you to handle, but you bit your lip, keeping your own desire in check. He leaned over the side of the bed, reaching to pull out a condom from the stash in the nightstand.

With trembling fingers, he tore the packet open and rolled it over his erection. The anticipation was killing you, and you could feel your pussy clenching, begging for him to fill you up again.

"Get on top," Joe ordered, his voice gruff with need. You didn’t miss a beat, straddling him and sliding back onto his cock with a moan that seemed to resonate through your very bones. He filled you completely, stretching you in the most delicious way.

Your hands braced on his chest, you began to move, your hips rolling in a sensual dance that had Joe’s eyes crossing with pleasure. The head of his cock hit your g-spot with every thrust, and you could feel your orgasm building again. You threw your head back, your hair cascading down your back like a waterfall of chocolate silk.

The sound of your bodies slapping together filled the room, a symphony of pleasure that seemed to echo off the walls. Your breath grew ragged as you worked yourself closer to the edge, your eyes crafting a hazy image of Joe in his bliss. You could see the need in his gaze, the desire that was just barely being contained.

Joe’s hands roamed over your body, cupping your tits and teasing your nipples until they were pebbled and sensitive. He rolled them between his thumbs and forefingers, a smug smile playing on his lips as he watched your face contort with pleasure.

You leaned forward, your breasts pressing against his chest as you kissed him again, your tongue delving into his mouth with a hunger that matched his. You could feel Joe’s body tensing beneath you, his muscles straining as he held back his release. You broke the kiss, panting, your eyes locked on his.

"You’re so fucking beautiful, baby," Joe murmured against your neck as your hips rolled faster, your breaths coming in pants. He could feel the tightness of your pussy clamping down around him, your walls fluttering with the beginnings of your climax. His own release was barreling towards him like a freight train, the pressure in his balls becoming almost painful.

"Pain in my ass, but so fucking beautiful. "Joe’s voice was a gruff whisper in your ear as his hands moved to your ass, urging you to ride him harder.

You laughed wholeheartedly, a sweet sound that seemed to push Joe closer to the edge. You leaned back, your hands on his thighs, and increased your pace, feeling him swell inside you with every thrust. The sight of you bouncing on him, your pussy clenching around his cock, and your breasts engaged in their own mesmerizing dance, was almost too much.

"Don’t hold back, Joey, I can take it," you teased, your voice thick with lust as you continued to ride him with wild abandon.

Joe's eyes rolled back, and a guttural groan escaped his lips. His hands gripped your hips, guiding your movements, pushing you to the brink of his own release. The tension in the room was palpable, an intense mix of desire and competition that seemed to fuel your passion even further.

You threw your head back, your breaths coming in short, sharp gasps as you felt Joe's cock swell even more. You knew he was close, and you reveled in the power you had over him.

"Do it," you breathed out, your voice a command. "Come for me, baby."

Joe nodded frantically, eyes closing. Then with a whimper, he let go, his hot seed spilling into the condom. Your own orgasm crashed over you, your body shaking with the intensity of it. You remained like that for a few moments, your bodies entwined, breathing heavily as you both came down from your shared highs.

You collapsed onto Joe's chest, your heart racing. You felt his chest heave with his breaths, and you couldn't help but feel a sense of victory. You had won the bet, and more importantly, you had Joe's full attention again. You kissed him softly, your hand stroking his sweaty hair.

After a moment, you pulled back, your eyes twinkling with triumph. "How are you gonna explain this to Ja’Marr and Justin?" You asked, a smug smile playing on your lips.

Joe rolled his eyes, a grin spreading across his face despite his defeat. "I'll think of something. Maybe I'll say you’re a witch with magical pussy powers," he quipped, earning a playful smack from you.

"Asshole," you said with affection, snuggling into him. "You’re so gross."

Joe chuckled, his arms tightening around you. "But you love me anyway."

You couldn't help but laugh, the sound a sweet echo in the quiet room. "Unfortunately, I do."

The two of you lay together, basking in the aftermath of your passionate encounter, the only sound was your mingled breaths and the distant murmur of Baton Rouge outside. Joe separated from your warmth briefly to get rid of the soiled condom. You could feel his dick pulsing gently as it rested against your thigh, the reminder of his release. It was a feeling you hadn't felt in a while, and it brought a sense of contentment that you hadn't realized you had been missing.

Finally, Joe spoke up, his voice a low rumble against your ear. "You know, I should be mad at you."

You pulled back slightly, your smile fading into a look of concern. "Mad? Why?"

Joe sighed, his grip on you loosening. "Because you didn’t even give me a chance to win. You played dirty."

Your eyes sparkled with mischief. "But you love it when I play dirty." You wiggled your hips, feeling him harden against your thigh once more.

Joe groaned, his grip tightening again. "You're going to be the death of me," he said, though his voice held a playful lilt.

You giggled, leaning in for another kiss. "But what a way to go," you whispered, your breath warm against his skin.

Joe's chuckle was strained, his body still humming with the aftershocks of his orgasm. "True," he murmured, his eyes drifting shut as your kisses turned gentle, exploring his jaw and neck.

Your fingertips trailed over his chest, tracing the muscles that had flexed so beautifully under your touch just moments before. Slowly they trailed down to his semi-hard cock, which twitched at the contact. You couldn’t resist the urge to tease him, your nails scraping lightly over the sensitive skin.

Joe groaned, his smile growing wicked. "You're not helping." A large hand dipped down to your ass, giving it a firm squeeze before smacking it lightly. You giggled, the sound spurring his already raging libido.

Your fingers wrapped around him, stroking him with the same skill that had driven him to distraction the entire week. "What if I don't want to help?" you whispered, your eyes full of challenge.

Joe's eyes snapped open, his smirk turning predatory. "You're playing a dangerous game, babe." But the twitch in his cock told you he enjoyed it.

Your hand stroked him more firmly now, your thumb circling the sensitive head. "Isn't that what you love about me?" you purred, feeling the beginnings of his arousal building again.

Joe groaned, his eyes closing briefly as he fought the urge to let go again. "You're a menace," he murmured, his voice a mix of pleasure and exasperation.

"And you love it," you whispered, leaning down to kiss him again. Your hand never stopped moving, your touch growing more insistent as you felt him swell beneath you.

Joe’s eyes snapped open, a smoldering look in their depths. "Maybe," he conceded, his voice thick with lust.

Your smirk grew into a full-blown smile, your hand picking up the pace. The feel of him in your hand was intoxicating, and you knew you had him right where you wanted him. "Maybe?" you teased, your voice rising in mock innocence.

"Fine, I love it," Joe groaned, his hips bucking up to meet your strokes. "But you're going to pay for this."

With a flourish, Joe eased away from your hand and flipped you both over. You found yourself pinned beneath him, his eyes dark with desire. He reached over into the nightstand, grabbing another condom to replace the discarded one sitting in the small trashcan beside the bed.

"Oh, really?" you challenged, your voice laced with excitement. "And what do you plan to do to me?"

Joe's eyes glinted in the moonlight as he leaned over you, his teeth grazing your neck. "I'm going to fuck you until you can't walk straight," he murmured, his cock nudging against your entrance.

Your eyes widened with excitement, your pussy already slick with anticipation. "Is that a promise?" you whispered, your voice breathless.

"You bet your sweet ass it is," Joe said, his voice a low growl as he pushed into you again. Your walls clenched around him, and he had to bite back a moan at the feeling. He’d missed this, missed you, and he wasn’t going to let the opportunity pass without making it count.

He began to move, slow and deep, watching as your eyes glazed over with pleasure. Your nails dug into his back, leaving half-moons on his skin. Your moans grew louder with every stroke, and Joe knew he had you exactly where he wanted you. He leaned down, capturing your mouth in a kiss that was all passion and possession, his tongue dancing with yours as your hips met in a rhythm that seemed to be choreographed by fate itself.

The room grew hot, the scent of sex and sweat mingling with the faint hint of your perfume. The only light came from the moon, casting a soft glow over your tangled limbs. Your breath grew ragged, your moans turning to whimpers as Joe hit that spot inside you that made your toes curl. You felt your orgasm building again, a wave ready to crash over you at any moment.

But Joe wasn’t done with you yet. His hips picked up speed, his strokes becoming more forceful as he claimed your body once again. Your legs wrapped around his waist, your heels digging into his lower back as you matched his rhythm, urging him deeper. Your nails scored his back, leaving red lines in their wake as the intensity grew.

"Such a greedy girl," Joe murmured against your lips, his teeth grazing your bottom lip. He could feel you tighten around him, your pussy begging for release. He didn’t plan to give it to you just yet. He wanted to savor the feeling of you beneath him, savor the way you moaned his name like a prayer.

"Couldn’t let me go for a month, huh? Just had to have my cock fuckin' split you open, huh?" Joe grunted, his rhythm becoming erratic as his own release built.

Your eyes fluttered shut, your breathing coming in short gasps. "Y-yes," you managed to whimper out.

Joe’s smirk grew wider, his cock swelling even more inside you. He knew you were close, your pussy clenching around him. He reached between you, his thumb finding your clit, and began to rub it in small circles as he continued to fuck you hard. Your eyes snapped open, and you stared up at him with a mix of pleasure and desperation.

"Joe, I’m gonna—fuck, yes!" Your voice was a breathy whisper, your body trembling with anticipation.

Joe’s own need was palpable, his strokes becoming more urgent as he felt your walls tighten around him. "Come for me, baby. Show me how much I’ve been neglecting you." He growled, his voice a low rumble that made your insides clench.

Your eyes snapped open, meeting Joe’s intense gaze as you felt yourself teeter on the edge. The orgasm built, a crescendo of pleasure that made your toes curl and your body tighten. With a scream, you shattered, your pussy clenching around Joe’s cock in a vice-like grip that had him groaning in ecstasy. He followed you over the edge, his cock pulsing deep inside you as he filled you with his hot cum, the feeling of him losing control only adding to your own pleasure.

Your heart raced, your chest heaving with every breath. Joe leaned in, placing a soft kiss to your forehead, his thumb gently stroking your cheek. "You win, baby. You always win."

You grinned, your eyes still hazy with passion. "Damn right, I do."

You lay there basking in the afterglow, your bodies sticky with sweat and the scent of sex filling the room. Eventually, Joe rolled off you, his cock slipping out with a wet sound, his cum coating the material of the condom. He disposed of the second soiled condom and then collapsed onto the bed beside you, his chest heaving. You couldn’t help but admire the view, his muscles defined and glistening from the exertion.

"Fuck, I needed that," Joe mumbled, his voice thick with satisfaction.

You chuckled, turning onto your side to face him. "You say that every time we fuck, but it’s like you forget how good it is when you go on those stupid bets," you teased, playfully poking his chest.

Joe caught your hand, bringing it to his mouth for a kiss. "Maybe I need the bets to remind me how much I miss this when I’m not getting it," he said, his voice still rough from his orgasm.

Your eyes searched his, and you could see the truth in them. Despite the teasing, you knew he enjoyed the challenge you presented, and the thrill of the chase was just as much a part of your relationship as your intimate moments of passion. You leaned in to kiss him, your lips meeting in a gentle caress that spoke of something deeper than the physical connection you had just shared.

As you two lay there, your hearts slowly returning to a steady beat, your mind raced with the implications of your victory. You had won the bet, but more importantly, you had proven to Joe that you could break through his walls of self-control. It was a dizzy feeling, one that filled you with a newfound sense of power in your relationship.

"So, what do I get for winning?" you asked, your voice still husky from your love-making.

Joe chuckled, his chest rising and falling with his breaths. "What do you want?" he replied, his eyes playfully challenging yours.

You pretended to think for a moment, your hand tracing a line down Joe’s chest. "How about you never make a stupid bet like that again?" you suggested with a cheeky smile.

Joe rolled his eyes, but the grin on his face betrayed his amusement. "Okay, fine, I’ll never do a No Nut November again if you promise to leave my fantasy football league alone," he countered, his hand coming up to cup your face, his thumb stroking your cheek gently.

Your eyes lit up with mischief. "You’re an NCAA athlete, you shouldn’t be betting in the first place."

"Hey, a guy’s gotta have fun somehow," Joe said with a grin. He kissed you again, his hand resting innocently on your body for the first time that week.

Your smile turned sly. "Well, you definitely had your fun tonight. I’m surprised you have anything left in you after that performance."

Joe’s grin turned wolfish, his eyes darkening with renewed desire. "Oh, don’t you worry, baby. I’ve got plenty more where that came from." His hand trailed down to your thigh, giving it a gentle squeeze before sliding up to cup your ass. You giggled, squirming against him.

"That’s enough for tonight, Joseph. Maybe if you win tomorrow’s game, I’ll consider it," you teased, playfully swatting his hand away.

Joe’s eyes narrowed, his competitive spirit riled up. "Against Arkansas? Babe, have some faith in me, holy shit," he said, his voice a low rumble as you both laughed. "But when I win, you’re all mine for the weekend. No distractions, no friends, just you and me."

Your pulse quickened at the thought of an uninterrupted weekend of Joe’s undivided attention. "Can't wait," you whispered.

[docdudo]

Hybrid 141 As Parents - Foster Human Child!Reader (Part 13)

Goddammit, you never felt this small before. Sure, all hybrids are twice or thrice your size, but why do you feel this way only now that you were standing in front of Johnny's kneeled down form?

He was kneeling down. Kneeling down. And was still bigger than you standing up.

He was large too. All of them were, really. Men as buff as them naturally had large bodies—it was impossible not to notice that their arms were as thick as your torso.

So....

How exactly were you supposed to fight with him?

It's a play fight, just a play fight, but still, you didn't know what to do. This was insane, how could someone like you fight with a werewolf his size...? And he wanted you to "mess him up"??

You should've suggest playing UNO instead, this is torture.

"Mhm.... I-I... dunno what to do...?" You mumble, uncertain. Your eyes flick to his form—the way excitement buzzes through him, his tail wagging fast behind him, ears pressed flat against his head. His toothy smile never wavering.

Big canines too, bigger than Ghost's.

"It's easy, lassie." He cooed, voice more controlled and calmer than what his body language was showing. "Come on, ya trust papa, right? Papa will never hurt ye."

"I don't know how to fight...." You insist, frowning a little in worry, still shuffling quietly in front of him.

“Don’ have tae. Wha’ does a wee pup ken?” He snickers, rolling his eyes as his accent gets stronger out of nowhere. “Ah just like ma kids messin’ me up! Ye can bite, scratch, or anythin’ else, really. Ah can take anythin’, ye wee runt!”

You hesitate, still looking over his form in worry and confusion. You didn't even move from your position, just holding onto your hoodie as you rubbed your socked feet with each other.

Johnny’s excited, competitive demeanor softened a bit as he sized you up, his tail wagging less and his ears perking up again.

“C’mere, puppy, c’mere… pstpst, it’s alrigh’…” He cooed gently, beckoning you closer with a small hand gesture. “Come tae papa, he’ll teach ye everythin’, aye?”

You blushed in embarrassment at his attitude, letting out a quiet sigh as you approached, still clutching the sleeves of your hoodie.

He immediately flashed you a big, toothy grin—sincere, yet still intimidating. His dangerous demeanor remained as scary as ever. Honestly? He looked kinda insane.

And then—

Big hands grabbed you, making you gasp in surprise as he took you down onto the mat. Technically, he just kinda grabbed you and eased you onto your back, but still—you weren’t expecting it! It was fast.

“Down ye go.” He smiled in a terrifying mix of gentleness and smugness. “Now what, wee bonnie baby?” His tone was pure challenge.

You stared up at him with wide eyes, frozen for a few seconds. His big palm rested gently on your chest, fingers spread just enough to frame your neck as he held both your shoulders down with one hand, caging you in. His feral eyes and sharp grin never wavered as he loomed over you, kneeling like a true predator.

You breathed in shakily at the thought, both small hands coming up to grasp his wrist, trying to gently push his hand away. Your legs curling up close to your chest.

“Don’ let him pin ya down.”

Ghost’s voice immediately caught your attention, making you turn your head on the mat to glance at him sideways on the edge of the mat. He stood with his arms crossed and a serious expression on his face, watching closely.

“Aye, runt, why’re ye lettin’ me pin ye down?” Soap teased again, one of his fingers gently rubbing your cheek from where he held you against the mat.

You bit your lip at the provocation, anxiety creeping back in. You pushed with a bit more force, trying to make his hand move, but weakened your grip when he laughed mockingly, leaning his head down dangerously close to yours.

“Look at this… nae claws at all, such cute wee fingers… trimmed nails and all, eh, wee baby? Price was talkin’ ‘bout ye humans… how we’ve gotta keep ye groomed right—short nails on hands an’ feet, brushed wee teeth, and trimmed hair… are all humans frail wee thingies like ye, runt?” He snickered, a broad, teasing smile stretched across his face.

"Big talk for a dirty mutt." Ghost joined in, voice low and raspy as he steaped on the mat, feet covered in black socks.

You immediately tensed up in worry at his tone, eyes widening as your body locked up. It sounded harsh, and for a moment, you genuinely feared they might start arguing right then and there.

But...

Johnny just laughed it off, his smile still wide, his hand still pressing you down against the mat as he kept an eye on Simon entering the mat from his peripheral vision.

“Are ye gonna get in the way, Si?” Soap asked menacingly, tilting his head slightly, baring his teeth at the other man.

“No. I don’t plan on fightin’ ya. I’m here for the kid.” he answered simply, dropping heavily to his knees by your side. "Come on, fledgling. His fingers are wide spread, tuck your hands under them."

You blinked up at him, stunned for a few seconds, before quickly glancing back at Johnny’s hand. Letting go of his wrist, you forced your hands under his fingers, slowly but surely lifting it off your shoulders and chest.

Sure, Johnny wasn’t putting much strength behind it, and he was still cooing at you the whole time, but you managed to take his hand off of you, only for Simon to roughly shove Johnny down onto the mat.

“Hey!” Soap laughed, falling onto his back, his elbows holding his body up.

"Go, up, come on." Simon nudged you, pushing your sitted form in Johnny's direction gently.

You got to your feet, slightly unsteady, feeling the gentle push of his hand that made you tumble on top of Soap, who was just staring at you with a smile.

“Hurt him. Go for his neck.” Ghost instructed, arms crossed as he watched you both.

“Wi’ these wee hands?” Soap cooed mockingly, his hand coming up to gently grab yours and rub with his thumb.

Ghost sighed quietly at your lack of reaction, watching you sit on top of Soap’s waist, your hand held in his, looking uncertain. Truly, zero instincts with this one.

“Gaz was right… it really does feel like when we had only newborns.” Soap laughed quietly, messing slightly with your hand, moving it around. “Ah used tae put them on ma chest for tummy time, too.”

You frowned slightly in confusion at that, head tilting slightly to the side.

"What's that...?"

“Oh, it’s—Ah mean…”

Even though Johnny was still smiling, he frowned a bit too, apparently caught off guard by your question. Or at least, that’s what it looked like. For a moment, it even seemed like pity crossed his face too.

“It’s when ye put babies on a soft surface, belly to the ground, and leave ‘em there. Helps ‘em strengthen their bodies so they can start crawling later on,” Ghost explained calmly, pushing you up slightly higher against Soap. “Now, come on, try to hurt him. He can take it.”

You still hesitated at that, unsure about actually trying to hurt one of your foster parents. Still, you sighed quietly before grabbing the hand that was holding yours and pushing against Johnny's face, hearing him laugh.

"Yeah, that's not going to do much." Ghost commented dryly.

Before you could say anything else, you let out a small, surprised yelp as Soap suddenly switched places with you, grabbing your small body effortlessly and getting on top of you once again, big grin still plastered on his stupid smiling face.

This time, at least, you managed to place your feet against his chest, pushing him slightly away from your body.

"Ya ken, Price's always liked a rough fight," Soap chuckled, a smug smile on his face as his big hand wrapped around your calf. "Me too, o' course, but he's even more violent than me, if ye believe it. Big bastard roughed up everyone as a soldier, an' let all the kids rough him up right back as a parent. He loves it."

"To be fair, most of us do." Ghost nodded from his place on the mat.

"But how does a wee thing like ye plan to do it if ye dinnae even try?"

At that, your leg was quickly pulled back, your body dragged across the mat as you let out a small shriek, only to immediately laugh right after when Soap stopped pulling you by the leg.

Actually, you were so busy giggling in a mix of surprise and excitement that you didn’t notice Johnny and Simon looking at you with surprise and contentment. It took them a bit, but they finally managed to make you actually laugh.

And what a cute laugh you had.

"Guys, come on up, Price still wants to check if her cold's gone away and watch a movie!" Kyle called out from the stairs, smiling gently at the scene.

"Heard that, lass? Hope ye like cartoons, ‘cause we love ‘em!" Johnny smiled excitedly, helping you up onto your little feet.

"I actually developed a liking for them after bein' forced to watch thousands of different ones as our kids grew up," Ghost commented, tilting his head slightly to the side. "Coco's very nice. Would ya like to see it, kid?"

"I'm... not sure...." You mumble, not recognizing the name.

"Yer gonna love it, lassie! Ah guarantee!"

Part 12 /

[trashytracktales]

any visions of maneater!reader and womanizer!lando yet? that'd be so hot omg 😩

You guys shouldn’t put such images in my head, because look what happens. Look!!

𝗗𝗬𝗡𝗔𝗠𝗜𝗖𝗦

✦ None of them is used to being outplayed, which makes their relationship a constant battle of control.

✦ The sexual tension is insane. I’m talking arguments turning into make-up sex, and every flirtatious glance is seen as a challenge.

✦ They’re toxic for anyone else, but somehow they thrive in each other’s fire. What they have it’s fueled by a chaotic chemistry, and it wouldn’t work with other people, because the main thing that bonds them is a mutual obsession.

✦ Talking about mutual obsession, both are addicted to the game, and neither of them is willing to lose. Their version of love is possessive, passionate, and always a little crazy.

𝗜𝗡 𝗣𝗨𝗕𝗟𝗜𝗖 | the ultimate power couple

✦ In public, they are constantly teasing each other, just enough to rile the other up.

✦ Using jealousy as a foreplay is basically their love language.

✦ From the outside, they look like they’re made for each other, always immaculate, matching in power looks; they look like sex, and everyone knows it.

𝗜𝗡 𝗣𝗥𝗜𝗩𝗔𝗧𝗘 | everything is a competition

✦ Sex isn’t soft. I’m seeing scratches down backs, maybe even broken furniture, handprints on thighs. They leave marks like trophies.

✦ From choking to spanking to edging, their bedroom is a war zone. His hand is constantly around her neck while telling her she’s his; she bites his lip until it bleeds, then rides him until he begs.

✦ The control games are strong. She’ll edge him for hours just because he pissed her off. He’ll cancel her orgasm mid-session and leave her soaked and irritated, only to return later and wreck her all over again.

𝗘𝗫𝗧𝗥𝗔 𝗦𝗣𝗜𝗖𝗘

✦ Lando is a starved man, no matter how many times he eats in a day. She makes sure he always has his mouth full (because she likes it more when he shuts the fuck up).

✦ When he does talk, it’s usually him asking existential questions 🤔💭:

“Who’s cock gets you this wet?”, when she’s stuttering, moaning, and lost in it.

“You think anyone else could fuck you like this?”, right before slamming into her harder, just to prove his point.

“How many times did you think about me today?”, while he’s finger-fucking her open.

✦ When the power switches, she makes sure to let him know, by riding him while mocking his ego. “Thought you were the big bad womanizer. Look at you now, crying like a baby for me.”

✦ Dare I say... threesomes? Because they both get off more on jealousy than on the third party? Let that marinate.

𝗗𝗢𝗠𝗘𝗦𝗧𝗜𝗖 𝗟𝗜𝗙𝗘

✦ Waking up at noon, bodies tangled, hungover and still high off last night’s sex. She’s wearing his shirt and is covered in love marks; he’s shirtless, displaying his own punishments.

✦ Every mundane activity ends in something filthy.

✦ Their fights are legendary... until they end up pinned to a wall, fucking like it’s the last time.

✦ They do spoil each other; he’s always buys her stuff and she makes sure to say thank you by leaving him breathless.

𝗘𝗡𝗗𝗚𝗔𝗠𝗘?

✦ Probably not. Mostly because they are two people who are way too similar and, in time, the fire will consume them both. Finding their madness mirrored in each other will eventually make them go from love to hate.

𝗕𝗢𝗡𝗨𝗦 𝗦𝗖𝗘𝗡𝗔𝗥𝗜𝗢𝗦

✦ The Ride Back Home: after that intense public teasing, Lando will make sure she’s paying for her recklessness, and drives the entire time with two fingers buried inside her. “I love this car, so make a mess and I’ll make you clean it with your mouth.”

✦ Post-race Rage Fuck: missing a podium or after he’s DNFed for some reason. “Didn’t win, but at least I get to fuck a prize.”

✦ Family Yacht Party: she’s bent over the railing with Lando behind her, fucking her slow while people are chilling below deck. “You’re so cockdrunk you’d let me fuck you in front of your parents, hm?”