#adding tags feels a bit cringe

[sp00kyc0rps3]

drew picture

art era

[lily-bisque]

ＷＡＹ ＯＵＴ ＴＨＥＲＥ 𖠰 ⋆☾𓃦☽⋆⁺₊✧🪵𓇢𓆸

volume three — you don't mess around with slim

✦ ── pairing: lumberjack!sukuna x citygirl!reader

✦ ── synopsis: taking a hike, alone, in a massive forest to escape your mundane life may not have been the greatest idea you'd conjured up—a realization you'd come to soon after you managed to lose your map miles inland. but when a lumberjack who knows the land like the back of his hand offers you a place to stay, you think maybe your life isn't so tragic after all. besides, for the sake of your safety, who knows what lingers in the shadows after nightfall?

✦ ── contents: lost in the forest au, forced proximity, bantering, angst, trauma/torture aspects, minor injuries, eventual romance, eventual smut, no use of y/n, more tags to be added.

✦ ── a/n: quite the lengthy volume this time around! check out the playlist for the curated mood and for a forehead kiss.

✦ ── word count: 5.2k

archive ─ playlist

series masterlist - previous volume - volume four

art by outdmilk on twt

You barely got any sleep.

It was far too fervid for a blanket that’d only leave you sweating through his couch, but it seemed that Sukuna took pity on you sometime in your light slumber, tossing a thin sheet at you and not even bothering to unfurl it. 

The couch smelled just like him. Woody and ridden with smoke.

You stared at the clean linen, not sure if you were irked or endeared that the oaf had a heart. So you got up, hobbling towards the bathroom, fatigued and hollow-stomached. Last night, you both passed out exhausted from the events of the grueling day, though you were rather restless, and couldn’t even stop to think about your grumbling stomach.

You sifted through your bag and pulled out the toothbrush you’d thankfully brought along, shoving aside the water filter you bought online that made your hike even worse with how heavy it was before padding over to the bathroom and scrubbing your teeth.

You placed your toothbrush beside Sukuna’s, seeing as you’d probably be staying here at least another day and didn’t want to shove a wet toothbrush back into your backpack. Couldn’t hurt, right? You shrugged it off, raking your his shorts higher up your waist and tugging at the drawstrings to tighten them around your midsection.

In the kitchen, you were met with barely stocked pantries, covered with a fine layer of dust and littered with cobwebs. You cringed, contemplating if you should crack open that can of pinto beans sitting idly and untouched but your stomach wasn’t so excited at the thought.

Then, conveniently, your eyes fell on a new-ish looking box of pancake mix and you could feel your mood unsour. After sifting through his cupboards a bit more, you were able to find some cooking spray, a semi-charred pan, a metal bowl you’d scoured for a little too loudly, and maple syrup.

You checked the expiration date on everything, thankful they hadn’t gone bad, and ultimately got to work. The pancake mix was quite easy as you just needed to add water and it was complete, a thick and chunky pale yellow batter.

You’d kill for some strawberries or chocolate chips right now.

As you continued to stir, you heard a faint scratching at the front door and paused what you were doing. Limping over, you pulled it open to see Uraume past the screen door, mouth open and panting to you.

You could feel your eyes crease, a sudden admiration for the mutt who tried to kill you yesterday when they probably just wanted to play. Pushing it open, you let them in and watched them huff inside and run towards the kitchen, a small bowl resting alongside the wall.

Hm. “You hungry, Uraume?”

The buzzword had them barking and you giggling.

You searched the cabinets until you found a half-eaten bag of kibble, hauling it over and pouring them a hefty amount. They panted and began eating right away as you poured water into their small bowl. You couldn’t help but feel your heart flutter at the sight. As a kid, you’d never had the pleasure of having a pet and so far, this was the closest you’ve gotten to caring for one.

You sat besides them, skimming your fingers through their fur and realized they desperately needed a bath after yesterday. Maybe you could do that if Sukuna didn’t mind.

Returning to the countertop, you fiddled with the gas stove and watched the small fire kindle, setting the pan atop it and allowing it to heat up.

Your family always liked your pancakes, if anything. You were good with your hands and incredibly resourceful with the things that you had.

Spraying the pan, you grabbed a measuring cup you were surprised he even possessed and began scooping it, small dollops melting into perfect circles.

You had to opt for a metal spoon instead of a spatula as Sukuna certainly did not have any sort of culinary sensitivity, cringing when you accidentally scraped the pan.

“What are you doing?”

You jumped, hand flinching with the pancake you were mid-flipping and whining when it folded. You glanced past your shoulder to see Sukuna filling the doorway, yawning and pulling a leather jacket from a rack near the door before tossing it over his shoulder, looking gruff and cross at your presence. 

You must not have noticed him getting his morning started through all of your clinking and clanking while you flew through his kitchen.

“Oh! Uh, I’m just making breakfast,” you smiled, feeling yourself grimace with how domestic you looked before piling a couple on a chipped plate, and hopping over to him. “Try it.”

He looked down at you, eyebrows knitted, before shoving it away. “I gotta get to work,” he grunted.

You pushed the plate into his side, making him flinch, and gave him an exceptionally cheerful grin. “Eat.” You tersely spoke, as if it wasn’t up for discussion.

Because it wasn’t. He’d done so much and you’d yet to repay him in any way.

He eyed you, a scowl painting him, before his gaze flickered down to the breakfast plate, a stack of pancakes that were still steaming and incredibly fragrant. You couldn’t ignore the way his eyes gleamed for a moment.

He sighed deeply, running a thumb in the crease of his forehead before pulling the plate from your hand. He snagged the syrup from the counter along with a fork, then plopped down on the couch.

You flipped the pan off once you took a couple more off, enough to satiate you and a few people, before checking his fridge. “Hey, when’d you get this milk,” you needled, eyeing a carton suspiciously.

“Couple days ago.” He stated between mouthfuls.

That was good enough to pour the two of you a tall glass and scooch next to him on the couch. The way your stomach grumbled at the sight had you immediately digging in, stuffing your mouth after pouring a hefty amount of syrup.

You reclined after your first bite, tossing your foot on his coffee table and taking a relieved sigh. “I am so fucking talented,” you breathed out through a bite.

Sukuna side-eyed you, taking massive bites of the pancakes despite his glower. You knew he liked it but he wasn’t going to say anything.

After getting about halfway through your plate, you slowed down, fork pressing against the bounce of a pancake. “So. Looks like I’ll be staying here a while,” you started, avoiding making eye contact. Unless he had an idea of getting you downhill in your shape, you were out of luck.

He simply huffed, taking a large swig of his milk, then wiping his mouth with the back of his hand crudely. He was a hell of a lot more talkative yesterday near the creek, but he seems to have regretted taking you in like a lost dog.

“I was thinking—,” you turned to face him, setting your plate down and clasping your fingers. “I can’t be of much use right now, but I am pretty well-versed with keeping a house in tip-top shape. I know it’s not enough for what you’ve done, with all the carrying me up the hill and giving me your clothes and your couch and your fridge and—”

“Get to your point.”

You swallowed thickly, his husky voice fraying the edges of your mind riddled with jitters. “You can hire me, as a helping hand. I’ll wire you for whatever amount you need when I get out of here but, for right now, I wouldn’t mind cleaning up a bit. Or cooking, really.”

Sukuna turned to glare at you, and it seemed the guy woke up on the wrong side of the bed, flexing his fists. “Don’t need your help cleaning my shit. Just stay put and don’t break nothin’.”

He set his empty plate down on the coffee table and rose to his feet, glancing at the bowl you’d filled for Uraume and pushing air from his nose.

You frowned, hopping after him as he shuffled his shoes on. “Well, I’m not taking no for an answer. I’m not heartless and I know when I have to show appreciation,” you pushed, leaning against the wall near the front door with a hand.

The grump eyed your foot for a moment and the limp you were folded in as he grabbed his wallet from a dresser. “You check your bandages?”

You nodded quickly, despite it being a lie. You’d forgotten to do that.

“Good,” he said, grabbing his hat from a hook and putting it on his head, then grabbed his keys and stuffed them in his jeans pocket.

He pulled the door open and pushed the screen out, lumbering down the steps and you in tow, grabbing the chipped white and wooden railing to steady yourself.

Sukuna heard your footfalls, glancing behind his back and already feeling his irritation simmer, partly from the early morning heat and your persistence. “You’re gonna fall and eat shit if you keep hoppin’ where you aren’t needed,” he scowled.

“Well, lucky for you, I’ve already done that,” you said, avoiding the twigs from piercing your bare feet.

He began making his way down a different trail, and boots digging into the sound as he ignored you.

“Say yes or I’m going to follow you all the way down!” You shouted through cupped hands.

Still, your voice fell on deaf ears, and you scoffed.

You wobbled over to the nearest tree, hand placed against the rough bark as grass slicked with morning dew brushed against your foot. It was a hell of a lot more steep than you would’ve expected. You were beginning to question just how strong he truly must be—trekking uphill, in the dark, with you on his back for what felt like over an hour.

You pushed on, nonetheless, incredibly stubborn at the fact that you were not going to let this man win.

Inevitably, he heard your struggles as you yelped, nearly stubbing your foot on a rock and spinning to face you, meters away. “Yes! Now get the fuck back inside!” He roared, waving a dismissive hand at you before making his way down.

You grinned from ear to ear, pumping your fists to yourself and wanting to rub your victory in his face but knowing that you had to pick your battles with this guy.

Heading back to his place, you shut and locked the door behind you, itching the back of your head as you took a proper look at the state of it.

You had your work cut out for you—from the amount of misplaced laundry, dust and ash covered surfaces to tragically forgotten dishes, you knew you’d be busy all afternoon.

But, it was incredibly therapeutic for you.

You weren’t someone who was passionate about much other than your peace, and finding ways to busy yourself through your simple hobbies were your relief.

Oftentimes back home, you’d find yourself fiddling your thumbs with nothing to do, anxiously tapping away at your thigh, before you’d hop to your feet and start cleaning something up.

You tried to ignore the odd flutter you got in your chest—reminding you of a life you’d long forgotten, or tried to at least.

This was different. You were lending a hand to someone who’d lent you theirs in a time you desperately needed it.

However, something tickled your nape as you assessed what Sukuna called home. He’s lived here for God knows how long, probably alone with that gruff personality of his, which made you bite your tongue. 

No frames of family, no memorabilia of a life outside the confines of this rundown house, no keepsakes of someone besides Uraume’s collar left lackadaisical on his kitchen counter.

You hadn’t meant to find it so dismal.

Scouring his bathroom, you hunted for any sort of cleaning product that could be of aid. You found some yellow plastic gloves, clorox wipes, some glass cleaner, and a mop.

Okay, it wasn’t much, nor like the supply you kept back at home. But it would do. You were surprised he even had anything in the first place.

You started with your own dirty clothing you’d stuffed back into your rucksack, cringing at your sloppiness from the previous night before searching for his laundry room.

It seemed he had an old-style pair of washer and dryer that required coins but he’d somehow torn them off barbarically.

You have no idea how it still managed to run when you dumped your laundry in, poured in some powdered detergent, and flipped it on.

You relaxed a bit, glad to set that aside as you could finally change out of this outfit within the next couple of hours. Despite it being surprisingly comfortable after nearly ripping the drawstrings from how tight you’d pulled them, you felt as if you were intruding into Sukuna’s little bubble far too much.

Though, you were most likely going to borrow another set of clothing tonight as you couldn’t sleep in the outfit you hiked outside with.

Shaking the idea off, you dusted your hands and headed to the living room first. Tying your hair back and snapping your gloves on, you assessed and decided the order in which you were going to do things.

You started with the countertops, ridding them of any empty beer bottles or cigarette butts that made your nose scrunch from the stench. You found an unused rag in a drawer in the kitchen, dousing it in dish soap and wringing it out a few times before scrubbing off his surfaces. You finished with the clorox wipes, a little dry from being neglected for so long, but still pretty effective.

Then, you gathered your mental bearings to dig through his worse-for-wear couch cushions. You didn’t know what kind of man he was, so this was going to be incredibly telling for you. Besides, if you were going to be sleeping here, you’d feel a lot better knowing what you were dealing with.

Thankfully, all you were met with was empty chip bags, rusty coins and forgotten socks, grabbing a trash bag from the kitchen and tossing them all in. He wouldn’t miss them, right?

Stretching out your back, you began to wipe down a dingy record player that looked like it hadn’t been touched in years when an idea popped up in your mind. It was pretty quiet and the speaker on your phone wasn’t all that great so… why not?

Resting on your knees, you sifted through his stack of vinyls, quietly judging his music taste. The Rolling Stones, Guns N’ Roses, Nirvana…

You giggled to yourself. He was a man of taste but also exactly what you’d imagined him as.

You blew grit that speckled the surface from the record player and plugged it into an outlet before switching it on. Flipping a single vinyl case open, you settled on You Don’t Mess Around With Jim by Jim Croce, sliding it out from the sleeve. The groovy beat had you bobbing your head after you placed the vinyl on the platter and positioned the tonearm and ensuring the spindle was in place.

Cleaning is a hell of a lot more enjoyable with outlaw country resonating off of the walls.

“You don’t tug on Superman’s cape.

You don’t spit into the wind.

You don’t pull the mask off an old lone ranger

And you don’t mess around with Jim.”

You pivoted your good foot as you shut your eyes, allowing the slightly muffled but incredibly loud record player to blast this old fashioned tune fit for a man with an old soul.

As you hopped between the kitchen and the living room, you allowed yourself to get immersed into the music and let everything fall away, a heavy weight resting on your shoulders easing up.

Had it not been for the music, you probably would’ve been muttering to yourself or letting yourself stress about a situation that was entirely out of your hands.

You made circle motions with paper towels along his coffee table, dumping the ash leftovers into a trash bag and coughing a fit when it billowed in your face.

There was a disorganized drawer beside his couch, and you crouched down, tugging out crumpled and disregarded sheets. It was mostly tattered newspapers, bills he paid off, or advertorials you assumed he never took a second look at.

But from the looks of it, there was no mailbox on his lawn as no level-headed person would venture up here to deliver bills for minimum wage, so he most likely picked these up around town.

Though, there were a few scribbles with addresses on blank sheets of paper you could barely make out, making your eyebrows knit.

You didn’t want to throw away anything of use, so you just bundled the sheets up and reorganized them neatly before placing them back inside.

As you moved to shut it, however, there was a jam in the slide. You pulled it back out, angling it differently but it still wouldn’t budge.

You must’ve dropped something between the crevice as you moved things around.

Pulling the entire drawer out, you set it to your side and craned your head inside to take a look.

There was a small gleam of light as you did so, narrowing your eyes and reaching out to tug on it.

Your hand felt something beady and cold, metallic. You grabbed it and brought it to view.

It was a necklace. But not just any necklace—a dog tag.

You flipped the blank side over to read the name ‘Ryomen’ inscribed above a set of random numbers.

Hm. That must be Sukuna’s first name.

You itched the back of your scalp, fiddling with the icy metal in your hand. It wouldn’t be strange for a man of Sukuna’s caliber to have served in the military—a large, muscly man with a tendency to huff at anything and lives in bumfuck nowhere past the treeline.

He’s awfully reserved too, and maybe it’d explain his odd tattoos or abundance of small scars littering his face. You had no idea what they got up to in the forces.

You sighed, placing the necklace back into the drawer before lifting it and shoving it away with no issues this time around.

You don’t know Sukuna, not in the slightest. He’d only lent you a hand because you were a helpless, crazed looking woman who was entirely out of her league in the forestry. It’d be wrong of you to snoop like this when he already seemed annoyed at your need to clean up.

But maybe that’s why he didn't want you to clean up—who knows, the guy could be hiding fifteen infant corpses beneath his floorboards.

That was enough lurking for you to get back to your feet shakily and continuing wiping things down.

You found where the air conditioning was and flipped it off before pulling all of the windows open, allowing some fresh air in this stuffy space without running his electricity bill up or breaking his only cool reprieve. 

Pushing past the screen door, you grabbed his broom and began sweeping away all the brush that seemed to have littered the wooden planks, adjusting his chair and tossing away old beer cans. 

You fiddled with the doorbell, only to realize it probably hadn’t worked in ages.

Back inside, you were a bit saddened but not surprised at his lack of a dishwasher, but nonetheless began scrubbing away until your calves itched and your back desperately needed the touch of a masseuse. 

You finished your laundry, setting your things away in his linens closet, and began tossing his clothing in the wash. You learned the dryer was pretty half-assed at doing it’s job so you had to toss far too many damp articles of clothing over doors, wishing you had a clothesline. 

You could probably ask him to set one up.

Finally getting around to Uraume, you dragged them to Sukuna’s tub and poured shampoo over their fur. You scrubbed the hair and unknotted the matted-with-dirt hair and washed away the grime, giggling when they’d shake their mane and drench you in the process, before drying them off and returning to your chores.

Getting caught up in your cleaning, you barely heard the door push open nor realize how much time has passed as some KISS song blasted.

Sukuna stumbled through the doorway, grocery bags in tow. Of course the guy could hold a week's worth of food in one hand. His eyes raked over the state of his place, oddly bright and cleaner than he’d seen it in ages.

“Christ,” he grunted, a scowl etching his face, shuffling inside and setting the groceries against the kitchen table. You pursed your lips at his distaste.

Vegetables, fruit, bread, over-the-counter medication with new bandages, some women’s clothes and…

“What is this?” You held up three boxes of tampons and two boxes of pads, cocking your head at him.

He huffed, pushing air from his nose. “Shouldn’t you know, woman?” You could hear the hesitation in his answer, as if he was almost not expecting you to address it.

You bit the inside of your cheek to stop yourself from giggling. “Thanks, Sukuna. But, I won’t be needing them.” You chuckled, sifting through the rest, nearly keeling over at the incredibly ugly jorts he’d bought you.

His eyes flickered over to your giggling form, intrigue and something akin to pity swimming in his eyes for a moment, before he tore his gaze away. 

“So how was work?” You perked up, starting to place things in his cabinet.

Something heavy settled in his chest at the sight, pausing as he took a reluctant step backwards. It was a strange sight—this woman he’d only met yesterday cleaning his place, in his clothes, eating his food, sleeping on his couch, putting away his laundry.

He clenched his jaw in unease. “Fine.”

Your gaze flickered over to him for a moment, curiosity or even panic flashing in your narrowed orbs for a moment, but it was gone just as fast as it’d been there. “Just fine?”

He scoffed. “Said what I said.”

“O-kay.” You sing-songed in annoyance, hopping over to grab a bowl from a higher cabinet. You’d kill for something sweet.

He watched you struggle for a moment, his feet stuck to the ground as your small fingers, or least in comparison to his, danced along the edge of the shelf, nearly toppling a mug onto your face.

He scowled, rounding the table and grabbing the bowl with ease for you.

You settled back on your good foot, eyeing the pretty china he had that never went used, buried and forgotten in his cabinet. “Thanks.”

He ignored you, heading towards the couch and plopping on it. He didn’t know exactly what to do with himself as Uraume napped in their dogshed and he was done with work but still felt like he had an audience to perform for.

You.

Though, you didn’t notice one bit, reading the ingredient list of some box as you popped something in your mouth. You were getting incredibly comfortable in his house, while he was the opposite.

“I’m gonna get some air,” he mumbled, barely resting a moment before he was out the door.

You tossed your head back, munching on some sweet cereal you’d never had the pleasure of indulging in. You skimmed the ingredients, charmed at how they’d managed to incorporate so much sugar, barely acknowledging Sukuna heading out.

He tugged his flannel off and tossed it on the patio railing before getting to work, folding his sleeves up.

After putting his groceries away, you wiped sweat that beaded from your forehead and went to turn the vinyl player off, the house returning to a still hum. Once you did so, you could hear clunks and thwacks coming from outside.

You pushed the front door open, breathing in the evening air and enjoying its uncharacteristic chill.

Sukuna was lifting an axe over his head, burly arms coming down from over his head over a stump before slicing a piece of wood in half.

He’d adjust it, turning it sideways, before lifting the axe again and allowing it to come down hard against the wood.

He was sporting a long sleeve white tee that was definitely too small for him, hugging his mid-biceps like a vice and nearly tearing with each movement. There were a few moth-eaten holes near the hemline, sweat drenching his front.

He swiped the back of his hand against his forehead, lifting up the chopped limber and tossing it into…an incredibly tall pile. He’d only been out here for mere moments. How on Earth…?

“What?” He grunted, glowering at you before placing another log down.

You sauntered down, waddling like you had a stick up your ass and adjusting his massive shirt that flowed off of you like a dress. “Nothin’.”

He scowled at that, how you seemed to trail him despite him trying to escape you right now. He’d had a long day at the sawmill and down the trail, he didn’t want to deal with this. He was beginning to question why he’d even brought you here.

You plopped down on the stairs, chewing on a handful of nuts, a blank stare painting your face as you eyed the pile he’d accumulated. But he still couldn’t shake off the lingering curiosity flowing in your movements—the way your knee bounced and your eyes would dart to his before quickly turning away.

“Seriously. What is wrong with you, woman?” He huffed a frustrated breath through his nose and set the stem of the axe against his shoulder, chest slightly heaving from the exertion of splitting far too many logs in a short amount of time.

You worried your lip between your teeth at his annoyance, wondering if you were prodding far too much into this stranger's life. But, you were expected to be here for the next few days, at least that's what you expected as you had yet to discuss it properly with Sukuna since he avoided you at every turn, so why not get to know each other?

Your fingers flexed, curling against the wood of the steps you were perched on, hesitating for a few moments. This wasn’t a big deal, was it?

Pushing from where you were seated, you came to a wiggling stand. “Wait here.” You hurried back inside as quickly as someone with one working foot could, leaving Sukuna to stare at your retreating back with a bothered scowl.

You came stumbling out minutes later, hobbling down the steps and standing before Sukuna, hands clasped behind your back.

He gave you a skeptical once-over, resting his axe off to the side and giving you his full, and incredibly agitated, attention that practically radiated from him in waves.

“I was cleaning and I, uh. I found something I think you lost,” you smiled at your feet, almost proud of yourself, before bringing your hands in front of you.

The orange light of the setting sun gleamed off of the metal, showcasing the scratches and marks of a forgotten time. You brushed a finger over the engravings, biting your lip at how brisk and noble it felt in your hand. “Pretty cool, serving in the army,” you whispered into the evening, letting the ball chain fall through cracks between your fingers.

Sukuna’s eyes settled on your palm, something in his chest twisting before he snatched it from your grasp. You gasped at the sudden disappearance and his behavior, gaze shooting up at him.

He scoffed, shoving it in his pocket, before returning to chopping lumber.

A sudden irritation flared in you. “What’s your problem?”

“Don’t want you snooping ‘round my things,” he stated matter-of-factly, axe coming down hard on wood, pieces splintering off and falling to the floor. You couldn’t read his expression for the life of you.

Pausing for a moment, you let out a scoff so quiet, Sukuna almost missed it. “Okay well, my bad. Just been cooped up all day,” you replied, crossing your arms over your chest as a chill danced down your spine that was definitely not from the breeze.

He tilted his neck hard enough to make a loud crack! sound, jaw twitching at the underlying irritation in your tone. He turned to face you, a snarl crawling upon his lips as he leaned down to match your height. His frustration was now palpable, enough that you could juggle it between your hands and still not fully grasp it. “So what? I’m ‘spose to fuckin’ babysit you now?”

The air between you was undeniably charged—just a spark and it’d explode like a keg.

“I never said that,” you tersely replied through clenched teeth, something akin to caginess flashing in your eyes. On the other hand, his undeniably red irises only eyed you with pure disgust. “Was just bored ‘cause you were gone all day and I’d appreciate it if you didn’t put words in my mouth when I’d helped clean up.”

He hummed something taunting, cocking his head as he sized you up. “Didn’t ask for a maid, still don’t need one. Not gonna get on my knees and thank you neither.”

Your eyes narrowed, staring him down with unblinking intensity, lips pressing into a thin line and your fists clenching at your sides. Lowering your voice to a dangerous and icy tone, you spoke in a short and clipped tone. “Fuck you.”

Inhaling sharply, you turned on your heel, ignoring the impressed and smug grin on the brutes face. It felt like the wildlife around you stilled, ears perking up at your tiff.

Awkwardly hobbling back up the steps and morals grinding against each other with a heat coursing through your veins, your veins bulged in your forehead from how wound tight you were.

Yet, no matter how angry his words made you, it made you feel oddly ashamed. You felt like a kid again, dismissed no matter your attributes.

You’d never been good at handling your emotions, so you headed over to the bathroom and slammed the door shut, loud enough for Sukuna to hear wood meeting wood.

The impact sounded and he bristled, fingers clenching around the belly of the axe in his hand. “Fuck,” he cursed under his breath, his knuckles paling and hurting from the pressure he was inflicting on the weapon in his hand.

He shouldn’t have gone there. His anger worked for him instead of his mind, and being around you wasn’t helping—all with your snarky comments and pushy personality. But that wasn’t the issue, was it?

It was him. With the way he so casually spat venom in people’s faces and clawed at them when they’d get too close. With nowhere to put that pent-up anger and irritation, he’d taken it out on a strange girl who’d only been helping him out in return for him letting her crash on his couch.

Lifting an arm, he flung the axe straight at a tree, the heel whistling as it soared through the air at incredible speed, digging straight into the trunk with a finite crunch and splitting the bark, splinters sent flying. His shoulders twitched, huffing under his breath, pulse thundering in his ears.

He brushed a hand through his disheveled hair, his body exhausted from the work day and expectations of being sociable when he usually came home to an empty house beside an eager dog.

What was truly the crime you’d committed here?

He sighed, the answer clear as day, pulse settling for a moment, before heading inside.

[ninesbey0nd]

My Dearest Friend College AU! Caleb x Reader

SYNOPSIS. When you committed to your university, you never expected to reunite with your childhood best friend, Caleb. When your mom urges you to help him move in, your friendship seems to take a turn.

PAIRING. Aerospace Engineering Major! Caleb x Graphic Design Major! Reader (afab/fem reader)

GENRE. friends to lovers, childhood friends, mutual pining, eventual smut, possessive! Caleb, Dom! Caleb

WARNINGS. Profanity, Alcohol Consumption, NSFW, unprotected sex (wrap ya willy!), penetrative sex, fingering, oral (receiving), Breeding Kink, Obsessive themes WORD COUNT. 7.4k

PART 1 - PART 2 - ?

if you wanna be added to my tag list lmk! :) <3

(I've returned with an obsession for LADS LMAO enjoy <3)

“That’s the last one,” Caleb mumbled, kicking his heel out to prop his dorm door open for you. You nodded curtly at his gesture, holding your breath while you carried in the last box of his belongings. You let out a soft pant, setting down the heavy bin of God knows what.

“It’s no problem! Really,” you insisted, your gaze shifting up to meet his soft lavender eyes.

🍎

The day before your mother had pulled you aside after dinner, scolding you for being a bad friend and not keeping in touch with Caleb.

“I mean, how do you not realize the boy you’ve grown up with is attending the same college as you?” She chided, aggressively scrubbing the dishes that had piled up in your kitchen sink.

“I don’t know, Mom,” you groaned, propping yourself up against the kitchen counter. “Don’t get me wrong, Caleb and I are friendly with one another, but I guess the topic of college never came up?” You cringed your shoulders. Sure, you and Caleb exchanged a few pleasantries here and there, but there was never too much the two of you had to talk about; not like there was any unsettled business or sour feelings.

“Well, you're lucky his mother and I keep in frequent contact hm?” Your mom hummed, the ceramic clinking of plates filling the air as she shut the now-filled dishwasher. “You should help him move into the dorms tomorrow, his poor mother has knee problems and you’re young and spry.”

You slumped over, your shoulders hanging heavy in the air. The last thing you wanted to do was wake up early and be on campus before school even started, but your mom seemed pretty insistent that you help the poor boy and spare his mother’s aching joints.

“Okay, okay. I’ll find my way over there and see what I can do, alright?” You let out a sigh as your mom shoots you a grateful smile.

🍎

“So,” you feign a cough to break the silence. “Did you want help unpacking?” You found yourself leaning against the bare metal bed frame, scanning the room around you. Somehow, this man had managed to score a single – and a pretty spacious one at that. Although the room was bare now, knowing Caleb it’d probably be properly unpacked and prim in a few hours.

“You don’t have to do all that, pipsqueak. I can handle it,” He assured with a smile, his eyes crinkled into small half-mooned crescents. He was knelt down beside a bin, popping the lid open and beginning the search for his packed bedding. He stood up with a simple gray sheet in his hand, turning toward your direction.

“Are you sure? I really don’t mind helping,” you reached a hand outward, grabbing onto the sheet and beginning to spread it along the expanse of the oh-so-small twin bed. Neatly tucking the sheet beneath the corner of the mattress, you snuck a glance at Caleb. You could tell he was a bit surprised at your forwardness but nonetheless appreciated it and followed suit in your movements.

The two of you spent the next few hours unpacking and organizing his dorm – from making the bed to helping him hang his clothes.

“Wait (Y/N), don’t open that one –” too late. Your hands had already opened the box and there they were: neatly stacked and folded and in all of their glory were several pairs of boxers. Ranging from plain colors to some mixed plaids and finally on top – a pair of them with little apples scattered across the fabric.

“Oh,” was all you could muster out. You shut the lid promptly, scooting it out of the way and going to grab a different one. You peeked at him through your lashes. A hand covered half his face, and his eyes were screwed shut, a light pink color flushed against his cheeks.

“I’ll have to go through that one later,” He mused, his hand moving to rest against the back of his neck. The rest of the unpacking, much to your surprise, went smoothly. By the time you finished, his room looked as if he’d lived there the whole time.

“Thank you, (Y/N), really, I don’t think I would’ve been able to move in so quickly without your help,” he rested his weight against the edge of his now-made bed. “Can I maybe treat you to dinner?” His lips drew themselves into a thin line, his eyes meeting yours – almost as if praying to the universe that you’d accept his offer. You blinked, unsure if you had heard him right.

“Dinner?” you repeated, trying—and failing—to mask the surprise in your voice. Your gaze dropped to his hands, which were absentmindedly fiddling with a corner of the bed sheet you'd just tucked in. Caleb had always been polite, maybe even a little old-school in how he treated people. But this felt like... something else. It didn’t feel the same as that once-innocent younger boy you grew up with.

“If you want,” he clarified quickly at the end of his statement, brushing imaginary lint off his jeans and avoiding eye contact. “I just thought it’d be nice since you helped me out, and I haven’t really had a chance to thank you properly or catch up with you. There’s this little sushi place down on Main Street—I heard it’s good?”

Your lips curled slightly into a smile. “You remembered I like sushi?”

Caleb looked up at you then, the corner of his mouth twitching. “(Y/N), you used to talk about getting sushi and miso soup all the time. That’s not something I could easily forget.”

The tension cracked a bit between you both, just enough for you to exhale a laugh. “Fine, I’ll let you treat me.”

“Done.”

🍎

Main Street was just starting to buzz with the early evening crowd when the two of you made it there. The walk from campus was short but filled with odd spurts of conversation—mostly about upcoming classes, shared childhood memories, and how you’d managed to not know you were going to the same university until your mothers brought it up.

“I still can’t believe you didn’t know,” Caleb said, nudging your elbow as you stepped into the cozy restaurant. “I mean, we literally follow each other on Instagram.”

You gave him a deadpan look. “Yeah, and you only post pictures of planes and clouds. Not exactly a location update.”

He chuckled, brushing a hand through his thick layered hair.

“Fair enough.”

After many sushi rolls were consumed, something shifted. Maybe it was the home-y comfort food or the nostalgic laughter, but you started to feel less like acquaintances and more like... (Y/N) and Caleb again. The way you’d been before high school and moving vans and awkward teenage silences.

“So, graphic design, huh?” Caleb asked as he leaned back in his seat. “That tracks. You used to doodle all over your homework.”

You shrugged, twirling a straw in your drink. “Yeah, well... what can I say. I have a passion for creating, I love the nature of art.”

He grinned. “I think it suits you. You’ve always had an eye for stuff like that. Colors, symmetry.”

“And you?” you raised a brow. “Aerospace engineering? Trying to fly away from all your responsibilities?”

“Obviously,” he deadpanned. “But mostly, I just want to build something that ends up out there.” He motioned toward the sky, as if you could see the stars from the restaurant booth. “It’s... grounding, in a weird way.”

The table fell quiet for a moment. You were watching him now, not just the boy you used to ride bikes with, but the person he’d become. Grounded and lofty all at once.

🍎

The weeks that followed passed in a blur of syllabi, campus events, and more run-ins with Caleb than you could count. Which was odd, considering he practically made a home for himself in the campus library.

He texted you after class the next day. [CALEB]: Can I borrow your notes from Design Theory? I think I slept through half of it with my eyes open.

You replied with a smirking emoji and a PDF of your notes.

[(Y/N)]: don’t thank me too much :p

Later that week, you knocked lightly on his dorm door, a physics textbook hugged to your chest. “I know this is your thing sooo,” you said, wincing slightly as you walked through his doorway. “If I have to look at one more vector diagram without understanding it, I might combust.”

“Come in,” he grinned, stepping aside. “Let’s trade. Physics help for some sketching practice and coaching?”

Before long, helping each other became second nature—him hunched over your Laptop, poking at your Illustrator file, while you scribbled equations on a whiteboard in his room. You teased him for his weirdly good eye for visual hierarchy; he claimed your physics doodles were actually better than some of the diagrams in his textbook.

And somewhere in the midst of study sessions and late-night diner runs, you realized you didn’t dread waking up for early campus mornings anymore. Especially if they meant seeing Caleb—your not-so-new, not-so-distant friend.

🍎

The hum of the fluorescent lights in the academic building were steady, almost comforting as you sat hunched over a large spread of design theory notes. You’d tucked yourself into one of the small study pods, surrounded by empty tables and soft chatter from other students who passed by in a hurry.

The walls were lined with modern art—colorful abstract pieces and intricate geometric designs—and, despite the chill in the air, the room had a familiar warmth to it. It was a place where you could focus. A place where you could get lost in your work and forget the looming deadlines of projects and exams.

But even in this quiet corner, you found it hard to concentrate. Your mind kept drifting back to the conversation you’d had with Caleb the night before. He’d called to ask for a quick study session for his upcoming art examination, which had caught you a bit off guard. It wasn’t that he wasn’t a hard worker, but you hadn’t expected him to reach out for something like that.

Your phone buzzed, snapping you out of your thoughts. You glanced down at the screen, half-expecting a random notification, but no—there it was. A text from Caleb.

[CALEB]: Be there in 5. Save me a seat :)

A soft smile pulled at the corner of your lips, and you quickly rearranged your things to make room for him. It was almost second nature how he could slide back into your life without much effort at all.

🍎

Five minutes passed, then ten. You were just beginning to wonder if maybe something had come up when you finally saw him.

Caleb’s unmistakable figure appeared at the entrance, his tall frame easily cutting through the crowd of students. As he stepped into the study space, his eyes scanned the room, and then, as if he had a built-in radar for where you were sitting, they found yours.

He smiled that familiar little smile, the one that always made you feel like you were home. He began walking toward you, his steps light, but just as he was about to reach the table, a girl approached him.

She was holding a stack of papers, her hair pulled back into a high ponytail. Her eyes were wide, too wide, almost as if she had been waiting for the perfect moment to strike. Caleb stopped in his tracks, his hand still halfway to his back pocket.

“Hey,” the girl said, flashing a bright, slightly nervous smile. “Are you Caleb? I’m in your thermodynamics class, and—um, I was wondering if you could maybe give me your number? I’m trying to form a study group and... I thought it’d be great to have you be a part of it – I mean, you’re like the smartest guy in class.”

You watched the exchange with a raised eyebrow. Caleb was silent for a moment, his posture stiffening slightly as if he wasn’t sure how to handle the situation. But when his gaze flickered back toward you, the tension in his shoulders eased, and his lips curled into a soft, almost apologetic smile toward the girl.

“Sorry,” Caleb said, his tone polite but firm. “I don’t think I’m the best person to study with right now. I’m actually going to study with my girlfriend right now.”

The girl seemed momentarily taken aback but didn’t push further. She forced a smile, awkwardly nodded, and then turned on her heel, leaving Caleb free to make his way over to you.

You couldn’t help the small laugh that escaped as he finally sat down across from you, his expression a mixture of bemusement and relief.

“Girlfriend, huh?” you teased, folding your arms over your chest.

He grinned, shaking his head as he unpacked his own materials. “I figured it was a pretty good excuse to get out of whatever she was trying to rope me into,” he admitted with a small smile.

You raised an eyebrow. “Uh-huh, and what’s wrong with her wanting your number?”

Caleb shot you a sheepish glance. “Well, I’m just not interested in giving my number to people who ask.”

Your gaze softened, and you met his eyes. For a moment, there was a quiet understanding between you two. Caleb had always been popular amongst his peers, or so you heard from your mother. He never had a girlfriend, though, ever. could tell it wasn’t just about the number. It was about his priorities—about what mattered to him right now.

“Alright,” you said, tapping your pencil on the table. “So... about that study session?”

He nodded, settling into his chair and pulling out a notebook from his bag. “Right. I’m actually kind of freaking out about this art exam. I know it’s not physics or anything, but I just... I don’t know. I guess I haven’t done a ton of art since high school, and now it feels like I’m starting from scratch.”

You tilted your head, considering his words. “You’ve always had an eye for it, Caleb. You’ve just... gotta remember how to channel it. Let me see what you’ve got so far.”

He hesitated for a second but then slid his sketchbook over to you. The pages were filled with rough sketches—abstract patterns, geometric designs, and some minimalist ideas that had potential. As you flipped through, you could tell there was talent there, but it needed focus. Toward the last page, however, you lingered. There had been a few rough sketches scattered across the parchment of…. Your face?

Caleb cleared his throat, reaching a hand over the page and quickly snatching the book out of your grasp. When you looked up at him, he shot you a sheepish grin, tucking the book away.

“Okay,” you rolled your eyes, jotting down a few notes in your own notebook. “Let’s start with these basic shapes. You’ve got the right idea, but you need to play with the proportions and scale a bit more. Add some layers. Make it breathe.”

Caleb nodded, leaning forward as you helped walk him through how to refine his sketches. The two of you got into a rhythm, bouncing ideas back and forth, and by the time the sun was beginning to set, you’d worked through most of the exam material.

As you closed the last notebook, Caleb sat back and stretched. “Thanks, (Y/N),” he said, his voice a little more relaxed. “I think I actually feel ready for this now. Seriously, I don’t think I would’ve been able to do this without your help.”

You smiled at him, but before you could respond, Caleb’s tone shifted slightly. He glanced at his watch and then at you, his eyes brightening.

“So, I know we’ve been working hard... but how about a little reward?” he said, his voice low enough to almost sound like a secret. “How about you come over to my place tonight? I’ve got a surprise for you.”

“A surprise?” You asked, intrigued but also cautious. “What kind of surprise?”

“Trust me,” Caleb said with a mischievous grin, “I’m sure you’ll like where it’s going.”

You raised an eyebrow but couldn’t help feeling curious. “Alright, I’m intrigued. I’ll meet you there after dinner.”

Caleb smiled and gave you a nod. “It’s a deal. Later, pipsqueak.”

As he packed up his things and left, you found yourself trying to push away the small flutter in your stomach. A surprise? What could it be?

But whatever it was, you knew Caleb wouldn’t let you down.

🍎

“Caleb?” Your knuckles rapped against his dorm door, awaiting his presence. A muffled voice interrupts your train of thought.

“Coming, coming.” You hear a few sounds of rustling before footsteps, and an open door greets you. “You’re early, pipsqueak.” His hand reaches up to ruffle your hair, soon after traveling down to your lower back, where he ushers you inside his room.

“I couldn’t keep my best friend waiting, could I?” You found yourself kicking off your shoes, hopping onto his made bed, and propping yourself up amongst his pillows.

Caleb shut the door behind you, giving you a look you couldn’t quite read—something between amused and nervous.

“So��” you began, stretching your legs across his mattress, “what’s this big surprise? You’re not secretly making me tutor you for another hour, are you?”

He chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck. “No, no physics tonight. I swear.”

Your eyes narrowed suspiciously. “Then what?”

He walked over to his desk, where a neatly folded outfit—a casual button-down and his nicer jeans—lay waiting. “We’re going out.”

You blinked. “Out? Like... out out?”

“To the frat party,” he said, shooting you a grin. “It’s supposed to be huge tonight. And,” he added quickly, “I figured you deserved a night off for basically saving my academic life.”

You stared at him, momentarily stunned. “You want to go to a frat party?”

“Okay, I know, I’m not exactly the party guy,” Caleb admitted with a smirk. “But hey—first semester of college, right? Why not make a few fun memories?”

You narrowed your eyes at him but couldn’t suppress the smile tugging at your lips. “You better not make me regret this.”

Caleb raised his hand in mock solemnity. “I would never.”

🍎

The Delt party was exactly what you expected—loud, chaotic, pulsing with music, and crowded with students dressed just a little too nicely for a night of spilled drinks and uncoordinated dancing. The backyard was strung with fairy lights, a small fire crackling in the distance, the scent of cheap beer and woodsmoke clinging to the air.

You stuck close to Caleb’s side as you navigated through the crowd. He handed you a drink, his fingers brushing yours for a split second longer than necessary. You tried not to read too much into it.

“Alright,” he said over the music, raising his cup. “To passing art exams and not dying in physics.”

You clinked your cup to his. “I’ll drink to that.”

As the night wore on, Caleb grew a little... different. Not bad—just looser. His words started to slur slightly, and his usual guarded posture gave way to easier smiles and more frequent touches. A hand on your shoulder here, a lingering glance there.

“You know, (Y/N),” he said, leaning in close as you both sat near the fire, the flickering light dancing in his eyes. “You’re kind of amazing.”

You blinked, surprised by the sudden sincerity in his tone. “You’re drunk.”

He laughed, nudging you with his shoulder. “A little. But I still mean it.”

You looked at him, unsure how to respond. You’d never seen Caleb like this before—unguarded, open. A little vulnerable.

“You’ve always been this... bright thing in my life, (Y/N). Even when we weren’t talking much in high school. I always remembered stuff about you. Like how you hate pencils that are too sharp. Or how you hum when you draw, even if you don’t realize it. I noticed.”

You stared at him, lips slightly parted.

“I didn’t forget you,” he continued, voice quieter now, eyes fully on you. “Not once. Not ever. You never left my mind.”

The world around you blurred—the music, the laughter, the distant cheer of someone winning a drinking game—and all you could hear was your heartbeat and Caleb’s words.

“Caleb I –,” You shook your head in disbelief. “You’re drunk, we should get you back to your room.” Your hand latched onto his wrist, attempting to flee the scene of the party but his arm pulled taught; he didn’t budge.

“Caleb? Come on,” You yanked against his arm again, only to be tugged inward toward his chest. His movement was sloppy, tucking his arm to his side to bring you back in his vicinity.

“I’m being serious (Y/N),” he leaned down over you, his breath tickling your face; he reeked of alcohol.

You could feel your pulse flutter in your throat. The smell of cheap beer clung to him, the flush in his cheeks stark under the dim party lights. This wasn’t the version of him you were used to—the composed, quiet Caleb from your childhood. This one was raw, unfiltered, and very, very honest.

But drunk. Way too drunk.

“You’re not thinking straight,” you whispered, pushing gently against his chest. “Come on, let’s get you out of here.”

He didn’t fight it this time. Just let you guide him out the door, his body swaying as he leaned into you more than necessary, like your presence alone was grounding him. A couple of times, you felt his chin bump into the back of your head. He had been leaning over you, drinking in your scent as you walked him back to his dorm.

The cold night air hit hard, sobering your thoughts if not his. You kept a firm grip on his wrist as you led him across campus, trying not to focus on how his fingers crept up and subtly intertwined with yours.

By the time you reached his dorm, Caleb was quiet—too quiet. You helped him fumble with the keycard and finally shoved his dorm door open.

“Sit down,” you instructed, guiding him to the bed. “I’ll get you water.”

But the moment you turned toward the tiny dorm fridge, a hand reached out and caught your forearm.

“Why do you think I’m lying?” his words were slower now, but clear. “Why does everyone think drunk people can’t tell the truth?”

You met his gaze over your shoulder. He was sitting at the edge of the bed, one elbow on his knee, head tilted up to look at you with those sharp lilac eyes.

“It’s not about lying, Caleb,” you said softly. “It’s just… this might not be something you feel tomorrow. And I don’t want to be a mistake you regret.”

He stood then, slowly, like he was trying to keep his balance in more ways than one. “You think I wouldn’t remember wanting you?”

Your breath caught.

He gently pulled you closer to where he sat, carefully, almost reverently. His hand released your arm and crept up toward your face, brushing a stray strand of hair behind your ear. “I’ve wanted you since high school, (Y/N). Ever since we met and bonded over that stupid Pokémon game.”

You tried to laugh. Failed. Your heart caught in your throat.

“Caleb…”

“I’m not trying to push you,” he said, though the way his hand lingered against your cheek made it hard to believe – his thumb swiping gentle strokes across your skin. “But if I don’t do this now, I’m scared I’ll never do it.”

Before you could respond, his lips were on yours.

It was soft, surprisingly gentle. A question, not a demand.

His mouth tasted of that sour alcohol aftertaste and desperation, but there was something else under it: warmth, sincerity.

It would’ve been easy to give in.

But you pulled back, your heart practically pounding out of your ribcage. “Caleb, you’re drunk,” you reminded him, more to yourself than him.

His forehead leaned against yours. “I know,” he whispered. “But I’m not wrong. And I’m not a liar.”

You stood there in the quiet hum of the dorm room, the distance between you barely inches, your brain mush.

“Please, (Y/N)?” His head still tilted upward to meet your gaze, his eyes pleading; full of desperation and raw need.

“Caleb I –,” you leaned into his touch, your eyes fluttering closed for just a moment of frustration. “You’re drunk – like what if you don’t actually want this? What if you regret something?”

He cut you off, gently taking your chin between his fingers and tilting your face back to his. “(Y/N),” he paused, a beat passed as his eyes bore into yours. “If you would just believe me, and allow me, I could be fucking you on this bed right now.” His voice was low and rough with desire, his gaze never once leaving yours as he spoke.

“And if you think this is just a drunk man talking, then fuck,” He reached his other arm out to cup both your cheeks, leaning up toward you to get impossibly closer. “Id fuck you ten times harder tomorrow, and the next day, and the next day after that.” His voice was barely above a whisper, his lips grazing yours for just a second.

You swallowed hard, bottom lip twitching as you held yourself back from the urge to leap into his grasp right then and there. “Caleb,” you sighed into his grasp, your hand brushing against the back of his. You could feel your resolve practically crumbling at his gestures and sweet words. Maybe, he really did mean it?

“Are you positive?” You pulled away, your eyes pierced him with a sudden seriousness as if there was a shift in the atmosphere.

“(Y/N),” His eyes searched your face for your expression, his breathing stalled for a moment before he took a deep breath in. “I’ve never wanted anything more in my life.” Before you could get your bearings, he sat up straighter, leaning up and crashing his lips against yours. His lips were soft and plush, gently molding along yours with tenderness. Behind the sweet kiss, however, was a hunger in the way his hands slowly raked down your body. From your face, down to tracing over your shoulders and finally where his hands found purchase at the top of your hips. His fingers dug into your skin greedily, pulling you closer and between his legs that hung off the twin bed. You felt his tongue swipe across your bottom lip, his teeth sinking into your skin. You blinked in surprise, eyes quickly screwing shut and melding into his touch. Your lips parted, allowing him to slip past your teeth and into your mouth. His tongue swirled along yours and you felt him melt, a soft groan escaping from him as he furthered his motions. You inevitably pulled away to take in a breath, a thin string of saliva connecting the two of you. His hands gripped your waist tighter, pulling you firmly onto his lap - your legs straddled his hips. He exhaled sharply, pulling you down harder against him. You could practically feel his hardening length growing - pressing against your inner thigh.

“Caleb-” Your statement was cut short, feeling his hands slide up from your hips, his finger tips inching under the hem of your shirt until his hands lay flush against your skin. His eyes trailed up your body, eventually settling on yours steadily as his fingers crept higher and higher. He held the stare, his eyes filled with longing; with absolute need. 

“Please,” Caleb’s voice sounded shaky, his breathing turned ragged. His fingers stopped just beneath the wire of your bra, tracing along the curve of your breast. “Can I?” He spoke softly, almost as if you’d shatter if he raised his voice any louder. His hand had wrapped around your back, the tips of his fingers running along the clasp of the undergarment. 

When you gave him a silent nod of understanding, he wasted no time pinching at the metal clasps, unhooking each one skillfully. The piece of clothing slumped off your shoulders, settling loosely at the bottom of your waist. His hands drifted down your spine, his fingers fiddling with the back of your shirt. His thumbs hooked under your garment, beginning to push the fabric up and over your head. Once your shirt was completely off, he wasted no time tossing it somewhere across his room without a second thought. His gaze darkened, drinking in the sight of your bare chest. His eyes dragged across your skin, to your lips, back to your half-lidded eyes. 

“You’re beautiful, (Y/N).” He breathed, a hand cradling the side of your face and pulling you into another kiss. Unlike the first time, this felt different. His lips were hungry; biting and sucking at your lips as if trying to consume you on the spot. As he cradled your face close, his other hand had crept up from your hips, cupping your breast between his fingers. His index finger met his thumb, pinching and rolling your now hardened nipple. You let out a gasp, mouth slightly agape as he continued his ministrations. His lips eventually left yours, moving along your jawline and sucking softly on the skin just below your ear. He hummed against your skin, the soft peppering of kisses turned to more aggressive and needy biting, surely leaving marks of pleasure in his wake. You felt yourself turn to putty in his hands, your eyes fluttering shut. 

He seemed to be growing impatient, a guttural groan escaping his throat. His hands left you for a moment, before suddenly gripping your thighs that hugged him. You opened your mouth to comment, and found yourself mid-air before being set back down onto his mattress. 

“What are you-?” You felt Caleb shove you down onto the expanse of his bed, your back falling into the plush of his blankets. He crawled between your legs, his fingers dragging down your navel to the band of your pants. “Shut up and just… let me,” He mumbled, his hands tugging down the fabric of your bottoms hastily. He gripped your thighs roughly, spreading them as he bent himself forward, nestling his face between your legs. “I need you, (Y/N). Right fucking now.” He breathed, his breath fanning over your inner thighs. He pressed kisses along your thigh and over your clothed core, hovering just a moment longer over the wet spot that had begun to grow on your panties. You could feel him take a deep breath before his fingers hooked into the sides of the flimsy fabric, tearing it down your thighs roughly. 

“Fuck Caleb,” you exhaled, looking down at the boy nuzzled up between your now naked bottom half. His jaw was tight as he looked back up at you through his dark lashes, his hands spreading your thighs wider. He repositioned himself slightly, a visible tent in his pants making it quite obvious of his desire. He realized he had never seen you in such a position before - so vulnerable, bare, delicate. He, of course, had imagined this scenario countless times in his head but the reality of the situation was so much sweeter than he could’ve ever dreamt of. 

“(Y/N),” he breathed, inching his face closer to your arousal. His fingers danced closer to your inner thighs, tracing small patterns along the sensitive skin. “Are you…” The pad of his thumb brushed against your wet folds for just a brief moment, making you shiver. “Are you absolutely sure you want this? ‘Cause once I start,” he paused, his voice dropping into a low and husky tone. “Once I taste you, I don’t think I’ll be able to stop myself.” 

You shuddered at his words, the growing need between your thighs growing hotter with each passing moment. “Caleb, I need you.” You reached down to tangle your fingers into Caleb’s head of hair. Your words edged him on, and you felt as if a switch had flicked on inside his mind. He leaned forward without another word, pressing a soft kiss to your center before opening you up with his thumbs. He dragged his tongue up your folds, a groan eliciting out of him and rumbling against you. His tongue flicked up and down before pulling away briefly to take a breath.

“Fuck (Y/N)…” He drawled, his tongue swiping across his bottom lip and lapping up any juices that had remained on his mouth. You looked down briefly, your eyes meeting his for a second. “You taste divine,” he mumbled before diving back between your legs, his tongue beginning a reckless assault on your core. You twitched, feeling his tongue swipe over your most intimate parts. You let out a strained gasp when you felt him tease a finger over your hole. He hummed in response - you could feel his lips curve into a smile as they vibrated against your delicate skin. He pressed the pad of his index finger to your clit, rubbing small circles to the sensitive bud. “Look at my pretty girl, so wet.” He muses before dipping his finger down and into your sopping cunt. His finger pumps in and out of you with precision, as if he had known exactly what your body needed. 

“Caleb,” you let out a muffled cry, feeling yourself clench around his single digit. His lips press kisses to your pussy before his tongue finds itself attached to your clit - his lips engulfing you whole as lewd sounds of slurping filled his dorm room. 

“I love it when you say my name, baby. Say it again.” You could barely understand the sentence that left his mouth, his lips too focused on tasting you. His one hand gripped onto your thigh tightly, his nails digging into your skin, surely to leave crescent indents. His dominant hand, however, was ever so busy curling his finger into you. You felt him nudge a second finger toward your entrance, quickly adding it between pumps. He scissored and stretched out your hole, his tongue gliding down to kitten lick your walls. When he pushed his fat, wet muscle into you, you swore you could see stars. 

“Fuck Caleb-,” you swore silently. His ever-so-soft tongue slid in and out with ease, pushing itself along your insides and feasting upon you as if you were his last meal. He loved how responsive you were to his touch: he could feel every little twitch, every shiver, every moan you fought to hold back. He spread you wider with his fingers, trying to shove his tongue impossibly deeper into you. 

“You’re so sensitive, baby. You’re doing so good for me.” He said between long licks, his breath tickling your lower half as he spoke. 

Your face felt hot. As if you were drunk on the sight of Caleb. How perfectly he seemed to know your body, how well he took care of you. You would be lying to yourself if you said you’d never imagined having sex with Caleb before, but never did you imagine he would feel this good. 

You were snapped back to reality when Caleb pressed a harsh kiss to your pussy, his fingers now pumping in and out of you desperately. His lips suctioned around your clit once more, his tongue running swirls over the sensitive nub as he fingered you. 

You let out a shaky exhale, “Caleb.” You warned, feeling yourself clench around his fingers, and that familiar feeling of a coil waiting to snap was building in your stomach. 

“Yeah, baby? Are you gonna be a good girl?” His fingers did a delicious twist inside of you, making you clench your thighs around his head. You felt your body arch into his touch, wanting to feel his fingers deeper within. You panted, your hands gripping the blanket beneath you as you felt him reach knuckle deep into your walls. Your breathing became more and more ragged with each thrust of his fingers, his tongue working deep circles into your clit - it was all so much at once. You could feel him saying something, the deep vibrations from his voice shaking you to your core, but the thoughts in your head had turned off; hearing nothing but white noise as he mercilessly pumped his fingers in and out of you at a ruthless pace. 

“You’re mine, (Y/N).” He breathed, feeling your body begin to tremble under his touch. “Say it. Say you’re mine,” He urged, his tongue messily swiping along your folds.

“I’m yours, - God Caleb, please.” Your hand gripped his hair, fingers digging into his scalp desperately. Your thighs clamped around his face, your head lying backward into the pillows as you stared up at the ceiling with a half-lidded gaze. You were getting so close, and he could tell. 

“You’re taking my fingers so well baby, won’t you cum around my fingers? Please?” His pleading words are music to your ears, lulling you into your high. You feel your legs begin to violently shake; Caleb’s hand pinning your thigh down as he ate you through your climax, groaning in his own enjoyment. Eventually, after you’ve ridden out your high he tilts his head up, his chin slick with your juices. He wipes the wetness off himself with his thumb, popping his fingers into his mouth and sucking them clean. 

“Look at you, my pretty girl.” He sits himself up between your legs, his eyes traveling up your body. 

“Caleb I-,” you propped yourself up onto your elbows, your hand reaching greedily past his face and down to his belt. “I need you,” you said in a hushed tone, your chest rising and falling with each word.

A darkness filled his eyes as a smile graced his lips, the corners eagerly twitching up into a cocked smirk. “As you wish,” His fingers fiddled with the buttons of his jeans, pushing them down in one fluid motion, taking his boxers with them as well. When you looked down you saw his thick cock poke out from the confines of his pants. His hand wrapped around the root of his cock, giving himself slow pumps as his eyes met yours from above. Something had shifted in him, his expression more hungry. Animalistic. You feel him lean over you, his free hand resting beside your head and caging you in his grasp. You feel the tip of his cock press against your soaked folds, sliding up and down your slit in a slow teasing manner. 

“Caleb,” you whined, scooting yourself down toward him to try and relieve the pressure building between your legs. “Don’t,” he warned, his hand moving from himself to grip your hip, pressing you against the mattress firmly. He took his time teasing himself against you before nudging himself inside of you, bottoming out with a muffled groan. You inhaled sharply, feeling him stretch you out all at once.

“Fuck (Y/N), you feel so good,” He panted above you, both his arms now pressed against the mattress on either side of you. He stilled for a moment, letting you adjust to his size. His body betrayed him, as he felt his hips begin to move on their own. He pulled back slightly before snapping his hips forward, the loud sound of skin on skin rang out in the air. You let out a surprised yelp, feeling him re-enter your swollen tunnel. You pressed a hand over your mouth, trying to contain the noises that threatened to spill from your lips. 

“Oh no no no,” Caleb’s hand wrapped around yours, pulling your hand off your face and pressing it above your head. “I wanna hear you say my name. Over and over and over again.” He rolled his hips into you, leaning his head down to press a kiss to your jaw. His lips parted, beginning to suck on the tender skin. 

“Caleb, fuck-.” You breathed heavily, exhaling as he pleased you in all the right places.

“That's it, baby, say it again.” He urges you, his hips rolling into yours faster, picking up his pace. He began pistoning in and out of you, small pants and moans as his hips smacked into yours. You reached up around his neck, pulling him back into you for a fervent kiss. Your lips melded together, tongues roaming into each other's mouths as he pounded into you. Your nails clawed into him as he rammed into you, hitting that sweet spot over and over again. You felt his pace become faster and more erratic the more you clenched around his length. He knew you were getting close. He broke the kiss for a second, his head dropping down in earshot.

“You’re being such a good girl (Y/N),” he exhaled, his breath hot and tickling against the shell of your ear. “Tell me, who do you belong to?” His thrusts slowed into a tantalizing pace, the force behind each motion growing. 

You gripped the sheets beneath you, whining as he slowly ruined you. “You, Caleb,” you paused, a choked noise escaping your throat as he bottomed out in you. “Caleb I’m yours- Fuck,” you moaned, your lower half arching into his cock. 

“Yeah?” Caleb picked up his pace slightly, his hand reaching down to caress your face. He cupped your cheek before his fingertips trailed down to the valley between your breasts. “Should I fill you up with my seed? Make you full with my kids?” His hips began mercilessly slamming into you, both your moans drowned out by the overwhelming sound of skin on skin. His brows furrowed as he threw his head back, feeling you engulf him completely. His hands both found your waist, gripping onto your soft flesh for stability as he chased his high. The more you clenched around him, approaching your own climax, the faster his hips snapped into yours. 

“Caleb I’m gonna-,” Your voice cracked, the coil snapping in your stomach as you came hard around his cock.

“Fuck (Y/N), I’m gonna- fill you up so good. Gonna make you pregnant with my children.” His thrusts became sloppy and desperate, his body tensing as you gripped him impossibly tighter. With a final thrust, he came undone, spilling his fluids inside of you; pumping you full of himself. You could feel his cock twitch with every rope of cum he shot inside of you, you’d never felt so full before. He was breathless for a moment, his eyes bore into yours with a deep flash of desire and something more primal, more possessive. When he eventually separated himself from you, he let out a small exhale of satisfaction. You twitched at his exit, feeling his fluid begin to leak out of your sensitive hole. 

“Don’t let it go to waste now, hm?” Calebs fingers ghosted along your folds, swiping up any escaping cum and stuffing it back into your pussy. You shuddered and let out a soft whine, feeling his fingers penetrate you briefly. “So sensitive,” he mused, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “Are you okay, pipsqueak?” His hand moved up to settle on your thigh, pulling you close to him.

“Yeah, I’m okay,” you reached up to cup his face in your hands, pressing a peck to his lips.

“Let me go grab you some water, alright? Just give me a second.” He slowly sat up and out of bed, reaching over you to pull his bed cover over your bare body. He fussed with your hair like he always did, and grabbed his pants from the foot of the bed. Once he was fully dressed and made presentable, he grabbed his water bottle off his desk and headed outside his dorm. He paused in the door frame, leaving it open a crack. “It’s right down the hall, I won’t be long.” He gave you a soft smile before disappearing down the hallway, his door slowly closing shut with a soft click.

Hello everyone im back xd !! After years of taking a break of writing I have found a love for LADS,, I initially wrote this fic for a friend but thought I'd post so others may indulge <3 hope you enjoy

[robinminustherichard]

Happy Bucktommy Positivity Bingo Week! For my "Buck Leaves the 118" Bingo Square

"Uh, h-hi I'm your new transfer. I'm looking for Captain De-"

"Buckley! My office!"

Buck gulps in a way he hopes wasn't completely audible and sends a tight smile in thanks to the firefighter he didn't quite get to talk to before making his way down the hallway of the 122 station toward Captain DeLuca's office. He steels himself with a deep breath before hitching his duffle higher on his shoulder and walking in.

"Captin DeLuca, it's good to be here. And, and good to meet you." Buck stutters out, feeling his face grow red.

DeLuca is stocky and serious where he sits behind his desk--its at odds with the explosion of hand drawn crayon pictures pinned to the cork board behind him.

"Buckley, Evan. Thirty-four, been at the 118 since finishing the academy, a bit of a hot head, danger magnet..." Captain DeLuca trails off then, observing Buck. Buck tries not to let the dread in his stomach physically pull him down in his seat. So much for making a good impression--"and coming to the 122 with glowing reviews from three of the best damn firefighters I know."

That gets Buck to look up from where his gaze was slowly dropping to the desk, meeting DeLuca's eyes in surprise.

"I-what?" Buck says intelligently, cringing in his mind at his own inability to come across even a bit confident.

"Anyone ever tell you that I started at the 118? Chim says you've got the most heart he's ever seen, and that the only reason he's letting you go is because he can't stand to see it keep bleeding everywhere. Hen tells me that you're gonna be a hell of a Captain someday--leaving us all in the dust."

Buck feels his eyes stinging, not quite knowing what to do with all of this, feeling just as overwhelmed as he did when he walked out of the 118 five days ago with a voice horse from arguing with the very people who seemed to have talked so positively about him to his new captain.

"A-and the third?" Buck asks, not sure who else would have known both Captain DeLuca and Buck well enough to supply another glowing reccomendation. Lucy, maybe?

Captian DeLuca smirks and looks up at the wall to the left of his desk. Buck follows his line of sight and feels a throb of complicated emotion pulse through him. There's a picture there, of Captain DeLuca--much younger but still clearly him, with an arm around a hauntingly familiar man.

"The third is, in my personal opinion, an idiot on many fronts. But I believe him when he says you're all courage, integrity, and helping people through and through."

"I don't--"

"Yeah, he didn't actually want me to tell you that he gushed about how 'amazingly competent' you are for seventeen minutes straight. And you know, how could I break my best friend's trust like that? Even when I think he made a hell of a mistake and just needs to stop being a damn chicken and talk to this supposedly fantastic firefighter who had put in for a transfer and that I needed to fist fight Mehta for?"

Buck is stunned, eyes still catching on Tommy's younger face in the picture, they way his smile looks genuine under his gelled down curls.

"You didn't actually fist fight Captain Mehta did you?" Is all Buck can say, stupidly, "I mean--no I didn't mean that. Um. I mean, thank you. For this opportunity, Captain DeLuca."

"I metaphorically fought Mehta, but don't you worry about that. Let's get you introduced to the crew first, and after shift's over we can hit the sandwhich shop across the street and plan out how we'll corner Tommy."

Captain DeLuca gets up then, a whirlwind of words and motion that Buck is hopelessly trying to comprehend. He walks out the door at a brisk pace and Buck's eyes travel back to that picture.

"Buckley! Let's go!"

Buck scrambles to follow, heart beating fast and grin cracking across his lips.

Fic tag list (reply to this post or DM to be added!)

@bucksaiga

@loulou-land

@lbltpsmspenguin

@connected-dots

[runningincircl3s]

Untitled Bestfriend!Noah x Reader Series

Part 1 (title coming soon btw! i'm still thinking!)

okay i've finally decided i will be posting this, so it's time to release this from my drafts... remember when i asked about a bestfriend!noah x reader series... well here's the first part!! i don't know exactly when i'll be writing and posting for this story, so there'll be new parts when i feel like it i guess haha

also i added this series onto my taglist if you want to be tagged in future posts :)

warnings: NSFW!! loss of virginity, READER IS 18+, experienced noah x unexperienced reader, p in v sex, fingering (f receiving), unprotected sex (don't do that!), is that it??

You and Noah. Noah and You. Inseparable since you met, where there was one the other wouldn’t be far. You did everything together, there was no one in the world you cared about and trusted more than your best friend Noah. You loved him in a way that was more than just friendship, even more than just romantic, you had the kind of bond with him that people could only dream about. You were his soulmate, and he was yours, but to keep it simple, you just called yourselves best friends.

You had your own friend groups though, you had your group- Sophia, Beth, Miley and Emily. Noah had his- Nick (Ruffilo), Nick (Folio), Matt and Jolly. Your friends had very little to do with Noah and the guys, but the guys all saw you as their little sister, always looking out for you, always protective over you- besides Folio who saw you as his twin, and sharing a birthday may have had something to do with that. 

Noah was experienced in every way you weren’t, he had to be. Coming from a complicated background, he knew he had only himself from a young age, until you came along. Your family loved him, he was invited to every family event, every wedding, birthday, every party. Your family would always joke, asking if they would be expecting your boyfriend to come with you, and you would always hit them with the “he’s just my friend!” because he was… right? He got his first job young, saving money for road trips with you once he learned to drive and buying you gifts whenever he would see something that reminded him of you. He moved in with his friends, Ruffilo and Matt, as soon as he could, and you were always welcome at his place whenever you wanted, whether you needed to get away from home for a while or whether you just wanted to see him, you were always welcome to hang out.  

However, there were also other ways he was more experienced than you, more than just life in general. He had a reputation for being a little bit of a man whore, for lack of a better word. Despite never having had a long-term girlfriend, you’d always heard whispers and rumours about him. The girls at school would talk about him, about his hookups, about how good he was in bed. You never asked, and he never brought it up, but you’d caught the knowing smirks, the way girls would giggle when he walked by. Yet those girls would never know you were his first kiss, when the two of you were younger and watched a movie, cringing at how a husband and wife kissed. You had asked if he had ever kissed someone before, and to your surprise he said no. You hadn’t either, so you were both curious, and ended up kissing each other, before groaning at how disgusting it was. You had no idea how your best friend Noah Sebastian, who once said he’d never kiss again, had built this kind of reputation. 

However, it never bothered you that you were lacking that kind of experience, not until your friends began talking about sex. Sophia was the first to lose her virginity to her long term boyfriend, Miley next with her vacation fling, then Emily with a drunken hookup at a party. This left you and Beth, or at least until Beth sent a random message to your group chat one night, starting with “you’ll never guess what just happened", but she never said who she lost it to.

This left you feeling a little left out. You wanted to do it, and not just because they had. You wanted to know how it felt, if it was really as good as people say. The only issue was that you’ve never had a boyfriend, or any partner, not really. You’d get involved with guys, and you’d really like them until they said how they didn’t like how close you were with Noah. 

But you didn’t blame them. 

Because right now, you and Noah were sprawled out on his couch, your legs resting in his lap. He had noticed there’s been something on your mind all day, all week even, because he can always tell. You were quieter, not laughing when he made a funny comment. And right now, you were chewing on your lip, staring at the TV screen but not quite watching the movie. 

Noah shifted beneath you, letting out a dramatic sigh before tapping his fingers against your shin. 

“Alright, spit it out,” he said, not even looking at you. “You’ve been chewing on your lip so hard I’m surprised it's still there.”

You blinked, snapping out of your thoughts. 

“Huh?”

“Whatever’s been on your mind all night. You suck at hiding things from me, you know that.” He finally turned to look at you, brows raised. “So, what’s up? You flunk a test? Accidentally shoplifted again? New crush?… Had your first wet dream or something?”

Your face immediately burned, and you kicked at his thigh. 

“No, you freak!”

Noah just grinned, clearly pleased with himself for getting a reaction out of you. 

“Then what? You’re acting all… I don’t know… Weird?”

You hesitated. Your eyes flickered back to the TV, even though you weren’t watching it. The words were sitting right there on the tip of your tongue, but you couldn’t push them out.

Noah nudged you again. 

“C’mon, just tell me... It’s me.” He said, his voice softer.

That was the thing. It was him. Your best friend. The one person who never judged you for anything, ever. The one person you trusted with your life. If you couldn’t tell him, then who could you tell?

You swallowed, suddenly feeling a little ridiculous. 

“Everyone has done it except me.” You muttered, your voice small as you picked at a loose thread on your sweater.

Noah blinked. 

“Huh?”

You groaned, covering your face with your hands. 

“God, don’t make me say it, Noah.”

A beat of silence. Then, his voice dropped lower, amused but curious. 

“…Ohh...”

You peeked at him between your fingers, and you watched a slow smirk spread across his face. 

“You’re talking about sex.” He nodded.

You groaned again, your face burning up.

“Shut up.”

Noah laughed, leaning his head back against the couch. 

“Y'know I was only joking about the wet dream thing, but wow, okay. So, let me guess… Your friends won’t shut up about it, and now you’re all stressed because you’re still a virgin?”

You sighed, letting your hands fall into your lap. 

“Kind of. I don’t know. I mean, yeah, they talk about it a lot now... And it’s not like I wanna do it just because they have.” You hesitated, then shrugged. “But I have been thinking about it for a while, and I do wanna do it, I want to know what it's like...”

Noah hummed, tilting his head. He wasn’t teasing anymore. He was watching you carefully, taking in the way you were fiddling with the hem of your sleeve. Then, after a pause…

“You got someone in mind?”

You froze, feeling your stomach flip.

This was the part where you were supposed to laugh it off. This was the part where you should’ve said something like “yeah, Oli Sykes���, or simply “no, not really.”

But you didn’t.

Because you did have someone in mind, and he was sitting right next to you.

You hesitated for a second too long, and Noah caught it. His smirk deepened, eyes narrowing slightly. 

“Ohh, so there is someone?”

You huffed, shifting against the couch. 

“Maybe.”

Noah grinned, slinging an arm over the back of the couch. 

“Lemme guess…” He pretended to think, then snapped his fingers. “Folio?”

Your head snapped toward him. 

“What?!”

“I mean, it makes sense,” he said with a shrug, like it was obvious. “You guys always have this kinda tension-”

“We do not!” You gawked at him. 

Noah just laughed, shoving your legs off of him. 

“Relax, I’m just messing with you.”

You scowled. 

“You’re an idiot.”

“Yeah, but I’m your idiot,” he shot back, grinning. Then, as if it was an afterthought, he added, “Folio knows what he's doing though, he already popped someone’s cherry.” 

“What?! Who?!”

Noah gave you a look. 

“Don’t tell me you didn’t know.”

“Didn’t know what?”

He blinked. Then, like he’d just realised,

“Oh... Fuck.”

Your stomach twisted. 

“Noah.”

He winced, running a hand through his hair. 

“Shit. Well. Uh…”

“Noah. Who?”

He groaned. 

“Look, I wasn’t supposed to say anything, so just… don’t be weird about it, okay?” He sighed, then muttered, “Beth.”

Your jaw nearly hit the floor. 

“Beth?!”

“Shhh!” Noah reached over and clamped a hand over your mouth as if she would hear you, glaring at you. “Jesus, this stays between us, unless you want her to murder me?”

You shoved his hand away, still reeling. 

“Beth… and Folio?”

Noah rolled his eyes. 

“Yes. Apparently. I found out a few days ago, and he made me swear not to tell anyone because they need to talk about it first or something...” He gave you a pointed look. “So if you tell your little girl gang, I’m dead. You hear me? Dead!"

You barely heard him. You were still processing the fact that Beth, the same Beth who used to pretend to gag at the mention of Folio’s name, had slept with him? No wonder she’d been weird about it all.

Noah watched your face closely, then smirked. 

“So, I guess that means Folio’s off the table for you anyway, huh?”

You rolled your eyes. 

“He was never on the table, Noah.”

“Uh-huh,” he said, unconvinced. “So, who is it then?”

Your breath hitched.

This was it. 

The moment of truth.

Your pulse pounded in your ears as you forced yourself to meet his gaze. 

His teasing expression softened slightly, like he could tell you were about to say something important.

You swallowed hard.

“I was wondering, what if it was… You?” Your voice was barely above a whisper. 

Noah blinked.

Then, after a beat,

“Huh?”

Your face burned. You looked away, gripping the hem of your sweater. 

“I mean, there's nobody I trust more, nobody I'd feel safer with…I want you to be my first.”

Silence.

Your heart nearly pounded out of your chest.

Then all he said to that was,

“…Oh.”

You’d fucked it. Your entire life. You had ruined the one friendship you never wanted to throw away. He was going to hate you forever. This was it. 

However, Noah just blinked, still processing your words. Then, his lips curled into a smirk.

“Me?” he repeated, his voice dripping with amusement.

Your face burned hotter. 

“Forget it,” you muttered, moving to sit up. “It was stupid.”

But before you could escape, his hand shot out, catching your wrist. 

“Whoa, whoa, whoa.” His grip was firm but gentle, like he didn’t want you running away just yet. “You want me to take your virginity? You want me to… have sex with you?”

You swallowed hard, refusing to meet his eyes. 

“…Maybe.”

Noah let out a low chuckle. 

“Damn. Never thought I’d hear that one.” He leaned in slightly, voice dropping to a teasing murmur. “What, you finally realised I am the hottest guy you know?”

You groaned, even though you were glad he wasn’t being weird about it like you feared he would be. 

“Noah-“

“Or…” He cut you off, eyes glinting with mischief. “Have you just been thinking about how good I’d be at it? You heard the stories, huh?”

Your breath caught in your throat.

That smug look deepened. 

“Ohhh, that’s it, isn’t it?”

“Shut up.” You shoved his shoulder. 

He laughed, easily taking the hit. 

“Hey, I get it. You don’t wanna waste it on some idiot who doesn’t know what he’s doing, someone who won’t treat you right.” He leaned back, stretching his arms over the couch. “Smart girl, you gotta raise your standards somehow.”

You frowned. 

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means, if I do this, you’re never gonna be able to settle for some mediocre guy after me.” Noah grinned. 

“You tell all your hookups that?”

Noah snorted, before looking at you a little more seriously. 

“If this is really what you want, I’ll do it. I just don’t want you to… I dunno…”

“Feel weird about it?”

“Yeah,” he swallowed, “It doesn’t have to change anything between us, okay? If you don’t want it to.”

“I don’t.” You shook your head, “I trust you, Noah, I know you’ll take care of me, I know I’ll feel safe, and if I want to stop I know you will.” 

Noah felt his heart flutter at your words, his hand resting on your thigh. 

“You don’t know what that means to me, sweetheart.” 

That damn pet name, the one he would randomly throw out, the one that would make your heart skip a beat. 

“So… When do you want to do it?” He asked, a playful glint in his eye before he continued, “Cause y’know, I’m quite a busy guy-”

“Oh, yes, because I’m just going to book an appointment to have sex with my best friend.” You scoffed, rolling your eyes. You were so glad he wasn’t making this feel too serious or too daunting, “I’m not doing anything now? Or later tonight?”

“I was gonna go to Jesse’s party,” Noah said, “But this sounds much better.”

You felt yourself blush. 

“You gonna tell Jesse you’re busy?”

“Nah, he’ll forget about me by the time he’s had a couple beers.” He smirked, standing up and reaching a hand out to you, “We don’t have to do it right now, but-”

“I want to.” You swallowed, worried you sound too eager, “If you do too?" 

He smiled. 

“Of course, c’mon.” 

Your fingers slid into his, warm and solid, and he tugged you up effortlessly. Your heart was pounding as he led you toward his bedroom, every step making the reality of the situation sink in.

You were really doing this.

With Noah.

Your best friend.

You weren’t sure what you expected to feel when you walked into his room, but it was so normal. The bed was unmade, his hoodie was draped over the chair, and there was an empty water bottle on the nightstand. It was the same place you’d hung out a million times before, except this time, you weren’t just here for a movie night, or to listen to his demos for his new band, Bad Omens.

Noah turned to face you, his expression soft. 

"You okay?"

You nodded, but he didn’t seem convinced.

"You can back out," he said gently. "Doesn’t have to happen tonight."

You swallowed hard. 

"I know."

Noah studied you for a moment longer before stepping closer, reaching up to brush his fingers over your cheek. His touch was soft, much softer than you expected. 

"You still want this?"

"Yeah… I do."

His smirk returned, but there was something different about it now. Something almost possessive as he looked in your eyes. 

"Good," he murmured. "Because I want it too."

He shut the door, making sure to lock it just in case, and his eyes softened as he looked at you standing in the middle of his room, looking a little anxious. 

"Nervous?" He asked

You swallowed, shifting from foot to foot. 

"A little."

"That’s normal, you don’t know what to expect." He smiled, before gesturing to the bed. "Come here."

You obeyed, sitting on the edge, hands placed in your lap. Noah crouched in front of you, hands braced on your thighs, not to push, not to rush, just grounding you.

"You will tell me if you wanna stop at all, yeah? If anything doesn't feel good?"

You nodded, but he raised an eyebrow. 

"Say it."

"I’ll tell you if I wanna stop."

Noah gave a satisfied nod. 

"Good girl."

A shiver ran through you, but before you could dwell on it, he squeezed your knees. 

"Alright, sweetheart, let’s get you comfy."

He stood, peeling his hoodie off over his head, leaving him in just a t-shirt and sweats. It wasn’t a show, just something casual, but your mouth still went dry.

"Your turn.” He prompted, nodding toward you.

Your fingers fumbled at the hem of your sweater. It felt different like this, being undressed for someone. You hesitated, and Noah caught on immediately.

"Here," he murmured, nudging your hands away. "Let me."

His fingers were steady as he pushed your sweater up, slow and careful. 

"Arms up, baby."

Your heart skipped a beat at the name, but you obeyed, letting him tug it off and toss it aside. The cool air prickled against your skin, but it was nothing compared to the heat in his gaze as he looked you over, watching as you slowly took off your bra, tossing it down with your sweater and his hoodie.

"Damn.” He muttered under his breath.

Your stomach twisted. 

"What?"

His lips quirked up slihgtly. 

"Nothing. Just… you’re pretty."

Your face burned, and you looked away, but Noah wasn’t having it. His fingers brushed your jaw, tilting your chin up. 

"Don’t get shy on me now, we both know this isn’t the first time I’ve seen you naked."

You swallowed hard, but you nodded. He was right. You and Noah had no shame, you could and would get changed in front of each other and it was never weird, sometimes you’d even go into the bathroom and sit with each other when you were in the bath or shower, just to talk about day. You knew he’d never look at you in a way that would make you feel uncomfortable, and he knew the same about you. The bond you had was truly unbreakable, so you were hoping you weren’t making a mistake here tonight.

"Okay. Lay back for me, sweetheart." Noah said softly. 

You did as he asked, heart hammering against your ribs as you stretched out on, laying back his bed. The sheets smelled like him, clean, familiar and safe. There was nowhere else you could ever imagine this happening.

Noah climbed in next to you, leaning on one arm while his other hand trailed lightly over your stomach. 

"We’ll go slow, alright? Let’s start easy."

And then, his fingers traced lower.

“No one else has ever touched you like this before?” He asked, although he was certain he knew the answer.

“No.” You shook your head. 

“What about… You?” His voice was lower this time, and his fingers moved slowly down, like he had all the time in the world, before they brushed the waistband of your shorts. "Have you ever touched yourself?"

“I’ve tried.” You swallowed, “But I’ve never…” 

“Never came?”

You shook your head, feeling your cheeks heat up again.

“Oh, angel,” he pouted, “Should’ve told me sooner.” 

He hooked his fingers into the waistband of your shorts, giving you a look to ask for permission, and once you nodded he slowly slid them down your legs, leaving you in just your panties.

“You still sure about this?”

“Yes, you idiot.” You smirked, fighting back the nerves swirling in your tummy. 

“Okay, good.” He smiled, searching your face for a moment before slowly leaning down, capturing your lips with his. 

You expected it to feel weird, kissing him, but it didn’t. Nothing had ever felt so right. 

His kisses began at your lips as he pawed at your chest, his thumb rolling over your nipple, but then they trailed down, past your jaw, your neck, your collarbone, between your breasts, your stomach…

Until he reached where you were now aching for release, for him. 

He kissed over your hip, your upper thighs, but then he stopped, his fingers tracing the edge of your panties as he kneeled between your thighs.

“You’ve seriously never came before?”

“No.” You swallowed, trying to steady your breathing as his thumb brushed down against the damp fabric. 

“Mmm, we’ll change that, sweetheart. I promise.” 

Your breath hitched as his thumb pressed down a little harder, rubbing up and down over your clothed clit. His head rested on your thigh, looking up at you with a lazy smile, as if he could spend the rest of his life like this. 

“Already so wet for me…”

“Noah…” You whined, your hands covering your face after a small whimper escaped your lips. 

“Hey, don’t get shy now,” he reached for your arms, moving your hands away from your face, “You wanted this, right… Unless you want me to stop-”

“No.” You said, leaving no room for hesitation. 

He smirked, his thumb still rubbing over your clit, in slow, lazy circles. A soft gasp left your lips, your thighs tensing.

"There we go," he murmured, watching you closely. "Feels good, doesn’t it?"

You nodded quickly, biting your lip.

Noah hummed in approval. 

"Why don't we make it even better."

With that, he hooked his fingers under the waistband of your underwear and tugged them down, leaving you completely bare beneath him. He had seen you before, but never up this close. His gaze flickered over you, dark and unreadable, before he leaned down, pressing a kiss to your hip.

"Relax for me," he murmured against your skin. "Just let me take care of you, okay?"

His fingers found you again, and this time, there was nothing in the way. For a moment he just looked at you, parting your folds with his fingers, feeling his heart race as he let his thumb ghost over your clit, watching you shiver. He'd be lying if he said he had never thought about this before.

"You’re so soft, baby," he murmured, his voice thick. "And so wet. I barely have to do anything, and you’re already falling apart for me."

Your breath came in short, uneven gasps as he moved, one finger sliding through your slick folds, testing and teasing. Your hips jerked involuntarily, seeking more, and he chuckled softly.

"Easy, sweetheart." His thumb found your clit again, rubbing in slow, lazy circles. "See? That feels good, huh?"

"Y-yeah…"

"You ever touch yourself like this?"

You shook your head, unable to form words. Every time you had touched yourself, it had never felt this good. Nothing has ever felt this good.

His smirk deepened. 

"No wonder you never finished. You weren’t doing it right."

You wanted to argue, but the way his fingers were moving, so sure and precise, like he knew exactly what to do, made it impossible to do anything except moan softly.

"Listen to you," he murmured, voice dripping with satisfaction. "So needy. Never heard you make those pretty sounds before."

Your face burned. 

"Noah-"

"Shh, just let me hear you, sweetheart."

And then, before you could process it, he slowly slipped a long finger inside you.

Your breath caught, thighs attempting to squeeze shut around his hand. 

"Oh-"

"There you go,"* he soothed, pressing a kiss to your lower stomach. "Nice and slow, just like that… Feel good?"

You nodded, biting down on your lip. 

He moved carefully, giving you time to adjust, his thumb still working soft, teasing circles over your clit. The mix of sensations already had your toes curling, your back arching off the bed.

"Ohh good girl," he praised, his voice dropping into something lower, something almost possessive, you never thought you’d ever have the chance to see this side of your best friend. "You’re taking me so well."

A whimper slipped from your lips, and Noah groaned softly. 

"Fuck, baby, you’re already squeezing me so tight…"

He added another finger, stretching you just a little more, and your whole body tensed.

"You okay?"

You nodded quickly. 

"Y-yeah, just-"

"Different?" He finished for you.

"Yeah."

"Mmm. You’re doing so good for me." He pressed another soft kiss to your stomach, his fingers never stopping. "Just let go, sweetheart. I’ve got you."

And then, if it couldn’t get any better, he curled his fingers just right, hitting a spot that had you gasping, gripping his other wrist like it was the only thing keeping you grounded.

“Oh my…” Your head was spinning, you felt like you were just going to float away if you let go of his hand. 

"That’s it,"* he murmured, his voice rougher now. "Fuck, you feel soo good…"

It was too much, too good, your stomach tightening, your breath coming in quick, desperate gasps.

"Noah, I-"

"I know, baby. Give in to it, let yourself go… Cum for me…"

His thumb pressed down just a little harder, his fingers curling at the same time, and that it was it.

You let out a loud, almost pornographic moan as the pleasure crashed over you, your whole body trembling.

Noah kept moving, slower now as he worked you through your first ever orgasm, his voice soft and soothing. 

"Yeah… That’s my girl. So fucking pretty when you cum for me."

You barely registered when he pulled his fingers away, your body still trembling in the aftershocks.

When you finally opened your eyes, he was staring down at you, his pupils blown, his lips parted slightly.

"See?" he murmured, bringing his slick fingers to his lips and sucking them clean, moaning as his gaze locked onto yours. "Told you it'd feel good."

You couldn’t believe what had just happend, or how amazing that had just felt. 

But you knew one thing for sure. You’d be chasing that feeling for the rest of your life. 

“That was…” You attempted to speak, but you were still catching your breath. 

“Good, huh? Still wanna go further?” He asked, and as he stood up from the bed your saw how tight his jeans had gotten. 

You swallowed hard, nodding your head. 

“Yes, Noah… Please…”

He let out a low breath, shaking his head with a smirk. 

"Look at you," he murmured. "So needy now, huh?"

You felt your face heat up, but you didn’t look away. You were past the point of shyness now. You wanted this. You wanted him.

Noah reached down, fingers working to undo his belt, the clinking sound sending a fresh wave of anticipation through you. 

"Still sure about this, sweetheart?" he asked, his voice softer now. "You know we don’t have to-"

"No! I want to." You interrupted, surprising even yourself with how sure you sounded.

He studied you for a second, then nodded, undoing his jeans and pushing them down along with his boxers.

Your breath hitched as he kicked them aside and climbed back onto the bed, settling between your legs.

Oh, the rumours were true. 

Becuase fuck. 

He was big.

Your reaction didn’t go unnoticed. 

"We’ll go slow," he assured you, running a hand up your thigh. "I promise."

He leaned down, pressing a lingering kiss to your lips, his bare skin warm against yours. You melted into him, fingers threading through his hair, pulling him closer.

“Can I touch you first?” You asked against his lips, and you felt his smirk, his cock twitching against your leg.

"You wanna touch me, sweetheart?" His voice was lower now, rougher, as he pulled away a little. 

You nodded your head

Noah let out a low chuckle, shaking his head slightly. 

"Fuck.. yeah, of course you can."

He moved, the two of you swapping positions. He was now half sat half laying on the bed, with you now kneeling between his legs. As you moved, he took off his shirt, revealing all those tattoos you’d catch yourself staring at, and it never went unnoticed by him.

You brought yourself back to reality, noticing his hard cock standing thick and heavy between his legs. You swallowed hard, your heart hammering as you reached out, your fingers wrapping around him hesitantly as your other hand held his thigh. 

He sucked in a sharp breath, his head tilting back slightly. 

"Oh… Jesus..."

You felt the weight of him in your hand, the warmth, the way he twitched under your touch. You ran your fingers over the length of him, testing, exploring, before stroking him slowly.

"Fuck, that’s it," he groaned, his hips twitching. "Mmm yeah… You’re a natural, baby."*

The praise made heat pool between your legs again. Emboldened, you tightened your grip slightly, stroking him with more confidence, watching the way his muscles tensed.

His jaw clenched, his breath coming in heavier now. 

"You keep that up, sweetheart, and I’m not gonna last long…"

You looked up at him, eyes wide and curious. 

"Is that bad?"

He let out a strained laugh, his hand moving to cup your face. 

"Not bad, just… fuck, I wanna be inside you so bad."

Your stomach flipped at his words, and you swallowed hard before releasing him, your voice barely above a whisper. 

"I want that too…”

"Yeah?" His dark eyes locked onto yours. 

You nodded. 

"Yeah."

A muscle in his jaw twitched as he exhaled slowly, like he was holding onto the last thread of his control. 

"Alright…"

He guided you back against the pillows, his lips brushing yours, his voice a soft murmur against your mouth. 

"Just relax for me, baby. Let me make you feel good."

He reached down between you, running the tip of his cock through your slick folds, teasing you as it nudged your still sensitive clit. 

“Is it gonna hurt?” You asked, your eyes meeting his again. 

He hesitated for a moment, he wanted so badly to say no, but he knew there may be some discomfort on your end.

“It’s your first time, so there’ll be a little stretch… It might be uncomfortable, but if it does hurt and you want to stop, tell me. Okay?”

You swallowed, nodding. 

"Yeah…"

Noah took his time, his gaze locked onto yours as he slowly began pushing inside. The stretch was unlike anything you’d ever felt before, it had you gasping, fingers tightening in his hair.

"Fuck," he groaned, voice strained. "You’re so fucking tight…"

He paused, giving you time to adjust, his lips trailing soft kisses along your jaw. 

"Talk to me, baby. You okay?"

You took a shaky breath, nodding. 

"Y-yeah… just feels… different."

He chuckled against your skin. 

"I know. Just breathe, sweetheart, I don’t want to hurt you..."

Slowly, he pushed in deeper, inch by inch, until he was buried to the hilt, fully inside you. A deep groan rumbled in his chest as he stilled, letting you adjust to his size.

"So fucking perfect," he muttered, pressing his forehead against yours as he cupped your cheek in his hand. "You feel so, so good, baby…"

You whimpered, shifting slightly, making your walls squeeze around him, and the movement made him suck in a sharp breath. 

"Fuck, don’t do that unless you want me to lose it." He warned.

You giggled breathlessly, but the sound melted into a soft moan as he rocked his hips, just barely, just enough to send sparks of pleasure through you. 

It felt good. So fucking good. 

"That’s it," he murmured, his voice like honey. "I’ve got you, sweetheart…"

He kept his pace slow at first, his movements deep and unhurried, like he wanted to savour every second, like he wanted you to feel just how much he wanted you. His hands roamed your body, fingers tracing delicate patterns over your skin, his lips pressing soft, lingering kisses along your jaw, your neck, your collarbone.

"You’re so beautiful," he murmured, his voice thick with something deeper than lust. "Feel so fucking good…"

His touch was reverent, every movement careful, every thrust making your breath hitch, making your body arch into his. He held you close, your bodies pressed together so tightly it was impossible to tell where you ended and he began.

You sighed his name, your fingers sliding into his hair, nails scratching lightly against his scalp, making him groan softly against your skin. The way he moved, the way he filled you so completely, it was overwhelming in the best way, and it felt so right. 

"Noah…"

He lifted his head, his hair falling over his face, his dark eyes locking onto yours, and the look he gave you nearly stole your breath away. Pure adoration, mixed with hunger.

"Yeah?"

"More…" Your voice was barely above a whisper, but he heard you.

Something in him snapped. He reached forward, grabbing a spare pillow and placing it beneath your hips before his grip on your waist tightened, his slow, measured thrusts turning rougher, deeper, hitting that perfect spot inside you that had your whole body trembling, all whilst his hand pushed down, applying pressure on your lower tummy.

"Oh… fuck…" You gasped, clinging to him, your legs wrapping around his waist, feeling yourself unravel beneth him.

"That’s it," he groaned, his jaw clenched, his breath ragged. "You feel that? You’re taking me so fucking well, baby…"

You were a mess beneath him now, your body writhing, desperate for more, needing to cum, needing him to push you over the edge.

"I know, baby, I know…" His voice was strained, his pace faltering as he felt you tightening around him, a sign you were close. "I’m right there with you…"

His thumb found your clit again, circling it just right, and that was it. The coil in your stomach snapped, pleasure crashing over you so hard it had you sobbing his name.

Noah groaned deeply, burying his face against your neck as he followed right after you, his whole body tensing, his grip on you tightening as he spilled inside you. He knew it was safe, he knew you were on the pill, and he always used protection with everyone else, but he knew he wanted to feel you. 

For a long moment, neither of you moved, your heavy breathing the only sound in the room. Then, slowly, he pulled out, making you whimper at the loss of contact. He pressed a lingering kiss to your temple before rolling onto his side and pulling you into his arms.

You curled into him, still catching your breath, your face tucked against his chest as his fingers traced lazy circles over your bare back.

"You okay? That wasn’t too much, was it?" He murmured, his voice softer now, still laced with the remnants of pleasure.

You shook your head sleepily, a small, blissful smile tugging at your lips. 

"Mmm it was amazing… never felt better…"

He chuckled, pressing a kiss to your forehead. 

"Good… Y’know, I could stay like this forever."

And as you lay there in the quiet, tangled up in each other, you thought… maybe, just maybe, you could too.

Noah let you rest for a few moments, his arms wrapped securely around you, fingers still tracing slow, lazy circles over your back. But then, he shifted, pressing another kiss to your forehead before pulling back slightly.

"C’mon, sweetheart," he murmured, his voice soft but insistent. "We gotta get you up."

You groaned in protest, burrowing deeper against his chest. 

"Nooo, too comfy…"

He chuckled, giving your hip a gentle squeeze. 

"I know, baby, but we need to clean you up, and you need to pee."

Your brows furrowed as you tilted your head back to look at him. 

"Pee?"

"Mhm," he nodded, sitting up and tugging you with him. "It’s important, don’t want you getting a uti."

You blinked at him sleepily, still too blissed out to fully process what he was saying, but you let him pull you to your feet anyway. Your legs wobbled slightly, and Noah steadied you with a smirk.

"Shit, you good?"

"Mmm…" You hummed, leaning against him. "Just… a little sore."

"Yeah? Guess I did a good job then." He smirked. 

You swatted weakly at his chest, and he laughed, guiding you toward the bathroom.

Once inside, he sat you down on the toilet, crouching in front of you as he brushed some hair from your face. 

"Go ahead, baby. We’ll get you cleaned up after."

You felt your face heat up, but when you hesitated, he gave you a reassuring look. 

"It’s just me, sweetheart. Nothing to be embarrassed about."

Taking a deep breath, you did as he said. He gave you your privacy, stepping back to run the water for your bath. 

Once you were done, you let him guide you into the warm water, sighing as the heat soothed your sore muscles. Noah slid in behind you, pulling you back against his chest, his arms wrapped securely around you.

For a while, you just sat there, basking in the warmth, in the feel of him holding you. He washed your body, before pressing lazy kisses to your shoulder, his hands idly running over your arms, your stomach, your thighs. This wasn’t the first time you bathed together, and you were sure it wouldn’t be the last. Sometimes the two of you just craved closeness, the warmth of another body. 

You could stay here with him forever. 

But then…

"Yo, Noah! You home?"

Matt’s voice echoed through the house, and you tensed slightly, eyes widening. Noah let out a small groan. 

"Should we go down?" You asked, turning to look at him.

He shrugged.

 "Might as well. He’s gonna come looking for me anyway."

Reluctantly, you let him help you out of the bath, your legs still a little shaky. He grabbed a towel, wrapping it around you before drying himself off.

Once you were both dressed, Noah in a pair of sweats and you in his oversized shirt, you made your way downstairs, your body still sore but pleasantly so.

Matt was in the kitchen, rummaging through the fridge when he spotted you both. His eyes flicked between you and Noah, then to the shirt you were wearing, and he raised an eyebrow.

“Tell me this is not what it looks like.”

"No, it's not." Noah chuckled, reaching around Matt and into the fridge for a couple water bottles, handing one over to you with a slight smirk.

[smartkookiee]

How to Lose A Guy in 30 Days! || Ch.1 — jjk.

❀。• *₊°。 ❀°。❀。• *₊°。 ❀°。❀。• *₊°。 ❀°。❀。• *₊°。 ❀° ❥pairing: Jungkook x Reader (she/her, afab) ❥genre/rating: strangers to lovers, 18+ ❥chapter warnings/tags: software engineer!Jungkook, writer!Reader, flirting, drinking, nothing crazy happens in this chapter tbh, idiots, have fun (I’m so excited to see what everyone says, thank you to everyone for all the love on the teaser post!) ❥word-count: 9.4k ❥Series Masterlist ❥|| Next chapter ❥Playlist fic is cross posted to ao3 - send an ask or comment on post to be added to the tag list. ❀。• *₊°。 ❀°。❀。• *₊°。 ❀°。❀。• *₊°。 ❀°。❀。• *₊°。 ❀°

Day 0

“Y/N, can I see you in my office?” Yoongi’s voice cut through the ambient buzz of the office as he appeared at your cubicle. You blinked up at him, his request causing a ripple of curiosity among your surrounding coworkers, though no one dared to show it openly.

You hesitated, a flicker of doubt crossing your mind. Was I in trouble? Did he hate my last research project? Your mind raced through the possibilities. Yoongi had praised your work just last week, but what if he’d changed his mind? The thought of him taking back his compliments made your stomach twist. With a sigh, you saved your work and rose to follow him. The walk to his office felt unnervingly like being summoned to the principal’s office in high school.

Though your colleagues barely glanced in your direction, the nerves still had your palms sweating. You tried to wipe them discreetly on your pants as you stepped inside his office.

Yoongi moved behind his desk with casual ease, sinking into his chair as though he hadn’t just rattled your nerves with his sudden appearance. You stood awkwardly for a moment until he waved you toward the chair in front of his desk.

“You can relax, Y/N. You’re not in trouble.” He said, his tone gentle but amused. It was clear he could feel the tension radiating off you.

“I know, I know. I’m just a worrywart. You know that.” You laughed softly, though it came out more anxious than you’d intended. “So… why did you want to see me?”

Yoongi leaned forward slightly, resting his arms on the desk as he watched you. “I’ve have an assignment for you. Something better than your usual research work.”

You raised an eyebrow, curiosity piqued as he began rifling through the disorganized pile of files and papers littering his desk. You’d been at Composure for a while, mostly doing background research for other writers’ articles. But you’d been hoping for an opportunity to step out of the shadows, to prove yourself as more than just a behind-the-scenes contributor. Maybe this is it?

When Yoongi finally found what he was looking for, he pulled out an old magazine and dropped it in front of you with a soft thud. You glanced down at the cover, your eyes widening as you saw the issue was from 2003.

“How to Lose a Guy in Ten Days.” Yoongi said, leaning back in his chair with a knowing glint in his eyes.

You picked up the magazine and began flipping through it, skimming the pages until you found the article. A sense of familiarity washed over you—this was one of those interesting pieces people still whispered about around the office. “I’m confused.”

“This piece was a massive hit when it came out.” He explained, lacing his fingers together as he leaned back. “Lana, one of the higher-ups, was the editor at the time this particular piece came out. She brought it up recently, said she thinks it’s time for something like this to make a comeback.”

“You want me to do this?” You asked, still reeling from the audacity of the concept. You skimmed through the details, noting the original author, Andy. She had gone to extreme lengths to sabotage a relationship for the sake of the article. You couldn’t help but cringe at some of the tactics she’d employed.

“Not exactly.” Yoongi replied with a small chuckle. “The feedback back then was that the whole experiment felt a bit too unrealistic. Readers loved it and it was a funny read, but many thought they don’t do things this intense. Lana’s idea was to take the same concept, but… stretch it out.”

“Stretch it out?” You echoed, still trying to wrap your head around the idea.

“Yeah. Ten days is too quick for something like this. We want to make it feel more genuine. Instead of a mad dash to drive the guy away, we want to see what happens over a longer period. A month, maybe two. Let the tension build naturally.”

You leaned back in your chair, letting the idea swirl around in your head. It was ambitious, maybe even a bit reckless, but there was no denying it would be a challenge.. “So… you want me to date someone and—what? Subtly sabotage it over time?”

“Exactly. Actually date but do all the classic early relationship mistakes.” Yoongi explained, his eyes gleaming with the thrill of the concept. “It’s an experiment in human behavior, relationships, and how much people are willing to overlook.”

“So like talking about something personal way too fast, or inviting yourself into their life way too quickly and then write about it?” You prattled on a bit, it was picking at the ideas in your brain in the right way.

Yoongi smiled, clearly pleased with your interest. “I brought this to you because you have more than proven yourself here. You’ve been doing excellent research, and I want to see how you handle something of this scale. Especially because this would be a feature piece.”

Your heart skipped a beat at the compliment, but there was still a question gnawing at you. “I’m glad you are trusting me with something like this, especially with such a high-profile piece. But… I have to ask, sir—why do you think I’m the right person for this?”

Yoongi leaned forward slightly, his expression more thoughtful. “Because I want to challenge you. I like your research and I like how you write, you understand the people who read our columns on a deeper level. I think you have more in you. I want to see if you can handle something outside of your comfort zone.” His voice softened, but the weight of his words wasn’t lost on you. “And after something like this, I’d be more than happy to move you on to bigger and better pieces.”

The subtle hint of a promotion sent a jolt of excitement through you. “Really?”

“Really.” Yoongi confirmed, a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips.

It was all you could do to keep the excitement from bubbling over. An actual writing assignment, something that could elevate your standing in the magazine, was exactly what you had been waiting for.

“I don’t even know what to say other than thank you.” 

You fidget with the magazine in your hands, resisting the urge to curl the edges. Your mind raced, trying to think of what a realistic timeline for the piece could look like—something ambitious, but doable.

“How about… How to Lose a Guy in Thirty Days ? A longer timeline, more idealistic. A month in is usually when new relationships start to fall apart. It’s after the initial getting-to-know-someone phase.” You suggest, throwing the idea out there, hoping Yoongi would take the bait.

“Thirty days, huh?” He raises an eyebrow, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. “You sure you’re up for it?”

“Yes, sir.” You nod, your confidence building as you think about the possibilities.

“Good.” Yoongi replies, leaning back in his chair with a satisfied look. “Let’s start on Monday, after we get through this print run. That gives you a few days to find the poor guy.”

“Right. Thank you, Mr. Min.” You stand up, your heart racing as you try to play it cool. But as soon as you exit his office, you can barely contain your excitement.

“Oh my god, oh my god.” You mutter under your breath as you rush to your desk. Your fingers fly across the keyboard as you start jotting down notes, pulling out sticky notes and scribbling ideas, trying to organize your thoughts.

Ronnie, sitting in the neighboring cubicle, leans back to peer around the divider, noticing your frenzied state. She rolls her chair into your space, sliding up next to you with a curious look.

“What’s got you in such a hurry?” She asks, raising an eyebrow as she watches you type furiously. A laugh escapes her when she sees the pen stuck in your mouth and the growing pile of sticky notes attached to the old magazine.

“I gob a columb.” You mumble through the pen, barely pausing your typing.

Ronnie plucks the pen from your mouth. “Try that again.”

“I’m writing my first column.” You repeat, finally turning to face her, your excitement breaking through.

“No way!” Ronnie stands, her voice a little too loud, drawing a few glances from nearby desks. She sits back down and grabs your shoulders. “That’s so awesome! Your first column! What’s it going to be about?”

You hand her the magazine, pointing to the title. “This.”

“How to Lose a Guy in Ten Days?” She raises her eyebrows in surprise, flipping through the article. “You’re seriously going to do this?”

“Well, not exactly the same.” You say with a grin, watching as she reads through the outlandish tactics in the original piece. “Just similar.”

Ronnie’s eyes widen as she reaches some of the more extreme parts of the article. “Okay, this is crazy, all the things this girl did to this guy. Oh my god.” She rocked in disbelief, continuing the read through. “Awe, ends bittersweet though.” 

“It’s going to be How to Lose A Guy in Thirty Days this time.” 

“A month?” She laughs and shakes her head, you give her a confused look. 

“What? I can do this!” You bump her shoulder. 

“Do what?” Namjoon strolls into your cubical looking between the both of you.

“Kid got her first column.” Ronnie sings she has a proud grin on her face. You spin around to look at Namjoon. 

His face lights up at the news, “That’s so awesome! Congrats!” He rubs your hair messing it up, you bat his hands away smoothing out your hair. 

“Thanks Joon.” 

“What’s it on?” Namjoon leans against your desk along side Ronnie. 

Ronnie hands him the magazine flipped open to the article. He takes it and examines it for a moment, he reads along and his eyes widen at times. You continue scribbling down some thoughts while he does this. Namjoon was a silent reader but would always share his full thoughts when he was done. 

“Woah, this is wild.” Namjoon flips back to the beginning of the article, like he had to read it over again. 

“I know the original one is a little insane but we are doing it differently this time.” You explain, Namjoon had concern written all over his face reading through the article again. 

“Quote, ‘after five days I decided to go ahead and take things to the next level between us. I completely redecorate his apartment with pink attire and stuffed animals everywhere.” Namjoon reads the section out loud. “She only knew him for five days?” 

You nod, “I don’t know how she was so brave to do all of that. Luckily Yoongi said I don’t have to be as extreme as this. Just more casually clingy and needy, do small things that most people think are normal but seem to send guys running before anything serious can begin.” 

“Yeah, I definitely hope you don’t end up ‘photoshopping your baby pictures together.’” Ronnie adds with a grin.

You laugh, shaking your head. “God, no. I’d sooner die of embarrassment. I don’t have the energy for that level of crazy.”

Namjoon leans back in his chair, one eyebrow raised in slight  concern. “So, what is the plan then? You’ve got something in mind, right?”

You sigh dramatically. “Not sure yet. I’ve got until Monday to find a guy and come up with some sort of idea of how I want to do this.”

“Oh, can we help?” Ronnie’s eyes light up as she bounces in her chair, practically vibrating with excitement.

“Help find the guy?”

“Obviously, and with the torture.” She adds, looking way too enthusiastic.

“I’m not torturing him.” You chuckle, “just… irritating him a little. You know, for research purposes.”

“Uh-huh.” Namjoon’s teasing grin softens as he looks at you, a hint of doubt creeping in. “But are you really sure you can do this, like… casually?”

You blink at him. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, come on.” Namjoon says with a snort, gesturing vaguely at you. “You wear your heart in a pink, sparkly basket for everyone to see. Are you sure you won’t fall for the poor guy instead?”

“I don’t do that! And I will not!” You protest, but Namjoon and Ronnie exchange a look that screams they definitely think you do.

“I’ve never seen you not get your hopes up after a date or two.” Ronnie says, shrugging sympathetically.

“Well, this time will be different.” You say, folding your arms defiantly. “It’s just business. I have to get the guy to break up with me anyway.”

They weren’t wrong, though, and you know it. You’ve always been one of those people who swoon at love songs and daydream about movie-perfect endings. You were the exact type of person this article was written for in the first place. You did get attached too quickly and were getting hurt too often. But this? This was just an assignment. A game. You wouldn’t get hurt if you knew it had to end from the start.

“You’ll see.” You add with more confidence, determined to prove them wrong.

“I’ll believe it when I see it.” Ronnie teases, rolling her chair back toward her desk. It was well past time for her to get to her own work. 

Namjoon shakes his head with a chuckle. “Good luck to this guy, I guess.” He mutters, though there’s warmth in his voice. He’s seen you get your hopes up too many times to believe you could really keep things casual.

But this time, you were determined. No expectations. No daydreaming. It was all just work.

Across town, though, someone else was perfectly content with his easygoing, no-strings-attached lifestyle. Jungkook, waking up in someone else’s bed was just another morning for him. He opened his eyes but was blinded by the morning light. He rolled over and looked around, he had no idea where he was. Memories of last night vaguely coming back to the front of his mind. 

He looks over to see a sleeping girl in the same bed. He stands from the bed and manages to find his phone. Seeing the time. 

“Shit.” He rushes to find his scattered items and puts his clothes back on. Tip toeing his way around the room and manages to get out the front door without a fuss. 

Getting out of the building, Jungkook blinked as the morning sun hit him square in the face. He rubbed his eyes, still groggy from a less-than-restful sleep. Scanning the unfamiliar streets, he had no idea what neighborhood he was in, but that was par for the course these days. He pulled out his phone and called for an Uber, slipping his sunglasses on as he waited.

Another late night, another random bed. This wasn’t exactly new territory, but he couldn’t help feeling off. Normally, Thursdays were a quiet night in, but when Jimin and Taehyung wanted to go out, Jungkook wasn’t about to turn them down. And, as always, the night had ended the way it usually did for him—blurry and chaotic.

By the time Jungkook made it to the office, it was later than he would normally prefer to arrive. Slipping through the doors, he did his best to avoid attention although Hoseok’s keen eyes were already tracking him. Jungkook tried to get settled quietly, but it was pointless. Hoseok’s desk, conveniently right next to his, made stealth impossible.

“Look what the cat dragged in.” Hoseok sang, swiveling in his chair to grin at Jungkook. He tapped a few keys on his keyboard, then gave Jungkook an exaggerated once-over. “Did you lose a bet, or is that last night’s shirt?”

Jungkook smirked as he slid into his seat. “Hey, I’m here, aren’t I?”

“Yeah, but in yesterday’s clothes. What’d you do? Roll straight from the bar to your desk?” Hoseok raised an eyebrow, clicking away on his mouse as he pulled up their latest coding project.

“Pretty much.” Jungkook admitted, booting up his own computer. “I’ll head home at lunch and change. No one cares what I wear to debug.”

Hoseok shook his head with a laugh. “You’re gonna blind the clients with your wrinkled t-shirts one of these days.”

“Fair enough.” Jungkook chuckled, typing in his password. “But I’m still better at the code reviews, so they can’t complain too much.”

Hoseok conceded with a nod, leaning back in his chair. “Rough night?”

Jungkook rubbed the back of his neck. “You could say that. Taehyung and Jimin were relentless. Didn’t stop until the bar kicked us out.”

“Ah, classic.” Hoseok said with a grin. “They never know when to quit.”

Jungkook smirked, though he felt the exhaustion settling in his bones. “They’ve got energy for days, man. But, hey, what about tonight? You in?”

Hoseok hesitated, glancing at the lines of code on his screen before looking back at Jungkook. “Again? You don’t look like you’re dying to go out tonight.”

Jungkook chuckled, leaning back in his chair. “I mean, I’m wrecked, but you know I’m down. Someone’s gotta keep Taehyung from getting us banned from another bar.”

Hoseok shook his head, clearly amused. “I dunno, man. I might actually take it easy tonight. Jimin’s been texting like he’s planning another big one, and I don’t know if I’ve got the energy to babysit.”

“You? Too tired to party?” Jungkook teased, raising an eyebrow. “Weren’t you just complaining last week that we only go out when you’re drowning in deadlines?”

“I didn’t say I’m backing out.” Hoseok defended, though his reluctance was obvious. “I’m just... thinking about it.”

“Thinking about it, my ass. You’ll be there. I’ll text Jimin, tell him to go easy on the plans.” Jungkook turned back to his monitor, his fingers flying over the keys as he opened the project files for their current assignment.

Hoseok chuckled. “Yeah, alright. But if I show up and Taehyung’s dancing on tables again, I’m leaving early.”

“Deal.” Jungkook said with a grin.

 Then Hoseok’s smirk deepened, and he shot a glance at Jungkook. “By the way, has she called you yet?”

Jungkook frowned, glancing sideways. “Who?”

“Channel. She’s been texting me . Again.” Hoseok’s grin turned into a mock look of annoyance. “Seriously, bro, how is she still hitting me up to ask about you? You need to fix that.”

Jungkook groaned, running a hand through his hair. “I thought I made it clear we’re done.”

“Well, apparently she didn’t get the memo. She asked me yesterday if you were ‘okay,’ like I’m your personal messenger or something.”

Jungkook sighed, his fingers stilling on his keyboard. “I haven’t heard from her in weeks. She’s probably fishing for info, trying to get back in touch. She wanted something serious, and I was always upfront about keeping it casual.”

Hoseok raised an eyebrow. “And she didn’t take that well?”

“She acted like she understood, but... yeah, not really. I broke it off before things got messy.” Jungkook sighed. “Now she’s bugging you instead.”

“Lucky me.” Hoseok muttered. “She’s persistent, I’ll give her that. But seriously, dude, she’s asking me if you’re, like, in a dark place or something. I think she’s hoping for a window to swoop back in.”

Jungkook groaned, leaning back in his chair. “Tell her I’ve joined a monastery.”

Hoseok laughed. “Sure, I’ll let her know you’ve taken a vow of silence and reflection.”

The rest of the morning flew by in a blur of coding and testing modules. By the time lunch rolled around, Jungkook had managed to convince Jimin to keep the plans for the night low-key—just a few drinks at a bar they liked. Hoseok seemed more on board with the promise of a relaxed evening, and Jungkook was glad. As much as he loved the chaos, even he was feeling the need for something calmer.

When they arrived at the bar that evening, it was more crowded than they’d expected. The hum of conversation, laughter, and clinking glasses filled the air, and the warmth of bodies packed in tight hit them as they wove their way through the crowd.

“So much for a quiet night.” Hoseok muttered, dodging a couple who were clearly several drinks in.

Jungkook grinned, nudging him. “Come on, it’s Friday. What did you expect?”

“Less people and more chairs.” Hoseok replied, though the grin on his face said he wasn’t too upset about it.

Jungkook laughed, scanning the bar for a spot to settle in. Despite his earlier exhaustion, he could feel the pull of another night out with his friends, the familiar buzz of energy creeping in. There was something about the chaos of it all that he couldn’t resist.

“Over here!” Jimin’s voice cut through the noise, his arm waving above the sea of people as he flagged them down. He and Taehyung had already secured a table in the corner.

Jungkook and Hoseok exchanged a glance before making their way over, dodging elbows and weaving past groups of friends clustered around the bar. As they reached the table and took their seats, Hoseok let out a deep sigh.

“Jesus, there are so many people here tonight.” He muttered, running a hand through his hair. “Maybe I should have stayed home.”

Jimin smirked, leaning back in his chair with his drink in hand. “Aww, come on. It’s been forever since we’ve been out together.”

Jungkook chuckled, patting Hoseok on the shoulder. “It was definitely a struggle convincing him to come tonight.”

Hoseok held up his hands in surrender, a playful grin tugging at the corner of his lips. “Hey, I was promised a chill night with some drinks. That’s my kind of Friday night.”

Before anyone could say more, Taehyung appeared at the table, balancing a tray of drinks with ease. “Here you go, gentlemen.” He said, passing them around with a flourish.

A round of thank-yous followed as each of the guys took their drinks. Jungkook took a long sip, letting the cool, bitter taste of his beer settle on his tongue as he leaned back in his chair, finally starting to relax.

“So,” Taehyung said after a moment, turning to Jungkook with a curious smile, “where did you disappear last night, man?”

Jungkook barely had time to respond before Jimin interjected, his tone teasing. “Where do you think he ran off to?” Jimin wiggled his eyebrows in fake suspicion.

The grin on his face made it clear he was referring to Jungkook’s extracurricular activities.

Taehyung snickered, shaking his head. “Oh, I see. Anything to tell? Did you find the love of your life?” His voice was full of amusement as he took another sip of his drink.

Hoseok snorted, rolling his eyes as he leaned back in his chair. “Yeah, right.”

Jungkook narrowed his eyes playfully, tipping his head in Hoseok’s direction. “Hey, you never know.”

“Sure.” Hoseok said with a laugh, bumping Jungkook’s shoulder. “I’m sure she felt some kind of deep connection.”

Jimin waved a hand in Hoseok’s direction, dismissing him with a grin. “Leave him alone.”

But Hoseok wasn’t ready to let it go just yet. He shrugged, glancing around the table. “I mean, as long as I’ve known him, I’ve never seen him be serious with someone.”

Jungkook felt the familiar twist in his gut at the comment but didn’t let it show. It wasn’t that he didn’t want something serious—it just hadn’t happened in years. He took another sip of his beer, trying to brush off the remark. He had become somewhat comfortable in his solace and easy hook ups. Last thing he had to something serious was what he had with Channel, and that wasn’t even hardly serious.

Broke it off because she changed her mind about what she was wanting from him, Jungkook just really didn’t see a future with her and had always made his feelings about their relationship clear. He really came off looking like a dick but he didn’t want to drag her along. He didn’t want to drag anyone along. 

“I can be serious when I want to be.” Jungkook took another sip of his beer. 

“Yeah for like a day.” Taehyung teases. 

“Not even, more like an afternoon.” Jimin jumps on him with a laugh. 

“Try thirty minutes!” Hoseok adds on to the end before Jungkook waves them all of. 

“Thirty minutes?” He raised an eyebrow, “Give me more credit than that.”

“Fine, thirty-one.” Taehyung added on with another laugh. 

“Whatever,” Jungkook rolls his eyes, “Make your jokes but I don’t see any of you pulling in any serious relationships these days.” Jungkook points the top of his bottle around the group. 

“Hey, I have a date next week I’ll have you know!” Hoseok protests.

“This isn’t about us though, this is about you.” Jimin sits back in his chair. 

“What about me?”

“You’re not a relationship guy.” Taehyung sipped his beer. 

“I’m comfortable by myself.” Jungkook crossed his arms. 

“Nothing wrong with it, I just doubt you could ever be serious with someone.” Jimin shrugs. 

“I’d be a better boyfriend than you .” Jungkook kicks Jimin's leg under the table. 

“Yeah maybe when you’re fifty and decide it’s time to settle down.” Taehyung gives Jungkook a smirk. 

“No way, I bet I could be a better boyfriend than all three of you.” Jungkook was getting too serious and Jimin and Taehyug smelt a challenge in the air. 

“Wanna bet on it?” Jimin cocks his head to the side. It wasn’t unlike the three of them to make bets and they were always stupid.

“Aren’t we a little too old for bets?” Hoseok looks between the guys but he could already tell once Jimin raised the question, Jungkook was already locked into the idea. 

“What are you thinking?” Jungkook leans his elbows on the table. 

“I will bet a hundred dollars, that you couldn’t keep a girlfriend for more than two weeks.” Jimin states and Jungkook almost feels insulted. 

“Come on, I can do better than that.” Jungkook goats Jimin, Jimin looks at Taehyung. 

“I’ll buy in. 200 bucks.” Tahyung jumps on it. 

“You guys are morons.” Hoseok shakes his head, Jungkook was up for the challenge but two weeks was insulting. 

“No, I can keep a partner around for way longer than two weeks. Come on.”

“Okay, how about a month. We’ll make it 300 bucks if you can stay with the same girl for one month.” Jimin jumps on it, between him and Taehyung they would only be out one fifty each. 

“But we get to pick who it is.” Taehyung quickly tacts on that little stipulation. 

“What? No fair.” Jungkook pouts. 

“ Totally fair. Hobi weigh in on this.” Jimin nods his head to Hoseok who was hoping to stay invisible but it seems he has been brought on as the referee. 

“I guess it makes sense, if you pick the girl it makes it too easy for you to win.” Hoseok logics it out but this definitely wasn’t starting to feel fair.

“Ugh fine.” Jungkook groaned, Jimin had extended his hand for a shake, Jungkook took it and they shook on the deal. 

“Again, idiots.” Hoseok knew this was probably going to crash and burn and Jungkook would be out three hundred bucks. Jungkook was feeling very confident though and perhaps a little too competitive. He felt sure he could sucker these two out of three hundred bucks. As well as get to hang out with a pretty girl for a while. Putting on all of his best charm. 

“So when do we start?” Jungkook looks between them. 

“How about right now?” Jimin taps his glass.

While that played out, across the same bar, you were sitting at a booth with your friends.

Catching Jin up on your new promotion at work and your upcoming column to be. The bar was buzzing with life, the noise blending into a background hum as you spoke, but you could feel the excitement rising between you all.

“No way.” Jin’s face lit up as he scanned the photos of the old magazine article on your phone. You had snapped a few pictures to give him the full story, and now he was reading it with wide eyes, barely containing his amusement.

“Crazy, isn’t it?” Ronnie took a long sip of her cocktail, her expression still skeptical. She shook her head as if she still couldn’t wrap her mind around what you were planning. “I mean, I seriously can’t believe you’re going to go through with this.”

“Look,” You began defensively, though a smile tugged at your lips, “I know it’s a little out there, but Yoongi really thinks I can do this. He has his full faith in me.”

It was true. Despite the fact that this assignment would push you far outside of your comfort zone, you couldn’t help but feel a sense of excitement and determination. It wasn’t going to be easy, but you were confident you could handle it.

Jin, still holding your phone, read aloud with a dramatic flair: “ A friend of mine made a good point that I shouldn’t allow him to have a boys’ night, so I decided to get a key from his landlord to interrupt their game night! ” He glanced up with an incredulous look. “She really got a key from his landlord? That’s insane!”

You snatched your phone back, eyes wide. “Okay, I’m not doing that!” You exclaimed, shaking your head. “I’m just going to be clingy, needy. I’m not breaking into anyone’s house!”

“Good for her, honestly.” Namjoon chimed in, cracking open a peanut from the bowl in front of him. “The guy she picked probably deserved it.”

Ronnie nudged him with her elbow. “Didn’t you read the end? She ended up falling in love with him! Realized she was wrong and that he didn’t deserve all that treatment.” Ronnie leaned back in her chair, her eyes sparkling with amusement. “Classic.”

“Of course, she did.” Jin chuckled, taking another sip of his beer. His eyes flicked back to you, a teasing grin spreading across his face. “That’s totally going to be you.”

You scoffed, rolling your eyes. “I will not.”

“Please,” Jin said, laughing. “you’re such a gooey romantic. You fall in love so easily.”

Namjoon and Ronnie exchanged knowing glances, both trying—and failing—not to laugh. They knew better than anyone how quickly you could get swept up in a whirlwind of emotions. It wasn’t that you were naive, just hopelessly, undeniably romantic. And they were somewhat concerned about how this whole assignment might play out.

“Look, this is a professional column.” You said, crossing your arms defensively. “It’s not like I’m actually looking for anything serious. I just have to scare him off. That’s it.”

“Either that or he will be on bended knee by the end of it.” Namjoon teased. 

“Very funny. That’s why I have you guys here though, help me pick someone.” You really did want some help on this part. If you got help picking the guy then maybe you could pick someone who it would be easy to let go of.

“How so?” Ronnie tilted her head at your request.

“Well knowing my luck I would accidentally pick a guy who is totally perfect for me and I really won’t be able to go through with it. If you guys pick then you could objectively find someone who is someone I would never go for.” You clap your hands together, hoping your explanation is enough. 

“Oh I’m so in.” Jin rests his chin on his hands. “Plus this bar is packed, we could easily find someone tonight.”

“Well we won’t find him sitting here. Let’s go fish.” Ronnie stands from her seat offering a hand to you, Jin following close behind. The three of you taking a turn about the bar, making observations at some of the different groups that were here. 

“Let’s see.” Ronnie taps her lips with her pointer finger and glances about the room as the three of you search from person to person. “Okay, guy at the bar. Sweater, cheesy and obviously cheap silver necklace.”

You and Jin both take a glance over to him, he seemed to be here alone. Looked nice enough, maybe a good choice. He seemed like a jock type, looked like he was trying with his looks a little too hard. You were considering it before Jin shook his head. 

“Not him, hes rubbed his ring finger like four times.” Jin points, just at that moment the guy does it again, “He’s either married or just got divorced and looking for another wife. Next!” 

“Touche.” You agree and the three of you glance around again. “Okay, how about that guy?”

You point to a small group of guys who seemed way deep into a game of pool. One of the guys sinks a cool shot into one of the pockets and he and another guy cheer too loudly, you were far away and you could still hear them. He looked like he was about to break his pool stick from excitement. 

“Nevermind. Way too intense.” It would have been a good choice but you would probably end up dumping him before you could get any work done. 

The three of you run through a few more guys as you walk around, all three of you seemed to find some reason to veto them again and again. Some were too close to your type and some were just too annoying for you to be able to stand them long enough to keep this ruse up. 

“God slim pickings tonight.” You were getting exhausted. You were considering heading back to Namjoon at the table and conceding for the night. Maybe sleep it off and try again at another bar tomorrow. 

“We can do this.” Ronnie cheers trying to keep your spirits high. “This guy is here, I just know it.” She had had more to drink at this point, she's a pretty energetic drunk. 

“I agree. No throwing in the towel yet.” Jin scans the room again, you guys had moved to many different spots and more people had moved in and out of the bar at this point. 

Jin looked around from guy to guy. Jin came this bar a lot so he had a general sense of the people who were new and the people who frequented here often. He wasn’t sure himself who would work for this, they had to be the perfect combination of nice enough to stick it out but still a playboy or asshole enough that you wouldn’t fall for them. Someone who maybe deserved a little bit of torture. Someone who needed a little due karma. 

He waited for a moment, maybe all three of you just needed to let the guy reveal himself. Before Jin thought it was hopeless was just when he got exactly what he asked for. 

Jungkook was making his way over to the bar.

“Bingo.” Jin whispered. Jungkook had left the table with his friends, the booth was tucked away in the corner so it was no wonder he didn't notice them before. “That’s the guy.” 

“Who?” You ask and then Jin points his finger, tracking Jungkook to the end of the bar. You watched him order from the bartender and then casually wait for a moment. 

“He’s perfect.” Jin was confident. 

“He’s cute?” Ronnie nods, Jin rolling his eyes at her. “What am I wrong?” 

He was very cute you thought, he sported this leather jacket and dark jean look. Large boots, it wasn’t your usually clean cut look that you enjoyed but you understood the appeal of it. 

“Okay why him?” You ask looking at Jin. 

“I’ve seen him here a lot. Always comes with a group of friends, but he never leaves alone. Never the same girl twice. I thought he stopped coming around, but nope. Looks like he’s still at it. His name’s something like Jungkook.” Jin places both hands on your shoulders, looking you dead in the eye. “Total Casanova. Leaves behind a trail of broken hearts.”

Ronnie raises an eyebrow. “Wouldn’t that make it harder to keep him around for thirty days?” 

“Not necessarily,” You say, the wheels turning in your head. “I just need him to dump me within thirty days. He doesn’t have to stick around for all thirty.”

“Longest I saw him entertain a girl for was maybe two weeks? That’s exactly what you need.” Jin shakes your shoulders and you laugh at the movement, almost dizzy after your two drinks. 

A playboy type who can’t commit for more than two weeks. It was exactly what you needed, and lucky for you you wouldn’t need to feel bad about maybe annoying him too much. You needed him to dump you no matter what. Could be fun after all, messing with a guy who is a fuckboy that Jin has seen around could be almost a perfect karma for this guy. 

“Perfect.” You say with a sly smile as you watch him walk back to his group balancing a few drinks in his arms along the way. 

Jungkook managed to set the drinks down gently, “Here you go boys.”

He passed the drinks outs but Jimin and Taehyung were deliberating about something. Jungkook looked between them and looked to Hobi for confirmation. Hoseok wasn’t totally sure what their hushed conversation was about. 

“I don’t know, seems like he could make that work too well.” Jungkook could barely make out the sentence coming from Tae. 

“No it has to be someone like that.” Jimin adds on and then they both seem to come to some silent agreement. Both sitting up straight in their spots. 

“What are you two whispering about?” Jungkook breaks the silence and they both have big grins on their faces, Taehyung is looking over the back of the booth to the bar. 

“Okay, we have made a decision.” Jimin puts on an announcer voice, holding his glass like a microphone.

“You picked someone? Already?” Jungkook was surprised they had come to an agreement on this so quickly. 

Taehyung looks back to Jungkook and nods, “Over there, short maroon dress. Waiting at the bar. Has a tall guy and another girl, dark hair and black dress with her.” Taehyung points and Jungkook looks. 

It takes him a moment, but then he spots you, mid-laugh about something with your friends. A small smile tugs at his lips—you were undeniably cute. There’s something polished about the way you’ve styled yourself, striking a balance between playful and sophisticated. To Jungkook, though, you scream commitment. Your look isn’t meant to turn heads; it’s just confident. It’s a stark contrast to the more overtly flirty, bold style he usually goes for. That makes him curious—why would Jimin and Taehyung pick someone who seems so... relationship-minded?

“Her really?” He looked back at both of them. “Do you want to just hand me the three hundred dollars now?”

“I know you think it will be easy, but that is the type of girl who wants marriage . I think her need for a commitment is going to send you running.” Jimin rubs his hands together evilly. 

Jungkook looks back to you again, thinking. Jungkook felt like he could very well be committed, he could do it probably better than most people. He just hasn’t wanted to or hasn’t had the time too.

“I will be Mr. Marriage Material from here on out.” Jungkook downs the rest of his beer, “Be ready to put your money where your mouth is.” 

Jungkook stands up and leaves the table, they watch him go to work. Taehyung was now nervous and Hoseok was not even sure what he was watching anymore. Also confused by Jimin's choice. 

“Okay, I gotta say he has a point.” Hoseok leans back to Jimin. 

“Yeah now I’m kind of nervous.” Taehyung rubbed his neck, watching Jungkook who was waiting for an opportunity to maybe get a chance encounter with you. The two friends hovering around you weren’t making it easy. 

“Trust me. I’ve seen that girl here before.” Jimin smiles. 

“Do you know her?” Hoseok raised an eyebrow to him, now even more curious. 

“Not at all, but I tried hitting on her once. Very sweet, turned me down though. Seriously, the moment I walked up she read me like an open book.” This was earlier this year and Jimin didn’t care, he had some personal things going on and did it on a whim. You immediately saw through his tactics and called him out on it. 

“What did she do?” Taehyung became nervous. 

“I tried hitting her with a line, and she just looked at me and laughed. Honestly, I might’ve been offended if she hadn’t been so sweet about it. She even apologized! Said she could tell I wasn’t serious. Sent me on my way before I could even react. I swear, I was a little dizzy afterward.”

“Oh wow.” Hoseok is putting the pieces together now. “Okay, I see, so she is going to see through Jungkook right away.”

“Exactly.” Jimin raises his glass, “If he gives off even a whiff of insincerity. She won’t give him the time of day. She very clearly wants someone who is into the long term relationship game and Jungkook… never will be.”

“So you’re not concerned, not even a little bit?” Taehyung asks one more time. 

“Not even slightly.” Jimin clinked his glass against Taehyungs.

“So how is this going to work?” Ronnie looks between you and Jin.

“I’m not sure. What else do you know about him?” You look to Jin for advice on this. You came here sometimes but you weren’t as much of a frequent flier as Jin. 

“Hmm, unfortunately I usually see him hit on girls who are… obviously here for something casual.” He gestures towards another girl at the bar, she was dressed very differently than you were. More revealing, nothing wrong with that but it was starkly different to your look. 

“So maybe it's a lost cause?” You frown.

“Absolutely not.” Ronnie protested waving her hand back and forth.

“Just means you might have to be the bold one. Instead of him coming to you, you go after him.” Jin nodded and rubbed his chin. 

You stifled a laugh, “Yeah right.” Not like you couldn’t approach someone but it was still nerve racking. “I can’t do that.” 

“It’ll be so easy. Look he’s already coming over to the bar.” Ronnie nodded her head in his direction very subtly. You take a look from the corner of your eye and it was true. You turned your head pretending to see something else but catching a glance at him standing at the end of the bar, waiting. 

Jungkook sees you look his direction and pretends to be occupied with something else.

“Okay well if this is going to work, shew.” You wave your hands for the both of them to head back to the table, you take an empty spot in front of the bar. 

“Do you really think she can go up to him?” Ronnie nudged Jin, both of them push their way back to the table where Namjoon had been waiting. 

“Definitely. Well… normally I’d say no but she’s so determined I think she can pull it off.” Jin looks back at you ordering another drink. 

Once they both make it back to the table Namjoon takes notice, “Did she find someone?” 

“Yes, he’s so cute.” Ronnie gushes. 

“Too bad she has to get rid of him.” Jin shrugs as they all take their places and watch you from afar. 

“I know.” Ronnie sighs.

“So what’s the plan?” Namjoon raises an eyebrow. 

“She’s working up the courage to go up to him. I’ve seen the guy around before and he’s not really into her type. So she has to be bold.” Jin explains again, he looks over to Jungkook. 

Jin takes notice that Jungkook has already noticed you. He finds it odd for a moment before he sees Jungkook start to move. 

“Unless…” Jin starts. 

“Oh looks like he’s making a move.” Hoseok gestures over to Jungkook. He pushes himself off the end of the bar to start moving to you but gets cut off by a group moving close to the bar. 

“Let the games begin.” Jimin raises his glass. “We might make our money tonight.” 

“Cross our fingers.” Taehyung chuckles and takes a sip of his drink. 

“If he doesn’t blow smoke out of his ass you guys might be in for a long month.” Hoseok tilts his head watching Jungkook try to maneuver his way over to you. You were just barely getting a drink from the bartender. 

From their end of the bar, your friends could see it happening in real time—Jungkook making his way toward you, not without some difficulty from the proximity of other people. They couldn’t help but laugh at his struggle. 

“God, he’s like a moth to a flame.” Jin chuckled, crossing his arms. “Poor guy doesn’t even know what's going to happen.”

“Doubt it.” Ronnie added, leaning forward. “Y/N’s got this in the bag. He won’t know what hit him.”

Meanwhile, you weren’t so convinced that Jungkook was actually coming for you . After all, the girl beside you fit the typical type he seemed to gravitate toward—flirty, dressed to kill, and definitely giving him the look. Still, you had a plan brewing in your mind. If he wasn’t going to make the first move, you’d force his hand.

With a slight pivot on your heel right as he came up, you forced your shoulder into his chest. Just enough to stumble.

“Oh my god.” You gasp, steadying your drink that had split on your hand, “I’m so sorry. I didn’t spill on you did I?” 

Jungkook’s initial reaction was a mix of surprise and awkward laughter. “Hey, no problem,” He said, chuckling. “Just missed the splash zone.”

“I swear I have two left feet these days.” You tuck some of your hair behind your ear. Faking your embarrassment, setting your drink down and getting a napkin.

“Well it’s a good thing I have two right feet.” Jungkook easing the tension and you laugh under your breath. 

“You always this quick to recover?” You tilted your head, offering him your hand—the one free of any cocktail spillage. “I’m Y/N.”

“Jungkook.” He took your hand with a grin, his gaze flickering over you like he was sizing up a challenge. He didn’t let go right away.

Now that he was closer, you could really take him in. He was infuriatingly attractive—the type you’d usually avoid for your own good. The type who knew he had an edge and knew how to use it. 

Now that Jungkook could get a closer look at you, he just thought that you were pretty. Pretty hair, eyes, lips. All of you was just pretty and sweet. Could see that pink glowing heart of yours on your sleeve. 

“What brings you here?” He leaned an arm against the bar, his stance casual yet deliberate, like he was marking his territory. His gaze pinned you down, leaving you no room to escape.

“Just out with friends, a celebration of sorts.” You turn and point to them, the three of them suddenly acting like their drinks were so interesting to look at. 

“What’s the occasion?” He didn’t even glance at them; his focus was still fully on you. The intense eye contact actually makes you nervous.

“My promotion.” Smiling like it was the full truth. Or rather, the promotion standing right in front of you.

He nodded, flashing a grin. “Congrats. Big deal?”

“Very big.” You rested your hand on the bar near his, just brushing the surface between you. “What about you? Out celebrating something too?”

“Just out with friends.” Jungkook gestured back to his own group at the other end of the bar. You followed his gaze, recognizing one of the guys, though you couldn’t place from where.

“I should let you get back to them.” You teased lightly, leaning ever so slightly away from him.

He tilted his head with a grin, clearly not interested in letting you go that easily. “Why rush? I wasn’t planning to be gone long, but then I got the wind knocked out of me.”

You smirked, feeling the heat of his gaze on you as you playfully patted your shoulder. “Just practicing for my football career.”

“Not a football fan but I’d watch those games.” Jungkook was going to make some form of physical contact, which is what he would have done by now but he held back. He could tell that’s not something you would appreciate. “Let me buy you another one. Since you lost half of the that one because of me.”

“That’s very sweet.” You wanted to test the limits you had with him here, would he chase you? “But I should get back. My friends may think I ran off.” 

“So soon?” He tilted his head at your sudden retreat. 

“You seem nice.” You start and lean close, “I think I’m just looking for something… more serious.” 

“Who's to say I’m not serious?” He gives you a puzzled expression. Jungkook had done so good with women lately that it felt strange to see such a sudden retraction.

You tilted your head, a teasing smile playing at your lips. “I’ve seen you around. I know your type.”

A lie. Considering you hadn’t seen him before tonight, you wanted to see if he would bite.

“So you’ve noticed me?” He stuck his tongue into the side of his cheek. 

“I’m just saying I know your type.”

“What if I am serious? You’d be running away before you could find out.” He flirted, a boyish grin on his face that dripped confidence. He was actually nervous, and the three hundred dollar bill hanging over his head was adding some pressure.

You giggled, leaning back slightly as you took a slow sip of your drink, eyes locked on his over the rim. “You don’t strike me to be serious about much of anything.”

His gaze flicked to your lips before returning to your eyes, his voice softer now, “What if I want to prove you wrong?”

You raised an eyebrow. “Prove me wrong? You barely know me.”

He smirked, stepping a little closer, just enough to make the air between you crackle with tension. “Isn’t that half the fun? Getting to know someone new?”

“What makes you think I want to get to know you?”

“Call it intuition.”

Any other time, a guy like this coming up to you would have meant an immediate shut down from you. They were never serious, and they only ever wanted to hook up and never speak again. Tonight though Jungkook needed to be the bug caught in your web.

You pretended to mull it over, tapping the rim of your glass with your finger. “Hmm... cute line.”

“Not a line.” He shot back, more serious now. “But seriously, let me buy you a new drink?”

You were about to decline, but his eyes held yours, that quiet confidence making you hesitate just a second too long.

“Fine.” You said, sighing like you were giving in, but the small smirk tugging at your lips told him otherwise. “But you’re still going to have to work for it.”

“I plan to.” Jungkook leaned in just a fraction, his voice dropping. “Let me get your number. I’ll take you out, show you what I mean by serious.” 

You fake contemplation and act like you really needed time to think about it, sucker . You tap the rim of your glass for a moment before you reach your free hand out to him, gesturing for his phone. Jungkook takes the silent victory and pulls his phone out, opening it for you. With a few quick taps and your contact information solidified in his phone.

The deed had been done.

“Don’t disappoint me.” You said, handing it back, your tone playful but carrying an edge of warning.

“Wouldn’t dream of it.” He replied, his eyes never leaving yours.

“Have a goodnight Jungkook.” Turning on your heel leaving him there and just letting him watch you go. You b-line straight back to your table.

Jungkook was feeling good and felt like this was going to be a breeze of a month. He had to make sure that first date went well first. He would put on his best boyfriend face forward, it’s not that he couldn’t do it like everyone thought. It’s just been a long time since he last had the chance too. 

He made his way back over to his own table, he put on a fake sad face as he took his seat back next to Taehyung. 

“Strike out did you?” Hoseok patted him on the shoulder in comfort. 

“Yeah… struck off the first day of the month.” Jungkook raised his phone, revealing your phone number. Jungkook, a smug grin on his face. 

“I’m surprised.” Jimin sat in quiet contemplation, “But it won’t last.” 

“She’s cute. You guys should have picked more carefully.” Jungkook sighed, looking back into the bar in the direction of your friends and your table. Your back was to him so he couldn’t catch a glimpse of you. 

He then remembered he still owed you a drink.

Across the bar you settled back in with your friends. 

“I caught the whale boys.” You take a small bow and small cheers round around the table. 

“Congratulations.” Namjoon cheers you, hitting his glass with yours. 

Your friends leaned in, eager for the play-by-play of your encounter. You gave them the rundown. Ronnie, the first to break the silence, grinned and raised his glass in admiration.

“That was smooth, Y/N. You had him wrapped around your finger.”

You chuckled, taking a slow sip of your drink. “It’s even better that he thinks he’s in control. There's no way he was actually serious but a fun flirt.”

Jin shook his head, a mixture of amusement and awe on his face. “You’re scary when you’re confident. I’m glad I’m on your side.”

“So what’s the next step in this little experiment of yours?” Ronnie asked, clearly invested in the unfolding drama.

“Well,” You began, swirling your drink in thought, “I wait for him to reach out. Then I’ll play it cool on the first date, get him comfortable.”

“Why play it cool?” Namjoon asked, eyebrows raised.

“Because,” You smirked, “if I’m too much, too fast, he’ll bolt. But if I ease him in, I’ll have time to start slowly being weird.”

Just then, a waitress appeared, sliding a pretty pink drink in front of you. “This one’s from the guy across the bar.” She said, nodding toward Jungkook, who was leaning against the counter, already watching you. “He said you’d know him.”

You couldn’t help but smile at the boldness. Lifting the glass slightly, you gave him a small, acknowledging wave, your friends immediately picking up on the gesture.

“What’s it called?” You asked, eyes still locked on Jungkook.

The waitress grinned. “It’s a Cosmic Encounter .”

“How pretty.” You muttered, a playful smirk forming. You brought the glass to your lips, not breaking eye contact with Jungkook as you took a sip. The sweetness of the drink contrasted sharply with the building tension between the two of you.

If the circumstances were different you may let yourself swoon at the gesture. Picking a cute drink for you. You may try to see if you really could get him to be serious. This was not that though, this was all business and you would have to continue to remind yourself.

Ronnie was the first to speak up again, a wide grin spreading across his face. “I’ll admit, he’s got moves.”

“Just don’t forget this is what he does.” Jin knowing how you are, felt the reminder needed to be put out there. That this is all temporary.

Just as you were about to continue, your phone buzzed softly in your hand. A text. Your eyes drifted down to the screen, and sure enough, it was Jungkook.

Jungkook: Hope you like it… when are you free next?

You couldn’t help the smirk that spread across your lips. “Speak of the devil.”

Namjoon leaned over. “Already? He really wasted no time.”

“Faster than I thought.” You admitted, typing a quick reply. 

:We’ll see, Jungkook. Maybe I’m busy.

The thrill of the chase was intoxicating, and as you sent the message, you could feel the game picking up speed. Both of you were circling each other, waiting for the right moment to strike.

You had no doubt, you were going to eat Jungkook alive.

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❥|| Next chapter

Taglist! : @vashimperial @httpjeonlicious @rinkud @vintagemoonsstuff @marimarvelfan @loomipee @leah-rose03 @irhdifartzamfyaa @smwhrinthehaze @tteokbokibyjk

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[garbinge]

EVERYTHING I NEVER DEAL WITH

Dr. Michael "Robby" Robinavitch & F!Attending!Reader | Dr. Jack Abbot x F!Attending!Reader // Word Count: 3k

Summary: When a rough day allows old emotions to catch up to you, you find yourself very openly breaking down on hospital steps. After a little comforting talk from your mentor, you run into your fiancé as your shift ends.

Warnings/Tags: All my fics are 18+ regardless of content. Angst. Crying. Mentions + descriptions of compartmentalizing and not really addressing emotions/dealing with trauma. Mental health struggles. Reader is engaged. Hurt/Comfort. A/N: First The Pitt Fic! I've been dying to write for The Pitt but there's so many good fics out there I felt a bit intimidated!! The way I relate to Robby so much it's actually unwell but that's okay because we can just project in fic baby!!!! I also have uncontrollable Jack Abbot brain rot so I needed to find a way to include him in this and if it makes it cringe, well then so be it!!!! I hope I captured both of these characters voices, I haven't written in a while so I had to dust off the cobwebs in my brain haha.

You didn’t care about the people staring at you as they were walking up and down the stairs. It was a mix of healthcare workers, patients, and families of patients but none of that mattered. You could’ve tried to hide it. Maybe sit on the bench that was tucked around the corner, almost under the stairway. Or at least maybe try and muffle your sobs but you had reached a point where that wasn’t possible.

Every suppressed emotion from the last 10 years was bubbling at your throat, filling your brain with thoughts in a way that you wished numbed your mind but just paralyzed it so it felt like you were drowning. It was like the static from a radio station except instead of that fuzzy noise it was feelings from years ago clashing with feelings from now. One thought connected to another, which jumped to four more and suddenly there were 30 thoughts all strung together with sobs and a weight in your chest convincing you this was all too much to handle.

That’s how these things went right? You’d bottle it up for months, letting everything that ever made you feel uncomfortable, angry or upset fall to the back of your mind. You’d call it compartmentalizing because that sounded good. It sounded professional, like you had control over it. But really it was just disassociating. It was just putting it in a box inside a box and pushing it to the back of the closet hoping nothing would be added on top of it. But eventually after a few months of pushing it all back there, it’d be overflowed. You’d cry. You’d snap. Sometimes it’d be alone in bed after you watched something online that had you go, ‘hey, that’s how I feel’. Sometimes it’d be in the car, in the form of crying over a song where the lyrics felt a little too personal even though the song had nothing to do with what was on your mind, or maybe just a frustrated string of words at the guy who cut you off. It would happen in the shower on a good day, where it felt like the water took your struggles down the drain with it. And then, the bathroom at work on a bad day because you hated showing anyone how you really felt. Maybe you’d snap at the guy you were deeply in love with, roll your eyes at your best friend, give an attitude to the man who you looked at like an older brother. 

Sure, you could joke about it, a little self-deprecating joke about your mental health, your anxiety and depression all won chuckles all around the ER because each and everyone of them went through it in their own way. And yet, you still couldn’t bring yourself to be real in front of them. You always put up a face. Even when you were dealing with it. In bed, in the car, in the shower, in the bathroom at work. There’d be a moment, where instead of dealing with it, figuring out a way to work through it, you flipped the switch. Pushed all the boxes back up in the closet and shut the door like nothing happened then go months without thinking about it again.  

That’s what lead you to sobbing uncontrollably on the steps just outside the emergency department. Everything was catching up to you again. This one felt worse than the other times. It felt more exhausting, maybe because you knew you couldn’t keep going on like this again and again. That you didn’t even have the energy to stack those boxes up again. Nor did you really want to. But there was that panic in seeing them all over the floor and then panic in not wanting to touch them or clean them up. Every thought, every feeling, every emotion you couldn’t be bothered to label just staring at you at your worst. 

It was then that’s when you felt someone’s body heat next to you. There were no words for a while. Just company. An arm around you in a sideways hug. A literal shoulder to cry on. 

After a while, you heard his voice muffled and against your head before he removed his arm from over your shoulders.  

“It’s gonna be okay.” 

“How can you say that when you don’t even know what it is?” You sniffled and realized the only way you were going to get a breath in was through your mouth. 

“Because whatever it is, it’s always okay.” 

“I don’t think I believe you,” now you looked up, taking in Dr. Robby’s face, his eyes were locked on you and his mouth twisted in a smile at your words. 

“You’re like an angsty teenager,” his eyebrows were raised, a smile still on his face as he shook his head and rolled his eyes a little bit. He was resting his arms on his knees now, leaning forward just slightly.

“Sounds about right, think this,” you waved your hands around your face, “is a bunch of repressed shit since then.” 

“You can’t compartmentalize everything. Hell, you probably shouldn’t compartmentalize any of it, but with what we do, it’s inevitable,” he shrugged before leaning back into you, rocking you back and forth a bit. 

You rested your head on his shoulder again. Dr. Robby was like a brother to you. You were a first year attending now, but he was your mentor through each year of your residency. Even when you made a rash decision to move to family medicine for 6 months before realizing you craved the chaos of the ED. Looking back it was probably because it kept you on your toes, kept your mind busy, kept all of this at bay more than any other department. 

You looked at him when he spoke, not needing any words or even facial expressions for him to understand what you were thinking. 

He shook his head with a chuckle, looking up at the bright white lights above the stairs before turning back to look at you. “Do as I say, not as I do,” he frowned like it was obvious. 

“They do say those who can’t do, teach,�� you smiled, finding your words incredibly quick and witty. 

“I’ve been bottling this shit up for a lot longer than you have and pushing it all back in doesn’t get easier. It feels like it’s the easier route but it only seems that way because every time there's a little bit more shit to sift through than the last and then before you know it, it's too much,” his hand squeezed your knee. 

“I feel like it’s too much now,” you let out a little air through your nose as it finally started to clear. 

“Imagine in 10 more years how you’ll feel,” Robby shook his head thinking about his own issue with compartmentalizing everything. 

“15,” you corrected him, “at least.”  That quick wit again. “Let’s not age me on top of everything,” you smiled, the first genuine one since you found yourself at these steps. 

“Angsty. Teenager.” He bumped his shoulder into yours. 

“I’ve been seeing Abbot’s guy. The therapist. Well, not his guy. But someone at the same office,” you trailed off before finding your way back to the point. “It’s nice but I don’t feel like it’s working.” After a quick inhale you shut your eyes tight and brought your hand over them to rub them quickly. “Told Jack that and he told me it only works if you work it, or like you get what you give or some shit.” 

“For someone going through an ongoing existential crisis, he’s probably the best one to trust with this kind of thing,” Robby’s head tilted as his eyebrows lifted, his mouth turning to a smirking frown. 

“How many people told you I was breaking down out here,” it had already started, where you shoved everything back in the closet. Maybe this time would be different. Maybe you’d do what Jack said, put the work in in therapy. But right now in this moment, you needed to do whatever would get you through the shift. 

“A few, in their own way,” he shrugged like it was no big deal. “Whitiker kept it to himself, but his eyes gave away a clue that he saw something that freaked him out.” That made you laugh. “Samira said you were taking a break and not to go looking for you, that you’d come back when you were ready.” That sounded like her, knowing just what everyone needed and respecting your space. “Santos and Javadi are with Dr. McKay working through chairs so think you’re in the clear there. Mel is with our pedes case otherwise I have a feeling it would have been her sitting here not me, then Collins left early and Langdon has been staring at the board waiting for something that sparks joy.” 

“Very Marie Kondo of him,” you rolled your eyes. “So how’d you know I was here, then?” 

“Jack.” His answer came fast. “Saw you when he was meeting with a family in the quiet room,” Robby’s hand lifted to point to the room just inside the ED sliding doors, a clear view to where you were on the stairs. 

“Surprised he didn’t come sit with me himself.” 

“He said, and I quote. Those who can’t do, teach. Think maybe coming from you it might hold a little more weight.” Robby couldn’t help but grin at that and you matched him with your own.

“My teenage angst is rubbing off on him,” you brought your fingertips back to your face, letting them dig into your closed eyes again and letting your palms massage your cheeks as you did. “Drink?” You brought your hands down to slap your knees as a way to snap you right out of this breakdown.

“We got 15 left in shift.” Robby was holding his watch up for you to see. 

“Wrong.” You shook your head and tapped the watch face. “We’re 15 over.” 

That got him to look at the watch in confusion, worried that his mind tricked him. “No, it's quarter of.” 

“I got here 30 minutes early. And if I recall you gave a speech last week about overtime and needing it to be approved or signed off on due to a critical case or something of that nature. I see neither.” You were standing up now, jumping down one step before turning to look back at your senior attending. 

“I have half a mind to approve overtime for you right now and bear the wrath of the suits for it later,” He was trying to hold a serious face as he spoke to you, but you saw right through it.

You lifted your hands like a scale. “Letting me head to the park early, having any conversation with Gloria.” You lifted them back and forth until one was above your head. “Clearly there’s a right answer here.” 

“Go, I’ll meet you there in 15,” he waved his hand and with that you smiled and started walking away before taking a beat and turning back to face him. 

“Thanks. For the whole,” you pointed to the stairs, “you know, pep talk.” 

“I don’t think there was any pep in that talk,” Robby let out a laugh. 

“I don’t know,” you tapped your foot on the tile. “I feel a little pep in my step.” You were teasing and then nodded earnestly. “I mean it, thank you. You’re the big brother I never wanted,” another tease from you through a smile. “I don’t know where I’d be without you, Robby. Seriously. Thank you.” 

He just nodded and brought his hand up to his heart and tapped it. Nodding back, you turned and walked over to your locker to grab your things. You tossed the sweatshirt that wasn’t yours but you wore to and from work everyday anyways on, zipping it up halfway. You grabbed your rings from your little jewelry plate and tucked them onto your left ring finger, followed by a quick makeup wipe to your face and checking your phone to send one important request out. Once you tossed your backpack over one shoulder, you closed your locker and made your way outside. 

You let your head fall back as the cool fresh air hit your face. Your eyes were swollen, your cheeks still warm from crying, the weight still heavy on your chest but less on your mind at the moment. 

“Feeling better?” a raspy voice filled your ear and you couldn’t help but smile when you heard it. 

“No.” There was sarcasm in your tone, because you knew it’d earn a smile from the man approaching on your left. 

“S’just a boost to my ego that I’m the only one who can make you feel better,” Jack was next to you now, his hand resting on the strap of his army backpack as you both looked out at the road. 

“Well, in that case, I’m fantastic,” you turned to look at him just to see his smirk grow. He turned to look at you and frowned his mouth in a knowing way. 

“Trick question, babe. I win regardless of the answer,” his hand dropped from his bag to grab yours. He was quick to bring it up to his mouth and plant a quick kiss there before looking both ways to cross the road, bringing you along with him. 

“They teach you that in therapy?” you called out over the noise of the late night street traffic.

“Yeah, they uh call it perspective,’ he tossed the words over his shoulder before both of you landed at the park’s entrance.  

“Perspective huh?” your voice was lower now.

“You headed home or want to have a drink?” his question was asked still a good few feet away from everyone, you were tucked behind a tall tree so if you wanted to make your escape, no one would see, not that they’d hold it against you.

“Everyone saw me crying,” your eyes were peering around the shrubs to see Donnie next to the cooler, Mateo next to him handing a drink to Princess who had just dropped her bag next to the bench. 

“Everyone saw you have a rough day,” Jack corrected you, his eyes steady on yours even though you were looking everywhere but. 

“You and that damn perspective,” another teasing remark left your lips and you closed your eyes. “I wasn’t crying over the rough day,” now it was your turn to correct him. “I was crying from stress which turned into crying over family, over shit from my past, over things I can’t fix–things I should’ve fixed,” you took a breath, “I was crying over everything I never deal with.” 

There was silence for a beat longer than you expected so you opened your eyes to see Jack looking at you. His eyes meeting yours felt like a hand reaching into the whirlpool to pull you out. 

“Sounds to me like you’re dealing with it now, and that’s all you can do.” 

“I don’t want to,” you shook your head, it was a bratty response, but it was how you felt. 

“Then you can cry on the steps in the hospital all you want,” Jack wasn’t joking, he was being serious, you knew he probably had an opinion but you also knew he would never push anything on you. If you wanted to cry in the staircase, he’d let you, he’d join you, he’d tell anyone he heard talk about it to mind their fucking business, too. 

“I told Robby I’d have a drink,” you pointed to the crowd of your coworkers that had gotten bigger since you two had started standing there. “Plus, I put in a request to see my therapist tomorrow morning so maybe I can show up still a little drunk.” 

“So the talk did work.” Jack grinned as he grabbed your hand again and started walking towards the benches. 

“I’m open to other options next time,” you let go of his hand and nuzzled into his side. He quickly tossed a hand around your shoulders, holding his backpack strap with the other again. Jack let out a hum in a way like he was questioning what other options you had in mind. “Quickie in the on-call room, quickie in the break room…” 

His face got close to your ear and he whispered so none of the group you were approaching could hear him. “Seems like there’s a pattern you’re getting at.” 

“Mhm.” You turned your head and looked up at him. 

He stopped walking for a minute and stared back down at you, turning so his arm that was wrapped around you, now was settling against your cheek. “I’ll keep that in mind next time,” his eyes were locked on yours which is how you knew while he was always down for fooling around with you, he didn’t really mean it this time. He wanted you to be okay for real. He wanted you to get through this weight that’s lived like a cloud over you for years. So you just smiled. “Maybe we can start scheduling our therapy appointments at the same time and have quickies in a supply closet there.” 

That got him to laugh and you caught his gaze moving between your eyes and lips. “My therapist did say I find comfort in the darkness.” 

“No place darker than a supply closet,” your grin was interrupted by a deep kiss to your lips. You melted into it, similar to the way when you come home after a long day and you change into your comfiest clothes and sink into your favorite spot on the couch. It was safe. It was comfort. It was relief. Jack pulled away and then placed another peck to your forehead before he resumed walking you towards the bench with the crew you just finished your shift with. 

“Beer?” Donnie called out to both of you. 

You nodded and held your hands up to catch the cold drink before finding a spot on the bench across from them. “And keep ‘em comin’.”

Dividers by @cafekitsune ੈ✩‧₊˚ 🥼 The Pitt Taglist: @drabbles-mc @justreblogginfics @kmc1989 (just lmk if you'd like to be added!)

Feel free to send me requests for Jack Abbot & Dr Robby ♡ As always it just might take me some time to jump into them!

[andraxicated]

No Hard Feelings

Pairing: zayne x f! reader

tags: nsfw | mutual pining? | virgins in love | 69 | protected p in v | big dick zayne (cause he was my man before sylus and we love virgins who hide big packages) | small angst |

a/n: sitting pretty on my drafts since february. i love writing in this format it just lets your ideas flow | zayne is a harvard med alumni free from student debt cause he's rich and we all know it

inspired by one of my fav rom coms no hard feelings i swear its so funny

you are nothing but a broke college student looking for ways to make extra money. so what can you do when your friend shows you a totally suspicious ad?

"we are looking for a girl with experience to seduce our son and help him have a social life. preferably pretty. will be handsomely compensated"

you grab the opportunity after much thought and show up in the sluttiest dress to make sure you fit the 'girl with experience' part despite your v-card being intact.

and you never thought that you'd be sitting in a mansion's living room, listening to a rich mother yap about her worries for her beloved and only son's social life

"you see... it's because i'm deeply worried about our son! we are very proud he's doing well before going to medical school but it's summer and all his peers are going out on vacations, dating, and partying, but he doesn't seem to be interested in any of those since his time at university!"

let's say when you asked what he looked like and turned around to see a picture frame, you were instantly sold onto this 'fuck their son' plan

his parents said their beloved Zayne volunteers at the public park to tend to the flowers. he works under the hot son with his stoic face and meaty arms to which you space out a little.

imagine his surprise when his view got shadowed by your figure, looking up to see the expanse of your thighs, your boobs supported by a push-up bra. this was your best attempt at looking like a vixen

"heyyyy, can I touch your buds?" you giggle (cringing inwardly) and the rest is history.

Zayne didn't know what to fucking say but glare at you.

it was hard to get close to Zayne because that man was a brick wall. he was so reserved and quiet, always so serious despite your attempts at fun time. yet with every time you spent together, his walls break down bit by bit.

and when you saw a crack in his walls, you unknowingly tore it down along with yours.

because you are unexpectedly falling in love with him.

"I thought this was movie night" Both of you remove your tops amidst giggles and short kisses.

"Mhmm, you smell like Jasmines." Zayne pretends not to hear you as he rasps against your ear, kissing your neck as his fingers drag down to tug at your shorts and panty. You whine when he successfully removes it, cold air hitting your inner thighs as he shushes you through small, wet kisses.

"That perfume was on sale, I knew I had to buy it for you" You smile and Zayne mirrors it on his lips, making your heart skip out of your chest. He caresses your hips softly, dangerously inching closer to your core where you're positively throbbing.

"You know me so well. It's as if you were sent by someone for me."

You chuckle awkwardly, letting him trail down light kisses on your neck, all the way to your collarbones. His statement slaps you back to reality. That you were just a girl taking advantage of him and his parents' money. But with each kiss that matches with the beat of your heart, you feel that this acting of yours turned a little too real. You just wanted him between your thighs, lost in your body, drunk on your kisses, and never have him find out the truth.

Zayne looks up at you from an angle, wanting to ask for permission to dive in your pussy, but then he sees you spacing out, and it’s not the cockdrunk look he sees on porn videos. You looked sad and miserable while staring into nothing, he fears he might have bored you to death and he’s too much of a virgin to satisfy you. Zayne looked scared to snap you out of it, he lightly nudged your thigh, and your gaze finally shifted to him. You still haven’t gotten rid of that look yet. 

“Sorry, let’s not do this today if you aren’t feeling well” zayne speaks softly while sitting up, the care evident in his eyes, and you wanted nothing more than to jump in his arms. 

You shook your head, a smile on your face. “I’m sorry I killed the mood. Are you still hard?” 

“What?”

“I mean, is your dick hard?”

Zayne looks down for a moment and replies, “Yeah…I’m hard”

You giggle and reach over to give him a peck. “Let me suck you off. You’ll feel good, I promise” You say as if you sucked dick before. You were quite nervous to put something in your mouth for the first time, fearing for your throat and untrained gag reflex. Also, Zayne looks pretty big from the way he’s tenting from his shorts, it wasn’t going to be easy.

Your heart was beating from your chest as Zayne sat with his legs on both sides of your body, presenting you with his aching bulge. You tug down his shorts along with his underwear and you see his big cock that he’s been hiding all along. Zayne flushes red on his ears and neck as you stare at his size in awe. The tip was angry and leaking, twitching occasionally as the man before you winced. Its girth was impressively thicker than your wrist and length longer than what you’ve seen in videos, this guy was above average. But before you could try to touch him, Zayne coughs up to get your attention. 

You question him in your eyes and he blushes, struggling to get his words out. 

“I-I want to make you feel good too. Can we try that position?” 

“What position?” 

“...69” 

Zayne bites his lip, looking at your face for any sort of disgust but none came. A smile broke out on your face before you nodded, taking the initiative to adjust your positions accordingly. Zayne was taller than you so you had to be the one on top, your body tensing as you face his leaking cock staring at you. You wanted to put your mouth on it so bad but you knew you had to wait for Zayne to adjust at your bottom. 

“Are you okay?” 

“Yeah, I’m good.” Zayne huffs out and you involuntarily clench, feeling his hot breath around your hole. You can’t help the heat that travels to your cheeks as you recognize yourself putting your ass up in the air for a man to gape at your hole. You could feel every bone in your body praying not to fuck this up.

“I’ll start,” You say, biting your lip and squinting your eyes before hurriedly starting the job. Your lips come into contact with the tip and Zayne moans, throwing his head back as you try to engulf him in your mouth. He feels you testing how your mouth glides up and down thanks to your saliva as lubricant. Zayne thinks he could burst right then and there in your mouth but he tries to at least save himself some dignity by not finishing through a 20-second blowjob. 

He leans forward and settles his palms on your ass, squeezing the soft flesh experimentally, making you moan at his touches. His lips press outside your pussy, shying away from the main course before steeling himself with the courage of a man. 

Choked moans left your mouth as Zayne suddenly parts your ass for a clear view and dives right in to fuck your hole with his tongue. He laps up like a man starved with eyes closed, executing toe-curling techniques that you didn’t know he could do. 

“Nghh! Mmhphh!” You’re drooling on his dick, taking what you can of his size and pumping what you couldn’t reach. He’s too much of a big fit in your mouth, struggling to hollow your cheeks since most of your wet cavern is occupied by his cock. You could only bob your head up and down, moaning to get him feeling some vibrations, and rubbing your pussy along his lips. 

On the other end, Zayne was having a very much-awaited make-out session with your cunt. He sloppily kisses your hole, circling his tongue as he tastes the softness of the flesh. His hands rubbing your ass in gentle motions causes you to clench and he groans, chasing the movement of your cunt. He does it like the boys do in those videos, he closes his eyes and imagines he’s doing a good job just like them, making their girl scream like it's the end of the world. 

“So pretty” he pulls away mesmerized by your glistening cunt. Zayne couldn’t help but be addicted to your pussy, and he gives it more attention by sucking and playing around with his tongue. To hear your muffled cries sends vibrations down his spine, making him even more hard as your eyes widen. 

You gasp for air as you fix your breathing. You wanted to complain about why he was getting bigger but you just couldn’t stop yourself from sinking deeper onto his cock. You’re positive you looked like a cockhungry slut with dick in her mouth, wiggling her ass as her man eats her out because that’s exactly what you’re doing, you could picture how dirty the position was and it makes you throb, edging you to your release.

No one was saying anything, too occupied with the job at hand as wet noises filled the room. Both of you were pushing each other at the brink of release. Zayne lightly thrusts to chase the feeling of a wet heat—challenging your gag reflex, not knowing it's your first time giving a blowjob. He suddenly hits the back of your throat as cum floods inside your mouth. You’re breathing through your nose, too full of erotic sensations, and you cum following his release. Wet spurts land on Zayne’s face as he drinks up your release, relishing in his first time making a girl cum. 

You pull away from his dick, white semen landing on the bed from your mouth and Zayne’s eyes widen seeing you keeping his release inside your mouth. He thinks you probably didn’t want to swallow it so he grabs tissues, and places them below your chin. 

“Spit it out” 

You look at the tissue on his hand and swallow the cum, wincing as the taste hits you. You just wanted to do it like others do, swallowing because you worked hard for it. Zayne was flabbergasted to even move, his flaccid member unapologetically rising hard when he saw you swallow his seed. 

It made him want to put it inside you. 

“Why did you swallow?” 

You wipe the excess off your face, “I just wanted to try” You hoped he didn’t catch on that it was your first time. Both of you were tired but you wanted to keep going, driven by lust. Zayne was trying to hide his erection and you decided to just get on with it, you wanted him inside right now.

“Zayne, do you want to be on top?” Your question left him surprised. He blinks for a few seconds before nodding and positioning on top of you as you lay down. Then it hits you.

“Wait, do you have a condom?” 

He visibly freezes before reaching over to the bedside table, pulling out the drawer, grabbing a condom, and opening the package. While he puts it on, your eyes drift to the package and you notice the XL size and the ‘super ultra-thin’ inscription. You couldn’t help but be a little nervous after reading that. 

“It’s on,” he says awkwardly, the tip of his ears reddening by the minute. At this moment, the air was thick with nervousness radiating from you and Zayne. You exchange eye contact with him as his palm rests on your hip, drawing circles to coax you and relax your walls. 

“I’m ready, are you?” 

“Yeah,” he kisses your lip to distract you from the pain of your cunt breached open by his thick cockhead. You wince in discomfort, legs shaking as the thickness stops moving. Zayne panics over your pained expression, whispering sweet nothings that it will pass soon because fuck, you are incredibly tight and wet. He almost moans at the sight of your hole struggling to take all of him. 

You look down and let your head fall back onto his soft pillow. “Move”, you let out breathlessly. 

“I’m too big for you, you need to adjust”

“Zayne, just move! Let me adjust when you’re inside me” You whine, wanting to have him inside you as soon as possible. Zayne complies and pushes in slowly, all his worries about med school and sex are completely gone when he buries himself to the hilt. You moan in unison, the stretch being painfully good for your first time.

It was the kind of pain that you’d willingly take because the pleasure was too much to lose out on. He stretches you out nicely, feeling every vein inside you, especially the tip that kisses your g spot. How did he find it in one go?

“You're so tight!—Shit” Zayne picks up on his space, letting his dick rub inside you before starting to thrust full-on. His hips smoothly roll as he pistons his cock in and out of your hole. Your wetness and the condom's lubricant make him move easily inside.

“Ohhh! Zayne!” You jolt towards the headboard as his grunts fill the room, his cockhead repeatedly locking in on your sweet spot, making you clench in response. His hair falls over his face, masquerading on his eyes as his hips put in the work for your pussy. He looks so pretty like that, flushed red, breathless, as he stuffs you repeatedly with his cock.

“Ahhhh, so big~” You could only moan and clench around his member, the movements making your boobs jiggle, and Zayne couldn't help but grope one of them—giving attention to the other by going down on his mouth. You just looked so pretty under him, so messy and good at taking his cock.

“My pretty girl” he huffs while bucking his hips into you.

Then he remembers that you probably had sex before him, and you have experienced other guys. And something deep within him tears its ugly head. Zayne suddenly had a primal urge to claim you, to make sure from now on, you're showing this lewd face to him and only him. 

He was jealous and it wasn't a good feeling.

He pounds his cock faster, pouring all the anger he has into vigor. You scratch his back as Zayne goes feral at a fast pace fucking his cock back into your hole. You thrash in his arms from the pleasure, wanting to run away because the dick was too good. But his strong arms cage you in place as he ruts like an animal in heat. 

His hand suddenly flicks on your clit, pinching the bud to edge you closer to your orgasm. He wanted to make you finish first, to feel your cum coating his length before he releases. 

Your nerves were set on fire just as you think your brain is fried from too much dick. You wanted nothing but to cum and release the knot forming on your lower abdomen. He pumps exactly at a target in a frenzied state, balls swinging against your skin. Zayne continued to grunt, letting out the manliest sounds you've ever heard.

“Z-zayne I'm Cumming—Hahhh!!!” You scream as your eyes roll to the back of your head, cunt spasming and dripping around his girth, body shivering from how hard it was. You feel like floating on cloud nine as Zayne leans down to kiss your neck, leaving hickeys in his wake. 

“That's a good girl. Now take this.” 

His pace gradually falters and he slides in one last powerful thrust before exploding his cum and flooding the condom. You cried out as he did small jerks of his hips to ride out his high while cumming buckets. You fear some cum may have slipped out but you didn't care to voice it out.

Zayne learned that it wasn't good to make you oversensitive so as soon as he finished, he took out his softening cock and watched your abused cunt close. He thinks It might have been his favorite sight.

The night ends with you receiving aftercare, drinking water, and cleaning up in the bathroom to make yourselves clean for bed. You didn't even know Zayne changed the sheets, which explains why he left the tub faster. 

But as you lay in his bed with his arms wrapped around you, there wasn't any semblance of reprieve because of your anxiousness about the arrangement. 

Sooner or later he would find out and everything would come crashing down. You'd go back to your own life, paying expenses thanks to the money you received while Zayne would also go on and continue to med school, fuck a few girls since he already had a taste with a girl who duped him for money. 

Just thinking about that brings tears to your eyes. No, you don't wanna be separated from Zayne. You wanted whatever you had with him despite having no label. 

You tried to tell him the truth a few times but fear got the better of you and you find yourself backtracking, saying something else, and laughing it off. Every moment was precious with Zayne, you couldn't cut his smiles short—it would break your heart to wipe off the soft love on his face. 

So you did nothing but let time run its course.

Zayne soon expressed his want for you to meet his family. He feels like he's known you for a lifetime despite meeting just that summer. So you took his offer and had lunch with his parents who tried their best to act as if they first saw you that day. The food was delicious yet the whole dining experience was painful. You and his parents lying to his face made you unable to stomach the food very well. So you left the house and went to their garden, gazing at the flowers that you knew Zayne himself planted. 

He was looking around for you, sighing since you didn’t tell him where you ran off. He was about to ask his parents in the dining room when he accidentally eavesdropped on a conversation that made him stop in his tracks. 

“Well that was awkward, can you believe our son actually fell in love with her? I mean, she’s pretty skilled”

He wasn’t supposed to hear that.

“This isn’t what I was expecting when we hired her. I think we need to end this arrangement soon. I’ll give her the money before this situation blows up.”

He couldn’t fucking believe it. 

Skilled? Hired? Money? It didn’t take an intelligent man to connect the dots as the conversation went on. Every word that came out of their mouth froze his heart and shattered it like glass. Anger, hurt, and confusion overwhelmed him for the first time in his life. He found it hard to stabilize his breathing. He couldn’t help but let hatred cover his eyes as he stormed into the dining room.  

“Is what you’re saying true? You hired a girl to seduce me?” he demanded, voice shaking with emotion as his parents looked very much terrified to see him there. He didn’t want to believe it was true, but as the seconds went by it was all becoming clear that this was a big fat farce all along. Zayne didn’t know what hurt but he knew he’d been played by the people he loved. And that was all it took for him to break his promise of never raising his voice at his parents. 

“Is it true?!” he roared and to see his mother flinch hurt him but at that moment, Zayne was the victim. 

“Zayne, darling let me explain—”  

“Why?” 

His mother breathed out. “We thought it would be good for you. We wanted to let you have some fun since I feel like you’re constantly buried in books! You need to take some time to socialize too!”

He could only pinch the bridge of his nose as he steeled his mouth in case he said something he could not go back on.

“This conversation isn’t over yet” he uttered coldly, leaving his parents guiltily mulling over their actions.  

Overcome by the need to confront you, he walks in long strides to the garden. He honestly does not know what he wants to hear from you. Apologies? Explanation? He doesn’t know but his feet take him to you and destroy your peaceful moment. 

He sees your figure basking in rays of afternoon sun, checking on the flowers he planted. He stops and stares before storming and grabbing your wrist to make you face him. You meet his face in shock, body tensing from the dangerous aura he was emitting. His hazel eyes were swirling with hurt and you knew it was that time. Zayne knew how much you were playing him like a fool. 

“Is it true?" he pants “That my parents hired you to seduce me for the summer? So that I could get with a girl and have some fun?” 

Tears flowed from your eyes as you nodded shakily, accepting your fate. He was disgusted by how easily you admitted it. Was it that easy for you?  

“I want to hear it from you. Speak before I kick you out” he spat out with so much venom that it wrecked sobs from you. Zayne hated hearing you cry just as he hated how this was such a cruel game you played. 

“Zayne, it was all real. I swear! My feelings are real. It’s true that I accepted a deal with your parents for money but you have to know that I needed it!” You feel like ripping your hair out just to make him believe you. You were so desperate to not be a villain in his eyes. “And what I feel for you is real! I love you and I’m so sorry that I did this to you.” You sobbed, holding your face in your hands as you wiped the overflowing tears that clouded your vision. 

You took a step forward and he took a step back, reflecting the hurt in your eyes. 

“How do I believe you now? How do I know this is still not an act?” 

“I don’t know…” You shook your head, mind at a loss for words. “I just know that it would kill me to be separated from you.”

Zayne could hear the desperation in your voice and it was constantly stabbing at his heart. He longed to believe and touch you, but the pain of deception stung deep. 

He took a deep breath and calmed himself. “Who are you? Do you have any other name?”

You whip your head in shock, shaking your head frantically. “No! (y/n) is my real name! Everything I told you is real!” 

He stood frozen so you took your chance to explain, fighting the cries that shook your body. 

“I love you. I-I wanted to give my body to the guy I love and it’s you. It was my first time having sex with you! I’m not some vixen who sleeps around. I’m just me!—a college student in need of money. Believe me, I beg you.”

It honestly didn’t matter to him if the girl he loved had his first time with him or not, he loved her regardless. But when you say it like that, he knew that trusting him with your virginity must have meant a great deal to you. That almost made him want to hug you but the rational part of his mind begged him to have some dignity. 

“You broke my trust” he exhaled, barely above a whisper. “You have no idea how much pain I’m feeling. But I love you…and it would kill me if you weren’t around.”

You take a step forward and grasp his hand to place on top of your heart, making him feel how much it beats for him. 

He’s entranced to feel your racing heart, a testament to your love. This gesture was enough to repair a piece of his shattered heart. 

He uses your interlocked hands to pull you into his arms, burying your face on his chest. You snuggled close as warm tears fell slowly on your cheeks.

“I don’t wanna leave” you cried softly. 

“You’re not leaving until you make me trust you again. And if I trust you again, I won’t let you leave.” 

You nod and ask, “What do you want me to do?”

Zayne cleared his thoughts even if his emotions were a mess. But he was an intelligent and rational man, he was able to think clearly in times of distress and he knew what needed to be done. He knows how you’ll pay for your sins. 

“From now on, I want you to be honest with me. No lies or secrets between us. Tell me everything you feel because I want your full transparency.”   

It was a light sentence and you were eternally grateful to the forgiveness he showed you. Because you'd die if he didn’t.   

“I will. So let’s start on a clean slate please.” you grip his shirt, signaling him your desperation. “I’ll be that girl you met in the park. And you have to believe me when I say I loved you every step of the way. I-I won’t even take the money if it means proving my feelings are real.”

Zayne shook his head as he caressed your hair. ‘Take the money and promise me you won’t leave me. Don’t put yourself in a situation like this just for some money. If you need some, then ask me.”

“What?”

“If you need support I’ll be there to help you in any way I can. All I ask is for you to do the same for me.” 

“Of course I will!” Your voice came out louder than intended and he smiled, yet not like he used to.  

“But you’ll move to Harvard soon for med school? How-how are we going to do this?”

Zayne’s face fell at the mention of his move at the end of his vacation. He hadn’t forgotten but it was a reminder that summer was nearing its end. He had to settle all affairs before treading on a new chapter in his life. 

He sighed, arms still around you. “Long distance isn’t easy, and I don’t know how we’ll do it.” 

Fear crept into you like a snake dampening your mood.    

“But,” he continued with a promising tone. “I’m not giving up on us. I won’t let a little distance come between us. We’ll make it work.”

‘We’ll make it” 

“We will” 

He whispers in your ears, kissing the top of your head, and bathing himself with the love that he receives from you. 

You feared a second chance wouldn’t last long but if anything were the testament to your unbreakable bond with Dr. Zayne, it would be the family photo with you and the kids, standing nicely on his office desk. 

[zepskies]

Lost in Translation

Pairing: Soldier Boy (Ben) x Female POC!Reader

Summary: Living with this man isn’t easy, and you’ve absolutely had it with him. Supe or not, you’re one step shy of kicking him out. Will he try to make it up to you? 

AN: So after getting requests for a Soldier Boy x POC!Reader, I’ve had a short series in development called Unravel Me. I’m a bit stalled on the outline right now, so I thought this could be a fun way to introduce their relationship and see if you guys think I should continue with the prequel, kind of like how I did with Checkerboard and the Break Me Down-verse.

This story would take place after Unravel Me, after a fair bit of character development lol. It also fulfills a bingo square for @jacklesversebingo!

Prompt: “Whatever you’re going to ask, the answer is No!”

Song Inspo: “Damage” by H.E.R.

Word Count: 3.4K

Tags/Warnings: 18+ only! Smut, bit of dirty talk, fingering, edging, some angst, fluff and feels. The reader is a mixed race POC (Afro-Latina), with textured hair. 

The apartment was quiet, but not peaceful.

You were in the kitchen washing the Mt. Everest of dishes piled in the sink, partly because someone hadn’t rinsed off his own plate of carne guisada.

Ben had asked for beef for dinner yesterday, and you’d graciously delivered with your grandmother’s recipe for the stew. It was filled with chunks of tender, fall-off-your-fork beef, garlic, onions, carrots, and more—all marinated to perfection, if you said so yourself. You even added in some little yellow potatoes, both for taste and texture.

Apparently, he couldn’t be bothered to put those meaty man muscles to good use, aside from shoveling three helpings into his mouth.

A bottomless pit and a freakin’ man-child, I swear to God, you inwardly groused as you scrubbed the ceramic a bit too hard with the rough side of the sponge. No matter how many times you asked, nicely, it seemed your boyfriend couldn’t manage to pull his weight around here.

Okay, you knew his job could be demanding, but so was yours.

What the hell is this, Maid in Manhattan? Newsflash: I’ve got shit to do too! 

“And I cooked!” you muttered in indignation. That reminder propelled you to scrub a bit harder. The least he could do was clean the kitchen. Or take out the trash. Or toss the laundry into the washing machine once in a while. Like you really wanted to handle his dirty boxers all the damn time.

Did he have no shame? Couldn’t he do anything for you without you having to ask him three million times?

Es que él es bruto, mija, as your Dominican grandma would say about your grandpa, often while swiping a tired hand over her long braids. Es como un animal con ropa.

Just then, you heard his heavy steps creaking on the wood floors in your bedroom. Today was his day off, so he was probably taking his sweet time rolling his ass out of bed.

Meanwhile, you were hustling to get the place at least decently clean before you got yourself together for work. The thought made you simmer as you continued to place dishes on the counter rack. Each one clacking to rest was satisfying, but it also ticked up your internal dial to a fine boil. 

You heard him bang the bathroom door open and cringed internally, your teeth grinding. You’d reminded him three times already about the neighbors and the noise.

Sabes que, supe or not, I’m about to— 

“Morning, sweetheart.”

Ben’s voice washed over you, deep and still a little rough with sleep as he stepped into the kitchen. His old man loafers slid against the floor with every step when he approached you from behind, and his heavy hands found a familiar resting place on the curve of your waist.

He swiped your slightly wild curls to the side and pressed a tantalizing kiss into your neck. His voice, his touch, the brief scrape of his beard; it all caused a small shiver of delight up your spine.

“Hmm, you smell good. Good enough to eat.” And he teased you with the graze of his teeth, biting gently enough where your neck met your shoulder. You flinched with half a huff, trying not to smile. 

Just like that, it took the edge off your irritation…a little. You opened your mouth to reply, but before you could…

“Hey,” he said, “since you’re already up and about in here, how about some breakf—”

Your spine tightened once again.

“Whatever you’re going to ask, the answer is No!” you snapped. You moved out of his arms to grab a hand towel to dry your hands with. They were all pruny from washing dishes.

“I’m already running late. Why? Because this place is a fucking mess, and the only one who seems to care is me!” you exclaimed. First, you gestured to the dishes now drying on the rack. “Hmm?”

You then opened up the lid to the full-to-bursting trashcan. “What do you call that, huh? You said you’d take this out last night. After I asked you twice. What, was I not speaking English? Did something get lost in translation, or are you already losing your hearing? Just let me know, ‘cause I can sure as hell crank up the volume for you!”

Ben raised a brow. You read his thoughts in his surly frown. You have some fucking audacity, talking to him like that, but it’s still early. He hasn’t even had his coffee, for Christ’s sake.

If he was more awake, no doubt he’d be barking back at you. Instead, he heaved a sigh, drew closer to you and shut the trashcan lid. At least there was one lid he knew how to close.

“All right, it’s just a little mess. No need to get fucking hysterical,” he said, trying to grasp your arm to placate you. You shrugged out of his hold and crossed your arms in anger.

“Ben, it’s not just a little mess. And what is this, 1945? I’m not hysterical!”

His lips twitched at a smirk, making you even angrier. But he’d caught enough smoke from you in the past to know he didn’t want it at 8:00 in the morning. He grasped your arms and rubbed them up and down, trying to sooth you.

“Okay, okay. It’s a little early for all this Latina temper, don’tcha think?” he said, pressing a kiss to your forehead. Your gaze snapped up at him with a glare.

Oooh, this man. He knew how to get you mad fucking tight.

Not in a good way.

Instead of exploding like Mount Fuji, you kept it all under your skin. You turned away from him and aimed to continue getting ready for work, but first, you took out a Greek yogurt from the fridge and wholly ignored him taking up space in the kitchen. You wouldn’t answer him when he called your name. In fact, you were going to give him the most frigid of cold shoulders—so cold he’d get hyperthermia through that invulnerable skin.

He waylaid your plans when he grabbed your hand, swinging you back into his arms. You gasped at the suddenness of it, looking up into his cocky, charming smile. You couldn’t stare too long at his green eyes, or the rest of his handsome, bearded face. Not when he knew exactly how to use it against you.

“Don’t think that’s gonna get you out of this,” you warned him. You set your yogurt on the kitchen counter and pushed at his chest, but it was no more effective than pushing at a mountain and expecting it to move.

His hands spanned your waist, his fingers beginning to press into your soft sides. He bowed his head, brushing his lips against your neck and the shell of your ear when he said, “Out of what, baby doll? Looks to me like we can still have a good morning.”

His voice once against trilled heat and tingles through your body, but you managed to lean back, holding the pads of your fingers to his lips.

“Hey, I’m not playing around here. If we’re gonna do this,” you pointed between him and yourself, “then let me make one thing really clear. I’m not la sirvienta around here, okay? I’m not your fucking maid. I’m your girl. Your partner. And since you live here now, I’m gonna need you to do your part.”

Ben almost rolled his eyes, but you grasped his chin. He frowned at you with furrowed brows. There was a time where he would've been inclined to grab your wrist and try to intimidate you with his temper. You saw it lying in wait behind his pursed lips and irritated stare, but you weren't afraid of him. Not anymore.

“Listen to me. I get that you haven’t lived like us commoners for most of your life, but this stuff is important,” you said. You took a deep breath, and you counted to three. You met him with a calmer gaze. “Ben, I love you.”

You let go of his chin and lowered your hand, letting it splay over his chest. He softened, ever so slightly, even though his frown remained.

“I love you,” you repeated, “but I don’t need a man-child.”

"Excuse me?" he did snap this time, his hold loosening from around your waist. "The fuck did you just say?"

You narrowed your eyes right back at him.

"You heard me," you said. "I want a man. A man who's going to be my rock when I need him. Can you do that for me, like I do for you? Are you gonna be my man, or do I need to claim you as a dependent on my taxes?"

His expression sharpened again at your thinly veiled accusation…but the longer he looked into your eyes, no longer angry, but earnest and imploring, the more he actually listened to what you were saying. His jaw worked for a moment in annoyance. You subtly softened him with your hands soothing up and down his arms, a slow back and forth over solid, warm muscle.

Eventually, he was able to curb his instinct to bark a callous reply. He nodded, expelling a breath through his nose.

“Fine,” he said.

Your brows rose. “Fine?”

“Yeah,” he said flatly.

You knew it was the closest you were going to get to an agreement, as well as an apology. You were still working on that last one, but dating this man was a work in progress, for both of you. With a sigh, you patted his arms that were slowly wrapping back around you.

“Okay, I’m really running late now,” you said.

“You should probably get a move on then,” Ben said.

Still, he didn’t release you. He stared down at you with an amused smile while you struggled against his hold. You uttered a laugh.

“Babe, I need to get to work.” You leaned over and spied the oven clock. “Oh, shit! it’s almost 8:30! If I’m not there by 9:00—”

“You sure you want to go now? Tense, body all tight,” he said, his voice deep with sensuous suggestion.

His lips neared yours, but he didn’t kiss you. Not yet. His lips veered away to brush against your cheek. He inhaled deeply as he moved, taking in the floral scent of your soap, mixed with the army of products you styled your hair with, and the faint imprint of your perfume from the night before. He skimmed down your neck and along the shell of your ear.

“Wouldn’t you rather I fuck all that tension right out of you?” he offered. “Leave you nice and warm and satisfied, have that pretty pussy coming hard on my cock.”

You let out a shaky breath, closing your eyes as his filthy mouth and the timbre of his voice struck a chord through your body, tinging warm arousal between your legs. Your fingers tightened on his strong arms, digging into the fabric of his loose robe. Ben took that as a wordless confirmation. He bent at the knees and grabbed you up by your plush thighs. You wrapped your arms around his neck on instinct, with a small gasp.

But you recovered quickly. Taking his face into your hands, you met his lips roughly with yours in a devouring kiss. He set you down on the kitchen counter hard enough to make the clean dishes rattle. His hands were just as claiming as his mouth, squeezing your hips and thighs as he spread them open to make more room for himself.

While your tongue dueled with his, you shoved the robe off his shoulders, followed by his sleep shirt pooling to the floor. His hand slid under your top as well, and almost ripped it at the hem in his haste to get it up and over your head.

“Ow, ah-ow!” You giggled when the collar got caught on your hair. Ben’s breathy chuckle reached your ears. He was gentler in how he helped get the shirt off the rest of the way. Your mane of hair fell into your face, and you huffed.

Ben did you the favor of brushing the thick curls away from your eyes, tugging several strands behind your ears, even though most of them didn’t obey him. He framed your face with his big hands, and his thumbs swept along your skin, the rich complexion shining in the morning light filtering through the kitchen window.

There was more care in his touch now, his strength tempered just for you. Fond amusement colored his features. For as much shit as you gave him, you still gave him more of yourself; more of your trust, your patience...and all the rest of it. You gave him more than anyone that had come before you, and deep inside, he doubted anyone that might come after you.

You smiled up at him, a little wryly. You leaned up and met him for a gentler kiss. Your eyes fell closed at the feeling of him, and the spicy hint of his aftershave. It was a scent that often clung to his pillows. When he was gone on a mission for days on end, you wouldn’t admit to clinging to one of them to help you sleep, and make you feel safe. 

“Mmm, you smell good,” you whispered. And it was true. He smelled like mint and spicy aftershave. You plied his lips with deeper kisses, licking into his mouth with a sensuous tongue, before you stole his words. “Good enough to eat.”

He uttered a groan deep in his throat. It satisfied you, enhancing the warm flood between your legs.  

Fuck it. You were calling in sick today.

You drew him back into the pull of you, winding your arms around his neck and your fingers in his hair. It was getting long again, but you liked it. You liked something to hold onto, just as much as he did. Your nails brushed against his scalp, down the back of his neck, earning a hum of pleasure from him. You wound your legs tightly around his hips and invited the press of his hard cock against your throbbing core, even through your panties and pajama pants. A faltering groan caught in his chest.

“Needier that I thought this morning,” he remarked. His warm hands drifted down to cup your breasts, his thumbs brushing over dark, pebbled nipples. You sighed into his mouth in response.

You heard the cocky grin in his voice, but for once, you didn’t care. You did need him. You wanted him to fuck the stress and chaos out of you.

…Well, he’d caused most of it, but still. He was gonna damn well fix it.

And he aimed to do just that, with his hands sliding farther down your body with purpose, grabbing the waistband of your pajama pants and roughly sliding them down, along with your panties. Your bare ass felt cold against the tile counter, but you didn’t have too much time to think about it with Ben’s thick fingers probing between the wet, glistening folds of your pussy. He soon found what he was searching for, circling firmly over your clit.

Your hips raised off the counter as you whimpered against his lips and ground yourself against his hand. You broke from his kiss to bury your face in his neck. Ben’s free hand grasped your hip and pulled you right to the edge of the counter.

There he held you down, his brows furrowing in concentration. His fingers sought your entrance and slipped inside you with ease. By now, he knew what angles would have you squirming, writhing, your body arching into him, while your inner walls clenched around his hand.

“Fuck. That’s right, baby doll. I’ve gotcha,” he said roughly, continuing to fuck your pussy with his fingers. His thumb rubbed against your clit between strokes.

The coil in your lower belly began to tighten, the delicious throbbing deep inside beginning to make your thighs shake. But just as you felt yourself tipping over the edge, Ben withdrew his fingers from your sopping channel.

You struggled to catch your breath in shock. Your head raised from Ben’s shoulder to glare at him. When your mouth opened to deliver an indignant protest, he silenced you with his mouth claiming yours. Your nails bit into his shoulder in retaliation, even though you knew it wouldn’t hurt him in the slightest. In fact, it only curved his lips into a smirk against yours.

You slapped him on the shoulder, immensely frustrated, but also laughing. “You’re such an assh—”

Before you could even finish cursing him, he gathered you up again and lifted you off the counter. He walked you over to the couch in the living room. He would’ve loved nothing better than to lay you out across the two-seater table in the kitchen, but he thought the shitty old wood might just give out under the strain of him fucking you. So the living room was a close second, and in this tiny-ass apartment, it was barely a few feet more to walk.

He laid you out underneath him on couch, and it groaned and squeaked under both of your weight. You squeaked too, if for a different reason. It had Ben smirking down at you. He freed himself from the confines of his pajama pants and coated his rock-hard arousal with the leftover wetness coating his hand.

“I approve of the scene change,” you said breathlessly, once again stroking his arms. Your fingers slipped over every dip and plain of muscle.  

“Didn’t think you wanted to be fucked on some cold tile,” he said, even if the sentiment behind his words warmed you. You were pretty sure he didn’t used to care about that. At least, before he met you.

He grabbed your hips, lined himself up to your entrance, and his cock breached you smoothly, pushing into you until his hips fit snugly against yours.

“Oh, fuck,” you choked out, your thighs squeezing around his frame.

“Feel good, sweetheart? All fuckin' filled up,” Ben teased, a bit breathless himself. You were a tight fucking fit. He slid out of you experimentally, drawing a moan from your lips. You nodded.

“Yeah, baby. So good,” you freely admitted, panting all the while.

Ben’s hot gaze drew over you as he continued moving hard and fast inside you. He took in your every bare curve, the way hot breaths and sexy moans fell from your lips with every thrust, the way your hair fanned out underneath you and hung off the side of the sofa cushion, the way your hands still explored him and touched him, demanding, but still loving.

For that, it was all the more tantalizing against his skin, warming even the darkest places he tried not to show you.

And every drag of his cock inside you stretched your inner walls in the most delicious of ways. It wasn’t just that he was able to fill you to the fucking brim. He also just knew his way around a woman’s body. He knew you, and he knew exactly how to make you come undone. Even quick and dirty on your couch, he made you feel brand new. 

He was right, damn him.

The coil deep inside you snapped. Pleasure crested through you and made your inner walls squeeze him tight, fluttering and pulsing with warmth. You came hard on his cock, hard enough to milk his release shortly after for all he was worth.

His forearms fell to the cushion on either side of your head. You were basically being smothered, but for the moment you didn’t mind. You just held his sweat-slick body against yours while you both caught your breath, each of your heartbeats falling back into a steady rhythm.

He was always so damn warm. It was nice, considering how cold it was this winter, but the thought always made you a bit sad. It reminded you of the power housed in his chest, and every memory he caged there as well.

You laid a gentle kiss on his shoulder. In return, his lips found the side of your head and hesitated there.

“You’re not going to work,” he said. It was more an observation than anything else.

You laughed breathlessly and shook your head. “Nope.”

He nodded. “Let’s go out for breakfast.”

You could get behind that. Your kitchen was finally clean, which meant your kitchen was closed until further notice.

“Shower first,” you stipulated.

You felt Ben’s smile grow against your dewy skin. “All right.”

You sighed, and he guided you to your feet along with him. You had a feeling “breakfast” was going to be lunch by the time you and Ben finally escaped this apartment.      

AN: Lol hope you had fun with this one! Let me know if you'd like to see more of these two! 💚💚

Spanish Translations:

Es que él es bruto, mija. Es como un animal con ropa.

It’s that he’s stupid, my daughter. He's like an animal with clothes.

However, “bruto” can also mean brutish, crude, and/or like a beast, so it fits in more than one way. 😂

Sabes que, …

You know what, …

La sirvienta

The servant (or maid) (female)

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[kentocidal]

FILE NAME: SHARING IS CARING!.TXT

USERS FOUND: stepbro!eijirou kirishima x fem!afab!reader x best friend! bakugou

WARNING! THIS FILE HAS BEEN CORRUPTED! DO NOT OPEN! stepcest, threesum, oral (m! and f! receiving), corruption, dubcon, piv, unprotected, dirty talk, coercion sort of, scummy!kiri, ask to tag

NOTES ABOUT THE VIRUS: your stebrother kirishima promised his best friend a taste of the forbidden fruit.

INTERNAL MESSAGE: i don't even care if this flops im posting it for me. happy first kinktober fic! visit the masterlist here!

NEW NOTIFICATIONS! @kaedescara @yaekiss @pvbbyb0y @voidshoutsback @4izawas (want to be added? send me an ask off anon!)

“are you absolutely sure this is gonna go over well, red?”

kirishima huffed out a laugh at his friend’s question, glancing over at him from the driver’s seat of his car as he drove the both of them back to his house. “yeah dude! it’s gonna be great. she’s really sweet, y’know. i’ve already told you everything about her. she’ll be fine.”

bakugou shifted slightly in the passenger seat, jutting out his bottom lip and turning his head to look out the passenger window. the familiar suburban landscape opened up more around them as they turned onto a familiar street, one that they always walked up and down as teens growing up.

it was bakugou’s first time back on kirishima’s street in a long, long time. it wasn’t kirishima’s first, though.

kirishima’s mother had remarried another man after he had moved out of the house, and with him came the introduction of probably the most stunning girls he’d ever seen in his entire life. ‘she’s like an angel,’ he’d mumble over to bakugou across a table in the dining hall, showing him a candid of you in sweatpants and a tight tank top on his mom’s couch, ‘she just lets you do anything to her, man. it’s like a built-in girlfriend. she’s always like, ohhh nii-san…’ 

bakugou had been apprehensive about the whole situation. he’d known that kirishima had… a thing for that cringe roleplay stepsister porn, but the fact that he was going through with it now that it was a reality had originally made him a bit concerned.

it had taken a lot of convincing for him to agree to come home with kiri for a weekend for … a relaxing getaway, as kirishima had put it.

kiri made the turn into his small driveway and picked up his phone, tapping quickly at the screen. “lettin’ her know we’re here…” he muttered under his breath before the little whoosh sound of the message sending rang through the car. 

bakugou took a deep breath, feeling out of his element. he felt like he was walking into a temptation set up by the devil.

kiri whistled to himself as he got out of the car and wandered to the trunk, popping it open to grab their backpacks. they were only spending the night, not expected to be there past sunday, so they had chosen to pack light.

bakugou gathered himself and stepped out of the car, pushing the door shut a little too hard when the front door of the house smacked open suddenly.

and there you were, in tiny sleep shorts and a spaghetti strap tank top, house shoes still on as you grinned and hurried down the stoop to your stepbrother. “eiji-nii! you made it!”

bakugou felt like his mouth was full of cotton as you hurried into kirishima’s arms, nuzzling your face into his chest and kicking a foot up, giggling into him. you were… you were going to rot his brain out. you with those thick thighs, soft-looking skin, clothes tight to your body and the curves of your ass poking out of the bottom of your sleep shorts.

kirishima wrapped his thick arms around your frame and held you tight, pressing his face to your hair and breathing deep, as if he hadn’t just seen you this time last week. “hey, careful! almost knocked me over.” he laughed into you before letting you go to take your shoulders, pushing you back to get a good look at you. “beautiful as always.”

bakugou felt out of place, for the first time in his life, watching his best friend observe his little stepsister, a girl who fell into his lap that he got to stick his dick in. it should be wrong.

kirishima looked over you to bakugou, those crimson eyes of his meeting burning carmine, shark teeth on display. “you remember how i told you my friend was coming over?”

“hm?” you turned and looked over your shoulder, all wide eyes and plush, wet lips that made a knot form in bakugou’s throat. he instinctively clicked his tongue, averting his gaze while kiri squeezed your shoulders. 

“i know you remember that i told you he was staying with us this weekend. hope you still don’t mind. you don’t, right?”

you looked up at your stepbrother and pouted, face feeling hot from embarrassment, you had been so excited about your stepbrother coming home that you had forgotten about your guest. you pulled away from kiri to turn towards bakugou, sticking out a hand in greeting. “nice to meet you, sorry for being so rude, i just got excited.”

bakugou looked down at you with a mixed sort of facial expression. it read like he was angry, but he was more frustrated with his own feelings as he grabbed your hand in his to shake it once. (your skin was so soft, you smelled like coconut, you probably just applied lotion, what would your hand look like wrapped around his-)

“nice t’ meet ya too.”

—

kiri was sat on one end of the couch, bakugou on the other, beers in hand as you hummed to yourself while cooking dinner. you had offered, against bakugou’s protesting, and insisted that you needed to be a good host for your brother’s best friend while he stayed in your home. so he had allowed it, staring at you through the entryway into the kitchen from his spot on the couch while he watched the way your shorts bunched further around your thighs, long legs exposed. 

kirishima chuckled, startling him out of his trance. “you enjoyin’ the view, bro?”

“this is insane,” bakugou choked out, shifting to face a little more towards kirishima. “this is- this isn’t right. you’re a freak.”

“and yet, you still came.” he shrugged, swirling the beer by the neck of the bottle before taking a swig. “she’s fine with it. she came onto me.”

“i still don’t believe you.”

“dude! i swear! that’s what happened! i was gonna try to be normal about this, yknow. but she wanted me so bad.”

bakugou scrunched his mouth up and sat back on the couch. kirishima was fucking his stepsister who he claims came onto him. kirishima was fucking his stepsister, and he was going to fuck her next. 

“dinner’s ready!” you called out, smiling at the pair of them, and kiri grinned oh so innocently up at you as he stood. “you’re such a doll. thanks, sis.” he patted your head as he walked past you, and you just beamed at him.

bakugou could tell you were trying to act like you weren’t sleeping with your stepbrother in front of guests. he could see how you were holding off, sitting at the opposite ends of tables or rooms, fussing with your clothing a little more than someone who was completely comfortable in their skin. 

dinner was… interesting. there was a sort of heat in the room that no one chose to acknowledge. you asked bakugou about his classes, smiling so prettily when he gruffly explained what his major was, what he wanted to do after graduation. kiri cracked jokes as always, talking around mouthfuls of food as if he had never learned manners. 

things took a shift after you and kirishima did the dishes.

kiri had suggested a movie, except the movie was never picked.

you suggested snacks, too, but the popcorn was never made.

bakugou felt like he had blinked, and suddenly he was on one end of the couch while kirishima was again sat on the other, back to the armrest, one leg kicked up and stretched out on the couch cushions.

you had been pulled into kirishima’s lap after trying to reach over him for a blanket. that had been the catalyst. your back was to kiri’s chest, and his hands had slipped their way up under your tiny tank top to cup your tits with a low groan. “missed you, nii-chan.”

“eiji-nii, what are you-”

“shh, he wants to see. i told him all about us, and i let him know that we were good at sharing.” he mumbled against your ear, his wide forearms starting to bunch the fabric of your tank top further and further up.

your eyes, nervous and embarrassed, were locked dead on bakugou’s, knees knocked together, tits about to be revealed and spill from kirishima’s hands.

kiri was groping his little stepsister in front of his best friend, and he was getting hard.

bakugou felt his nostrils flare as the cogs started to turn in your pretty little head. and then, finally, what he assumed was the real you started to poke through the cracks of your innocent facade. 

“is he gonna watch us, eiji-nii?”

“i want him to join. he’s my best friend ever! you think you can help him out? make him feel just as good as you make me feel?”

“only if he wants to…” you murmured and started to chew on your lip, brows furrowed in concern.

the weight of both his best friend and his best friend’s little sister sat heavily on bakugou’s shoulders for just a moment. he could say no. he could get up and call a car right now to take him home. he could call kirishima’s mother, tell her about what her son and precious stepdaughter have been doing behind their backs. it wasn’t right. it was filthy, it could ruin them-

kirishima gripped the front of your tiny tank and tore the fabric off of you, causing you to squeal in surprise and flinch at the sheer show of strength. your tits, soft and pillowy, nipples hard from the groping, fully on display in front of him.

katsuki bakugou had morals, yes. but katsuki bakugou was also merely a man.

“i wanna fuck you, sweetheart.”

kirishima grinned. “told you bro. best pussy you’ll ever get.” kiri turned his attention back down to you, sliding a massive hand down your front to cup your pussy through your sleep shorts. “you’re not even wearing panties, spread your legs, show kats how wet you’ve been for us.”

you, with your head already swimming from the attention, dropped your knees and spread your legs, revealing the damp patch in the crotch of your shorts. bakugou practically choked. if he had just reached over at the dinner table, he could’ve felt your pretty pussy much earlier.

“now then, nii-chan, i want you to treat kats like he’s your big brother too. make him feel really special.”

“red, don’t-”

“trust me.” kirishima’s eyes cut back up to bakugou’s, and bakugou felt something in him falter. he always viewed himself as the leader of their small friend group while growing up, always taking charge in risky situations. but here, on this couch, in a house he practically grew up in, bakugou felt small next to his best friend, who seemed far too in his element to be normal.

you, lips wet and eyes glassy, nodded anyways and looked up at bakugou with a soft smile. “katsuki-nii.”

“oh, fuck.” bakugou breathed out, shifting closer to you on the couch. “let me see you, take those shorts off-”

kirishima helped you lift your hips up for bakugou to get your shorts down and off of your hips, and he practically started drooling at the sight. you, gorgeous you, your pussy drooling and almost clenching around nothing, puffy clit aching between glistening folds. 

kiri hummed in the back of his throat, dipping his hand back down and swiping two thick fingers through your lips, making you gasp and shudder. he brought his fingers up to his own mouth with a dirty grin. “she tastes good, bro. you should try it.”

bakugou’s gaze flickered between you and kirishima, before ultimately landing on you. you smiled at him, spreading your legs impossibly wider, reaching up a hand to cup his cheek. “katsuki-nii, please, want you to-”

you didn’t have to say anything else to convince bakugou to drop to his stomach and press his mouth to your sopping cunt, lapping over you with wide strokes of his tongue and groaning into your pussy.

you moaned, a hand flying to his hair while the other braced itself on kirishima’s thigh. you tossed your head back onto kirishima’s shoulder, already trying to rock your hips up to meet bakugou’s tongue halfway.

kirishima’s hands found their way to bakugou’s hair and to your mouth. two of his fingers dipped into your mouth, encouraging you to suck on them, which you gladly obliged, swirling your tongue around the digits and pretending like it was your big brother’s cock. 

bakugou felt his hair get yanked, and he hissed before looking up and meeting kirishima’s dark gaze. 

“get a good taste, man. you’re gonna fuck her mouth after. don’t let her cum.”

you whined desperately in the back of your throat in protest, but kiri only pushed his fingers deeper into your mouth to make you gag and gurgle around them. bakugou hummed against your clit, sucking your puffy nub into his mouth to really make you leak. 

you squirmed in kirishima’s lap, clutching bakugou’s blonde locks as his tongue expertly swirled around your clit and his fingers prodded at your entrance, two of them slipping into your hole without much resistance. you bucked your hips, clenching down hard around his fingers as he crooked them upwards towards the spongey spot inside of you, and bakugou had an inkling of a feeling that he wouldn’t get his treat if he didn’t listen to kirishima.

he felt the way your breathing suddenly changed, and sat up, fingers and the bottom half of his face soaked with your juices.

kirishima pulled his fingers from your mouth, and you cried out in frustration. “katsuki-nii, please! so close, please-”

“don’t you wanna cum on this cock, princess?” kirishima sat up a little more and grabbed his hard cock through his sweats, making bakugou let out a breathy chuckle. 

“he’s right, baby. you know the rules. you only get to cum on your big brother’s cock.”

you felt the coil in your tummy start to loosen as kirishima stood and maneuvered out from under you, pushing you back against the armrest. bakugou took the free moment to crawl over you and smash his lips to yours, letting you get a good taste of yourself while on bakugou’s lips.

you heard kirishima remove his sweatpants off to the side, listening to the familiar sound of him spitting onto his palm to start stroking himself to the sight of you being manhandled by someone else. 

“kats,” kiri grumbled, and bakugou sat up while wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. “yeah, yeah, ‘m goin’.”

“nii-chan, put your head over the back, yeah? gonna suck katsuki-nii’s cock just like you suck mine.” kiri crawled over you and grabbed your throat to guide your head back. you swallowed and nodded, obeying immediately with a small yes, eiji-nii that made a spike of heat go down bakugou’s spine.

bakugou dropped his sweats and boxers to the floor, stepping out of them to finally give himself a few precursory pumps as you laid back fully on the couch, your head hanging off upside-down on the armrest. you licked your lips as kirishima guided your legs around his waist.

bakugou took a good look at the situation he found himself in. his best friend was hovering over his stepsister, fat cock prodding her entrance, no condom in sight. he swallowed thickly at the little sounds you started to make as he guided his cock through your wet folds, slicking his cock up with your juices. he caught himself staring at kirishima’s back before looking back down to your parted lips and where you started to drool all over your cheeks, and he couldn’t hold of much longer.

“open wide, princess,” he murmured, a hand reaching to grab your throat. you opened your mouth as far as it would go, and bakugou made himself a home in the wet cavity of your mouth.

he groaned, loud and low, his free hand reaching down to flick one of your nipples and grope your breast.

kirishima’s eyes glanced up as he listened to how you gurgled around the thick, foreign cock in your mouth, trying to adjust to the position and the new intrusion.

then he smiled, because he knew he was going to just knock the air out of your lungs. he pressed the fat tip of his cock to your weeping hole, and slammed himself home.

you gagged hard around bakugou’s cock, jerking and moaning out, legs locking instinctually around his waist.

“oh, baby, ‘m sorry. just couldn’t wait anymore, my li’l sister’s pussy was just too pretty for me. you can handle it, you always take it.” kiri grinned up at bakugou, at how his face was scrunched up and contorted with pleasure from how your throat was spasming around his cock.

kirishima started a rough pace, barely giving you room to catch your breath as you did your best to breathe through your nose, bakugou was quick to follow, sinking inch after inch further into your throat with huffs of yeah, that’s it, good fucking girl, taking your brother’s cock, i can feel where ‘m at in your throat.

kirishima reached down to grab your hands and pin them by your head, keeping you fully pinned as the tip of his cock slammed up against your cervix over and over. he was deep, filling you in the best way possible, while his best friend’s fat balls smacked against your face as you sucked his cock.

you felt lost, fully debauched, becoming pliant and fully receptive to their wills. you were a toy, and you loved how it felt on your skin.

bakugou moaned as he felt how deep he was fucking your throat, thrusting harder against you and feeling his legs start to shake. “can’t- ‘m gonna cum-”

“told you she- ah- was good,” kiri groaned as he leaned down to bite into the skin of your shoulder, making you whine and gag again around bakugou’s cock.

you squirmed and thrashed with each hard thrust from kirishima, the force of his hips making you bob harder up and down on bakugou’s cock. you felt stuffed, your legs felt on fire, but you were right on the edge.

bakugou shuddered before whining, sinking his cock deep into your throat to spill his hot load in a place you wouldn’t be able to spit from. you moaned around his length as you felt him cum down your throat, warm spurts and twitching cock making your head spin.

kirishima slowed his thrusts, rocking his hips against you as bakugou took his time riding out his high before stepping back and pulling his cock from your throat.

you wheezed, coughing before absolutely making sure you swallowed every last drop, opening your mouth again and sticking out your tongue to show bakugou that it was all gone.

kiri grinned and chuckled in order to get your attention again. “what a good little girl, swallowing all your brother’s cum. think you can take my load, too?” “please! please, nii-san, please give it to me, make me cum-” you whined loudly as you got the opportunity to wrap your arms around his neck, pulling your big brother in close to you, his massive form towering over you as he practically bent you in half to get deeper.

“i will, i’ll give it to you. shh…” kiri almost sounded affectionate, fucking you so hard the couch started to creak. “fucking- cum for me, cum on my cock, lemme feel you-”

a few swipes of his thumb on your clit sent you finally over the edge, squirting on him and feeling yourself grip down on his cock. he groaned into your shoulder as he came right after you, tumbling into his high and hearing the squelching sounds of his load filling your tight pussy.

he rode out both of your orgasms before finally settling down on top of you, peppering your face with kisses as you shook. then he looked up to where bakugou was sat on a loveseat, dazed, watching from afar.

kiri shifted and opened up a space next to the both of you, and you smiled over at him. “come here, katsuki-nii.”

bakugou swallowed before walking right into the demon’s trap.

[hotluncheddie]

For the @steddie-spooktober day 8 prompt : bonfire

rated: M | cw: none | tags: modern AU, idiot4idot

🌲🔥 🌲🔥🌲

Steve is glaring at him from across the flickering light of the bonfire. At a Highschool kickback out in the forest by the quarry.

‘So anyway, here’s Wondereall.’ Eddie says, strumming his guitar and singing way louder than he needs to.

‘God you’re so embarrassing, you’re so cringe.’ Steve says, shoving Eddie against a tree 4 minutes and 15 seconds later.

‘I hate you I hate you I hate you.’ He whines between kisses. Letting his mouth drop open so Eddie’s tongue can explore.

‘Fucking, why is it so hot that you’re okay being such a loser?’ Steve pants, Eddie’s kissing down his neck, Steve chokes back a whimper when Eddie bites.

20 minute later Eddie’s waltzing back to the little group still sitting around the fire. His arm slung around Steve’s waist and looking rightfully smug. Steve’s hair is a mess and he’s wiping his mouth, lips all swollen, and if his voice has a hint of a rasp to it no one notices. Except Robin.

Eddie sits back with his guitar next to the warm glow. Plucking the strings but not really feeling like playing properly anymore.

He got what he came for. And came… well, and he came.

‘I can’t believe that worked.’ Jeff shakes his head. ‘I would say I’m jealous, like, if a cheerleader got like that over a baseline, fuckin’ A. But, honestly, I think Harrington might actually just be a bit of a freak dude.’

Eddie smiles and looks over, at Steve holding a cold can of beer to his red cheeks as Robin Buckley throws peanuts at his head. They’re arguing about something, but also keep pausing to hold hands and giggle.

Steve glances over, catching Eddie’s eye and sticks his tongue out at him.

Eddie laughs. Steve might well be a freak.

But he’s Eddie’s freak.

🌲🔥🌲🔥

Tag list (lmk if you wanna be added / removed) : @scoops-aboy86 @xxfiction-is-my-realityxx @pearynice @thecatkingsthrone @marvel-ous-m

@chickensinrainboots @cheesedoctor

[fligniuz]

when in luzern

luigi mangione x reader x m! OC

｡𖦹°‧ you and your boyfriend make a friend during your travels.

word count: 9.7k • nsfw • read on ao3

tag list : @mangionebabymama , @mangobabygirl , @jenisaswift13 , @mangionesdaisy , @iinfinitelimits , @daydreamingwithluigi , @mrs-cactus69 , @mashkatzi , @straw8berry , @bean-is-reading , @luigis-wetdream , @difensore-del-popolo , @contrarianshitstan , @lunacelia , @lilbadblueeee , @hiscalliope , @luiluvr (comment to be added)

warnings : an ATTEMPT at representing swiss german in fic…f! reader; m! OC; EXPLICIT; threesome (m/m/f); luigi lets it all hang out during a trip to switzerland; drug use (alcohol + weed); oral (m! + f! receiving); voyeurism + exhibitionism; unprotected (practice safe sex!!!!!!); bisexual train; SAY GEX (luigi tops); multiple penetration; come sharing (i think), fluff at the end

notes : hey…so like…idk how many of you are even gonna be into this and i’m expecting it to flop but…it’s pride month and i’ve been wanting to write this concept for a while so this is what you get from me i understand if you wanna skip out on this one it was mostly for me💚 if you DO read thank you very much and happy pride from your resident enby luiginator!!!!🏳️‍🌈🏳️‍⚧️

P.S: if you need some help visualizing i kinda imagined galli looking a bit like this fine shyt who showed up for like 5 minutes of severance season 2 and then disappeared😩but you’re free to imagine him however you’d like <3

^ divider by cafekitsune

This guy playing the bagpipe at Neubad can’t keep his eyes off of you.

Or Luigi. Hard to say. 

He’s tall, a bit lanky, moving like he’s got the joints of an accordion, wearing way too much plaid, and donning a well-groomed mustache. You can’t guess the color of his eyes from this distance, but you know that they are sharp, brimming with energy and intent, focused entirely on…something in your vicinity. He could either be nineteen or thirty two. His fingers move quickly, gracefully—the head of the bagpipe’s chanter has pointy ears like that of a cat, painted with a tiny golden face. One word comes to mind: twinkish. An original invention.

He is mesmerizing, as is his stare. The music is just as hypnotic. The vibes are strong, and everyone in this venue—or, rather, former swimming pool—is feeling it. You’ve been walking around the streets of Lucerne looking for some plans to make, and when you heard the live music spilling from this cultural venue, the two of you instantly knew where you’d be spending your afternoon. You got lucky; two kind patrons offered up their front row seats on the way out, which you were quick to take.

So here you sit with your boyfriend, tapping your leg and swinging your head to the folksy rhythm filling your ears. Luigi seems to be enjoying himself, too; every so often you catch him looking toward you, the curve of his smile sneaking onto his face like a note passed under the table. He looks content. 

Right now, though, he leans over, his voice hardly louder than the music:

“Do you think that dude on the bagpipe has a problem with us?”

You shrug, still dancing in your seat. “Why would he?”

“I don’t know!” he says, brows furrowed. “Maybe he can sense that we’re Americans from that far away.”

“Or,” you rebut, grinning to yourself, “he just thinks we’re hot.”

He snorts. Nudges you with his elbow. “Yeah, okay. That would be all you. Not we.”

“How would you know?”

Luigi doesn’t answer, because the song has ended and the rows of seats behind you have risen with applause. You join them, standing up and whistling in admiration. From the corner of your eye you see your boyfriend cringing. The band thanks the crowd for joining—“merci vilmal!”—and begin to pack up their instruments, chatting amongst themselves in a cheerful blur of animated Swiss German. As people start to file out of the hollow impromptu stage, you grab Luigi’s hand and yank him toward you.

“C’mon,” you urge. “We gotta find out what the fuck this place even is.”

He laughs. “You’re nonstop.”

“You knew that already. Let’s go.”

Neubad is not only a place of culture—it is a shrine of fantastic craft beer.

You and Luigi are perched at the bar, chatting back-and-forth and nursing tall glasses of something thick and malty when someone approaches and takes the seat right next to yours with a sort of quiet confidence; as if they have done this very thing many times before.

Bagpipe Guy. 

Mr. Staring Problem himself. You could recognize those kinetic eyes anywhere—and you can see now that they are green, a beautiful, muted green that spills out from his pupils like moss on a stump. The kind of green that clings and shimmers. He says something, accent thick—question-shaped, most certainly, but you’d be better off trying to interpret braille.

He watches the confusion wash over your faces, and then laughs. It’s loud, booming and brave like a drumroll. 

“Ah,” he says. “English, yes?”

You and Luigi nod sheepishly.

“I asked how you two are doing tonight,” he clarifies.

“Oh!” You glance towards your boyfriend and smile, relieved to know you haven’t made fools of yourselves yet. “We’re doing well, thanks! Very well. We really loved your music.”

The man makes a face, one of apprehension. As if he is unconvinced. “Really? I feel that we weren’t our best tonight.”

Luigi laughs in surprise, projecting a thumb in your direction. “Nah. You guys killed it. She danced the whole time.”

You did. You know he saw.

Bagpipe Guy smiles. “Where are you two from?”

“America,” you both say simultaneously.

“I could have guessed,” he quips, nodding. “And your names?”

This time you take turns speaking.

“Very well!” he exclaims. He extends both of his hands for each of you to shake, but it looks more like he’s presenting an invisible feast. “I am Galli. It is a pleasure to meet you both.”

“Galli,” Luigi reiterates, like he’s trying it on for size. “You and your bagpipe have great chemistry.”

Galli laughs at that. “I call her Desideria! She is my better half.”

At that he points to the hard-shell case slung over his shoulders—you assume Desideria the Bagpipe lays beyond the metal and plastic. When Galli pats the head of it you imagine Desideria herself purring rhythmically inside. Luigi shares a laugh with you, takes a swig of his beer.

“What brings you both to Switzerland?” Galli asks.

“We wanted something more quiet and rustic,” Luigi explains. “And she has this fetish for Swiss cheese, so she wanted to try it straight from the source.”

“It’s true,” you affirm, nodding. “I will go to unspeakable lengths for a good fondue.”

Galli grins. “And the chocolate?”

You gasp in remembrance—of course you two have tried it. The finest, smoothest, creamiest delight that’s ever melted in your mouth is the Cailler bar you grabbed at one of the many souvenir shops the two of you have visited.

“Oh, the chocolate!” you exclaim, clasping a hand over your chest—a completely appropriate display of affection for such a religiously admired delicacy. “Absolutely bomb. Wait—how would you say it? Like, the Swiss way?”

“Mega fein!” Galli demonstrates, accentuating his words with a very serious chef’s kiss. You and Luigi repeat after him, emphasizing the ei diphthong and the soft ah, much to your new friend’s amusement.

Galli claps joyfully. “You guys are fun,” he says. “Usually, Americans, ehh…Loud. Rude. But no—you two have taste.”

Gesturing toward your boyfriend, you joke, “he thought you had a problem with us. He was like, ‘can he sense our American spirit from that far away?’ because you kept staring at us.”

“I didn’t say that,” Luigi protests, badly. Chump.

“Ah!” Galli nods. “I was staring...I apologize. How rude of me.”

You laugh, shaking off his sudden bashfulness. “We were just trying to figure out which one of us you had your eyes on.”

And then this eccentric, mustached, plaid-wearing, bagpipe-toting Swiss man pauses, glancing between the two of you as he rests his chin atop his clasped hands.

“You are mistaken,” he says. “I was staring at both of you.”

You’re not sure if Luigi looks at you first, or if you look at him—but what comes next is anticipant giggles from both of you, amusement and perhaps something more lingering in your gazes. Your cheeks are warm. Luigi’s are already pink.

“Are you drunk?” Galli asks, as casual as a yawn.

And then you’re laughing.

“Not yet,” Luigi says. You nod in agreement.

“Good,” says Galli. “I live close to here, on Sternegg. I have better liquor for you. Will you join me?”

Neither of you could possibly imagine finding better liquor than what’s at Neubad, and you have no idea where or what Sternegg is—but Galli is a local, and clearly a smart one. Should you trust a man you met not even ten minutes ago, after he stares at you for ninety minutes straight while serenading a room full of strangers with a cat-faced bagpipe? All signs point to...Plots, and they can’t be good. 

Galli, though…He doesn’t feel like a red flag. He’s an open door, a side quest, a detour. He has this way about him, and you know that Luigi can feel it too; you noticed it the moment he came to sit next to the two of you, the moment he started speaking in that eloquent Lucerne dialect. And besides—if anything were to go sour, Luigi could fold this twinkish fellow in half faster than Galli can say “figg di!”. You aren’t expecting disaster, though. Galli feels trustworthy. Galli feels like a friend.

Reaching beside you from under the bar, you squeeze Luigi’s thigh, your silent question heavy as water in the air.

He looks to you, a soft flush still painting his face, and nods.

“That sounds like a good plan, Galli,” you say. “How do we get to Sternegg?”

Sternegg, as it turns out, is simply a street just a few minutes out from Neubad, one that contains rows of homes not too similar and not too different; a cozy little suburb. Although Galli’s place seems small, it’s hiding a universe of eclecticism and adventure. One thing you notice right off the bat is that Galli is a bit of a maximalist—actually, a bit would be a disrespectful understatement. His walls are lined with framed artwork and souvenirs and hanging crosses (not in a “lowkey concerning/maybe paranoid” way; these crosses are carefully crafted and clearly hold both a spiritual and aesthetic significance). His cabinets are styled like framed paintings of winged cherubs, and atop them sits a collection of items: different styles of lamps, unlit candles, Godzilla encased in a glass display jar, sculpted bears wearing hiking gear. You find several instruments—namely a keyboard, a tie dye patterned cello, and a banjo. Just the living room alone is a collection of mementos from Galli’s clearly audacious existence, a museum of artistic wonder and space ripe for creation.

Happily, Galli leads you to the kitchen, a much more subtly fashioned room complete with decorative displays of fruit, moody lighting, and ceramic figures of a boy and girl dressed in traditional Alpine garb. It turns out, upon your inspection, that they are cookie jars; the tops of their heads screw off in an uncanny but charming manner, leaving the twins essentially scalped. You personally love the vibe. Nothing says “welcome to my kitchen!” like scalped people-shaped cookie jars.

Luigi is still busy kicking his shoes off by the time Galli is greeting you with a trio of glasses and what looks to be a bottle of red wine.

“This always impresses my guests,” he says, “so I do hope you two enjoy it.”

You take a closer look at the label: Racconti, by an indeed impressive sounding Cantina Mendrisio. 

“Sounds Italian,” you suggest.

“Did somebody say Italian?”

Luigi is now in the kitchen with you.

As Galli begins to pour the three of you a glass of Racconti, he smirks to himself. “It is Italian wine, yes. From Ticino.”

“Ticino?” you and Luigi repeat in unison.

Galli giggles, screws back on the top of the bottle. “An Italian region here in Switzerland, my friends. It is where we Swiss make our finest wine.”

He raises his glass, as if to make a toast, and you and Luigi mirror him.

“Ready?” Galli asks. “After me: Broscht!”

“Broscht!” you both repeat, clinking your glasses against Galli’s. After your cheers the three of you collectively sip, giggling back-and-forth.

“Alright,” Galli says, “come with me.”

At his word, the two of you follow Galli out of the kitchen and through the narrow hallways into his bedroom, full glasses in hand.

If what you’ve already seen wasn’t excellently elegant enough, Galli’s bedroom is nothing if not a suitable challenger. The atmosphere is a mix of grandma’s house and 70’s hippie pit, a melting pot of velvet surroundings and uniquely shaped rugs and well-fed houseplants—there are dainty wooden wardrobes with patterned slacks hanging from the doorknobs, multicolored throw pillows, IKEA boxes of records settled next to a truly jaw-dropping audio setup. But the centerpiece, of course, is Galli’s circle-shaped bed, perfectly plush and cradled by a golden frame; you instantly make a beeline for it, careful not to slosh your fancy Italian wine onto the rose-colored cushion.

The first thing Galli does upon entering does not surprise you. He walks right over to his collection of music and starts digging through the cache; he pulls out a record—Addio Alexandra—and skips to the second track, which lights up on his stereo’s display: “Ménage á trois”. 

Luigi takes his time looking around, while Galli focuses his attention on a small box on his nightstand.

“How do we feel about a smoke?” he asks, glancing up to gauge your reactions.

You sip your wine. Look toward Luigi.

Galli clarifies; in his hand is a grinder, making the kind of “smoke” in question more clear. The both of you nod.

“Excuse me,” he says, ushering over to the balcony door. 

As soon as you can feel the wind blowing into the room, you smell it: Galli is growing some dank shit on his balcony. You watch as he collects the bud from his plant and looks it over, returning back to the bed with a smile. 

You look at Luigi again. He’s still touring the room, eyes darting about like he’s in search of something.

“Do you read much, Galli?” he asks. He faces the bed, now, one hand perched on his hip. 

Ah. That’s what he was looking for.

As Galli stuffs some bud into his grinder and begins to twist, he shrugs. “I read sheet music. Not much more.”

“Luigi reads a lot,” you say. He nods in agreement, making his way toward the bed. 

“Yes?” Galli smiles, now carefully switching the flower to a thin rolling paper. “What else does Luigi do?”

Right then something clicks between the two of them that makes your brain short circuit and overload all at once—Galli’s eyes meet his, a quick but conspicuous glance, and Luigi blushes. He blushes and he smiles, his canine catching on his lip as he looks away with a low chuckle.

What the fuck was that?

“I’m pretty active,” Luigi says. “I’ve been really into running lately…Um, I dunno, baby, what else do I do?”

He looks to you now, face settled, as if that little hiccup just a moment ago was nothing but a bump in the night. It puzzles you that he can’t find much else to say about himself.

You sip your wine. “He can make a mean baked ziti.”

Galli giggles jovially, sealing the joint with a lick down one end of the paper. His eyebrows are raised with what must be surprise.

“A fellow Italian?” he asks, looking directly at Luigi.

“I kinda thought my name gave it away,” says Luigi, smirking shyly.

Befuddled, you murmur, “I thought you were Swiss?”

“Both!” Galli clarifies. “My parents are Italian-born—they moved to Lucerne when my mother was pregnant.”

“So you’re Swiss Italian.”

“I guess the mustache makes it pretty obvious, now that I look at it,” Luigi says. 

And he’s right; Galli slips the spliff between his lips and strokes his signature well-manicured mustache with both hands, using the tips of his fingers to twist the dull ends. Luigi laughs through a sip of his wine, and you join him, still slightly piqued at his boyish, seemingly charmed attitude towards Galli.

“I’ll be right back,” Galli says. “I left my lighter in the kitchen…”

The lean man is already up and about, turning down the hallway to retrieve it. The joint is still in his mouth.

You nudge Luigi’s bent knee with your foot.

“What?” he asks, face adorably peeved.

“What’s up with you and Galli?” you ask.

“What do you mean?”

“You’re acting weird,” you say, finishing what’s left of your drink. “You’re all blushy and…Weird.”

“I’m not blushy,” he shoots back, hushed, as if Galli is listening through the walls with his wine glass. “I don’t understand what you mean. I’m not being weird.”

“You are,” you rebut. “Do you like him?”

“What?”

“Do you like Galli?”

Luigi blinks. Sips. His hand is trembling, just slightly.

“I mean—I’m—I don’t know,” he stammers, looking away from you. “Do I like him? What does that mean?”

“You just seem, like…” you try to explain, struggling with the words as they escape, half-formed, from your mouth. “You seem enamored with him. I don’t know. You’d have to see it from my eyes.”

A beat passes as Luigi, too, finishes his wine. He sets his glass on his thigh and narrows his thick brows at you, eyes focused.

“What are you implying?” he pokes.

You don’t answer. Galli is returning, now holding a neon pink long-reach lighter in his hand. 

“Sorry, friends!” he says, attaining his seat on the bed. “I couldn’t find the right one, so we have to make this work.”

You stifle your laughter as Galli struggles to find a proper angle to light the joint—but he makes it work, taking a puff and retrieving the bottle of Racconti from his nightstand. As he pours the both of you a second glass, careful not to spill any on the bed, his lithe fingers pass the spliff to you, one sparkling green eye winking.

“Ladies first,” he jokes.

You giggle. Take a hit, sip from your glass. You feel as if you’re living a proper European life, sitting on this lavish bed drinking gourmet wine and smoking a Swiss Italian man’s weed with your boyfriend. Exhaling slowly, you hand the spliff to Luigi—and when he takes it from you, his fingers brush against yours in a way that feels delicate, purposeful. But then, he looks to Galli once more; his eyes flicker over with a hint of something you can’t identify, glancing back at the eccentric man who now leans against a mountain of pillows, watching the two of you with a grin that’s impossible to interpret.

Luigi coughs just once when he takes a toke. You decide to spare him the embarrassment of even acknowledging it.

“How long have you been growing, Galli?” you ask.

“Ahh…” he begins wistfully, taking the joint from Luigi. “It started in university. At first it was just an experiment, but then…I don’t know. I fell deeply in love with it. I like to watch beautiful things flourish.”

He’s not looking at the plants.

“University?” Luigi pipes in. “What’d you study?”

As you take your hit, Galli responds, “actually, try to guess.”

“Art history?” Luigi offers.

“Mortuary science,” you suggest.

Galli shakes his head, guffawing. And after a sip of wine, he provides: “Astrobiology.”

You look at Luigi. He is looking back at you.

“Astro…biology?” you repeat.

“It is exactly what it sounds like,” Galli adds. “The study of life in the universe.”

“Like…aliens?”

Luigi is laughing.

“I know, I know,” Galli says, his blunt teeth perfectly white beneath his lips. “You didn’t know that existed before I told you about it…But it’s real! And we didn’t just study…errr, ‘aliens’. We studied the origins of life and learned about early evolution. It is a very astounding discipline.”

Luigi nods, still smiling, but fascinated nonetheless. “No, I agree. That’s really cool. So why aren’t you, like, at NASA now?”

“That’s the thing,” Galli says. “I went into college not knowing what to do with myself. I settled on astrobiology because…It sounded cool. But then I met my friends, my bandmates, and I realized…What I wanted was to create, not to study creation.”

You smile, softened. “That’s profound, Galli.”

By now Luigi has the joint again. When he passes it to Galli, the Swiss devil himself asks, “what about you two? University?”

“Oh, yes,” you say. “Both of us. But Luigi especially.”

Luigi shrugs you off, but he knows just what to say next. “I went to the University of Pennsylvania.”

“University of Pennsylvania!” Galli repeats with pride. “That is a very prestigious school, no?”

You nod. “Very.”

“What did you study?” he asks, eyebrows raised in beguilement.

“Computer science,” Luigi answers.

“Very good!” Galli exclaims, taking a hit. “The only technology I understand is music. I am envious of your brain.”

“Wanna trade?” 

Galli has a laugh that lingers in your eardrums. It’s crisp and vivid, like watercolor on fresh paper, imprinted in the very electricity of your nervous system. You wonder if even the alcohol won’t let you forget it.

“You don’t like it?” he inquires, handing you the spliff.

“I do,” Luigi says. “I like code. I like to unravel things. Sometimes it just feels limiting.”

“Such is the way of life,” you murmur, smoke curling from the edges of your lips. 

Their eyes are on you. Both of them. Looking with scheme glistening behind their irises, faces blissfully relaxed. You pass the joint to Luigi; when he takes it, he strokes his fingers against yours once more—this time far more obvious, less hesitant. 

Something reeks of possibility.

You aren’t sure what shifted. Maybe it’s the alcohol you’re still drinking, or the pot you’re still smoking, both excessively European in strength—but a keen intuition tells you that this is something more than intoxicated tension. It’s raw and tugging at the edges of your connection. It’s fierce, screaming like a banshee underneath the shiny overlay of innocent fun. You ponder if either of them can feel it, too. You ponder how to swim through the ambiguous expectancy.

And, frankly, you aren’t sure how long the three of you sit talking back-and-forth, sharing the joint until it’s a roach and drinking until the room starts to feel a little too toasty. You aren’t sure of all the things that you discuss amongst yourselves. What you know for certain is the one question Luigi asks that flips the night on its head:

“Why did you invite us, Galli?”

Propped up against the high-backed, pillow-stacked headboard, your host—your new friend—smiles toothily at the both of you, mossy eyes shimmering.

“You two interested me,” he responds. “I like good company.”

And then, whether it’s the wine, the weed, or your own blatant disregard for manners, you pave the cement that forms the road of the night:

“You thought we were hot.”

Galli blinks.

Luigi delivers a gentle but firm slap to your arm, uttering your name in a scolding tone.

Galli laughs.

“You are not wrong,” he says. “But I didn’t want to…err, embarrass myself. Or frighten my guests, of course.”

You wish you could capture Luigi’s expression on camera. The subtle but palpable changes in his face are perhaps the most suitable highlight of the affair.

“We aren’t frightened,” you murmur, hand gliding up Luigi’s thigh. You squeeze him—promptly, but reassuringly. You turn to him. “Are we?”

He looks at you, looks you in the eyes, for the first proper time tonight. His face relaxes. His heart does, too.

He turns to Galli. “We aren’t,” he clarifies, voice soft, uncertain, still welcoming. “But what kind of company were you looking for?”

“You like to unravel things, Luigi,” Galli proposes, setting his wine glass on the nightstand. He leans forward. “Perhaps the three of us could unravel together. Would you all like that? With me?”

This time, you and Luigi don’t look at each other. 

You nod. Without thought, you nod. 

“We’ve never—” Luigi then adds, but he swallows the rest of his sentence quickly. Retries. “Uh, we don’t have…Much experience with this kind of thing.”

“That’s quite alright,” Galli says. “None needed.”

“Do you do this kind of thing often?” you ask. “Bring drunk tourist couples to your bedroom?”

He shakes his head, flippant. “Not really,” he answers. “I do not come across the opportunity often. Well…I do, but, err, I do not always like the candidates, I suppose.”

“But you like us?” Luigi interjects.

Galli nods. Smiles. “Yes. I do. Do you like me?”

“Yes,” you affirm.

Luigi nods in agreement, then parts his lips to mutter: “I’ve never been with another guy before.”

At this, Galli chuckles. “That’s also alright,” he assures Luigi, eyes gentle. “Would you like to be? Tonight?”

You look to him. He isn’t looking at you, but he’s clearly thinking.

Or perhaps he isn’t. He answers quickly:

“I mean…Why not try it?” Luigi responds, the leftovers of a smile creeping into his lips. “When in Lucerne, right?”

He means it to be funny, but none of you laugh. The fierce wails of your bond are far too loud to respond appropriately. You squeeze his thigh again, much like you did at Neubad, where you first met Galli. There are a few curious glances passed between the three of you. Then:

“Well, uh…How do you normally go about…Starting?” Luigi asks.

The Swiss devil next to the both of you is as nonchalant as ever, gently smirking as he speaks. “What would you two like?”

“I have an idea,” you blurt.

The boys turn to you in an instant. 

“Well, go on,” Galli goads, eyes wide and inquisitive.

Luigi’s hand presses against your back, rubbing encouragingly.

You smile. “I shouldn’t say…”

“You should,” Luigi suggests.

“Would it feel better if you whispered it to Luigi, and he relayed it back to me?” Galli offers, leaning in.

You consider. Nod. Galli beams. 

“Alright, then,” he says, relaxing back against the headboard once more. “No need to be shy.”

Palm pressed into Galli’s plush mattress, you lean over to whisper to Luigi, making a show of it by cupping your hand around where your lips nearly meet his ear. Galli watches closely with amusement.

Luigi’s eyebrows quirk as the syllables leave you. He turns to you, grinning.

“Is that what you want?” he asks.

You nod, blushing madly.

“Well, what?” Galli chimes in.

At that, Luigi speaks: “She wants to watch me suck you off.”

There is a glimmer of something adventurous in Galli’s eyes as he leans forward. “Is that so?” 

When he glances over at you, you nod again.

Galli smiles at Luigi. “Your lady is a firecracker.”

Your boyfriend flushes a little at that, laughing softly, dimples accentuated. 

“Well,” Galli says, “since we have a newcomer here…” 

He looks to Luigi, who lowers his head bashfully.

Galli continues: “I think we could use some warming up, yes?”

His slender hand begins to creep up Luigi’s thigh, enticing and suggestive—until Luigi crashes his lips into Galli’s, coaxing a noise of pleasant surprise from the leaner man. It’s a messy kiss: long strokes of tongue and the slick of spit, and you almost can’t believe your eyes, can’t believe that you’re really watching your boyfriend come to terms with something neither of you expected to confront this evening, or ever, for that matter. Your eyes widen with excitement as you watch Galli’s thin fingers tangle into Luigi’s curls, their mouths moving without any hint of hesitation or uncertainty. Leaning back against the headboard with a slight smile, you brush your fingers back-and-forth over your nipple through your cami, thoroughly enjoying the sight in front of you and the sounds that their kisses produce.

They go at this for a while, much longer than you anticipate; it’s just you easing into the moment with the slightest touch as you watch your boyfriend kiss another man, sloppy and unheeded, Galli licking into Luigi’s mouth with intent and drawing moans from the broader man that make you feel dizzy. When Galli parts Luigi’s lips with his tongue Luigi takes the opportunity to nibble at Galli, pulling back just a little, and Galli groans, smoothing his hand down Luigi’s shoulder blades. You start to think this night couldn’t get any more unpredictable.

As Luigi pulls away to catch some air their lips are still connected with saliva. Galli turns to you, notices your hand teasing yourself. 

“Liking the view?” he asks playfully.

“Oh, yes,” you nod. “Don’t mind me. Just gettin’ comfortable.”

You can see Luigi smiling sheepishly at that—a sweet little smile that slowly fades as he kisses Galli again, this time reaching forward to grip his waist. With the weed and the wine on top you’re starting to feel all fuzzy just watching them make out, Luigi’s brows furrowed in concentration as Galli slips his hand under your boyfriend’s shirt. God. Not in a million years would you have guessed that watching a folk music show at a cultural center would lead to you and your boyfriend in bed with another man, no less this specific man—but you’d be delusional to complain. The sight in front of you is something straight from porno. Galli moans when Luigi begins to kiss down the slender expanse of his pale neck, leaving wet marks and teases of teeth in his wake. At this point you decide to pull your shirt up and over your head, something that the boys are far too busy to notice, because they, too, are starting to strip; before you can blink Luigi is helping Galli out of his plaid-print vest and thin undershirt, their mouths wet and swollen with passion, lips pink and thoroughly used. Galli’s fingers trace the light freckles underneath Luigi’s eyes and you watch as fire ignites behind his statuesque face.

Glancing over to you briefly, they continue, leaving you to work the silk of your skirt down your legs. Galli’s slender hands reach for the hem of Luigi’s tee, lifting, revealing taut abs and perky nipples. Clearly you and Galli are of one mind—the Swiss man is quick to pinch at Luigi’s chest, eliciting a moan of surprise from your boyfriend. Luigi retaliates; he pushes Galli down onto his back and slots himself between the man’s legs, meeting his mouth with a bruising kiss and fumbling with his own belt buckle. You watch closely and begin to tease yourself through your panties as Luigi steps out of his khakis, earning a gasp from Galli.

“Gopfertelli,” he mumbles, eyes trained on the clearly pronounced tent in Luigi’s navy briefs.

Much of what Galli says in his native language sounds like gibberish to you—but this time it makes complete sense. 

Intimidation. Thirst. Shock. You can’t blame him.

As you’re rolling your underwear down your hips your boyfriend’s big hands meet the waistband of Galli’s corduroy pants, pulling them off swiftly along with his (unsurprisingly plaid) boxers. His cock springs free; Galli is slim, a bit skinny, and just the right size—not too big, not too small. Coincidentally quite perfect for a first-timer like Luigi, who seems subtly pleased with the sight in front of him; he leans forward and grasps Galli in his hand, pumping softly, hesitantly.

“I’ve never done this,” Luigi says, “so don’t expect much.”

Galli laughs, caresses his curly head. “Give me your best.” 

It’s fun to watch Luigi navigate a new situation. It’s just as fun to watch a proudly straight man take a cock in his fist and bring his mouth to the tip, tongue peeking out to lick tentatively at the slick slit. Galli brushes his fingers through Luigi’s hair and rests his head back, moaning softly as the larger man adjusts on his knees to slather more of his tongue over Galli’s cockhead. Holy shit. You’re really watching this. You have to resist the urge to pinch yourself, to ground yourself in any way, to convince yourself that this isn’t too sexy to be true.

As Luigi begins to ease the tip of Galli’s cock between his lips, you sneak a hand between your thighs, circling two fingers over your pulsing clit and watching intently as Luigi slowly strokes what he doesn’t have in his mouth. 

“Cazzo,” Galli whimpers. “That’s wonderful, Luigi.”

Luigi’s cheeks blossom pink at that, the same pretty shade of pink that you find on his full lips, and you slip a finger through your slick folds as he begins to properly suck on Galli’s length; your boyfriend widens his jaw to fit more into his mouth, those very same lips you adore kissing so much wrapped tight around the girth of him with only the smallest sign of struggle. When he pulls his head back Galli tugs at his curls, and Luigi moans, sending a delightful shock of vibration through Galli’s cockhead. You swear you can feel it in your clit. Your fingers glide lower, collecting your arousal and spreading it over your cunt, your movements obscenely obvious to the boys—but they hardly pay you any mind, with Luigi only looking in your direction momentarily before returning to the task at hand. Something about his concentration pumps you full of libido, shakes you to your core. Your boyfriend looks so good with a dick in his mouth.

Swirling your fingers over your erect clit once more, you can’t help but moan when Luigi manages to take more of Galli’s length, slowly but surely working every inch into his mouth. Your high washes over you in little waves of electricity as you watch Galli buck his hips, clawing at Luigi’s scalp and whispering Italian prayers to the heavens. His voice is like molasses in his throat; thick and whiny, so desperate, waging a war against itself. His dainty eyelashes flutter and he crooks his neck to look down at your boyfriend sucking him off, meeting his stone gaze. Galli’s cock bulges against Luigi’s cheek, his glans meeting pure smooth skin and mucosa, and Galli grips the edge of the bed, his chest heaving with each breath.

“Luigi,” he moans. Your two fingers are building a steady rhythm over your clit already, your thighs twitching with the beacons of pleasure that begin to cement in your body. 

Luigi licks his cockhead, presses his tongue into the crest of Galli’s slit. “Am I doing alright?” 

Chuckling, Galli caresses Luigi’s cheek. “It’s perfect,” he says. “Don’t stop.”

So Luigi doesn’t, and neither do you, teasing your entrance with your fingertips as Luigi takes Galli’s dick back into his mouth, using his large hand to spread his saliva down the length of it. His wrist tenses against his Fitbit when he squeezes the shaft, eyelids much more relaxed than when he started, like he’s slowly getting used to the tempo of it. Things are getting quite wet for you—well, more wet than you were already, anyway. Your fingers glisten and audibly slide together when you pull them away from your cunt; you angle your palm against your clit as you gently glide your middle finger inside yourself.

Things are getting quite wet for the boys, too. Luigi’s spit is making a mess of Galli’s cock, spilling from his lips and trickling down every inch. You wonder just how much he’s enjoying himself.

“God, fuck,” Galli murmurs, head lolling in your direction. “You like watching, Ängeli?” 

You nod, bottom lip trapped between your teeth. “He looks so perfect.”

“Yes,” he agrees, and Luigi raises his eyes, curious; Galli traces the slope of his wide nose and strokes the back of his head, further encouraging Luigi to lathe his tongue over Galli’s tip with vigor. “Such a darling little mouth. You are a lucky woman.”

Luigi groans at that, loud and rumbly in his chest. You curl your finger. 

The bedroom only feels hotter now, even with the breeze blowing through the open balcony door, and all you can do is spread your legs further and ease another finger into your cunt, giving the two men in front of you as much of a show as they can manage to watch in their current positions. Luigi works his hand down Galli’s girth and swirls his pointed pink tongue over Galli’s cockhead in this gentle, coy sort of way, his mouth loud and wet with slobber. The way your boyfriend’s lips curl and loosen around Galli’s dick is so intentional, so vivid, almost hypnotizing—when your fingertips press into your G-spot you moan aloud and the both of them join you, like a symphony of collective pleasure bouncing off the plaster walls. The trio of you make music in ways you wouldn’t have envisioned even with Galli’s stellar Italian wine. 

And when Luigi lowers his head as far as he can go, gagging as Galli breaches his throat, you and Galli keen in unison.

“Mio dio, non posso—” the man squeaks, gripping tight at Luigi’s curls, now damp with sweat. “Luigi, wait, please. I don’t want to come yet.”

So Luigi halts, lips pressed together, cheeks flushed—awfully puppy-like. You’ve seen the same face between your own thighs more times than you can count. 

Galli laughs. 

“Shit,” he sighs happily. “What a treat.”

Luigi smirks, and the heat of a thousand suns sparks a flame beneath his pupils. “Yeah? Was I alright?”

“More than,” Galli assures him. “Come here.”

They kiss again. This time it’s different, a little softer, more relaxed. Galli rests his hand on Luigi’s pec as he drags his lips over your boyfriend’s mouth, moaning against him, and Luigi’s blush is so bright that you think he might burst to pieces right here.

The ceiling seems to spin when you pull your hand away from your legs and shift to your knees, crawling over to the boys where they lay at the end of the bed. And predictably, when that curly head of hair spots you approaching, he instantly lurches toward you, in search of your lips, too.

But you’re curious. As Galli moves to take your previous spot at the headboard, you skim your hand over the fine hairs of Luigi’s happy trail, slipping beneath the waistband of his underwear to find…

Luigi is unspeakably hard in your palm. He’s straining against his boxer briefs, his cockhead engorged and clearly visible underneath the fabric. When you give him a gentle squeeze he dips his head into the crook of your neck and groans divinely, teeth grazing your bare shoulder. 

Yeah. You knew you were onto something.

“Did you enjoy that, Luigi?” you ask sweetly, tilting Luigi’s head up to meet his gaze. “You like blowing Galli?”

Those bambi eyes beam, both meek and undeniably obvious. “Yeah,” he mumbles, nodding. When he kisses you Galli moans deliciously.

“Did you like watching?” Luigi asks.

“Mhmm,” you hum. “I loved it. You’re really hot when you’re sucking dick.”

He smiles a little at that, grazing his nose against yours. “Who knew?”

From the headboard, Galli speaks: “Do you two mind if I watch now?”

You look over to the smaller man, grinning. “Whatcha gonna do, Galli?”

He smiles back at you. “I have an idea,” he says, the lilt of his voice mischievous.

“Yeah?”

“Do tell,” Luigi chimes in.

Galli’s face brims with wickedness. “I’m going to get myself ready so your boyfriend can fuck my ass while I fuck you.”

Luigi flushes, and you smirk devilishly. Turning to him, you ask, “would you like that, babe?”

He cheeses like the cat that got the cream. 

“I’m not opposed,” he says. “But I’ve never, uh…”

“He’s never fucked a dude,” you explain, looking back to Galli.

The Swiss man laughs cheerfully, opening a drawer of his nightstand to retrieve something. “Are you nervous, Lui?”

Luigi shrugs, still blushing madly. “A little, I guess. This is all pretty new for me. For us.”

You nod in agreement, squeezing his shoulder.

“Would playing with your lady make you more at ease?” Galli asks, now revealing what he’s grabbed from the nightstand: a bottle of lube.

Fleetingly, Luigi glances at you and smiles. “Yeah. I’d like that. Would you like watching?”

Galli nods. “Very much.”

You and Luigi have never had an audience before, obviously—so it feels a little awkward as he guides you to lay back on the bed, slotting himself between your legs and looking wistfully at your equally flushed face. You’ve never seen him more exposed. You love the way it looks on him.

And then he speaks: “Have you ever eaten pussy, Galli?”

You gasp as Luigi dips his fingers into your arousal, glancing over at Galli as the lean man slicks his own with lube. 

“Unfortunately, no,” Galli replies. “I’ve never gotten the chance.”

“It’s a treat,” Luigi murmurs, mirroring Galli’s language. “A real treat with this one.”

“Is that right?” 

Galli spreads his legs, links an arm under his knee and brings his wet fingers to his asshole. Luigi is leaning down, now, planting kisses to your forehead, the tip of your nose, your throat, between your tits; and you feel like you’re floating atop a cloud of pixie dust and your wildest dreams as he inches lower and lower, closer to your weeping cunt, where you’ve been aching for someone’s touch far longer than you have the brainpower to vocalize.

“She tastes like il miele più dolce,” he says, spreading the folds of your pussy with two fingers, teasing the hard nub of your clit with his thumb. “When I touch her here she sings for me.”

Laying back, Galli smirks. “Would you let me hear her symphony?”

Luigi doesn’t answer. He parts your thighs, shifting to flop onto his stomach and insert his face between them. Two slender fingers spread you once more; and then he licks, one long lick up from the opening of your cunt to your clit, his lips wrapping around you when he’s tasted all you have to offer with one stroke of his magic tongue. You shudder and moan and twist your fingers into his bouncy, damp curls, writhing against the rosy cushion as Luigi licks and sucks to his heart’s content.

Galli groans feverishly—you glance over, find him already working one lengthy finger inside of him, watching the both of you with admiration spilling from his nude lips. For a moment, one never ending, blissful moment, you lock eyes. His green irises and Luigi’s hot, wet tongue is all you know for an hour or so and it’s more intoxicating than any drug you’ve consumed tonight; it’s euphoric, liberating, so soft and so like home. You’ve never been happier. 

“Beautiful,” the Swiss man hums, toes curling into his plush bed. “She truly does sing.”

Luigi looks up at you from between your legs, long lashes fluttering like butterfly wings against your skin, chocolate eyes hazy with the sharpest lust. You shudder. The vulnerability of it all, of putting yourself and your boyfriend on display for a man you met today, riddles your body with gooseflesh in an instant—it’s as if Galli is an artist and the both of you his muses, acting in the nude for him to bring to life with every stroke of his brush. As Luigi slathers his tongue over your clitoral hood and through your delicate folds, Galli stretches himself further, sliding another finger into his ass and arching into his own touch. 

And then Luigi pulls away.

His mouth and stubble are sheen with your arousal, shameless proof of the night glistening on his face. He doesn’t bother to wipe his lips. He simply looks towards Galli, hands still holding your thighs apart, and mumbles huskily, “you like watching my girl, Galli?”

“I do,” Galli affirms, cock twitching. “Both of you. Such heavenly creatures.”

Luigi groans, diving back into you without hesitation, this time pressing his tongue against your hole oh so gently. Your legs shoot up with joy—and your heart stutters when he guides your thighs toward you, pushing them into your stomach to allow him better coverage. With the half-mind you still have left, you try to remember that the balcony door is open, that the entire city of Lucerne could hear you if you aren’t mindful of your volume; and alas, you cry out to the shimmering lake, to the Kapellbrücke, to the peaks of Pilatus and Rigi—you cry out to every Swiss and their brother that these men, these two men in this bed with you, have brought you to a level of pleasure so surreal and ethereal you’re terrified of your own capacity to withstand it. 

Moving his head back-and-forth against you, Luigi quickens his pace, licking at you faster and with more intensity than before; it’s now you realize that the stereo is still playing, the mellow soundwaves of slow Italian jazz jumping off the walls and flowing in the ground underneath, trilling through your fingers as they grip and pull at Luigi’s hair. It is a uniquely Mediterranean experience: a breeze whistles into the room, harmonizing with the soundtrack, all while two of the most gorgeous men you’ve laid eyes on sit naked and profoundly preoccupied with you. The world feels acceptably small. You begin to wonder if a threesome was all you needed to unlock the secrets of the universe.

Galli’s dick bobs with each thrust of his slick fingers, his pale mouth open and panting as his eyes focus in on Luigi’s ministrations between your legs. His eyes flit, encapsulated in enjoyment. He is a perfect picture of male beauty, of quiet, subtle aura. You nearly bite your tongue when he guides a third finger into his ass.

“Make her come, Luigi,” he says—you cannot decide if it’s an order or a plea. “Make her come for you.”

If there’s anything Luigi is good at, it’s exactly that. Tensing his shoulders, he brings his dexterous fingers to your entrance, gliding one, then two inside of your pussy with ease as he continues lapping at your clit. 

Galli grunts. “Perfäkt.”

Both men’s fingers move with surgical precision, each motivated by their own desires—and yet, they thrust in sync, like an orchestra of sin. It’s the most melodius sound you’ve ever heard.

“Fuck—” you whine, gasping. The collective noises and sensations of the boys exerting themselves punches the air from your lungs, leaves you shaky and gasping. “I’m, oh, oh, fuck…”

“Getting close?” Galli grins, jaw clenching.

You nod helplessly. Luigi moans as your claws sink into his scalp.

He curls his fingertips into your G-spot, pressing up into your most precious pearl effortlessly even with the distraction of Galli fingering himself—and that’s all it takes, really, because you aren’t sure if your body and let alone your mind could handle anything more. Sparks fly inside your bones as you come hard against Luigi’s mouth, howling like the wind and uttering a slur of curses with each pulse of your orgasm. He spectates with curious, proud eyes, hand still working you through the hills and peaks of your climax.

“My baby,” he murmurs, voice barely audible—but you hear him, even through your heaving breaths. “The prettiest girl.”

As he comes to meet your lips Galli turns back to the nightstand, digging through a drawer with his tongue cutely peeking out from between his lips. Luigi kisses you. Sweetly, generously; almost reassuringly. As if to check in on you. 

You cup his face in your hands, noses grazing. 

“I’m okay,” you whisper. “I’m really good. Are you?”

He nods, flushed and dazed—you almost think he’s never looked prettier. But he doesn’t answer you, not with words; he kisses you again, like only you and him exist, tugging on your lip as he pulls away.

“Cheib,” Galli spits from the headboard.

Both of you turn. “What’s wrong, Galli?” you ask.

For the first time tonight the Swiss man looks a little sheepish, like he’s miscalculated something: “I don’t have a rubber,” he admits, scratching his neck. “Err…It has been a while. Do either of you have one, perhaps?”

You look to Luigi. 

He frowns. “I wasn’t exactly expecting to be invited to a threesome while we were out. I’m sorry.”

Galli laughs at that, but the concern does not disentangle itself from his thin eyebrows.

“But…” Luigi starts again, glancing at you hesitantly. “We’re, um, both clean. Right?”

He’s looking at you. You clear your throat.

“Yeah,” you agree, nodding. “That’s right.”

“But we understand if you want to stop,” Luigi adds. 

Galli is quick to shake his head. “I…I think I am alright with that. If the both of you are.”

You nod in unison with Luigi.

“Then…” Galli peers behind himself suggestively, his smile creeping onto his face slowly. “Shall we?”

Luigi smiles coyly. “How is this gonna work?”

At that Galli leans forward, into Luigi, cupping his jaw and connecting their lips with hesitant desire. You watch as Luigi reciprocates; he sighs against Galli’s mouth, hands tentatively gripping the slimmer man’s waist, and the contrast between the span of Luigi’s fingers and the small curves of Galli’s hips has your chest feeling heavy and your cunt beating. When Luigi pulls away, he turns to you—the switch from Galli’s lips to yours feels a little awkward, clunky, but Galli’s mouth teases the crook of your neck as Luigi kisses you stupid and all you can think about is how giddy you feel right now.

You never knew that three people could somehow kiss at once. But by the grace of Gott you, Galli, and Luigi pass each other around with all the effort your high, wine drunk, sex-muddled minds can manage; you almost take turns, with Galli kissing Luigi, Luigi kissing you, and you kissing Galli time after time again. The streets of Lucerne must be empty by now. Compared to your surroundings back home, it’s much quieter, more subdued—you suppose the noise regulations must have something to do with that. All you hear is the occasional eerie call of a stray barn owl and the smacking of wet lips, the pure evidence of attraction playing out right in front of you. You could do this forever, you think.

And then Galli reaches for your arm, guiding you toward the headboard and pressing gently against your stomach.

“Lie down,” he directs. 

So you do, laying flat onto your back as Galli makes his way between your legs. Then, he reaches for Luigi, furls his fingers around your boyfriend’s thick bicep and guides him to join the line-up Galli has formed. 

It’s a train. Essentially.

Galli smiles with pride. “Wonderful. How is this for everyone?”

Luigi hums, and you nod, glancing back at the two men kneeling behind you. Galli is already stroking himself and Luigi’s face is overtaken with shyness, a quiet vulnerability, something boyish and sort of innocent. 

Reaching back to squeeze Luigi’s thigh, Galli murmurs, “I’m ready when you are, dolce amore.”

You don’t see much of what happens next—but you certainly hear it.

Galli hisses as Luigi presses inside of his ass, every inch an internal battle—and Luigi keens, loud and whiny, desperate in his throat. 

“Oh my god,” he gasps. “Oh, fuck, ‘s so tight, fuck…”

And then Galli’s cock is fucking you, swiftly and without much precision, his whimpering ringing in your ears as Luigi begins to drag his hips back-and-forth. 

Your boyfriend sounds like he’s falling apart. 

His face is hidden behind Galli’s shoulder blade, pumping mindlessly and rocking Galli forward and further into you. The voice that leaves him is wrecked, broken and put together again, an amalgamation of disbelief and awe and almost certainly ecstasy. As Galli starts to find his pace you reach around, groping his ass, feeling Luigi’s fuzzy thighs meet your fingers with each relentless snap of his hips. Both men groan deeply when you spread Galli’s asscheeks to the best of your abilities.

“Fuck!” Luigi grunts, pitch higher—you can hear each slap of his balls against Galli’s ass as he thrusts. “Feels so fuckin’ good, oh my god…”

You part your legs as wide as they can go and brush your toes against Luigi’s arms, desperate for any touch in your somewhat distanced positions; he smooths his hand down your calf, over the bottom of your foot, squeezing lightly. Galli is quick to pinch and tug at your pert nipples when you arch your back and bury your head into the mattress. The three of you move with the grace of synchronized swimmers and the improvisation of amateur porn, sloppy and unpracticed and so free, so consonant. You never want it to end.

Galli is murmuring under his breath, a haze of Italian swears and Swiss German pleas—his thumb rubs furiously at your clit, determined to please you. You tug at his sweaty, frazzled locks, pulling tight at the nape of his neck, and his hips stutter—and so you do it again, and again, and again, until he’s dragging his swollen lips down your throat and leaving heady purple and red bruises in their wake. Luigi grips the leaner man’s ass, fingernails pinching at pale, smooth skin, and Galli groans into your chest.

“You fuck me so good, Luigi,” Galli praises. “Così grande.”

Luigi grunts at that, teeth pinning down his bottom lip. 

You reach for his hand. Your fingers interlock, gripping fiercely, and Galli breaks just a little more: “Chöntisch,” he pleads, “chöntisch, please, please let me come…”

“Yeah?” Luigi teases. “You’re coming already?”

You brush the hair away from Galli’s forehead as he whimpers in confirmation, mouth hanging heavy with pants and gasps of exertion and enjoyment.

Growling, Luigi mutters, “I’m gonna come too. Your ass is so fucking tight.”

Your cunt squeezes Galli’s cock and he’s quick to pull out, stroking himself over your belly as Luigi continues to pound away at his ass. You replace his fingers on your cunt with your own and his orgasm leaves him in quick, thick spurts and full-body shudders, his once glorious voice unraveled and completely broken. You can only imagine the sensations Luigi must be experiencing; but you can certainly watch his reaction in real time, high definition, his face twisting and jaw tensing as he comes, filling Galli’s asshole.

“Fuck,” Luigi croaks. “Fuck.”

Their combined vocalizations quickly bring you to the edge, your throat creaking as you cry out. Luigi, still holding your hand, strokes his fingers over Galli’s slender hip, curling around his thigh. 

“Isn’t she perfect?” your boyfriend asks him, resting his head on Galli’s shoulder as both watch you come undone in front of them.

“Yes,” Galli agrees, smirking. “Il miele più dolce.”

For a few moments they just stay there, watching you come down, eyes curious and admiring; Galli’s eyelids are heavy with exhaustion, lashes fluttering with each blink, and Luigi looks no different than the many nights you’ve spent in post-coital bliss together, all relaxed hearts and Jello limbs. Your eyes focus in on the pool of sperm on your stomach—fresh trails of Galli left in his passion. Smiling, you use two fingers to scoop up the remains.

“Want a taste?” you ask, looking at Luigi. 

He flushes.

Galli laughs, raising a hand to stroke your boyfriend’s curls. “When in Lucerne, right?” he echoes, almost purring.

Slowly, Luigi leans forward to take your covered fingers into his mouth—he locks eyes with you, all pupils as he sucks and licks away, much like he did earlier with Galli’s dick. You spot no discomfort in his sculpted face. 

“Sweet,” he says simply when he pulls away. “You vegetarian?”

“Vegan,” Galli clarifies.

You could’ve guessed that. Luigi shrugs, face accepting.

And then you giggle. You giggle, and both men do too, collectively basking in your after sex glow, the gentle shifts of your face and voice. The bed feels invisible beneath you and all you can hear is the smooth breeze and their soft laughter, a harmony of pride and warmth and indulgence; mellowed arousal and drunkenness feel weighty in your bones, suddenly very aware of your desire for sleep. It’s peaceful. Silent. Everlasting, like a tight hug.

“Thank you, boys,” you sigh. “Thank you.”

As you cup both of their faces in your hands, they smile in tandem.

The train hums as it crawls up the steep mountain, abundant grassy hills and the occasional cow sweeping past the windows in a steady stream of image, color, and light. The sky is extraordinarily bright today; not a single cloud floats in sight, a clear and bouncy blue splayed atop the universe. A baby babbles to its mother in the booth behind you, much to the mother’s amusement. You smile at the sun. 

From beside you, Luigi squeezes your thigh.

You peel off your headphones. “Hm?”

“…I got something on my mind,” he says quietly. His book is shut against his lap. Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy.

“What’s up?”

He clears his throat, adjusting in his seat. Like he’s nervous.

You brush your hand over his shoulder. “You can tell me anything, honey.”

“What happened the other night, with Galli,” he starts, “…did that, like…Mean anything?”

“What do you mean?” you ask, brows furrowed.

He sighs. “If I slept with a dude, does that…Make me bi?”

Oh. Oh. This poor thing.

You snort. “It doesn’t make you anything, Luigi. It just means you had a threesome.”

“A threesome with a guy.”

“Yeah,” you nod. “So?”

He blinks, as if the very prospect that his sexuality is trivial never crossed his mind.

“I mean…” he trails off, flicking the edge of his softcover back-and-forth. “Aren’t people who sleep with men and women bisexual?”

“Sometimes,” you say. “If they feel that way. Do you feel like you’re bisexual, Luigi?”

He shrugs. “I don’t know.”

Fingers fiddling with the curls at the front of his head, you offer him a gentle smile. “You don’t have to know, baby. It’s okay. Labels are stupid, anyway.”

“I mean—” he stutters, flustered. “I just know that…That I liked it. I liked what we did with Galli. What does that make me?”

You trail your hand downward, grazing his bicep, then interlocking your fingers with his.

“It makes you a man who had a threesome and enjoyed it,” you say.

“…That’s all?”

“Is that all you want it to be?”

He doesn’t answer. You caress his hand.

“You’re overthinking it,” you murmur, lips close to his ear. “There’s nothing ‘wrong’ with you, babe. Bi or not. I love you for the man you are, not for who you want to stick your dick in.”

He chuckles at that, squeezing you back. His head starts to loll against your shoulder.

“Okay,” he concedes. “Whatever you say.”

You grin. Kiss his hair. And as he rests his head against you, the thrum of the train slowly pulls you deep into a well-needed nap.

merci vilmal = “thanks a lot”

mega fein = “delicious/very tasty”

figg di! = “fuck you!”

broscht! = “cheers!”

gopfertelli = “god damn me”

cazzo = “fuck”

Ängeli = “little angel”

mio dio, non posso = “my god, i can’t”

il miele più dolce = “the sweetest honey”

perfäkt = “perfect” (i think…hard to find resources on swiss german☹️)

cheib = basically “darn” or “damn”

Gott = “God”

dolce amore = “sweet love”

così grande = “so big”

chöntisch = “please”

[fairlyang]

Roommate 🕷️

you get caught masturbating by your hot cocky roommate, and he helps you out

w/c: 4.3K

pairing: roommate!miguel x f!reader

tags: 18+ smut. fantasizing about him, thinking you're alone, being watched, flashbacks, he scared the living daylights out of you, secondhand embarrassment (I live for some cringe), confessions, rough, some spanish dirty talk (no Google translate but yes English translations), creampie, and passing tf out

notes: number three of my og fics from june and I don’t hate this one as much

You were a college student living in an apartment in New York with a cocky roommate because the rent would be too much for you alone. Miguel O'Hara.

You stumbled across his ad looking for a roommate who didn't have any kids, and wasn't a piece of shit who paid bills late. So you messaged him and said you were responsible with bills and didn't have any children. He messaged back within the same hour and asked when you can move in.

It was a little over a year since then and time flew fast. You almost never got to see Miguel because of school and work. You were in your junior year of college and were finally in a good working position with decent pay.

You weren't sure what kind of job Miguel has but it has to be something really frustrating because he comes home mad as shit super often. Maybe he works in construction? Not sure but he definitely has the build for it.

Now with finals week you were stressed as fuck scrambling to finish some work and any extra credit assignments to end your junior year of college well. You already had your day to day schedule set, classes between 8am-12pm and work between 2-10 occasionally 11.

Miguel's schedule on the other hand was all over the place and you never knew when you'd be seeing him, when he'd be home, and he still pays his half of the bills but what was the point if he barely stays here anyway?

You minded your business and the very rare times you end up stumbling across him you keep conversations casual not wanting to overstep or make him uncomfortable. But you still end up talking back to him playfully and he doesn't mind so that's been a good sign.

Tonight there was no sign of him, and you've been very stressed and touch starved all week long. You shut your bedroom curtains and jump onto your bed. You get comfortable and take off your pj pants but keeping your tank top on. You first start lightly rubbing your nipples, then pinching one and the other. You moan and feel them both getting hard. You squeeze your tits, closing your eyes.

You play with them imagining it's Miguel's hands on you instead of yours. "S-shit."

Your right hand trails down to your panties, you slowly rub your clit in circle subconsciously clenching your thighs from how sensitive it feels. You open your eyes and giggle. It's really been a while.

Your thoughts go back to Miguel and you've found him attractive since you stumbled upon his ad but it intensified when you moved in and he was around way more.

You were hanging in the living room reading when you hear a door slam and it startled you a bit. Then you hear a door open so you assumed Miguel just went back to his room so you kept reading.

You were sitting with your legs out on the sofa and you were facing the kitchen instead of the tv. Past the kitchen is a hallway that leads to your room, the bathroom then Miguel's at the end. You heard his footsteps moving around until you saw him walking straight into the kitchen with only a towel on his waist.

His skin was glistening, still wet. You widen your eyes and shook your head looking down at your book. But who were you kidding.... You bite your lip, looking up to look at his muscular back as he was getting something from the fridge. You look at how his shoulders move as he grabs something and your breathing becomes uneasy.

You quickly look back down at your book as he closes the fridge. We had an open bar kinda of island so you could look into the kitchen and he could look into the living room, which was what he was doing...

You felt his eyes on you so you try your best to stay calm, control your breathing and boom you're fine. Until he turns back around to get a snack from the cupboard reaching for the whatever was on the top shelf- he was already very tall so you knew he was doing for your viewing pleasure making you flush.

You roll your eyes but might as well- his biceps were huge, his shoulder blades were insane and your eyes began to feel very lustful. He puts down whatever he got and all of a sudden has to yawn and crack his back flexing everything for you to see. You felt like you were in a trance and couldn't look away until you heard him chuckle.

He starts turning around and you look down as soon as you saw him move and bite your lip. Shit shit shit. "Y'know you could take a picture if you'd like muñeca, they last longer." He says with a smirk on his face. (doll)

"I think I'll pass thanks." You say looking him in his eyes as you're scrunching your nose in fake disgust while he just smirks at you and walks away.

Your fingers were rubbing a little faster now slightly feeling your wetness over your panties. Damn.

You stop and lean over to your bedside table and grab your dildo. Might as well.

You move your panties to the side then spit on your dildo and making sure it gets everywhere. You grab it with one hand and use the other to stroke it. God why isn't this Miguel.

You lay on your stomach and close your eyes. You kiss the tip and start to slowly take it in your mouth. You moan and go lower until you feel the tip at your uvula. You pull away and moan using all your spit to stroke it again.

You move it to your bottom half and line it up to your wet pussy. "O-oh shit-" your eyes widen realizing how tight you are. Has it really been that long???

You take it out and start sucking again until you get more saliva and try to fit it inside again. The tip is barely in and you whine. You slowly fuck the tip into you until your pussy gets use to it and then it feels fine so you put it in a bit deeper and now you're halfway on your 8 inch dildo.

You moan and clench your thighs. You roll your eyes back and blink them open looking at how you fuck yourself slowly. You spread your legs with one hand between them fucking your pussy slowly when you push in further and take all of it. You whimper and shake a little. You grab a body pillow and place it on top of you, your empty hand grabbing onto it hard. You close your eyes and start to think of it being Miguel's dick inside you, teasing you not wanting to pound into you yet.

You decided to do some yoga in the living room while watching a video on the tv. You were in a sports bra and tight fitting shorts accentuating your curves, thighs, and ass. You didn't even hear him come in when you were doing the downward dog then switched to the doggy position unknowing you were being watched.

You did a straddle split and leaning forward for a solid minute when you heard a low whistle startling you. Your heart jumped out of your chest as you sit up and look behind you. "Were you... watching me?" You ask your eyebrows furrowed, confused as shit.

"Thought I could take some notes..." He says with a confident manner and gives you a wink making you roll your eyes.

"Acting as if you could do that O'Hara, no seas baboso." You chuckle and smirk. (Don't be stupid)

He has a smug grin on his face and you think of something. You go get into the extended doggy position earning a gulp and a quiet "chingada madre" from Miguel. (Mother fucker)

You try not to make any noises besides your steady breathing. You hold it for a good fifteen seconds before saying, "Take a picture it'll last longer."

"I just might..." he says sounding like he's out of breath making you smirk.

You fuck yourself faster and harder feeling your pussy starting to cream against your dildo. Your grip on the pillow was harder and needy, as if you were grabbing against Miguel's back. "F-fuck- mmmm god j-just like that" you moan out clenching against your dildo making you shake.

You stop for a second to control your breathing. You go back to it but at a slower pace, lovingly, and passionately. You fight back the urge to moan his name but couldn't resist. "Así Miguel- n-no pares—" you moan and feel yourself squirming into the mattress. (Just like that Miguel- d-don't stop—")

You move your hand a little faster and trying to hit deeper but you're feeling tired already. You whine as you hear the creaminess with every trust. My cream would look so good on his thick cock. "Miguel te necesito- fuckk- I need you- oh I need you so ba- bad-" you moan out shaking. (I need you)

You feel that familiar feeling in your stomach and you start to fuck yourself deeper and faster whining and moaning so much more. "Fuck- so g-good."

Your juices make even more noise and you start sweating so you move your pillow to the side never opening your eyes, for more immersion. Your left hand rubs your clit while your right is still going in and out of you. You suddenly feel your orgasm take over and you fuck yourself as deep as you can take it letting out the most animalistic moans and needy whines ever. "a-a- fuck- a-ay M-Miguel-! fill me s-so good p-pl- please-"

You completely stop, your whole body shaking, your mind all foggy and when you try to open your eyes they're all hazy so you just close them again. You calm your breathing and slowly take your dildo out. It plops out and sounds like it splashed out. Really sounds like you got filled.

You sigh and bring your dildo up to your lips softly kissing it. You then lick it and get a taste of your creamy pussy until you start to lick it off the whole thing. You get the taste of your pussy off your entire dildo until you find yourself sucking on it again. You take it down your throat just gagging on it until you pull it out and breathe out. All done.

You leave it on your stomach as you rub your eyes slowly a yawn coming out of your mouth. Wonder what time it is. You lean over to your bedside table putting it on a clean towel and check your phone. It's 12:58pm. Damn.

You leave your phone there, and go back to your previous position on your bed and yawn again rubbing your eyes. When you open them you scream. You sit up trying to cover yourself fast but it's too late. "M-MIGUEL??? W-WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING HERE?!?!??!?" You yell pulling your tank top down, and grabbing your pillow to cover your bottom half.

Your cheeks have never felt this hot in your life, oh GOD WHAT DID HE HEAR-

You feel sick to your stomach- he's literally just standing in the middle of the room with his eyes closed? But WHY-

Your eyes are wide, cheeks so fucking red. Oh my god he saw everything-  you gulp and reach down to quickly fix your panties and try to calm down. "So!??!??" You yell waiting for an answer.

He takes a step closer and you can finally see him clearly in the light. He was wearing a black tee with grey sweatpants making your breath hitch when you saw his stiff bulge. Once you look back at his face his eyes open and they're red.

You jump and your heart started beating fast as fuck. "Chingada madr— W- wha- who- Miguel? What the fuck-" (mother fucke-)

He walks over to the left side of the bed making you move to the other side scared shitless. He chuckles and as fast as you can blink he's on your side of the bed grabbing your hips and leading you against the wall, grinding you onto him. You whimper and try to get out of his grasp. "Don't try it doll... no need to act like you don't want me to play with you." He says using a finger to lift your chin to meet his eyes.

His red eyes filled with so much lust it scared you. Excited you even. "W-what are you-" You ask nervously biting your lip.

He chuckles again and pushes you against the wall. You gasp as his hands start to roam your body. You bite your lip as his hands caress your hips, smacks your ass, and then pulls on your hair from behind. Your head was pulled back as well and he leans in to kiss your neck. You moan and wrap your arms behind his neck twisting and pulling on pieces of hair. He groans against your skin and bites on it. You whimper and he leaves a wet kiss on it.

He pulls away but leans close to your face, "Wanna tell me what you were doing?" He leans in about to touch your quivering lips.

"I- uh I got- horny." You whisper breathing on his lips.

"Yeah? So horny you started thinking of me playing with you hmm?" Your thighs clench and you bite your lip looking up at him.

"Contéstame amor." He growls and you moan. (Answer me love)

"Mhm- it's not the first nor the last time I'll do it either." You say looking up at him with the most innocent eyes you could pull.

He groans and grinds his bulge against your stomach making your wide go wide. "Good girl...." He snarls making your thighs clench even more.

"What were you thinking of specifically right now as you came?" He asks tracing his fingers along your neck and collarbone.

"I- I- uh- mmm..."

"Answer." He growls and you nod.

He groans and quickly picks you up and holds you against the wall. "So you like being a dirty girl when I'm gone? Not even thinking I could catch you? Not bothering to think of how hard you make me...." He snarks a hand behind your neck.

This left you breathless and made you whimper more. You wrap your legs around his hips even more to have his bulge rub against your covered but drenched pussy. "I- fuck- I haven't touched myself in a week and I needed to feel something inside me- I n-never knew you thought of me that way-" you say and he growls grinding harder against you.

You both moan at the same time and he leans in millimeters from your lips. "I've been wanting to fuck you since we met." He whispers and you smash your lips together. He reciprocated and moans into your mouth.

You have one hand on his cheek and the other gripping hairs between your fingers. His were on your neck and playing with your hair. His tongue slides into your mouth and you let him. His tongue was exploring your mouth and you couldn't even believe this was happening. You tug on his shirt to take it off and he pulls away for literally a second somehow taking it off and his lips were back on yours. "Tan hermosa...." (So beautiful)

You moan and he grinds harder against you. He groans against your mouth and you feel him grab your tank top. Then you hear the sound of fabric ripping and in two seconds its gone. "I'll get you a new one." He mutters when you stopped kissing back to say something.

"So how long were you watching me for? you perv..." You ask pulling away finally getting your hands on his broad shoulders and big biceps.

"As soon as you started fucking yourself. God I heard your moans and couldn't help myself coming in to watch- mm I needed to finally have you for myself." He answers and leaves another mark on your neck but going towards your chest.

"You can have all of me." You whisper making him squeeze your tits roughly and suck on your nipple so roughly.

You gasp and he carries you to the bed. He puts you down towards the middle and he gets on top of you kissing you desperately. Your hands are all over each other and the kiss get more and more heated, needy, and hot. He pulls away and leaves trails of kisses on your jaw, when he leaves a couple marks on your neck. "Fuck-"

He kisses them after leaving marks and goes down to suck on your nipples again while his hand goes down to rub you over your panties. "Mmm- fuck- así M-Miguel." You moan out and feel yourself shake a bit.

He runs your clit a little faster but it's still sensitive so you buck your hips up whining. He stops and pulls away looking up at you, "was that too much?"

"N-no just uh still sensitive." You say looking anywhere but his eyes.

"Then how about no foreplay and I just fuck you?" He whispers making you clench your thighs.

He smirks and leans in to kiss you. You tug on the waistband of his sweats while kissing him and he grunts. "Well actually I might wanna use your mouth a bit...." He says and you smile.

You grab him and flip positions so you're on top of him. You sit up and place yourself right on his bulge and grind on it slowly. He leans his head back his mouthing in the shape of an o and his breathing heavy. "Don't tease me too much or you won't end up liking the outcome...."

You shrug and lay one hand against his chest while grinding against him. "Jesus you're so hard- did you even stroke yourself watching me or just tortured yourself and watched?" You ask with a chuckle making him smirk.

"Might’ve been more interested in the show to even do anything...." He says and winks.

You grin and go down his body, tracing your fingers along every crevice and line, along his abs and v line. You lick down his v line to where his sweats were. "Don't need these right now..." you pull them down as he shifts up a bit so you can get them over his ass.

You slide them all the way down and just look at his bulge over his tight fitting boxers. It looks so long and thick. "Wore these on purpose hm?"

"Just took a guess." He says with a smirk.

You grab the top of the boxers and pull them off slowly until you get to where the whole thing just plops out and hits his stomach making your eyes widen. "Now suck on it like you sucked on your dildo." He says making you gulp. He's insane.

It was a good 8 to 9 inches but so fucking girthy your mind couldn't wrap your head around it. You grab the bottom of it and you have to practically grab it with both your hands. You bite your lip then kiss the tip softly. Then you stick your tongue out and slap it against your wet tongue. He quietly moans and you look up at him and do it again. He rolls his eyes back and his head against the headboard. You giggle and spit on the tip watching it all go down and slowly stroke it to have all the saliva cover it. You spit on it some more and start stroking him. While you do that you go down to his balls and suck on them. You could hear him moan some more and you could feel how wet it's making you. "Así cariño no pares- ay si-" (Just like that dear don't stop- oh fuck)

You stroke him a little faster now and come up to suck on it. You get in a decent position and slide it in your mouth slowly. You close your eyes and start going down and back up. You go about halfway until he thrusts his hips making you take the whole thing down your throat, and you moan on it. You pull up and breathe out. "Would you prefer to fuck my face? I don't have a gag reflex...."

He widens his eyes and grabs you leading you towards the floor. You get on your knees while he stands in front of you. "It won't be for too long.... This time." He says with a wink making your cheeks flush red.

"I just really need to feel your throat real quick... then that wet pussy." He says and you nod.

"You can pull on my hair too if you want..."

"Dios- porque estas tan perfecta- mas que me imaginé..." he says and goes straight to work grabbing your hair with one hand and letting you put your mouth on it first. (God- why are you so perfect- more than I imagined...)

He starts to slowly move his hips letting you adjust for a few seconds before he finally starts going faster. Your head is still and he's the one doing all the moving, you close your eyes while you feel him in your mouth going deeper and deeper. You feel him go down your throat and he keeps hitting it making you drip. He goes faster and he doesn't stop moaning your name while still having a tight grip on your hair. "Fuck- Y/n your t-throat feels so good."

You moan against his dick and he groans. "Fuck this-" he says and moving back and sliding his dick out of your mouth.

He grabs your hands helping you get up only to have him man handle you on to the bed making you lay on your stomach. "Ass up now." He says in a stern voice and you comply.

You move your ass as much as you can and then arch your back. "The dirtiest girl huh?" He smirks and lines up his dick to your pussy.

"Nomas para ti Miguel." You murmur looking back at him and he moans and slams into you making you jump and whimper. (Just for you Miguel)

"H-holy fu- oh s-shit-!" you moan, your legs shaking already.

He grabs onto your hips and starts fucking you faster already not letting you adjust at all. You moan and roll your eyes back. He's moaning and groaning the room filled with the sound of skin to skin, his body against yours. "Migue-" you moan out and lay your head against the bed.

"Fuck baby- god you feel so much better than I thought you would." He says making you whimper and clench cashing him to moan.

"Fuck- oh fuck you're so tight around me baby-"

His words just do something to your body and you're already feel all dazed and obsessed with him fucking you. So many months of fantasizing and now it's finally happening. He's pounding into you and smacking your ass leaving it red. "Miguel deeper plea-"

He cuts you off by fucking you deeper making you both moan and making you clench around him again as well as whine. "O-oh fuck- oh Miguel I'm-"

"Me too baby, fuck I wanna cum inside you-" he moans out and you clench again making him go faster.

He's pounding into you and you feel your orgasm come fast. He moans with every trust he makes and it's driving you insane. Your arch is no longer an arch as your legs were slowly giving up on you but that didn't stop Miguel from still fucking you hard and also leaning down to you his mouth to your ear, and whispering dirty things to you. "Así soñabas que te cogiera nena? Eh? Quisiste esto desde que me viste huh? Yo se que yo si, mmm desde que v-veniste el primer día." (Is this how you dreamed I'd fuck you baby girl? You've wanted this since you first saw me huh? I know I did, mm since the first time you c-came.)

Your eyes rolls back and you whimper, "fuck- yes- fuck I dreamt you'd fuck me like this every- every fucking night Miguel."

He goes back to his original position but he flips you around so you're on your back while he was still inside you. "I wanna look at your pretty face while I cum deep inside you."

You wrap your arms around his neck and bring him in for a kiss. It's instantly needy and desperate, his tongue in your mouth and yours trying to go into his, with his pace still going strong. "P-pleas-"

He goes a bit slower and he moans in your mouth. Your hands go to his back light digging your nails into his skin which makes him groan. He fucks you deeper again unexpectedly so your nails dig into his skin a little harder and you feel close. "M-Miguel- I'm so- fu- I'm so clo-"

He pulls away him your mouth and nods, "me too angel- cum with me."

You moan and wrap your legs around his legs and it feels even bigger inside you. You both moan together and his legs start shaking. You're feeling tired fast but you need to cum with him. Your eyes are closing as you're ready for him to cum inside you to sleep together. You both start shaking as you clench around him and he groans finally shooting his cum inside you and your orgasm takes over, your legs shaking as he stops. You're both panting in each others face when he goes all the way inside you making sure every inch of you is covered. He slowly pulls out and all his cum spills out. "Jesus fuck Y/n- holy- god that pussy worked fucking wonders."

You shake and just nod before closing your eyes and losing consciousness. "Goodnight love."

[creative-crybaby]

Knots

PAIRING: masseur!Geto Suguru x fem!reader

GENRE: no curses!au | smut (18+)

Minors DNI

TAGS + WARNINGS: fingering, nipple play, semi-public sex/exhibitionism, oral (f receiving), brief masturbation (m), size kink, praise kink, cum eating, light mentions of/brief marking

Let me know if I missed anything.

WORD COUNT: 4.5k

SUMMARY: With so much stress piling up on you, Geto was kind enough to offer you a massage. Unfortunately, no amount of relaxation can distract you from the sexual tension between you and your friend.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: MAPPA can't draw jjk characters like that and expect me not to write smut about em 🙄also: HAPPY NEW YEARS, LOVELIES <3333

© creative-crybaby, do not repost or modify

“Are you sure this is okay?” It’s too late to ask him that, but you couldn’t stop the question from leaving your lips. “I’d hate for you to get in trouble.”

Your face burns as silence follows; you can only thank whatever gods above for him not being able to see your expression.

“I won’t tell if you won’t tell,” he chuckles, and you copy the sound nervously, unsure if he is serious. After a pregnant pause, he adds, “I’m kidding. You have nothing to worry about.” Your peripheral vision catches him moving around you to get to the cabinet. “Consider it a favour from a friend.”

You hear the cabinet door open and shut, and you shift from your spot face down on the table.

“At least let me pay you back somehow,” you press, pouting. 

“That defeats the point of a favour, doesn’t it?” Geto’s footsteps get louder until you catch sight of his shoes from the corner of your eye. There’s another pause, this one longer than the previous one. “Are you comfortable with me unclapsing your bra?” Before you can answer, he quickly continues, “It can stay on like you wanted, I just need the straps out of the way.”

If you aren’t hyping yourself up to take every opportunity to get closer to the masseur, you’re second-guessing your decision to take his offer. Should he follow through with the action, it would only be the beginning of something far more intimate. And you know this. You knew this. Even when Geto first suggested the idea after you opened up about your piling stress and even when you foolishly thought asking Gojo for advice on the offer was a good idea. 

But you’re here now, aren’t you?

“Go for it,” you try to mask whatever uneasiness you can. Gentle fingers tug at the clips at the end of your bra, disconnecting them and allowing the straps to drop. Even with your chest still covered, you feel bare, the cool air tickling the newly exposed area. You have to force yourself from shivering.

“You still like the scent of lavender?” Geto's question catches you off-guard, raising your head from the cushion, not realizing that he recalled such a minor detail. Your silence makes the ravenette turn to you again, offering his easy-going smile. “Or have your tastes changed?”

You nod mindlessly, blinking up at him. “Lavender’s good.”

Geto hums before searching through his cabinet, taking several seconds to find the bottle he was looking for. You rest your head back on the cushion before he can catch you staring.

“I’ll be starting now.” The sound of a bottle cap opening follows your friend’s words. “If you’re ever uncomfortable, don’t hesitate to let me know. Otherwise, just lay back and relax.”

Despite his gentle voice, following his order becomes easier said than done once his large hands come in contact with your back, the oil adding to his skin’s warmth. You bit your lip, the serene scent of lavender reaching your olfactory as the masseur works his magic on your stress. 

You don’t realize how exhausted your body has felt until Geto applies pressure for the first time, and you cringe. 

“Easy, easy,” he soothes, pausing his ministrations once you try to relax your body. “Wow, you are stressed.”

You allow your body to sink further into the table’s mattress when his soft laughter reaches your ears, and you give him the go-ahead to continue. Fingerpads return to your skin, rubbing heavy yet sturdy circles onto your back, untying any and every knot trapping your muscles. You can feel your body fall limp, drowning heavily while at the same time floating into the heavens as every evidence of exhaustion disappears from you. 

Still, even as you try to keep your mind blank and enjoy the moment, you can’t help but notice how much space Geto’s hand takes up on your back. It doesn’t help that they creep up to your neck, more than ready to push the problems away from that area. 

“So,” you trail off, feeling the need to fill the silence rather than embrace it, “You give these massages to Ieiri or Satoru?” 

The ravenette chuckles. “If you’d call the occasional shoulder rub a proper massage, then sure.”

A memory of the four of you at a local diner pops into your head, Shoko telling Geto a shoulder massage was the least she deserved after all the all-nighters she’s suffered through. You giggled, watching the medical student melt under the masseur’s magic touch, ignoring the twinge of jealousy that prodded your mind. 

You quip. “Not even a full-body one? Ieiri’s the one who deserves it the most out of us.”

“Guess she just never has the time for one,” he hums. 

“And Satoru?”

Geto snickers, pausing his actions. You join in on the laughter, a small swell of pride blooming in your chest. 

Your joy is cut short when he resumes the massage, adding pressure to a specific area below the nape of your neck that forces a whimper out of you. You freeze, hoping the masseur didn’t hear it. But with how his hold on you paused, even for just a moment, you couldn’t deceive yourself into believing you were in the clear. 

“Sorry,” you squeak, the warmth from your face expanding to the rest of your body. Could he feel it?

You can hear the smile in his voice. “So tense, aren’t you?”

You don’t miss the octave drop in his voice, biting your tongue. Geto returns to work, his fingers digging into your skin and untying whatever knots your muscles carried for who knows how long. You allow yourself to sigh at the sensation, your brows knitting together from the pressure without the discomfort. 

His hands travel lower, returning to previous areas with added strength until he reaches the small of your back. You try not to tense upon feeling his fingers graze the towel covering your bottom, but you can’t prevent the shaky moan from escaping your lips once his hold shifts to your hips. 

Another pause from him: another apology from you. 

“Nothing for you to be sorry about.” Your friend assures you, though you barely miss the light strain in his tone. “I’ll be working on your legs next, okay?”

You hum lightly, shifting from your spot as he passes what the towel covers. Your thoughts wander before you can put them on a leash, the pang of disappointment from the neglect of that area allowing your imagination to drift. 

Would a massage there even feel good? Geto would undoubtedly find a way, his large hands practically blanketing each cheek. And his fingers—God, they were the stars of the show, finding the spots that needed the most attention and pushing every bit of tension out of your worn-out body. You’re confident his digits would be just as adventurous in other places.

You feel yourself clench around nothing and fear the handsome man above you possibly noticing. Shaking your head, you hope those thoughts fly out like fleas. 

Geto stops. “Too much?”

“Hm?” You snap out of your daze. “Oh, no. I’m fine.”

The masseur’s hands glide up to your upper thighs, and you freeze, his hold remaining in place as he leans closer to your head.

“You don’t have to go through with this if you don’t like it,” he says, his voice calm. “I can return the favour some other way.”

Your body moves before your brain can command it to. Or rather, stop it from doing so. Hastily, you raise your head from the cushion, your upper torso following suit as it twists to face your friend.

“I can take it.” 

Silence. Too much of it for your liking. It has your stomach churning and your heart ramming against your ribs. Maybe it’s the heaviness in your body that follows you getting up too quickly, or your word choice. It could also be how Geto stares at you with parted lips, his eyes on you but not meeting your gaze.

Instead of further embarrassing yourself by speaking, you follow his focus, only to wish you hadn’t. 

Your bra, long forgotten by you, barely hangs onto your body by its straps by your elbows, exposing your back as well as most of your chest. The lavender scent is no longer soothing, the heat on your face is dizzying, and you’d want nothing more than to run out the door if only your legs weren’t practically limp from your friend’s treatment. It doesn’t help that his hold on the back of your upper thighs hasn’t budged. If anything, it’s tightened, his grip making your clit jump.

You suppose you spoke too soon once the warmth of Geto’s touch disappeared from your legs, the masseur having moved to reach for your bra straps to pull them back up to your shoulders before you could process his actions. You blink, eyes trailing up to his face now adorning a rosy hue and soft lips pressed into a thin line. He’s so much closer, his breath barely fanning the top of your head. And if you aren’t forcing your gaze to meet his, you’re impulsively glancing back at his mouth. 

With so much focus on the beautiful man, you don’t catch him slowly but surely leaning in.

The last discernable thing you catch is Geto’s lidded eyes darkening before he presses his lips against yours.

You don’t breathe. You forget to, just like how you leave your mouth slightly agape and your eyes wide open. 

The ravenette pulls away quicker than he’d leaned in, and the corners of your lips twitch downwards. His brows furrow as he looks at you with a brighter flush on his handsome face. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have—”

No. You won’t let him regret his actions, not for your sake. 

The sudden shift in perspective is alarming when, only moments ago, you feared ruining your relationship with your friend. Now, you’re shifting to sit on the massage table, grabbing Geto by his shirt collar, tugging him forward and slamming his lips onto yours. You groan at the impact, relaxing only a second later once he returns the kiss with just as much hunger. 

But he’s still not close enough. His hold remains on your bra straps, making it harder for you to wrap your arms around his neck. It’s the only reason you pull back, locking eyes with him as you place your hands on his. 

“Suguru,” you pant, chest heaving for air as your lids droop. Your following words stay trapped in your throat, the masseur having slid his hold higher up your shoulders to bring you back to the kiss. You squeak, the fervour behind his actions far more evident as his tongue teases your lower lip. He groans into your mouth, his thumbs caressing your skin as you invite him in, eager to have him even closer. 

Your hands are still on top of Geto’s, you remember, and you slide his down your arms while he’s distracted by the kiss. (With how he’s swirling his tongue around yours, you aren’t sure you can call it a “kiss” anymore.)

You pull back hastily, not missing the string of saliva connecting your bottom lips before motioning for him to look down. His sharp eyes do so, blinking out of his haze as he sees how the cups of your bra no longer cover your breasts. You don’t recall when you stopped caring about your face burning like it was on fire, the pride in your chest and lust in your lower belly now the dominant sensations as he looks at you like you’re the most beautiful creature on the planet. 

“Please,” he gulps, an unmissable strain in his voice. “Let me taste you.”

Even after the lewd makeout session, his words left your mouth cotton-dry. You can only kiss him again, guiding his hands to cup your breasts, your bra sliding off your arms. 

When Geto pulls back, his lips reattach to your skin, trailing down your neck to the valley of your mounds. He lightly pushes you to lie down on the table, making yourself comfortable before plopping one of your nipples into his mouth, the other one between his fingers. Your own hands loosen his hair from its bun, the strands falling gracefully onto his broad back. They’re as soft as they look, your fingers streaming through the midnight locks like water past the pebbles in the river. 

The masseur switches his treatment, the other nipple now teased by the grazing of his teeth while his large hand keeps the second breast from neglect. Your body feels hot, and the warmth of his mouth does little to soothe the issue. But with how much you’ve been rubbing your thighs together, you’d hardly consider this a problem now. 

Your hands remain in his hair as Geto continues kissing down your body, stopping just at the apex of your thigh to peer at you with those dark pools for irises. One of his hands removes the towel from your lap, revealing your thin shorts underneath. He tugs at the waistband, silently asking for your permission. Your response consists of your hips rising from the table, and he’s quick to shimmy your remaining clothes off your body, stealing another passionate kiss from you in the process. 

“I want nothing more than to hear every sound I get out of you,” your friend (can you still call him that?) pants, the corners of his mouth twitching upwards and his face flushed as he watches your reaction through hooded lids. You lean in, chasing his lips for another kiss. He stops you with a finger, and you hold back the whine squeaking from your throat. He chuckles. “But I’m going to need you to keep your voice down. Can you do that for me?”

You almost forgot that you’re in a public setting, even with the privacy of a closed door. Geto warmly smiles when you nod, and he lowers himself to face your crotch, helping you shift to let your legs dangle off the table. You find his eyes widening upon catching sight of your bare cunt already drooling your essence. The ravenette exhales shakily before planting a kiss on your clit, making you twitch. Your reaction makes him chuckle, and he licks long strips against your slit, moaning through his languid movements. 

“What was that about being quiet?” You giggle breathily, leaning your weight on your hands. Geto pauses. 

“Sorry, beautiful,” he whispers with a smile, tightening his hold on your thighs. “You taste like a dream.”

You throw your head back as your eyes flutter shut, his words and continued ministrations between your legs setting your body ablaze and your mind blank. It doesn’t help that he’s practically encouraging you to cage him tightly between your thighs, squeezing his head in place as he makes out with your cunt. Your hips grind into his touch, moving in tandem with his soft lips and warm tongue. 

Even with his sensual movements, you can tell he’s holding back, if his tight hold on the fat of your thighs is any indication. Your hips grind into his touch, allowing him permission to feast on you how he’d like, gripping a fistful of his locks for further encouragement. And the masseur seems to have gotten the message, his tongue digging inside you while his nose nudges at your pearl. 

Holding back your sounds of pleasure is already a challenge—warning the handsome male beneath you of your oncoming release doesn’t even seem possible, bottom lip tucked between your teeth as the sensation in your lower belly grows stronger. 

And maybe Geto doesn’t need you to tell him. Or maybe, he’s just so lost in the taste of your essence that he’s decided to wrap his soft lips around your puffy clit and suck, the tip of his tongue flicking at the nub at the same time. Whatever the case, his actions do the trick, your hold on his head tightening as your legs shake while your jaw falls slack. The ravenette doesn’t falter, pushing himself closer to your cunt, his mouth working its magic and creating sounds that would embarrass you if it weren’t for the ringing in your ears.

Coming down from the high, plus the massage, has you losing your hold on yourself. Luckily for you, Geto quickly rises from his spot, catching you by the waist and pulling you into another kiss with a soft groan. Your taste on your tongue and the need for air make you dizzy, but you bring him closer regardless. 

“‘M sorry,” he pants after ending the kiss, his chin shining with your slick. “Just had to show you how good you taste.”

You can only whimper in response, feathering kisses on his lips as you play with his hair. Geto happily lets you, his large hands mapping your torso and thighs as if burning every curve into his memory. 

“Didn’t know this came with the free massage,” you mumble against his mouth, holding back a smile. 

“There’s plenty more where that came from,” he purrs, moving you back down on your stomach like you weigh nothing. You hear the rustling of clothing, and before you can ask him what he’s doing, you feel a weight hovering over your figure. Familiar, large hands splay open on either side of your head while muscular thighs cage your legs in place. “Do you trust me?”

Something pokes your lower back, and you almost forget to answer with the masseur’s hot breath against your ear. You lift your hips to grind against his crotch with a whimper, hoping that’ll be more than enough for him. 

Your actions make Geto laugh, and he teasingly nibbles at your earlobe. “Use your words, darling.”

It doesn’t help that he’s taken his tip to glide across your slit, collecting your juices as a lubricant. You twist your head to face him, one of your hands gripping on the cushion above you as a distraction.

“I’ve been waiting a lot longer for this moment than you know,” you confess meekly, watching as the ravenette’s eyes widen and lips part from your words. “And I don’t think I can keep it up any longer.”

You worry you’ve revealed too much too soon when you’re met with silence. But when that familiar smile and soft gaze grace Geto’s features, the nerves fluttering in your stomach evaporate. 

The handsome male presses a kiss against your temple. “That makes two of us, then.”

With only a few seconds to register his confession, your heart does a doubletake before you feel Geto lead his cock into your heat, his hand gripping yours as reassurance. The subtly painful stretch that follows suit makes you grateful for the gesture, your insides splitting in half as he just keeps going in. Your eyes roll to the back of your head, feeling every vein graze against you. 

The masseur notices, it seems, and he whispers encouraging words in your ear, giving you the occasional kiss on your shoulder.

“There you go,” he drawls quietly, his crotch meeting your ass. “Nice and full, aren’t you?”

You exhale shakily, feeling his strong chest pressed against your back. On rare occasions, when Geto wears tight-fitting shirts, you’re blessed with the sight of his chiselled physique, especially his back, since he can’t catch you ogling. The chance to leave your mark there, like an artist’s signature on a painted canvas, is one you’ve longed for. However, with the knot in your belly ready to snap without having him even move makes you grateful for the current position. Maybe next time you’ll get to see all of him. 

Next time. 

“Can I move, darling?” Geto's breath tickles your skin. “I’m afraid I won’t last too long with how you’re squeezing me.”

The almost boyish giggle he breathes out has your heart rocketing in your ribs. Your affirmation comes out weak, but the masseur hears it loud and clear. He reels his hips back, but it’s when he buries his shaft back into you that you feel your eyes roll back once more. Your jaw falls open, a moan slipping out as he sets a languid yet deep pace. 

“We need to keep quiet, remember?” Geto shushes, his face buried in your neck. “My massages are good, but even outsiders might grow suspicious if you’re too loud.”

His soft laughter mixes with your pleading whine. “You’re not making it easy for me.”

The ravenette halts his movements, much to your dismay. Even with you wiggling your hips, he doesn't budge, and you’re about to ask him about the holdup before he beats you to it. 

“You think it’s easy for me?” The soothing lilt of his voice is long gone, replaced with a low timbre that has you clenching around his girth. “I’ve got you milking me for all I’m worth, and we barely started. What do you think that does to me?”

You feel his teeth graze your skin, making you shiver as you try to regain friction between your legs. Geto's stronger than you, much stronger, and your movements don’t make him budge. 

With a quivering sigh, you prop yourself on your forearms, and he retracts from his hiding spot in your neck. You face him, lids hanging low on your eyes and face warmer than it should be. 

“Show me.”

With a smirk, Geto pulls himself out until only his tip remains before slamming back into you. You choke on a gasp, his pace and strength relentless as his hips slap against your ass, the sounds bouncing off the walls. You can’t even call him out on his hypocrisy as you bury your face into the table, hoping it’ll help mask your cries. 

It doesn’t, of course. But Geto Suguru, ever the gentleman, carefully lifts your head by your neck and, while hovering over you, slams his lips against yours. The position isn’t the most comfortable, but you don’t find yourself complaining as he rams into you, filling you up and moulding your insides into the shape of his cock.

Your eyes don’t know what to do, from squeezing shut to crossing. At one point, you catch the door in your peripheral vision, and the thought of potentially getting caught has you clenching, your hand reaching for the masseur’s bicep and digging your nails into his pale skin. 

Geto grunts. “You trying to make me cum, beautiful?”

His playful tone makes you whine, his pace never faltering as he sneaks one of his hands under you to grope one of your breasts. The toying of your nipple, along with the male’s relentless thrusts, fuels the coil in your belly, and what does the trick is him leaving his mark on your neck. 

With a drawn-out gasp, your body stills, toes curling and tongue lolling out as your pussy convulses. You hardly notice Geto’s strokes growing sloppy, his whispered cursing going in one ear and out the other. Having him lead you to heaven is plenty for you. 

Once you calm down, though, you feel like he’s pulled out too soon. You groan, your ears catching the light sounds of him shuffling from his spot above you, followed by a rapid squelching noise that has you peeking over your shoulder. 

There, in all his naked glory, is Geto stroking his cock, his bottom lip trapped between his teeth and eyes zeroed in on your figure. 

“Shit, shit—” he cuts himself off with a gasp, ropes of cum shooting from his slit and landing on the back of your thighs. The sight alone has you clenching, the need for him inside you arising once more. “Oh, fuck—”

Anyone would grow angry at a mess thrown at them. You’re no different, just worse (the one time Gojo accidentally made you ruin your eyeliner is more than enough proof—the poor fool).

 And yet, having painted your thighs white by Geto, his seed clinging to your oily (and now sweaty) skin, you somehow find yourself falling for him more. 

“Suguru,” you slur, your eyelids fluttering as you allow your body to slump back onto the table. You feel his weight disappear before hearing footsteps grow louder. Through tired eyes, you’re face-to-face with his crotch, causing you to squeak as your upper body jolts up again. 

“Sorry, sorry,” the masseur chuckles, crouching to meet you at eye level. “Let’s get you cleaned up.”

The atmosphere returns to the comforting one his work ought to bring, though a part of you finds yourself fidgety. The ravenette wipes away the evidence with a wet towel, and it’s enough to keep you in place and relaxed as he continues to take care of you. 

Once done, he helps you sit up, keeping you steady as your legs dangle off the table.

“I think you fucked the bones out of me,” you croak, and Geto pauses midway from sliding your underwear back up your legs. He laughs a soft, boyish laugh, the melody bringing a smile to your lips and a warmth of embarrassment to your cheeks. “Is this what you had in mind by doing me a favour?”

He pecks your nose before resuming dressing you. “No, but I’m not complaining with the results.”

You hum, and the silence returns as he aids you with the rest of your clothes. 

It isn’t until he’s slipping his boxers back on that you speak again. “You don’t give this kind of special treatment to the others?”

A witless, little joke on your part, though your tone didn’t match. Maybe it was the exhaustion that took charge or a sliver of self-consciousness that needed assurance that you had him all to yourself. Still, you press your lips into a thin line, awaiting his answer. 

“To our friends or my clients?” he inquires, putting on the remainder of his clothes. “Either way, the answer’s no.” When you don’t say anything else, he approaches you, nudging his nose against yours. “Did you want me to?”

Your head snaps up to meet his amused gaze. “No!”

Geto's joking smile eases into a sincere one, his strong arms wrapping around your waist and embracing you. 

“Perfect,” he breathes, pressing his lips to your temple. “Guess that means you’re the only one who gets my special treatment.” A pause, followed by a sheepish giggle. “As long as we do it outside of my job. I’d like to keep it, you know.”

From your position, you peer over his shoulder to where the door stands a few meters away, shut and locked but keeping you in suspense. With heat bubbling in your face, you hide in the crook of his neck. 

“You technically never finished my massage,” you mumble against his skin, your hands tracing any muscle it can reach on his back. Geto pulls back from the hug, jutting his bottom lip as if pondering.

“I suppose you’re right,” he hums before another smile breaks onto his features. “Shall we continue back at my place, then?”

© creative-crybaby, do not repost or modify

[lizthewriter]

gorgeous / roronoa zoro

PAIRING  fem!reader x roronoa zoro

SUMMARY  you have been absolutely smitten for one gloriously skilled swordsman for a long time now and zoro has been pining over you for as long as you have known each other. however, due to some extenuating circumstances and some accidental happenstances, the two of you think the other loves someone else. your crew takes matters into their own hands, forcing the both of you to admit your feelings for one another.

TAGS  fem!reader x roronoa zoro, reader has she/her pronouns, sanji, nami, usopp, luffy, idiots in love, locked closet (well, kitchen in this case), admitting feelings, making out, when you realize the both of you are stupid

QUOTE  "if you've got a girlfriend, I'm jealous of her, / but if you're single, that's honestly worse, / cause you're so gorgeous, it actually hurts (honey it hurts)," - gorgeous by taylor swift

WORD COUNT  1.7K

WRITTEN  10.24.2023

You weren't sure what exactly was going on with you and Zoro - you felt as though there was some romantic subtext between you, but it was just impossible to really tell because everytime you came close to kissing or holding hands or admiting your feelings, he left before you could even say "bye." And then there was the case of Nami. Everytime you happened upon him, he was always with her. And that wasn't to say you didn't like Nami. No, far from it, but it was just the unfortunate circumstance of Zoro feeling some type of way about her. It wasn't deniable - they were laughing and sparring and joking around together all the time. They even bickered like an old married couple too.

You sought comfort in the form of a friend - Sanji. The blonde-haired cook was always kind and warm, welcoming you into the kitchen with a smile and a bowl of soup. He allowed you to bring your tomes along with you (you were the crew's scholar) and even went as far to let you rant about your feelings towards Zoro. He would sit there, chopping up carrots and onions and garlic, while you whined and complained and cried.

Today was no different. You stormed into the kitchen, a large leather-bound book tucked under your arm, slamming the door behind you. Sanji didn't even jump, his back towards you as he stirred a large pot of soup.

"What happened this time?" He asked, his voice calm and unwavering.

"He - he - they're sparring and he landed on top of her and they just sat there!" You exclaimed, slamming your book down next to a bowl of soup. You grabbed the bowl and pulled it towards you as you sat down, shoveling a spoonful into your mouth. "Your soup tastes wonderful today," you told him begrudgingly, tone still enraged.

"I'm glad you think so - I added a bit lemon this time," Sanji responded. He turned around, flipping a towel over his shoulder and swinging his hair out of his face. He gripped the edges of the table as he looked down at you with a grin, tilting his head. "I wouldn't worry about the two of them if I were you - they're nothing more than friends."

You held up your fingers, your thumb and forefinger almost touching each other. "Their faces were this far apart. Do you see this? They were practically making out!" You spooned some more soup into your mouth, grumbling a string of noncoherent words.

Sanji sighed, turning back towards his soup with a shake of his head.

-

"It's almost sad to watch them," Nami said with a small smile, watching you and Zoro talking together while overlooking the vast expanse of the ocean. Both of you were blushing, your hands inches away from each other and pining to be closer. When one of you turned your heads to look at the other, and your eyes met, you immediately looked away with reddened cheeks.

"It is sad to watch them," Usopp responded, cringing as he watched the both of you. He turned to Sanji and Nami. "Are you serious? Zoro thinks she likes Sanji when she's really confiding in Sanji about him, and she thinks that Zoro likes you when he's really confiding in you about her?"

"Well, when you put it like that, it sounds a lot more complicated than it actually is," Sanji responded, letting out a puff of smoke. He put out his cigarette on a crystal ash tray and sighed. "Look, we just have to figure out a way to get them to confess to each other. A way where they can't run away from their feelings."

The three of them went silent, lost in thought. They were startled as something dropped onto the floor in front of them - Luffy had been hanging from the rafters, listening all along. He pushed himself up from the ground, brushing off his Hawaiian shirt and straightening his straw hat. "Why don't you just shove them in a closet together or something?"

Nami raised her eyebrows, glancing towards Sanji and Usopp who were both already looking between each other, grinning.

-

"You're the smartest one here, you're got to help him!" Sanji exclaimed, dragging you by your arm. You were trying to keep up with his pace, but your heart was beating a thousand miles a minute as aderanline pumped through your veins. Yes you were rhe smartest one here, bur you knew nothing about wounds or blood or bandages! You were all books, no blood. Whyever would the crew think you had an idea on how to heal a knife wound?

"Sanji, I'm a scholar, not a doctor!" You exclaimed with a gasp as you turned down another corridor. "I don't know how to care for wounds properly, much less how to dress one! Besides, weren't you the one that helped him when Mihawk -"

"That was all adrenaline," Sanji responded. "We've got you now, I know you can do it!"

Suddenly, you were shoved into the kitchen and the door slammed shut behind you. You turned around, slamming your hand on the door. "Sanji!" You shouted angrily, fidt pounding on the wood. "Sanji, you asshat, what the hell? Is this some kind of stupid prank, cause it's not. Funny!"

You heard the other door to the kitchen open and watched as someone shoved Zoro into the room, slamming the door shut behind him. Zoro glanced at you, then glanced towards the door with a panicked expression. He let out a sigh of irritation, pinching the bridge of his nose.

"We'll let you two out in an hour," Sanji shouted from outside. "Once you sort out this - mess you lot have gotten yourselves into." You would've shouted at the bastard some more were it not for the sound of resounding footsteps, leaving the two of you completely alone.

"So . . ." You started, unsure how to approach the situation. You couldn't believe Sanji, that bastard, had locked you in a room with the crew member he knew you were in love with. "You're not wounded?"

"I was told you were hurt," Zoro said gruffly. "But I guess that's not true." His demeanor was awkward, more awkward than had ever been near you. You found it slightly unnerving and doubts began to creep in your mind. Had you done something wrong? Perhaps Nami had convinced Zoro to tell you his true thoughts about you, or even worse, that they were together and you couldn't be friends anymore. Your negative fantasies began to spiral and it was soon evident to Zoro that you were lost.

"You all right? You do look a little sick."

"What?" You asked, returning to reality. You suddenly shook your head with a shy smile, waving your hands in disregard. "No, no, I'm fine, I'm just thinking about - uh - something else."

"Right." Zoro's thumbs settled under his belt as he rocked back on his feet. As he did so, his swords clanked together, providing a lonely noise in the awkward silence.

"So you and Nami -"

"I've noticed you and Sanji -"

The two of you stared at each other for a moment before both responding at once again.

"What about her?"

"Sanji and me? Are you crazy?"

Both of you shared expressions of slight shock. You were the first to respond.

"I just - I've noticed the two of you happen to have spent a lot of time together recently. I thought maybe - you two were . . ." You let your voice trailed off, hoping that Zoro would understand what you were insinuating, but he looked much more like a lost puppy. "You know." It seemed he didn't. You let out an exasperated sigh and sunken over to one of the clean counters, hopping on top of it and gripping the edge of it. "Dating. Together. Or, something along those lines."

"Are you serious?" Zoro asked, bowing his head with a raised eyebrow. He chuckled, glancing away from you and running a hand down his chin. "No, no, Nami is just a friend, nothing more. You and Sanji, however, I thought were much more than that. Everytime I come into the kitchen, you two immediately stop talking with each other. I thought the two of you were fucking or something but Nami's been persistent in the assumption that, well . . ." He slowly made his way towards you until her was standing inbetween your legs, tilting his head upwards to meet your eyes with a strong gaze. "You like me."

You gulped and turned your head away with a nervous laugh. "What? That's - now that's ridiculous. You and me? Me, liking you?" You sputtered out another laugh but failed to hide your rosy cheeks. Zoro continued to stare into your eyes with that indifferent expression of his. You shifted uncomfortably. "Okay, fine, I do . . . like you, Zoro. A lot. I just . . . I didn't think it worthy of mentioning because you seemed like you and Nami were -"

"Well we're not." He placed his hands next to yours, gripping the edge of the counter and leaning in close. "So what are you going to do about it, hm?" His eyes flitted down to your lips and he ran his tounge against his own before returning his gaze to your eyes.

Now, he could be testing you. But see, at this point, you had spent so much time hiding your feelings for him, holding back. It had felt so relieving to finally tell him after all this time that you couldn't just go back to that phase of pretending as though you felt nothing towards the man.

It was rushed - one of your hand tangled in his hair as you ferociously smashed your lips against his. The other you placed onto his hand. He seemed shocked at your sudden confidence but swiftly and hungrily kissed you back, one hand coming up to grip your face. He groaned into your mouth but you quickly swallowed up the noise and wrapped your legs around his hips, urging him closer.

"Been waiting so long . . . I need you," you muttered into his lips before kissing him once more. You toyed with the hair at the nape of his neck, curling it around his fingers.

"Is that so?" Zoro asked in response, pulling away. His breath was hot and heavy on your ear. He planted a sloppy kiss on your neck, causing you to let out an almost imperceptible whimper. "So needy, huh? Don't worry baby, I don't think they'll be opening those doors for a while."

[fernlessbastard]

So, what's the deal with this tnt duo art?

I've explained it in my reblog of this post, but I've decided to copy this over to a brand new post as well, because especially with qsmp happening I'm sure we have many newer people here who don't get what's the deal with this piece

Ok so first off: the artist is _olga.exe_ on Instagram (I think also on twitter but i don't use Twitter so you'll have to check that one yourself)

To the best of my understanding this art just came out around June 2021, which was immediately after the first Revivedbur/Quackity interaction. The first two or so months the ship was exclusively seen as a crack ship - I'm not fully certain why, I think it's just that quackbur before wasn't all that known and popular, so it seemed like it came out of nowhere to the majority of the internet (which, it didn't, holy shit, those sluts have been so gay with each other for so long). It also was a time when most people only began realising that ccQuackity was capable of serious lore, which most likely added to how the ship was seen. Even I myself actually was very hesitant to bring it up to my partner, when I began slowly getting into it - of course while simultaneously deluding myself that it's nothing more than a crack ship for me (@octobre-ackedia oh would you look at how we ended up--).

This art was one of the first pieces that were fully serious, and couldn't be construed in any way shape or form as /p, so it got picked up by people on twitter and memed on. Around September 2021 tntblr began reclaiming it (and if I remember correctly we had a boom of posts sharing the original artist about that time).

In this surge of new people beginning to ship those two that's been happening for the past year or so, I need you all to remember that quackbur started off first as a very underground ship that almost no-one spoke of, and then became a crack ship. The header on my blog doesn't come from a "ha ha funny" self deprecating meme. #twquackburshipping was a tag that someone seriously used to tag a post about how Eret commented on some tntduo/r tiktok.

I get how easy it is to forget how anti-mainstream of a ship quackbur used to be (or simply miss that, if you're newer - which, for the record, no shame, I'm happy to see the new faces!), considering ccQuackity's endorsement of it in the last months of dsmp, not to mention what's happening on qsmp, but all those "omg I'm a quackbur shipper ha ha don't hate me ha I'm cringe I know" jokes used to genuinely not be jokes something like 1,5 years ago.

I hope this explains it thoroughly, and to everyone a little bit newer to the ship: welcome! Glad to see you here, remember to have fun, and if you've got any questions, feel free to ask me :]]