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ssa-dado · 2 months ago

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triathlon!Aaron Hotchner x fleabag!reader Genre: SMUT, pre-relationship mutual pining and just a touch of ♫ LOATHING, UNADULTERATED LOATHING ♫ Summary: You text the hot swim dad for legal help. He shows up in khakis. You try to behave. You fail. He's accidentally jealous of your date, you accidentally grind on his lap, he finishes in his pants, and somehow it’s the most romantic thing that’s ever happened to you. Warnings: SMUT MDNI (heavy makeout, dry humping and *sighs* Aaron creams his pants for just that... the title is descriptive enough), age gap, cuss words, hint of the vile act of female masturbation *pearl clutch*, objectification of the Hotchner body Word Count: 4.9k (damn gurl) Dado's Corner: Based on this request! And... um... full disclosure... I added the glasses part solely because of the cat pic sent by @hotchology, who said this ginger furball is how they imagine Hotch in glasses (LOOK HOW CUUUTE)

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Everything showers.

A sacred rite of modern womanhood.

Takes minimum two geological eras to complete, consumes half the planet’s fresh water, and must be repeated often to remain an eligible mating partner.

Because that’s the whole point of being a woman, isn’t it? To be clean, hairless, glowing, and vaguely vanilla-scented - just fuckable enough for men who think 3-in-1 shampoo counts as skincare.

The concept of an everything shower is… layered. Part hygiene. Part penance. Part psychological rebirth. A full-body cleanse for the sins you haven’t committed yet.

You’ve done them before first dates. Before almost-dates. Before parties, dick appointments, emotional breakdowns, and that one Tuesday when you just needed to check in on her-

(Her. Down there.)

Once, you even did one before visiting your mother. (Unclear whether that was for survival or atonement. Maybe both.)

But never - not even in your darkest, most masochistic imagination - did you think you’d be doing one because of an eviction notice.

Not until today.

Because Aaron Hotchner - a man who should be both physically and emotionally unavailable due to his very, very, veeeery important job saving the world - is apparently not unavailable.

Not when it matters.

Not when it’s least convenient for your nervous system.

…The irony.

All it took was one stupid text. A momentary lapse in dignity. Something he’d probably refer to as “compromised judgment.”

do you happen to know a very cheap lawyer asking for a friend

And instead of his usual three-to-five-business-days reply time, he hits you with:

aaron hotchner (work, no nudes): Are you at home now? – A.H.

And now you’re just a bit overthinking… because how does he know that?

Did the FBI install a secret camera in your pothos plant? Does he have access to some satellite heat map of your apartment? Has he been watching your window? A camera in the air vent?

(Has he seen you trying out that new clear dildo in front of the mirror for “science”?)

(The one time you tried doing yoga and got stuck in child's pose for 40 minutes?)

You don’t know. You don’t want to know.

All you do know is that you are currently fully naked, shaving for a man who:

Has no idea he’s being shaved for, while you’re on speakerphone with him, as he gets closer and closer to your building block because he invited himself into your private space and-

Would absolutely turn around and disappear if he ever caught even a hint of cucumber-scented shaving cream (you borrowed from your roommate) and realized you'd… prepared for him.

Because your “just in case” implies premeditation. And premeditation implies intention. And intention? Intention is basically foreplay.

And foreplay is strictly prohibited outside the sanctity of marriage, a psychological clearance form, and at least three signed affidavits from HR.

He would enter WITSEC on the spot. Change his name. Grow a beard.

(Hot.)

“What’s happening? Are you alright?”

He concernedly asks over the phone - totally unaware (definitely unaware) that every time he checks in on you, he’s poking your very well-buried, very latent daddy issues with a stick.

(Or maybe he keeps asking because he’s the one with daddy issues. Very obvious ones. That classic parented-child energy. Raised himself on black coffee, moral obligation and emotional regret.)

What a match, really. You get off on being cared for, and he gets off on taking care of people he’ll never emotionally open up to.

Soulmates.

Anyway-

“So… my landlord is an asshole and I really hope he gets some very painful hemor-”

Mr. FBI has the audacity to call you by your full legal name before cutting you off with, “This call is being recorded. I’d appreciate it if you refrained from making…” he even pauses, searching for the most delicate phrasing. Because God forbid he doesn’t sound like a morally burdened Disney princess. “explicit threats.”

Oh, you’d appreciate a few things too. Like having his actual number and not the one issued by the United States Government - so you wouldn’t have to worry about scandalizing some poor technical analyst who’ll be forced to transcribe this call word-for-word the second they find his body in a ditch and trace it back to you.

(“Exhibit B: She said, quote, ‘I hope he gets some very painful hemor.’”)

…But you’re not as childish as him to complain about that.

“My bad.”

“It’s alright.” (Can he please stop talking like this?)

“Yeah… I-” Your voice trips. Your face is hot. Your entire body is hotter. “The thing is-”

“I’m listening.” Oh, fuck him. (Please.)

“In short: the building’s falling apart. We’ve been emailing the guy for weeks, complaining, begging, threatening – nicely - and either he forgets to reply or says he’ll fix it and then doesn’t. It’s been an eternity and he still hasn’t done a single fuc-”

Recorded line. Recorded line. God forbid the man has a seizure because of you. “-thing.”

You hear a chuckle on the other end.

You hate phone calls.

You’d choke him if he weren’t safely boxed inside a moving vehicle.

“I said threats. You can curse. I’m not ten.” Oh, he’s smiling. You can hear it. The smug bastard.

“Oh, that I noticed.”

You love phone calls.

If he were here, he would've already hit you with one of those signature stares - intended to intimidate, but really just making you want to lick the corner of his mouth out of pure spite.

But look at you. Free. Untouchable. Doing amazing.

“The thing is, I didn’t pay rent this month. Because they’re still ignoring the repairs. And now they’re threatening to evict me if I don’t pay.”

“That’s retaliatory. It’s illegal.”

“Wait… you’re telling me I’m not screwed?”

“No, they are. You withheld payment due to unaddressed health and safety violations. That’s protected under landlord-tenant statutes,” he says, suddenly shifting into full legalese, something-something code 572, subsection blah-blah, tenant rights, lease clauses-

You don’t hear any of it. Actually, the very second he started speaking fluent Law Daddy, , your brain slammed the emergency brake to focus on the real crisis:

What the fuck are you going to wear.

“Document everything-“

Lace? Bold choice, but post-shave? Masochism. Granny cotton briefs? He’ll never look at you again.

“Photos.”

Tight top, no bra? Risky.

What if he hugs you and feels how obnoxiously hard your nipples are?

(He’s not a hugger. He doesn’t seem like a hugger. Right?)

(Right??)

(But what if he is today?)

(What if he walks in, sees you - top clinging, no heating - and suddenly decides: You know what? Now’s the time. Now’s the moment I become a hugger. Just for her. Just this once. Just to pull her in close, pretend it’s chaste, press his palm between her shoulder blades and - oh fuck - realize it’s not.)

(What if he hugs you and feels it?)

(What if he hugs you and keeps hugging you?)

(What if he grips tighter, his hand slides just a little lower, and his voice does too, right by your ear - “You’re not wearing a bra.”)

(“Neither are you, sir.”)

(And what if that hug turns into a grind, into his thigh between your legs, into lift me onto the kitchen counter and show me what else you know about tenancy law.)

“Emails.”

Loose top, skimpy bottoms? Slutty. Strategic. Respectable slutty. He’d stare at your legs all night.

(He wouldn’t. But you’d know. Which is worse.)

You should lather in coconut oil, just in case.

You should lather in coconut oil anyway – hydration is important to avoid ingrowns (and yes, to smell edible too.)

“Timestamps.”

Tight top, no bra, skimpy bottoms? Too much? Too “I can’t pay the plumber, but maybe I can offer something else...”

(Not that you’ve watched those. Obviously. You’re just… aware of the trope.)

(Not because you spent 30 minutes the other night trying to find the perfect one. And then another 10 skipping the plot because it was too unrealistic, there’s no way the plumber just happens to have lube.)

(Not that you wouldn’t do it for him. But you’re also not going to lower yourself to being a badly lit, lazily scripted fantasy for the male gaze.)

“…If you haven’t already, I’d recommend drafting a written complaint.”

“…Aaron, I don’t even know where to start,” you mutter. “That’s why I asked if you knew a very cheap lawyer.”

“I’m the very cheap lawyer.” For some reason he chuckles, probably it’s because of his own joke, “Don’t worry, we’ll do it together, I’ll be there in fifteen.”

He is not there in fifteen.

He’s “there” after fourty-eight minutes - flustered, apologizing, muttering something about I-395 and a jackknifed delivery truck, which is just adorable, really, coming from a man who’s clearly never taken the bus in heels while bleeding through his jeans, juggling three leaking Trader Joe’s bags, and re-evaluating every life decision since birth.

He’s grumbling about “infrastructure,” all furrowed brows and moral outrage. How sweet.

You, meanwhile, are Frenching the entire Department of Transportation.

You are giving gridlock the kind of wet, eye-contact blowjob that wins awards - because, for once in your adult life, the universe delayed a man just long enough for you to become a person.

Thirty-eight glorious minutes to shave, moisturize, hide the evidence of your emotional instability, light a candle, panic about the candle (too much?), blow it out, light it again (fuck it), rearrange your throw pillows, Febreze your loveseat, and clean your floors so well you briefly consider serving dinner off them - or yourself.

(Also enough time to change outfits four times, reject each one violently, and land on something that screams “Oh, this? Just threw it on,” while whispering: “I shaved everything.”)

You’ve never been more grateful for civic failure.

You look good. Your apartment looks good. You know it smells amazing in here. You know it. You can feel the Pine-Sol particles sparkling off the hardwood.

Any second now, he’s going to say something about it.

He’s going to inhale – deeply - and ask what detergent you use. Compliment your lavender baseboards.

You can feel it coming. You’re ready. You smile. You bask.

Aaron sets down his bag. Unclips it. Opens it. Looks up.

“I printed out the tenancy statutes,” he says, already pulling out an aggressively highlighted stack of documents from the briefcase.

And this would be impressive - should be impressive - if he weren’t wearing a plain black T-shirt that is doing things to his arms. And the khakis. Fucking khakis.

The most indecently decent pants in the entire male wardrobe.

They whisper "suburban dad," but scream "accidental bulge in soft daylight."

Speaking of which, unfortunately, your apartment lighting has never worked harder - midday golden-hour haze bouncing off every freshly scrubbed surface, casting soft shadows and sensual gleam until finally it settles on The Situation.

…Shit.

(Do not look at it.)

(Do not acknowledge it.)

(Do not mentally calculate whether that’s just the way his pants fold or if that’s his dick pressed against the zipper like it also has a clause to deliver.)

(Do notice, however, that he still hasn’t said a single word about how nice your apartment looks. Rude.)

“I flagged the key violations and I added notes on a recent amendment that strengthens your case - you can reference it in your response letter.” His eyes scan the room clearing it for hostiles - except all he really sees is your loveseat. Small. Soft. Close.

And you, in a tank top.

He clears his throat. Adjusts the folder. His gaze flicks back to you – quick, sharp, and immediately redirected to something safer, like the floor.

“Where… should we get set up?” he asks, like he hasn’t already mentally measured the loveseat twice, logged its exact dimensions in his brain, and is currently laser-eyeing the very cushion he’s dying – dreading - to sit on.

“Oh, I don’t know… wherever you’re comfortable.”

He nods - just a touch too seriously - then hesitates. Again. Checks one more time, with those painfully polite eyes: Can I...? Is it alright if...?

(…As if you might suddenly revoke loveseat privileges.)

Then, slowly, he lowers himself onto the cushion. Perches. Occupies the absolute minimum amount of space humanly possible.

If he still had the joint mobility of his youth, you’re convinced he’d just origami himself into a respectful little one-inch cube and tuck into the far corner.

You glance at his shoulders - very broad, deliciously broad, yes - tense, but more at how hard he’s trying not to brush them against yours. What a funny man.

Especially funny because while he's typing up your official letter - like a good little lawyer - he's also letting the conversation drift into a completely unrelated side street.

Unrelated except for the fact that it's all about you.

Like how he “casually” mentions he hasn’t seen you at the pool lately.

The one where he trains and you sit in a cracked plastic cafeteria chair pretending to wait for your friend’s aquatic therapy - when really, you’re mourning every second you’re not legally tethered to the hot dad at swim practice. The hot dad who doesn’t even know he’s the hot dad. (Him. Obviously.)

You go for your friend. Technically.

Spoiler: she’s got two weeks left.

Which means once her sessions are over, you and Aaron will have absolutely no logical reason to ever speak again. No built-in excuse. No default setting.

And now there’s a looming, mutual thing neither of you are acknowledging.

You’re sure there’s a term for this. Something about large mammals afraid of mice and metaphor.

“Yeah, I was in the lane next to your friend’s the other day…” he starts.

“Really?” You pretend you didn’t get fourteen missed calls from said friend, who - when you finally called her back - didn’t even say hi. Just launched straight into: “Burgundy swim cap guy looked up at your seat three times. Three. He looked so sad you weren’t there I had to explain where you were so he wouldn’t drown in longing.”

“Yes… we talked for a bit. She seems very nice…”

Ah.

Interesting choice of words, considering she told you – verbatim - “I can’t believe someone built like a brick shithouse could be that pathetic.”

(She has yet to understand that that is the whole appeal. Him. And that exact contradiction. Him and that-)

“So… how did… your date go?” he asks, pretending to be casual. He’s polishing his glasses against the hem of his shirt, even though they’re already spotless. (You weren’t even aware he needed glasses. Probably neither is the rest of the planet.)

He keeps at it. Rubs one lens. Then the other. Then back again.

You wonder if he’s trying to distract himself. From the question. From the answer.

Your date.

The one that made you miss your friend's call. The one you actually went on. The one that-

“It went well, actually.” It did. Way too well. And that’s the problem.

Because you keep chasing Aaron.

Despite the very obvious fact that nothing will ever happen between you. Because he’s… well, him. And you’re…

A little too young. A little too broke. A little too you.

(And technically if you do the math, you’re closer to his son’s age than his. Just by a few years, sure, but still. Still enough to justify it to yourself out loud, then say it again. And again. Until it starts sounding like a fact.)

It’s just a harmless crush. A stupid little thing. A flicker. A fantasy. A hobby, really.

You have so many of those - men. Smart, emotionally unavailable, vaguely haunted. You collect them like parking tickets: Useless. Repetitive. Always showing up when you least need them. But you keep them. Stack them in a drawer somewhere in your head.

Just in case.

Still, there’s something about this one.

About him.

Aaron.

Aaron in wireframe glasses, almost making you believe in the higher powers he believes in too. (Hopefully not the United States government.)

Aaron with that voice, that jaw, that posture.

Aaron, who says things like “landlord-tenant statute” and somehow makes it sound better than the poetry in those overpriced, niche little books you only buy for the cover, the ones where the author hits enter every four words so it tricks you into thinking they mean something.

And maybe – deep, deep down – it’s because you want to be proven wrong. That someone like him could find goodness in parts of you you’ve already declared a lost cause. That he could look at all the rot and still see something worth saving. Or maybe it’s just easier. Easier to chase something you’ll never catch than turn around and face the things already standing still, arms open, waiting to love you back.

“I’m glad to hear that,” says Deliciously Four-Eyed Aaron, just a little too tight. Tighter than his khakis, which shift and pull every time he readjusts to keep from getting a flat ass on your loveseat.

(What’s wrong, Agent Hotchner? Not expecting it to actually go well? God, you hope that’s why his jaw looks like it’s about to file for divorce from the rest of his face.)

“I don’t know him well,” he adds, clinically. “But… he seems like a nice guy. He’s good at his job.”

Right. Which is rich, coming from the man who literally handed you the guy’s number. And now he’s playing coy?

So what was that, then? A random act of kindness? A stroke of pity? Was it projection? Was it a fever dream?

Did he just reach into the FBI rolodex and go: “Hmm. You’re not under disciplinary review, you own slacks, and your blood pressure is normal. Here, date this emotionally volatile woman I know and I think you might like - she has opinions and abandonment issues, enjoy!

Because Aaron doesn’t do spontaneous. Aaron does strategic. Aaron does 48-hour surveillance and triple-signed documents.

He’s not the guy who improvises. He’s the guy who rehearses his improvisation.

So forgive you if you’re just a little confused by Mr. Times New Roman over here, trying to mentally trace the logic that gets you from “I barely know him” to “you should definitely let him finger you. Only after marriage, though.”

It’s weird. And yet, somehow, that’s not even the most annoying part.

“Good at his job?” you echo, with a laugh that sounds way too close to a cry for help. (Of course. Of course that’s Special Supervising Whatever-the-Fuck Hotchner’s metric for male compatibility. Not empathy. Not emotional availability. Not even basic social literacy. No, job performance. What a catch.) “What are you going to say next, that he’s a good person because he clocks in early and doesn’t steal breakroom coffee?”

“Well,” he says, adjusting his glasses that did not need adjusting, “I can’t vouch for the coffee. But I do see him arrive on time. From my office. If that’s what’s concerning you.”

…Oh. So that’s what this is. We’re flexing now.

Mr. I Have A Window. Mr. I Oversee The Peasants. Mr. Private Office While Everyone Else Plays Hot-Desk Musical Chairs. Mr. Title, Tenure, and a Chair That Supports Both His Spine and His Reluctance to Feel. Mr. I Deserve This Square Footage Because I Ruined My Marriage for the Federal Government.

(You could go on. And on. And on. You won’t. But you could.)

And it’s not even clear who he’s trying to one-up here. The guy he set you up with? Or… you? Both?

Like, “Yes, he’s punctual. Yes, he’s nice. Yes, he’s good at his job. But I define what good is. I’m his boss. Be impressed by me instead. Please. I beg you.”

Okay. Breathe. Relax.

No one invited him to a pissing contest and yet here he is, unzipping his intellectual fly right in the middle of your living room. (Not the fly you wanted unzipped, unfortunately.)

You squint at him. “So what, you show up before everyone else just to watch your little ducklings waddle in behind you? Mother Goose clocking in before sunrise to lead by example and assert dominance?”

He turns toward you. Tilts his head. Makes that face. The one you’ve been craving since the second he walked in.

Eyebrows drawn, mouth slightly open - just enough to spot that one crooked tooth, bless it - an expression that says concerned, confused, and disappointed in your tone, all in one.

“It’s none of that,” he’s dead serious, even if he’s visibly smiling… marvelous. “It’s just respectful to be on time.”

Sure, Agent Hotchner. Tell yourself that while polishing your Employee of the Decade plaque.

“I barely even see my boss at the café. Twice a week, tops. And only after we open.”

Aaron lifts his eyebrows. Shrugs. “I’m not an asshole.”

Then he goes back to typing, pretending he’s not biting the inside of his cheek like the whole thing didn’t get to him.

Like he’s completely unbothered by the idea of some man buying you coffee and making you laugh for two full hours.

Like his knuckles aren’t just a little too tight around that trackpad.

“You know, for someone who just said he’s not an asshole, you sure spend a lot of time trying to prove how much better you are than other men.”

“I’m not trying to prove anything,” he says, softly. Too softly. Like he knows volume would give him away.

And fuck, those eyes.

You can’t look at them too long. You bounce between his face and anything else - your coffee table, the printout, his lap (unfortunately) - because those glasses are giving him four eyes now, and all of them are aimed at your skull, dissecting every micro-expression.

He's a bit suffocating.

“I think what really bothers you,” he says, measured, "is that you’re used to being misread."

You scoff. “Excuse me?” (Bitch.)

"You act like you want to be chased, but only if it feels reluctant. If it's earned. You push people to see if they’ll push back. You turn it into a game because it’s safer that way. If it’s a game, you can pretend you were never serious when they walk away."

Well. Okay. First of all: Rude.

Second of all: Accurate. Horribly accurate.

But also: How dare he.

"And if they don't... if they try to meet you where you are... you push them away first. Just to prove you were right to be afraid" he says - and the bastard even smiles. (Fuck his dimples. Really. Pretentious as hell.) "You punish them for it… and you punish the ones who don’t play, too. Because deep down, you still don’t know which would hurt more."

"Wow," you never thought you'd actually be speechless, and yet - here you are, scrambling for a comeback. Great. "Good thing you said you weren’t trying to prove anything. Otherwise I might’ve gotten confused and assumed you were just showing off." (Good enough. You’ll take it.)

Smarty-pants chuckles under his breath then leans back against your very professional, very structurally unsound loveseat. His knee brushes yours.

You pretend not to notice. He pretends he doesn’t notice you noticing.

"Not showing off, just telling you what you already know."

"Oh, right, because you’re such an expert on me."

"I’m just observant."

"And arrogant." And a fucking hypocrite too.

"And you still looked at my mouth twice." What a who-

Somewhere between your brain screaming full bitch slap, full bitch slap and your hand almost twitching to deliver it… you miscalculate.

You lean in. And instead of bruising his cheekbone, you crash your mouth against his.

Pride - and the stack of feminist books judging you from the bookshelf - insist it’s you who moves first. You believe them. You have to.

Even though his hands are already there - rough and steady, drowning your face in their grip - before you even finish breathing in your half-ounce of courage. Before you really even choose anything at all.

(But sure. Go ahead. Call it empowerment. You’re totally running the show. Girlboss shit.)

You want to bite him. Sink your teeth into that smug, diagnosing mouth. Split his lip. Make him bleed all over the living room he still hasn’t bothered to compliment the smell of. (You’re not petty about it… it’s just an observation.)

But it’s slower instead.

You taste his nerve first, his fear right after.

He’s already halfway to pulling back even as he keeps kissing you - trying to have it both ways - and for a second, you do break apart.

Both pretending you could still undo this. (And also undo all the bullshit he said earlier, profiling you so hard he didn’t even realize he was accidentally outing himself too.)

It doesn’t last.

You crash back into him, sloppier, mouths dragging, missing, gasping, half-kissing, half-clawing at each other as you’re both a little too desperate to land properly.

For a split second, the kiss turns... almost sweet. Tender. Romantic, even.

You could say he’s a good kisser.

You could say he’s a great kisser.

You could say he’s the only man alive who could kiss you stupid and still find a way to remind you to breathe through your nose.

(Like when he notices you getting lightheaded and somehow fixes it without even pulling away... which, not gonna lie, is a little humbling.)

But there’s no time for critical analysis. You’re already shoving him flat onto the loveseat, pinning him down, while he blinks up at you - wide-eyed, flushed, so beautiful it makes your chest hurt.

(And he looks so... concerned. As if he’s realizing just now that there’s absolutely no dignified way to get out of this alive.)

(Good. He shouldn’t.)

There’s tongue.

There’s teeth.

There’s his hands – everywhere - gripping your waist, sliding under your shirt, squeezing the backs of your thighs, pushing your leg higher over him until you can feel - Oh. Oh, he’s hard. He’s so fucking hard.

There’s a muffled noise from the back of his throat that sounds suspiciously like please and you are not thinking about that right now.

And it’s-

God.

It’s filthy. It’s great.

You grind down hard, whimpering shamelessly into his mouth, and he bucks up into you, meeting you halfway with both hands locked around your ass, squeezing so rough you’ll be wearing fingerprints by tomorrow.

(You hope so.)

(You really fucking hope so.)

He helps you move –

Up.

Down.

Slower.

Harder.

Guiding your hips with just enough pressure to make it feel like it’s your idea, finding the rhythm you didn’t know you needed until he gives it to you, forcing you to ride the thick, hard shape straining against his pants-

Just the right angle. Just the right friction.

So perfect it catches your clit every single time, knocks a gasp right out of your throat, straight into his mouth.

You’re soaking through your panties. You’re shaking with it. And it clearly gets to him - God, it wrecks him.

You can feel it - the way he tenses under you, the way his hands clutch harder at your ass, the way his cock throbs against you through the fabric like he’s just barely holding on.

He bites down on your bottom lip, rougher than you expect. Too rough for a man who apologizes when he says fuck.

He holds it between his teeth, sucks it – hard - humming low and filthy against your mouth, so obscene it makes your hips stutter.

Drop.

Just enough to let your soaked cunt drag across the swollen head of his cock.

And when you grind back, slower, tracing right along the thick ridge straining against his zipper, he chokes on a breath.

“God, fuck-”

It tears out of him, raw, as if he’s almost embarrassed by how much pleasure is tangled in it, by how stupidly sincere it comes out of his mouth.

(Also, thank God he didn’t reverse it. If he’d said “fuck, God,” instead, you’re pretty sure he would’ve stopped everything, dropped to his knees, and asked you to drive him to a confessional. Not even a metaphor - actual church. Actual guilt. Actual “forgive me, Father, for I have sinned.”)

He tilts his head back, groaning, neck arching against the pillow - exposed, gorgeous - and you completely lose it.

Your tongue drags over his throat, chasing the pulse hammering under his skin, tracing your way back up to his mouth.

He’s so hot. He’s so good. He’s-

…terrified.

"I'm so sorry," he breathes, suddenly sitting up on his elbows. “I-”

He fumbles. He panics. He stands. Backs away from the couch. From you. Visibly blushing. Visibly mortified.

“I didn’t mean-“

He doesn’t finish the sentence...

…Because he finished in his pants instead.

Poor thing.

You should be a little cruel about it - he was an asshole earlier, after all - but you’re not quite mean enough to kick a wounded 6’2” puppy when he’s already limping. (No pun intended… or maybe-)

"Hey," you murmur, reaching out, curling your fingers around his wrist so he can’t backpedal any further. He flinches. (Not much. Just enough to make you want to kiss him again. Harder this time. Until he flinches worse.)

"It’s okay. It’s-" You almost say sweet - catch yourself just in time, because you’re not trying to get murdered tonight.

"It’s normal," you settle on instead. "It’s flattering. Honestly.” (Also kind of hot. But you’ll take that particular confession to your grave.) “You didn’t... ruin anything."

He still doesn’t look convinced. At all. In fact, he looks like he might apologize again, maybe even draft a formal statement and notarize it.

You scramble. “It’s not a big deal, seriously. Who cares if it was-” (You hesitate for half a second, fatal mistake.) "-like, 30 seconds? Could've been 29, right?!”

…Right.

taglist: @beata1108 ; @c-losur3 ; @fangirlunknown ; @goorgeousz ; @hayleym1234 ; @ignoreeeeeee ; @justyourusualash ; @khxna ; @kyrathekiller ; @littlemisskavities ; @lostinwonderland314 ; @mmmunson ; @mxblobby ; @nikt-wazny-y ; @oxforce ; @percysley ; @person-005 ; @prettybaby-reid ; @reidfile ; @royalestrellas ; @ssa-callahan ; @softtdaisy ; @softestqueeen ; @thatkidofwarandpeace ; @theseerbetweenus ; @todorokishoe24 ; @who-needs-to-sleep

(I might've missed someone this time, pls tell me in the comments if your name got lost AAAA sorry in advance)

Little reminder that the requests for fleabag!reader are open!! Ok.. I'll go now. Bye.

#aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner x reader #hotch x reader #aaron hotch x reader #aaron hotchner smut #aaron hotchner x reader smut #aaron hotchner imagine #hotch #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds #fleabag!reader #aaron hotchner creams his pants #aaron hotchner profile my c*** next

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jupiterpilgrim · 3 months ago

Text

Sex Cage: Big Breasts and the Ordinary Modern Life

Eunbi x Somi x male reader

word count: 12K

previous chapter

Eunbi’s room is decked out like a gamer’s fever dream now. The RGB lights are set up just right, throwing a chill neon glow around, lighting up her face a bit. She’s parked in her plush gaming chair, legs tucked under, hunched over the mic. She’s rocking a baggy gray sweatshirt that’s slipping off one shoulder, showing a peek of her white tank top, and some soft black shorts. Her hair’s up in a messy bun, a couple strands hanging loose around her face. The camera’s got her in frame, the ring light smoothing out the hype written all over her expression. On-screen, “Rubydden’s Realm” overlays the corner of the stream—a hastily made, slightly clunky logo she insisted on designing herself. Below it, a scrolling bar reads, “First-ever stream! Let’s see if I survive TLOU!”

Her hands grip the controller nervously as the familiar PlayStation startup chime fades. The chat explodes before she even gets to the main menu.

StarGazer48: OMG, first stream vibes!!!

ButterflyEffect: She’s so cute 😭

ClickClackJack: Does she even know what’s coming??

MossyUnderwear: If she doesn’t cry at the start, she’s a robot.

"Wow! Okay, okay, hold on, chat!" Eunbi laughs, her voice carrying that particular mix of giddiness and terror. She leans forward, squinting at the second monitor to keep up with the flood of comments. “First of all, hi, everyone! Thank you for showing up… I thought there would be like… five people?"

She glances toward you, sitting just off-camera, as if for reassurance. You flash her a thumbs-up, silently mouthing, “You’ve got this.”

Her nervous laugh lingers as she picks up the controller, her fingers already fumbling with the buttons. “So, here’s the deal. This is my first-ever stream, obviously. And we’re starting with The Last of Us because… well, apparently, it’s a classic, and I don’t know much about it other than… it’s supposed to be really dramatic?” She draws out the last word like it’s a question, her doe eyes widening.

The chat erupts again:

GameDork98: Oh, honey, you have NO idea.

HatGuy69: She’s gonna cry in the first 15 minutes, guaranteed.

EllieLuv: Protect Ellie at all costs 😭

"Wait, what? Cry?!” Eunbi’s head jerks up, her gaze darting to the chat. “Nobody said anything about crying! This is just… an apocalypse thing, right? Like zombies and stuff?” Her voice rises an octave as she tries to sound calm.

The game menu appears, the soundtrack's desolate guitar fills Eunbi's ears through headphones. She adjusts in her seat, pulling the hoodie tighter around her like armor. “Alright, alright. I’m not scared. I got this. I mean, if I can handle weird requests in my DMs, I can handle… this… scary music…”

She navigates to “New Game,” as the opening cinematic begins, her expression shifts from nervous to curious. “Oh, wow. The graphics are pretty good. Look at this house! So cozy—oh no, is this where the drama starts?”

The chat explodes with laughter, cryptic emojis, and ominous hints.

ClickClackJack: This is the calm before the storm.

CryingAlpaca: Everyone, place your bets. Does she cry in 5 minutes or 10?

Eunbi leans closer, totally engrossed in Sarah wandering through the house. “Aw, this kid is so cute. Wait—she’s the main character, right?”

The chat collectively groans.

DadJokes24: Oh, sweet summer child…

“Wait, wait! Why are you guys groaning?!” she exclaims, pausing the game, eyes darting to the chat. “Don’t tell me! No spoilers, okay? Let me be innocent and enjoy this!”

She presses play again, her lips pursed as she concentrates. The moment Joel bursts through the door, Eunbi squeals in surprise. “Oh my god, what’s happening?!”

As the chaos unfolds—the infected neighbor, the car chase—she grips the controller so tightly her knuckles whiten. “THIS IS NOT ZOMBIE STUFF! WHY IS EVERYTHING EXPLODING?!”

DoomBoom: Chat, she’s losing it. This is GOLD.

NoContextGary: Just wait until the emotional sucker punch.

When the gut-wrenching scene with Joel and Sarah hits, Eunbi falls silent. Her eyes stay glued to the screen as her mouth drops open slightly. The soft sound of a sob escapes her lips as the scene fades to black, and she quickly wipes her eyes with her sleeve, laughing awkwardly. “Okay. Fine. You win. I cried. Are you happy now?”

CryingAlpaca: 16 minutes. I called it.

EllieLuv: And that's just the fucking prologue!!

ClipThis: Clip it, chat!

Eunbi sits back, letting out a shaky breath. “I need a second. That was brutal. And you guys… you knew. This whole time, you knew!” She waves a finger at the camera, mock-accusingly.

Her laughter turns genuine as she takes a sip from her water bottle, holding it dramatically like an Oscar. “Alright, let’s keep going. But if the game keeps hitting me like that, I might need therapy. And snacks. Definitely snacks.”

The chat goes wild with love and teasing, and Eunbi seems to relax, her natural charm shining through. When you see that she has everything under control, you sneak out of the room to let her focus on the game. She adjusts her hoodie, leans into the mic, and smirks at the camera. “Okay, chat. Let’s see what other heartbreaks you’ve got lined up for me. Bring it on.”

—

The stream winds down with a mix of adrenaline and exhaustion radiating from Eunbi. The game’s pause menu glows on the screen as she swivels her chair toward the camera, resting her chin in her hands with a bright, satisfied smile.

“Alright, chat. That’s it for today!” she announces, her voice warm and a little hoarse from three hours of near-constant talking. “I can’t believe we actually survived this far… well, mostly. Let’s just ignore all the times I accidentally ran straight into danger, okay? You guys are seriously the best for sticking with me through that chaos.”

The chat explodes with a flurry of messages:

StarGazer48: BEST STREAM EVER!

ButterflyEffect: You were so much fun, Ruby! Can’t wait for Friday!

ClickClackJack: First stream? Nah, you’re a natural.

RubyFan326: She’s learning fast chat, we stan a chaotic queen!!

Eunbi beams, hugging her knees to her chest like she can’t contain her excitement. “You’re all making me blush. Seriously, thank you for hanging out with me. I’m back Friday at 7 PM—mark your calendars, okay? Same game, same chaos, but hopefully with fewer ‘oops I died’ moments.” She flashes a cheeky grin and winks at the camera.

“And don’t forget to follow if you haven’t already! I mean, unless you hate fun. In that case… I don’t know what to tell you.” She laughs, leaning back in her chair and making finger guns at the screen.

The chat fills with emotes and farewells, hearts and inside jokes from the stream.

MossyUnderwear: WE LOVE YOU, RUBYDDEN!

DadJokes24: Don’t forget snacks for next time!

MovieBuff88: Stream was fire 🔥. See you Friday!

Eunbi waves a final time, her smile stretching wide and genuine. “Bye, guys! See you Friday! Be good, okay?” She clicks the “End Stream” button, the chat disappearing into a frozen feed of her grinning face.

The room falls silent except for the faint hum of her PC. Eunbi leans back, letting out a long, breathy laugh, hands pressed to her cheeks. “Oh my god… that was insane,” she mutters to herself, still buzzing.

Without a second thought, she bolts from her chair, nearly tripping over the cord of her headset. She sprints to your room, throwing the door open with the force of a hurricane.

“BABE!” she screams, launching herself onto the bed where you’re sprawled out, scrolling on your phone.

“Jesus!” you exclaim, startled, but there’s no time to process because Eunbi is already on top of you, straddling your waist and peppering your face with a barrage of kisses.

“Did you see that?!” she babbles between kisses, her words tumbling out like they’re fighting for first place. “They loved me! They actually loved me! The chat was so sweet, and everyone was so funny, and I didn’t even cry that much, right? Okay, maybe a little, but that was the game’s fault, not mine!”

You laugh, hands instinctively finding her waist as you steady her. “Slow down, babe! I can barely understand you!”

She pulls back, her cheeks flushed, her eyes bright. “I can’t slow down! I’m too excited! It went so much better than I thought it would, and they were so nice, and I didn’t mess up too badly, right?”

“Are you kidding me? You killed it,” you assure her, brushing a strand of hair out of her face. “You were funny, adorable, and totally yourself. No wonder they loved you.”

Her grin widens, and she dives back in, pressing kisses to your cheeks, your forehead, your lips—anywhere she can reach. “You’re just saying that because you’re my boyfriend,” she teases, but her voice is thick with happiness.

“Maybe,” you admit, catching her face in your hands to slow her down and plant a proper kiss on her lips. “But I’m also right. You were amazing.”

She melts into the kiss for a moment before pulling back, practically vibrating with energy. “I have so many ideas for Friday! Like, maybe I can do a snack tier list during breaks? Oh, and I should definitely figure out how to make those pop-up notifications cooler—like, fireworks or something every time someone subscribes!”

You laugh, letting her ramble, loving every second of seeing her this happy. “Whatever you do, it’ll be awesome. I’ll help you set it up.”

“Ugh, you’re the best,” she says, flopping down beside you, her head resting on your chest. She’s still buzzing, her fingers drumming lightly against your ribs. “This was the best day. I didn’t think I’d love streaming this much, but it’s so fun! And everyone was so nice! Did I already say that?!”

“Only like ten times,” you tease, wrapping an arm around her.

“Well, it’s true!” she says, tilting her head to look up at you, her smile softening. “Thanks for believing in me. I couldn’t have done it without you.”

“Always,” you say, pressing a kiss to her temple. The two of you lie there in a comfortable silence, her excitement slowly giving way to contentment as she curls closer to you.

—

The gym is quite crowded today. The faint scent of rubber mats and sweat hangs in the air, but it’s far from unpleasant—it’s the smell of effort! Eunbi and Somi stand by the dumbbell rack, mid-chat, stretching in between sets.

Eunbi’s dressed in a black sports bra and high-waisted lavender leggings that hug her figure, her small waist accentuated by the snug fit. Her hair’s tied up in a messy ponytail, a few strands already sticking to her forehead from the light sheen of sweat. Beside her, Somi towers, her blonde hair pulled into a sleek braid that sways with every movement. She’s wearing a cropped white tank top, leaving her toned stomach exposed, paired with tight, navy blue biker shorts. The cut of her tank makes her generous chest all the more noticeable, matching Eunbi’s proportions, but on a taller frame.

“You really crushed that stream, Eunbi,” Somi says as she adjusts her stance for a set of squats. She picks up a kettlebell, testing its weight. “Three hours and you still looked fresh by the end? You’re a beast.”

Eunbi laughs, grabbing a smaller kettlebell for herself. “Fresh? More like barely holding it together.”

“Yeah, but that’s part of your charm,” Somi teases, dropping into her squat. Her form is flawless, back straight, glutes engaging as she lowers herself smoothly. “You’re just… you. And people love that. They eat it up.”

Eunbi mimics the movement beside her, her squat not quite as smooth but serviceable. “Honestly, I wasn’t sure I could pull it off. But the chat was so supportive… like, weirdly supportive? I half-expected trolls, but they were sweet.” She pauses, glancing at Somi with a grin. “Kind of like you, always hyping me up.”

Somi straightens, laughing as she rests the kettlebell against her hip. “Of course I’m hyping you up. You’re killing it, Eunbi. You deserve all of it—the success, the love. And let’s not forget about your boyfriend. I swear, he’s like… the blueprint for ‘sweet and supportive.’”

Eunbi rolls her eyes, but her smile gives her away. “Yeah, he’s pretty great. You should’ve seen him after the stream. I practically tackled him with excitement, and he just took it like a champ.”

Somi smirks, switching to lateral raises with a pair of dumbbells. “I bet. He’s head over heels for you—it’s obvious. You lucked out, girl.” She glances at Eunbi out of the corner of her eye. “And he’s cute. Just saying.”

Eunbi snorts, picking up her own weights and joining in on the raises. “Don’t let him hear you say that. His ego’s big enough already.”

“Mm, doubt it. He seems too grounded for that,” Somi says, her voice casual but carrying a playful undertone. She pauses, lowering the dumbbells. “But seriously, Eunbi… I’m glad you’ve got someone like him in your corner. Relationships are hard enough without the added… unique challenges of your job.”

Eunbi sets the weights down, exhaling as she stretches her arms over her head. “Yeah. It’s not always easy, but we make it work. Honestly, he’s been a lifesaver. I don’t think I could do this without him.”

Somi’s expression softens, and she leans against the rack, studying Eunbi for a moment. “You’re lucky. But so is he. You’ve always been brave, you know? Even when you first started… this whole thing, you owned it. And look where you are now.”

Eunbi chuckles, a hint of shyness creeping into her tone. “I don’t know if I’d call it brave. More like… desperate with a side of cluelessness.”

“Stop it.” Somi nudges her shoulder with a laugh. “You’ve got guts, and I respect that. Honestly, it’s inspiring. And maybe… I’ve been thinking about trying it, too.”

Eunbi freezes mid-stretch, blinking at Somi. “Wait. What?”

Somi shrugs, her braid bouncing. “Not, like, diving headfirst or anything. But I’ve been curious. You make it look fun. Plus…” She hesitates, glancing at Eunbi with a mischievous glint in her eye. “You and your boyfriend are both… ridiculously attractive. Just throwing that out there.”

Eunbi bursts out laughing, bending over to catch her breath. “Oh my god, Somi. Are you serious right now?”

“What?” Somi grins, unrepentant. “I’m just saying. If you ever wanted to collaborate… you know I’m game.”

Eunbi straightens, still laughing but with a faint blush creeping across her cheeks. “You’re insane. But I’ll… keep that in mind.”

Somi winks, picking up her dumbbells again. “You do that, princess. Now, come on. We’ve got one more set to crush.”

The two of them dive back into their workout, the conversation hanging in the air like a secret they’re both in on. It’s become routine now—Eunbi and Somi hitting the gym together, sweating it out between sets, always slipping into these raw, intimate talks where the masks drop. They’re best friends, no bullshit, just two girls who get each other completely. The gym’s their safe zone, a sweaty, clangy haven where they can flex their muscles and their honesty, laughing about life, love, and whatever wild ideas Somi’s cooking up next—no judgment, just vibes.

—

The door bursts open, and Eunbi and Somi stumble in, laughing so hard they’re practically leaning on each other for support. Both are flushed from the workout, faces glowing and slightly damp, strands of hair sticking to their foreheads. Eunbi kicks off her sneakers near the door without looking, while Somi collapses onto the couch, her braid swaying as she falls back with a dramatic groan.

You’re in the middle of wiping down the coffee table, a damp cloth in one hand and a spray bottle in the other. The faint scent of citrus cleaner fills the room. You glance up, eyebrows raised, as the two whirlwind into the apartment like they were in a park.

“Well, look at you,” Somi says with a teasing grin, sitting up and gesturing toward you with a lazy wave of her hand. “The perfect house boyfriend. Cleaning up while we’re out breaking a sweat. It’s adorable, really.”

Eunbi, still giggling, grabs a water bottle from the counter and takes a long sip before pointing at you with mock sternness. “Seriously, babe. You’re making the rest of us look bad. Stop being so domestic—it’s embarrassing.”

You straighten, crossing your arms, cloth dangling from one hand. “Excuse me for trying to keep this place from becoming a pigsty. Somebody’s got to do it.”

Somi leans forward, her elbow resting on her knee, and gives you a sly look. “Somebody’s gotta earn that ‘house boyfriend’ title, huh?”

Eunbi snickers, joining in as she sets her water bottle down. “He’s good at it, though. I should get him an apron.”

“I draw the line at aprons,” you deadpan, but there’s a flicker of amusement in your tone.

The laughter dies down, but there’s something in the air now—a faint charge, like static before a storm. You catch a glance between Eunbi and Somi, quick and loaded, followed by matching smirks. Suspicious. Very suspicious.

“What?” you ask, narrowing your eyes.

“Nothing,” Eunbi says, her tone light but her face too innocent. She grabs Somi by the arm, dragging her toward the kitchen. “Come on, let’s make a snack before this ‘house boyfriend’ kicks us out for dripping sweat everywhere.”

You watch them disappear into the kitchen, your gaze lingering as they start pulling things from the fridge. There’s something about the way they move around each other, the subtle touches and shared grins. You shake your head, trying to dismiss it, but the thought sticks.

As you finish wiping the table, you hear Eunbi’s voice, quiet but not quiet enough to miss.

“So, should I tell him, or do you want to?”

Somi laughs. “Oh, I think you should warm him up first. Wouldn’t want to scare him off.”

Now you’re curious—and a little uneasy. You toss the cloth and spray bottle onto the counter and make your way toward the kitchen.

Eunbi’s standing by the cutting board, slicing apples, while Somi leans against the counter, munching on a carrot stick like it’s a cigarette. They both glance up when you walk in, and there’s that same look between them again.

“Alright,” you say, leaning against the doorway with your arms crossed. “What’s going on?”

Eunbi pauses mid-slice, looking at Somi for a beat before turning to you with a sheepish smile. “Okay, so… Somi said something interesting at the gym.”

“Interesting how?”

Eunbi sets down the knife and crosses her arms, mirroring your stance. “She said she might want to… collaborate with us. Like, on a video.”

“She wants what?”

Somi steps in, her tone casual but her eyes sharp. “I mean, no pressure or anything. I just thought… you two are obviously comfortable with this stuff, and I’ve been curious. Plus…” She shrugs, flashing you a playful grin. “You’re cute. She’s cute. It seemed like a no-brainer.”

You blink, your mind scrambling to process this new development. “Uh… Somi, you’re… a friend. This is kind of… unexpected.”

Somi laughs, brushing a strand of blonde hair from her face. “Oh, I get it. It’s weird, right? But hey, Yujin wasn’t exactly a stranger, was she?”

“That’s… different,” you say, struggling to find the words.

“Why? Because I know you better?” Somi steps closer, her smile softening. “Look, I’m not saying you have to decide right now. Just… consider it, okay?”

Before you can respond, she leans in, planting a quick kiss on Eunbi’s cheek, then yours. It’s light, playful, and far more disarming than it has any right to be.

Eunbi’s face lights up, a mix of amusement and something more as she watches your reaction. “Wow,” she says, nudging you with her elbow. “Looks like someone’s had their eye on us, huh?”

Somi winks, grabbing an apple slice from the cutting board. “What can I say? You two are hard to ignore.”

Eunbi laughs, her hand brushing yours as she reaches for another apple slice. “Well, babe, what do you think? Somi’s always been bold, but this might be her boldest move yet.”

You glance between them, the weight of their playful smiles making your head spin. “I… think I need to sit down,” you mutter, rubbing the back of your neck.

Somi’s laugh rings out, warm and teasing. “Take your time, house boyfriend. No rush. I’ll just… let that idea simmer for a bit.”

Eunbi grins, handing you an apple slice like it’s a peace offering. “Welcome to my world, babe. It’s never boring.”

You take the apple, biting into it as you watch the two of them exchange another loaded look.

Never boring, indeed.

—

Eunbi starts planting the idea subtly, like she’s threading a needle through the gaps in your resolve, pulling the thread just tight enough to make you notice but not enough to make you pull away. It starts with offhand comments, playful teases wrapped in casual conversation.

“You know,” she muses one night, sprawled out on your chest while idly scrolling through her phone, “Somi’s got this unreal body. Like, actually unfair.”

You glance down at her, raising a brow. “And this is relevant to me because…?”

She tilts her head up, lips twitching with amusement. “Because you have eyes? And also because I know you like a nice tight ass, and hers is—well, come on.” She flicks her screen, and suddenly, she’s holding it up to you, a picture of Somi in a tiny bikini dominating the screen. The straps are minimal, the fit snug, every curve accentuated by the sun-kissed glow of her skin, especially the cleavage of her breasts—god, those breasts...

You swallow. Hard.

“Okay,” you admit, trying to play it cool. “She’s hot. What’s your point?”

Eunbi grins, sensing the crack in your composure. She flips to another picture—this time, one of her and Somi at the gym, both clad in skin-tight leggings that leave little to the imagination. Somi’s in navy blue, Eunbi in lavender, their toned legs and hips pressed close together as they pose in the mirror.

Your fingers tighten slightly around your phone. Eunbi notices.

“My point,” she continues, voice smooth as silk, “is that we’d look good together. Don’t you think?”

You exhale, pressing your head back against the pillow. “I think you like messing with me.”

She laughs, her breath warm against your collarbone as she shifts, draping herself over you like a cat basking in its favorite spot. “Obviously. But I also know you. And I know you’ve thought about it.”

Your silence is answer enough.

Eunbi doesn’t rush you—she never does. She lets the idea marinate, simmering on the edges of your thoughts, dropping little breadcrumbs every so often. A comment here, a lingering glance there. One night, she casually asks, “Wasn’t it fun with Yujin?” as she trails kisses down your neck. Another time, she accidentally leaves her phone unlocked on the bed, a chat with Somi open—Somi, who’s sent a winking selfie captioned, “So when are we making this happen? 😘”

You pretend not to see it.

But pretending doesn’t stop the thoughts. It doesn’t stop the way you start noticing Somi more—the way her tank tops ride up when she stretches, exposing that sliver of taut stomach. The way she playfully bumps your shoulder when she walks past, always just a little too close. The way her laughter lingers a second longer when she catches you watching her.

Then comes the night Eunbi corners you—figuratively, of course. She’s sitting in your lap, straddling you, fingers tracing lazy patterns over your shoulders.

“Babe,” she murmurs, lips inches from yours, “are you really gonna make me beg?”

You exhale slowly, hands gripping her waist. “This is crazy.”

She tilts her head. “Is it? You trust me, don’t you?”

That question hangs between you, heavier than the warmth of her body against yours. Of course, you trust her. That was never the issue. The issue was the part of you that already knew where this was heading.

You take a breath, slow and measured, but the weight of Eunbi’s gaze makes it feel shallow, like there’s not enough air in the room. She’s watching you, waiting, her fingers still tracing those absentminded patterns along your shoulders, nails just barely grazing your skin.

And then, finally, you exhale.

“…Yeah,” you admit. “I do.”

Eunbi’s lips curl into something victorious, but not smug—no, this is softer, warmer. She cradles your face in her hands, thumbs brushing against your cheekbones as she studies you like she’s memorizing this moment.

“See?” she murmurs. “That wasn’t so hard.”

You huff out a laugh. “Says the woman who spent weeks working me over.”

She grins, pressing a teasing kiss to the corner of your mouth. “You say that like you didn’t enjoy it.”

Your grip on her waist tightens slightly, enough for her to notice, enough for her to smirk as she leans in again, lips barely brushing yours as she whispers, “It’s gonna be fun.”

—

So the day finally arrives.

You're in your room, eyes glued to the laptop screen, hunched over the desk, a spreadsheet open, cells filled with numbers that look like they’re mocking you with their sheer volume. Eunbi’s earnings have skyrocketed since she started streaming, and between that and her other content, the bank account has become a lot healthier than you ever expected. It’s great—amazing, really—but it’s also overwhelming.

You mutter under your breath, adjusting a formula that doesn’t seem to want to cooperate. Managing finances was never something you planned on doing full-time, but here you are, crunching numbers like you’re auditioning for an accountant job you don’t want.

The faint sound of Eunbi’s voice filters in from the living room, energetic and full of life as she wraps up another stream. You smile, proud of her. She’s thriving, and you love helping her behind the scenes, but… there’s still that nagging feeling. The one that whispers you’re not doing enough, even though she’s insisted a million times that you’re her rock, her partner, her everything.

Before you can spiral too deep into your thoughts, the door swings open with zero warning, and in walks Somi. No knock, no announcement—just an entrance like she owns the place. Her damp braided blonde hair clings to her shoulders, and she’s wearing what you generously call pajamas: a loose tank top that barely clings to her chest and shorts so tiny they might as well be a suggestion rather than clothing.

“Hey, house boyfriend,” she says, flopping onto the bed like a cat claiming territory. “What’s got you all serious in here?”

You glance up, trying not to let your gaze linger too long on the way her tank top shifts as she settles in. “Numbers. Money stuff. Trying to figure out what to do with all this cash Eunbi’s making.”

Somi tilts her head, propping herself up on one elbow. “Ooh, let me guess. She’s still hopeless with money?”

“Completely,” you reply, smirking despite yourself. “She tried to tell me her budget was ‘don’t buy anything unless it’s on sale.’”

Somi bursts out laughing. “Classic Eunbi. So what’s the plan? Stash it under the mattress? Blow it all on RGB lights?”

“Ha. Ha,” you say dryly, gesturing at the screen. “I was thinking investments. Something stable but with a decent return. Problem is, I’m stuck on this formula, and Google’s no help.”

She hops off the bed and strides over, peering over your shoulder. “Let me see.”

You lean back, letting her get a closer look. Her proximity is… distracting. The scent of her shampoo, light and floral, drifts into your space, and her damp hair brushes your arm as she leans in.

“Ah, I see the problem,” she says. “You’re trying to calculate compound interest on a rolling deposit. You need to nest the formula differently.”

You blink. “How do you even know that?”

Somi grins, tapping her temple. “Numbers are my thing. Did Eunbi ever tell you that I made money in high school by doing other students' math homework?”

“No, but now it makes sense why you’re so annoyingly good at everything,” you say, shifting to let her take the keyboard.

“Flattery will get you nowhere,” she quips, typing away with swift, assured keystrokes. Within seconds, the formula is fixed, and the numbers fall into place like obedient soldiers.

“There. Problem solved,” she says, stepping back with a flourish.

You stare at the screen, genuinely impressed. “Okay, that’s actually amazing. Thanks.”

“Anytime,” she says, flashing you a cheeky smile. “So, what are we investing in? Stocks? Crypto? A small island in the Caribbean?”

“Let’s start with something less risky, like index funds. We can work our way up to the private island.”

Somi nods sagely. “Smart. And when you get the island, don’t forget who helped you make the down payment.”

“Noted,” you say, leaning back in your chair.

She plops back onto the bed, stretching out like she’s lived here her whole life.

“So,” she says, her voice teasing, “you ready for tonight?”

Your fingers hover over the keyboard. “I guess? Still wrapping my head around it, to be honest.”

“Relax,” she says, her tone softening. “It’s just us. Nothing’s going to change. I’m still Somi, Eunbi’s still Eunbi, and you’re still… well, house boyfriend.”

“Thanks for the vote of confidence,” you mutter, but there’s a faint smile on your lips.

She sits up, her expression unusually earnest. “I mean it. You don’t have to overthink this. We’re friends first, okay? The rest is just… extra.”

You nod. “Okay. Thanks, Somi.”

“Don’t mention it,” she says, standing and stretching, her arms reaching above her head. She catches your gaze for a moment, a playful glint in her eye. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to raid your fridge. Got to fuel up for the big night.”

She saunters out, leaving the faint scent of her shampoo behind. You exhale, staring at the now-organized spreadsheet. Somi might be right about not overthinking, but something tells you this night is going to be anything but ordinary.

The hours pass and you’re sprawled out in your room when the door swings open with that familiar creak. Eunbi struts in, and fuck, she’s got that look—like she knows exactly what she’s doing to you. Her oversized hoodie’s slipping off one shoulder like always, showing off that thin strap of her tank top, and those soft black shorts are riding up just enough to make your brain short-circuit. She’s got this sultry little smirk, all suggestive and playful, as she leans against the doorframe. “Everything’s set for the recording,” she says, like she’s dangling something you can’t resist. You push yourself up from the chair, stretching a little, but there’s this hesitant buzz in your chest—like you’re excited but still wrapping your head around what’s about to go down. “How’d the stream go?” you ask, scratching the back of your neck, trying to play it cool. She lights up, bouncing on her toes. “Oh my god, it was awesome. Chat was hyped, I had a blast, and The Last of Us? I’m obsessed. Joel’s breaking my heart every five minutes.” Her energy’s infectious, and you can’t help but grin—she’s killing it, and you’re genuinely stoked for her. She steps closer, grabs your face with both hands, and plants a soft, quick kiss on your lips. “You okay, babe?” she asks, tilting her head, those big eyes searching yours. “Yeah, I’m good,” you say, nodding, and it’s true, even if your pulse is kicking up a notch. She flashes you that smile that always melts you, grabs your hand, and tugs you toward her room like she’s on a mission.

You follow her down the hall, her fingers laced with yours, and when you step into her space, it’s like walking into a different world. The RGB lights are dialed up, casting a soft purple-red glow over everything, and her streaming setup’s still warm from earlier. Somi’s perched on a stool by the desk, finishing her makeup, a little compact mirror in one hand and a fluffy brush in the other. She’s still rocking that barely-there tank top, the fabric stretched tight over her chest, and those tiny shorts that leave nothing to the imagination. Her blonde hair’s loose now, falling over her shoulders in messy waves, and when she spots you, her face lights up like she’s been waiting for this all day. “There’s our star,” she says, tossing the brush down and hopping off the stool, all long legs and confidence. You give her a half-smile, feeling the air shift—thicker, heavier with whatever’s about to happen. You head over to the camera on its tripod, double-checking the battery. Green light’s solid—plenty of juice. Everything’s good to go, and you drop onto the edge of the mattress, rubbing your hands on your jeans, trying to shake off that nervous edge.

Eunbi doesn’t waste a second—she slides right onto your lap, straddling you, her thighs pressing against your hips. The weight of her feels so fucking good, familiar but electric with the vibe in the room. Somi plops down next to you, close enough that her bare knee brushes yours, and she leans in with this sly little grin. “Alright, let’s break the ice,” she says. Before you can even process it, Eunbi turns her head, grabs Somi by the neck, and pulls her into a kiss. Holy shit—it’s hot. Like, instantly hot. They’re both gorgeous, lips soft and glossy, moving against each other like they’ve done this a million times, even though you know they’re just good friends pushing boundaries. Eunbi’s hands slide up Somi’s arms, then cup her massive tits through that flimsy tank top, squeezing just enough to make Somi moan into her mouth—a low, needy sound that hits you right in the gut. You can see Somi’s nipples hardening, poking through the fabric, and your jeans are getting tight as hell. Your cock’s waking up fast, straining against the zipper, and you shift a little under Eunbi, trying to play it off, but she’s gotta feel it.

Somi’s not holding back either—her hands slip under Eunbi’s hoodie, pushing it up to expose the smooth curve of her waist and the edge of her tank top. She grabs Eunbi’s tits, thumbs brushing over where her nipples are probably hard as fuck under the layers, and Eunbi lets out this breathy little gasp that makes your head spin. The hoodie’s bunched up now, showing off her flat stomach, and the way they’re groping each other is straight-up pornographic—except it’s real, and it’s happening two feet from you. They break the kiss, both of them flushed, lips shiny with spit, and Eunbi turns to you, cheeks pink, eyes dark. “What’d you think, babe?” she asks, voice all husky. You swallow hard, throat dry as fuck. “Yeah, uh, I liked it,” you manage, and she smirks, shifting her hips just enough to grind against your boner. She knows exactly what she’s doing, and that smile says she’s loving every second of it.

Then Somi leans in, her hand resting on your thigh—way too close to your dick—and says, “My turn.” Before you can even think, her lips are on yours, soft and warm and tasting faintly of cherry lip gloss. You’re so fucking horny it’s ridiculous, and you kiss her back harder than you mean to, tongue slipping into her mouth, hands grabbing her waist on instinct. She’s pressing herself against you, her tits squished against your chest, and it’s like every nerve in your body’s on fire. Eunbi’s still on your lap, watching with this mesmerized, horny-as-hell look, her bottom lip caught between her teeth. Somi pulls back, breathing fast, and you’re both a little wrecked—her hair’s a mess from your fingers, and you’re pretty sure your brain’s offline. Eunbi’s voice cuts through the haze, soft and teasing. “So? What’d you think of that?” You’re panting a little, cock throbbing under her weight. “Fuck, I liked it,” you say, and she giggles, leaning in to give you a quick, sloppy kiss—more tongue than necessary, like she’s staking her claim.

She slides off your lap, adjusting her hoodie, and claps her hands together. “Alright, we’re ready to start filming,” she says, all business now, but her eyes are still gleaming with lust. Somi’s smirking, wiping a smudge of gloss from the corner of her mouth, and you’re just sitting there, hard as a rock, trying to catch your breath.

Eunbi’s got that glint in her eye as she picks up the camera from the tripod, her fingers brushing yours as she hands it over. “You’re on POV duty, babe,” she says. The weight of the camera settles in your hands, solid and real, and you adjust your grip, already picturing how this is gonna look through the lens. Somi’s rummaging through the little box of props by the desk, pulling out this old black masquerade mask—the one Eunbi used to wear back when she was still anonymous. Somi slips it over her eyes, the elastic snapping into place, and it’s just these two thin straps of fabric cutting across her face, leaving her mouth and jaw exposed. The way it frames her cheekbones and makes her lips pop is unreal. Eunbi steps back, tilting her head to check her out, and grins. “Fuck, you look sexy as hell like that,” she says, all casual like she’s complimenting Somi’s gym outfit or something. Somi strikes a little pose, popping her hip, and smirks. “Yeah? Good, ‘cause I’m ready to fuck shit up.”

You adjust yourself on the edge of the bed, legs dangling, the mattress dipping under your weight. The camera’s in your hands, lens pointed down at your lap for now, and you can feel your pulse hammering in your throat. “Alright, I’m gonna start recording,” you say, thumb hovering over the button. Your voice comes out steadier than you feel, which is a minor miracle. You hit record, and the little red light blinks on. Eunbi and Somi drop to their knees between your legs, smooth and synced like they’ve rehearsed this shit. The carpet’s soft under their knees, and the RGB lights paint their skin in shifting hues—purple bleeding into red, then blue. Eunbi’s hoodie’s still bunched up from earlier, showing off that sliver of her stomach, and Somi’s tank top is clinging to her curves, the mask giving her this mysterious, badass vibe. You angle the camera down, framing them just right, their faces filling the shot.

Eunbi kicks things off, leaning into the mic moment like she’s still streaming to her chat. “Hey, everyone,” she says, all bright and charismatic, her voice slipping into that flirty, playful tone she’s perfected. “Got a special treat for you tonight. Say hi to my gorgeous friend here—she’s joining us for some fun.” She gestures at Somi, who flashes a wicked grin, lips glossy and parted. “Hey, y’all,” Somi says, her voice low and raspy, dripping with excitement. “I’m fucking pumped to be here—let’s make it a good one.” She doesn’t say her name, obviously—Eunbi’s keeping it vague, letting the mask and the vibe do the talking. The camera catches every detail: the way Eunbi’s hair falls messily over her shoulders, the slight sheen of sweat on Somi’s collarbone, the way their knees press into the carpet as they shift closer to you.

Eunbi’s hands move first, reaching for your belt with this practiced ease. The metal clinks as she unbuckles it, her fingers brushing your stomach through your shirt, sending a jolt straight to your dick. Somi’s right there with her, tugging at the button of your jeans, popping it open with a little flick. “Teamwork makes the dream work,” Somi mutters under her breath, and Eunbi snickers, the sound all throaty and real. They yank your jeans down together, a little rougher than necessary, the denim scraping against your thighs as it slides off. Your boxers go next—Somi hooks her fingers in the waistband and pulls, slow and deliberate, like she’s unwrapping something she’s been dying to see. Your cock springs free, already half-hard from all the buildup, and the air feels cool against your skin for about two seconds before their eyes lock on it.

Somi lets out this low whistle, leaning in closer, the mask making her look like some sexy bandit sizing up her prize. “Holy shit, dude,” she says, voice full of awe. “This thing’s even bigger in real life. The videos don’t do it justice.” Eunbi smirks, proud as hell, like she’s showing off her favorite toy. “Told you he’s packing,” she says to Somi, then glances up at you through the lens, winking. Your grip on the camera tightens, trying to keep it steady as they both reach out. Eunbi’s hand wraps around the base, her fingers warm and firm, while Somi’s slides up the side, her touch lighter, almost teasing. They stroke you together, not hard, just enough to make your breath hitch. The sensation’s fucking wild—two different rhythms, two different grips, and you’re already fighting to keep your shit together.

Eunbi leans in first, her tongue darting out to lick the tip, slow and wet, leaving a shiny trail that catches the light. She’s got this way of flicking her tongue that’s pure torture, and you angle the camera down to catch it—her lips hovering, her eyes flicking up at you through her lashes. Somi’s watching her like she’s taking notes, then dives in on the other side, her lips brushing the shaft, soft and sloppy. Her mask shifts a little as she moves, but it stays put, the black fabric stark against her flushed cheeks. They’re working you together now, mouths sliding over your cock like they’re sharing a goddamn meal. Eunbi’s sucking lightly on the head, her cheeks hollowing out, while Somi’s tongue traces a slow, lazy line up the side, her breath hot against your skin. You groan low in your throat, the sound rumbling out before you can stop it, and Eunbi hums in response, the vibration hitting hard.

Somi pulls back for a sec, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand, grinning like a kid who just stole candy. “This is fun as hell,” she says, voice all husky, then dives back in, her lips wrapping around the middle while Eunbi works the tip. They’re trading off, syncing up without even trying—Eunbi’s hand stays at the base, pumping slow and steady, while Somi’s tongue swirls around the shaft, messy and wet. Spit’s starting to drip, pooling on the carpet between your legs, and you can hear it—the slick, sloppy sounds mixing with their little gasps and moans. The camera’s catching everything: the way Eunbi’s hair sticks to her neck, the way Somi’s tank top rides up, showing off the curve of her hips, the way your cock glistens under the lights, slick with their spit.

Eunbi pulls off, her lips shiny, and looks up at you—or the camera, really—grinning like she knows she’s driving you insane. “Having fun up there, babe?” she asks, all coy, her hand still stroking you, keeping the pressure just right. Somi doesn’t stop, her mouth sliding lower, kissing and sucking along the base, her mask slipping a tiny bit and you catch a flash of her eyes—dark, wild, loving every second of this. You grunt out a “Fuck yeah,” voice rougher than you mean it to be, and they both laugh, the sound muffled against your skin. Eunbi leans back in, her tongue flattening against the underside, dragging up slow and deliberate, while Somi’s lips meet hers at the top, their mouths brushing each other as they take you in. It’s messy, uncoordinated, and so fucking hot you’re gripping the camera like it’s your lifeline.

Somi’s hand slips under your shirt, nails raking lightly over your stomach, and Eunbi’s free hand digs into your thigh, grounding herself as she works you harder. They’re all in—knees pressed into the carpet, bodies leaning into you, mouths and hands everywhere. The camera shakes a little in your grip, but you keep it focused, the POV lens is drinking it all in, every filthy detail lit up by the shifting RGB glow—purple washing over their skin, then red, then blue, like some horny neon fever dream. Eunbi’s on her knees, her messy bun bouncing slightly as she moves, and Somi’s right there with her, that black masquerade mask sitting snug over her eyes. It’s one of those fancy ones, like you’d see at a ball—curved and sleek, hugging her face, with little swirls cut into the edges that make her look like some mysterious seductress.

Eunbi shifts lower, her hands gripping your thighs as she ducks her head and goes for your balls. Her tongue’s hot and wet, lapping at one, then the other, slow and sloppy like she’s savoring every second. She sucks one into her mouth, gentle at first, then harder, her cheeks hollowing out as she pulls just enough to make your breath catch. The sensation’s insane—warm and tight, her spit dripping down. She’s humming against you, this low, needy sound that vibrates straight up your spine, and you can’t help but groan, the noise rough and loud in the quiet room. The camera catches her from above—her hoodie’s still on, bunched up around her shoulders, and her eyes flick up at you through the lens, dark and teasing, like she knows she’s got you by the balls, literally.

Somi’s up higher, her hands wrapped around your cock, stroking it slow and deliberate while her mouth does the real damage. She’s in love with it, you can tell—her lips slide over the shaft, kissing it like it’s her favorite thing in the world, her tongue darting out to trace every inch. She’s messy with it, spit bubbling at the corners of her mouth, dripping down her chin as she works you. That masquerade mask makes her look dangerous, the black fabric stark against her flushed skin, and when she pulls back for a sec, panting, she grins up at you. “Fuck, this thing’s a masterpiece,” she says, before diving back in. Her tongue swirls around the tip, flicking over the slit, and your hips jerk involuntarily, pushing deeper into her mouth. She moans around you, encouraging it, her hands pumping the base while her lips suck you down, wet and tight.

They’re a fucking team, trading off like they’ve got a playbook. Eunbi’s still sucking your balls, her tongue rolling over them now, sloppy and warm, while Somi’s got your cock in a death grip with her mouth. Then they switch it up—Eunbi pulls back, licking her lips, and Somi dips lower, kissing along the base while Eunbi’s hand takes over the shaft, stroking you fast and slick. The camera’s shaking a little in your hands, but you keep it locked on them, catching the way Somi’s mask slips just a fraction, and the way Eunbi’s hoodie rides up, flashing more of her stomach. It’s raw, chaotic, and so damn hot your head’s spinning.

Then they do something that nearly fucking kills you. Eunbi slides up, her mouth brushing the side of your cock, and Somi leans in from the other side. They sandwich the tip between their lips, kissing each other around it, their tongues tangling as they slide over you. It’s wet, messy, and loud—spit everywhere, their moans mixing with the slick sounds of their mouths working you over. Eunbi’s tongue flicks against Somi’s, then against you, and Somi’s sucking hard on one side while Eunbi mirrors her on the other. Your cock’s trapped in this perfect, sloppy vise, and you can’t hold back the moan that rips out of you—low and guttural, echoing in the room. The camera catches it all: their lips pressed together, your tip caught in the middle, glistening with their spit, the RGB lights painting their faces in streaks of color.

They keep going, relentless, their mouths sliding back and forth, trading sides, kissing around you like they’re starving for it. Eunbi’s hands dig into your thighs, nails leaving little half-moons in your skin, while Somi’s fingers tease the base of your cock, brushing your balls every now and then, sending jolts through you. Your dick’s soaked now, dripping with their spit, slick and shiny under the lights. Eunbi pulls back for a sec, wiping her mouth with her sleeve, her eyes glinting up at you. “Look at that,” she says, smirking, nodding at your cock like it’s some kind of trophy. Somi giggles, her mask shifting as she leans back, her chin wet and gleaming. “Yeah, we fucking drenched it,” she says, sounding proud as hell.

Eunbi sits back on her heels, grabbing the hem of her hoodie and yanking it over her head in one smooth motion. It lands in a heap on the floor, leaving her in that white tank top, the fabric stretched tight over her tits, puffy nipples poking through like she’s been hard this whole time. Somi follows suit, peeling off her tank top and tossing it aside—her massive chest bounces free, skin flushed from the heat of the room, and she adjusts her masquerade mask like it’s a crown, smirking at you through the lens. They’re both kneeling there, their bodies glistening with a light sheen of sweat, ready to take it up a notch. You lower the camera slightly, framing their tits in the shot, knowing damn well they’re about to give you a titjob that’ll blow your fucking mind.

Then Eunbi’s hands move to the bottom of her white tank top, fingers curling under the hem. She peels it up slow, teasing, like she’s putting on a show just for you—and the lens. The fabric stretches, then slides over her head, her massive tits bouncing free as she tosses it aside. They’re fucking huge, round and heavy, nipples hard and pink against her pale skin, catching the shifting RGB lights—purple, red, blue—like some kind of pornographic kaleidoscope.

Eunbi shifts closer, her knees digging into the carpet, and she leans in, cupping her tits with both hands. “Ready for this, babe?” she asks, eyes locked on yours through the camera. You nod, swallowing hard, your cock twitching at the sight of her. “Fuck yeah, I am,” you say, voice rough, already imagining how those soft, warm mounds are gonna feel. She smirks, adjusting her grip, and presses her tits together, sliding your slick, spit-soaked dick right into the valley between them. The first touch is insane—soft, plush, and hot, her skin wrapping around you like a glove. It's a feeling that always surprises you, no matter how many times you've experienced it. She starts moving, slow at first, bouncing her tits up and down, the friction building as your cock slides through. It’s wet from all their spit, slick and slippery, and the sound—fuck, it’s filthy, this soft, squishing noise every time she squeezes you tighter.

“Goddamn, babe,” you groan, angling the camera to catch every bounce, the way her tits jiggle and press against each other, trapping you in that perfect pocket. She giggles, low and dirty, loving how wrecked you sound. “Feels good, huh? My big fucking tits all over your dick?” she teases, picking up the pace, her nipples brushing your stomach every time she dips down. You’re losing it a little, hips twitching up to meet her, and she moans softly, getting off on how much you’re into it. “Yeah, babe, fuck my tits,” she murmurs, squeezing them harder, her thumbs brushing her own nipples like she’s teasing herself too. The camera’s catching it all—her flushed cheeks, the way her hair swings, the little beads of sweat starting to dot her chest. You’re in heaven, no lie, those massive, soft mounds swallowing your cock like they were made for it.

Somi’s watching from the side, her own hands drifting to her chest, kneading her tits absentmindedly as she bites her lip. “Shit, that’s hot,” she says, voice all breathy, her mask slipping a tiny bit as she leans closer. Eunbi glances over at her, smirking, and slows down, letting your cock slip free for a second. “Your turn,” she says, scooting over, her tits still heaving from the effort. Somi doesn’t hesitate—she shuffles into place, long legs folding under her, and grabs her own breasts, pushing them together. Hers are just as big as Eunbi’s, maybe a little perkier, with darker nipples that stand out against her flushed skin. She wraps them around your cock, and fuck, it’s a different kind of tight—firmer, her skin cooler from the air, but still so damn soft. She starts moving, quick and eager, her tits bouncing hard as she slides you in and out.

“Holy fuck,” you groan, head tipping back for a sec before you force yourself to focus on the camera again. The POV shot’s gold—her masked face tilted down, lips parted as she pants, blonde hair swinging, and those huge tits working you like a machine. “You like this, huh?” she says, grinning up at you, her voice all teasing and sharp. “My fat tits fucking your big dick? Better than you dreamed, right?” She squeezes tighter, and you hiss, the pressure insane, your cock disappearing completely between her mounds every time she pushes up. “Fuck yes,” you manage, voice tight, “you’re killing me with those things.” She laughs, throaty and smug, and leans forward more, letting the tip of your cock peek out at the top, brushing her chin. “Good,” she says, “I wanna ruin you for anything else.”

Eunbi’s shifted to the side now, kneeling close, her eyes glued to Somi’s tits bouncing around your cock. She’s biting her lip hard, one hand slipping under her shorts, rubbing herself through the fabric. “Fuck, babe,” she breathes, voice shaky with heat, “you look so good like that. Somi’s tits are eating you alive.” She’s horny as hell, you can tell—her cheeks are red, her breathing’s all over the place, and the way she’s touching herself is making her squirm. “You loving this?” she asks, leaning in to kiss your neck, her lips hot and wet against your skin. “Yeah, fuck, I’m losing my mind,” you say as Somi keeps going, her pace relentless. Eunbi moans against your neck, her hand moving faster under her shorts. “God, I love watching her fuck you with those,” she whispers, her tongue flicking out to taste your skin.

Somi slows down a little, teasing now, letting your cock slide out halfway before burying it back between her tits. “You’re so fucking hard,” she says, looking up at you through that mask, her eyes dark and wild. “These big-ass tits making you crazy?” She jiggles them a little, playful, and you can’t help but laugh, wrecked as you are. “Yeah, Somi, they’re fucking unreal,” you say, and she beams, proud as hell, picking up the pace again. The camera’s shaking more now, your hands unsteady, but you keep it on her—those bouncing mounds, the way her skin glistens with sweat, the little smirk she throws you every time she catches you staring.

Eunbi’s practically panting now, her hand moving in tight little circles under her shorts, her other hand reaching out to grab Somi’s arm. “Switch back,” she says, voice needy, almost desperate. Somi pulls back, letting your cock spring free, slick and shiny from all the spit and sweat, and Eunbi’s on it in a heartbeat. She presses her tits around you again, faster this time, her movements hungry. “Missed this,” she mutters, her voice all breathy as she works you, her nipples dragging against your stomach. “Love feeling you between my tits, babe.” You groan, the heat of her skin driving you wild. “Fuck, you’re so good at this,” you say, and she grins, all smug and turned on, her tits squeezing you tighter.

Somi’s not just watching anymore—she’s leaning in, whispering in your ear, her breath hot against your skin. “Bet you could fuck these tits all day, huh? Me and her fighting over your dick like this?” Her hand brushes your thigh, teasing close to your balls, and you’re so wound up it’s a miracle you’re still holding the camera. “Yeah, shit, I could,” you say, voice cracking, and they both laugh, loving how gone you are. Eunbi slows down, dragging it out, her tits sliding up and down so slow you can feel every inch of her. “You’re ours tonight,” she says, looking up at you, her eyes dark and possessive through the lens. Somi chimes in, “Damn right,” her fingers tracing little patterns on your leg, keeping you on edge.

It’s too much—those two massive pairs of tits, the teasing, the way they’re feeding off each other’s energy. You’re drowning in it, loving every second of their soft, warm skin all over you, their dirty talk bouncing around your head like a fucking echo chamber. The camera’s still rolling, capturing every bounce, every squeeze, and you’re just trying to hang on, lost in the best kind of chaos.

But Eunbi got this sixth sense about you—knows you’re teetering right on the edge, your breaths getting ragged, your grip on the camera tightening like it’s the only thing keeping you grounded. She stops slowly, deliberate and torturous, letting your dick slip out inch by inch until it’s just resting between her breasts, throbbing against her warm skin. “Alright, babe, think we’ve teased you enough with these,” she says, giving her tits one last squeeze around you before letting go. Your cock springs free, hard as steel, and she sits back on her heels, smirking up at you through the lens ‘cause she knows she’s got you on the edge.

You clear your throat and stand up, legs a little shaky from the buildup. “Alright, ladies, on all fours.” Eunbi and Somi don’t even blink—they’re already peeling off what’s left of their clothes. Eunbi kicks her soft black shorts to the floor, revealing those curvy hips and thick thighs, her pussy glistening under the lights. Somi shimmies out of her tiny pink shorts, tossing them aside with a flick of her long legs, her tighter, rounder ass popping as she stretches out. They scramble onto the bed, giggling and shoving each other playfully, then settle on all fours, side by side, asses up and ready. The mattress creaks under their weight, and you adjust the camera angle again, ready to record every damn second of this.

You step closer, taking it all in. Somi’s taller, her body more defined—long, lean legs leading up to that firm, sculpted ass, tight and high like she’s been squatting for years. Her pussy’s peeking out, wet and pink, framed by those sharp tan lines from the gym. Eunbi’s softer, all curves and plushness, her ass rounder and juicier, jiggling a little as she shifts her weight. Her skin’s pale and smooth, her pussy just as soaked, lips puffy and begging for it. You can’t resist—your free hand swings down, smacking Somi’s ass first, the crack echoing in the room. She yelps, then moans, arching her back more. Then you slap Eunbi’s, harder than you meant to, and she gasps, her flesh rippling under your palm. “Fuck, babe,” she mutters, glancing back at you with a smirk.

“So,” you say, voice rough, camera panning over their perfect lineup, “who’s first?” Eunbi tilts her head, her messy bun wobbling as she nods toward Somi. “Guest gets the honors,” she says, all generous and teasing, her eyes flicking to Somi’s ass like she’s proud to share. Somi wiggles her hips, looking back at you through the mask, grinning. “Yeah, come on, big guy. Let’s see what you’ve got.” You don’t need more invitation than that. You step up behind Somi, lining yourself up, the camera in one hand catching the way her pussy shines, already dripping from the buildup. You grab her hip with your free hand, steadying her, and slide the tip of your cock along her slit—slow, teasing, feeling how wet she is. She shivers, pushing back against you, impatient. “Fuck, don’t play with me,” she groans, and you laugh, low and dirty, before pushing in.

Her pussy’s tight, hot, clamping around you as you sink in deep, inch by inch. The stretch is fucking unreal, her walls gripping you like a vise, and you groan loud, the sound bouncing off the walls. The camera’s right there, POV perfect, catching the way her ass presses against your hips, the little dimples in her lower back flexing as she adjusts. “Holy shit,” you mutter, pulling back slow, watching your cock slide out, slick and shiny, before slamming back in. She moans, sharp and needy, her elbows digging into the bed as she rocks back to meet you. “Yeah, fuck me hard,” she says, and you oblige, picking up the pace, the slap of skin on skin filling the room. Her ass jiggles with every thrust, tight and round, and you smack it again, leaving a red handprint that the camera zooms in on. She’s loud—gasping, cursing, loving every second—and you’re losing yourself in it, hips snapping, the wet squelch of her pussy driving you wild.

Eunbi’s right next to her, watching, her own ass still up, swaying a little like she’s jealous. “Fuck, babe, you’re killing her,” she says, laughing, but there’s heat in her voice, her fingers twitching like she’s dying to touch herself. You pull out of Somi after a few more thrusts, her pussy clenching around nothing as you leave, and she whines, glancing back with a pout. “Don’t stop,” she says, but you’re already moving, shifting over to Eunbi. You know this pussy—soft, warm, familiar—but it’s no less fucking amazing. You line up, camera steady, and push in slow, savoring the way she opens for you, wet and ready. “Oh my god,” she moans, head dropping to the bed, her voice muffled against the sheets. She’s softer inside, her walls fluttering around you, and you grab her hips, pulling her back onto you hard. The camera catches it—the way her ass ripples, the curve of her spine as she arches, her pussy swallowing you whole.

“Fuck, Eunbi, you feel so good,” you say, voice gritty, and she hums in response, pushing back against you, matching your rhythm. Her pussy’s sloppy wet, the sound louder than with Somi, all slick and messy as you fuck her deep. She’s quieter than Somi but just as into it, her breaths hitching every time you bottom out, her fingers clawing at the sheets. You smack her ass too, lighter this time, and she giggles through a moan, glancing back at you. “Harder, babe,” she says, and you give it to her, slamming in so the bed shakes, her curves bouncing under your hand. The camera’s got it all—her soft flesh, the way her pussy grips you, the little beads of sweat rolling down her back.

You can’t choose, though—why should you? You pull out of Eunbi, her groan matching Somi’s earlier one, and slide back into Somi, quick and rough. “Fuck, yes,” Somi gasps, her tighter pussy squeezing you as you pick up where you left off, pounding her hard. The switch is seamless, the camera panning between them as you fuck a little of each, back and forth. Somi’s ass slaps against you, firm and loud, then Eunbi’s softer curves take over, her pussy sucking you in deeper. You’re grunting now, lost in the rhythm, the way their bodies feel so different but so fucking perfect. “You’re both insane,” you say, laughing through a groan, and Somi throws back, “Yeah, and you love it, don’t you?” Eunbi chimes in, “He fucking lives for it—look at him go.”

You keep going, a few thrusts in Somi—her tight, athletic heat—then back to Eunbi’s softer, wetter grip, the camera catching every switch, every angle. Somi’s moaning loud, her mask slipping a bit, while Eunbi’s quieter, panting into the bed, her ass wiggling every time you leave her. You slap both their asses again, just because you can, and they yelp in sync, then laugh, egging you on. “Which pussy you like more, huh?” Somi teases, glancing back, and Eunbi lifts her head, smirking. “Yeah, babe, pick a favorite.” You just groan, shaking your head, too caught up to answer, fucking them both like you’re trying to memorize every inch.

You’re deep in the groove now, the camera trembling in your hand as you pull out of Eunbi’s pussy, her soft, wet heat clinging to you like it doesn’t want to let go. She’s panting into the sheets, ass still up, all plush and inviting, and you’ve got an idea brewing. You shift your grip on the camera, angling it to catch the way her curves glisten under the RGB lights—purple fading into red, her skin slick with sweat. “Babe,” you say, “gonna switch it up.” She glances back, her messy bun half-undone, strands sticking to her neck, and smirks like she knows what’s coming. You line up, the tip of your cock brushing her tight little asshole, and push in slow. She moans loud, this deep, throaty sound that hits you right in the gut, her body tensing for a split second before she relaxes into it. She’s used to this—loves it, even—and you can tell by how easily she takes you, her ass stretching around you, hot and tight as fuck.

“Goddamn, princess,” you grunt, sinking in deeper, the camera catching every inch as you bury yourself in her. Her ass jiggles with the intrusion, soft and round, and she arches her back more, pushing back against you like she’s begging for it. You start fucking her hard, no warm-up needed—she’s already loose enough, her hole gripping you like a vice as you slam into her. The sound’s filthy—skin slapping skin, her moans bouncing off the walls, the bed creaking under the force. “Fuck, yes, babe, pound my ass,” she gasps, her voice all wrecked, fingers clawing at the sheets. You grab her hip with your free hand, digging in, keeping her steady as you rail her, the camera shaking but locked on her bouncing ass, the way it swallows your cock over and over. The RGB lights paint her in streaks of color, her pale skin glowing, sweat beading down her spine.

Somi’s right next to her, still on all fours, her tighter, rounder ass swaying a little like she’s waiting her turn. She’s watching you fuck Eunbi, her masked face turned just enough to catch the action, and you can see the jealousy flaring in her posture—shoulders tense, hips twitching. “Hey,” she says, voice sharp and pouty, “don’t hog him. I want that too.” She wiggles her ass at you, firm and perky, the tan lines from her shorts making it pop even more under the lights. Eunbi laughs through a moan, glancing at Somi. “Greedy bitch,” she teases, but there’s no malice—she’s too caught up in getting her ass pounded. You pull out of Eunbi, slow and deliberate, her hole winking at you as you leave, and she groans, half-protesting, half-catching her breath. “Don’t worry,” you say, smirking, “plenty to go around.”

You shift over to Somi, camera in hand, lining up behind her. Her pussy’s still dripping from earlier, but you’re aiming higher now. You slap her ass first—harder than you did Eunbi’s—and she yelps, then giggles, arching her back to give you better access. “Come on, fuck my ass already,” she says, all impatient and bratty, glancing back through that masquerade mask, her eyes dark and daring. You press the tip of your cock against her asshole, and she tenses, not as used to it as Eunbi, but she’s horny enough from everything else that it’s not a total fight. You push in, slow at first, and she hisses through her teeth, her tight ring stretching around you. “Fuck, that’s big,” she mutters, voice tight, but she doesn’t pull away—instead, she rocks back a little, testing it. You groan, the heat and squeeze insane, tighter than her pussy by a mile, and start moving, shallow thrusts to get her used to it.

“Shit, Somi, you’re so fucking tight,” you say, voice gritty, the camera zoomed in on her ass as you sink deeper. She moans, high and needy, her long legs trembling as she adjusts, her firm cheeks jiggling with every thrust. You pick up the pace, fucking her harder, and she’s louder now, gasping and cursing. “Yeah, fuck me, wreck my ass,” she pants, her bratty tone melting into something desperate. The camera catches it all—her toned back flexing, the way her ass bounces against your hips, the sharp contrast of her tight hole gripping you compared to Eunbi’s softer give. You smack her ass again, leaving another red mark, and she squeals, loving it, pushing back harder.

Eunbi’s not just watching anymore—she’s shifted closer, her hand slipping between her legs, rubbing herself as she stares at you railing Somi. “Fuck, babe, you’re destroying her,” she says, voice breathy and hot, her fingers moving fast. “Looks so good.” You grin, too caught up to reply, and pull out of Somi after a few more thrusts, her ass clenching as you leave, a little gape left behind. She whines, glancing back, but you’re already moving back to Eunbi. “Your turn again,” you say, sliding into her ass easy this time, her body welcoming you like an old friend. She moans loud, her softer curves shaking as you fuck her hard, the camera panning between her jiggling ass and Somi’s tighter frame next to her.

You’re in a rhythm now—fucking Eunbi’s ass for a few deep, brutal thrusts, then switching back to Somi’s, keeping them both on edge. Eunbi’s looser, her hole taking you with this sloppy, wet ease, her moans low and guttural as you pound her. “Fuck, I love your cock in my ass,” she groans, her voice muffled against the bed, her hips rolling back to meet you. Then you’re back in Somi, her tighter grip making you work for it, her gasps sharp and needy as you stretch her out again. “Harder, fuck, make it hurt,” she begs, and you oblige, slamming into her so the bed shakes, her firm ass rippling with every hit. The camera’s catching everything—the way Eunbi’s softer flesh bounces versus Somi’s tight, athletic jiggle, the sweat dripping down their backs, the little red marks blooming on their skin from your hands.

They’re egging each other on now, too. “Look at her take it,” Eunbi says, glancing at Somi, her voice all husky as she rubs herself faster. Somi fires back, “Yeah, well, your ass is swallowing him whole, slut.” They laugh, breathless and wrecked, loving the competition. You keep switching—Eunbi’s plush heat, Somi’s vise-like grip—your hips snapping hard, the room filling with the sound of flesh smacking flesh, their moans blending into this horny symphony. The RGB lights keep shifting, painting their bodies in wild colors, Somi’s mask glinting every time she looks back, Eunbi’s hair a tangled mess swinging with every thrust. You’re grunting, sweating, too caught up to care how shaky the camera gets, just focused on fucking these two perfect asses like it’s the last thing you’ll ever do.

But viewers need more. A few more hard pumps and you slow down, giving her ass one last firm squeeze, your fingers sinking into the flesh. “Fuck, babe,” you say, voice rough and winded, “time for you to ride me now.” She moans, low and needy, her head dipping as she catches her breath, her messy bun swaying. You pull out slow, her hole clenching around nothing as you leave, and she glances back with a smirk, knowing what’s next. You shift, placing the camera on the tripod on the side of the bed for a new angle. You go back to bed, lying flat on your back, head propped on a pillow, cock standing tall and slick under the RGB lights. The bed’s a mess, sheets twisted, sweat stains blooming, but you don’t care. Somi and Eunbi are already moving, giggling like they’re plotting something dirty, their naked bodies glowing in the shifting colors—purple, red, blue.

Somi’s first—she straddles you quick, her long legs folding under her, that tight, round ass hovering over your hips. “My turn to fuck you silly,” she says, voice all bratty and hot, grabbing your cock with one hand and lining it up. She sinks down fast, her pussy swallowing you whole, tight and wet and so fucking good you groan loud, hands flying to her hips. She starts riding you hard, no buildup, just straight to it—her ass slapping against your thighs, her massive tits bouncing like crazy, the motion wild and free. The camera’s off to the side, catching her from an angle—those firm mounds jiggling, her toned stomach flexing as she rolls her hips, her blonde hair swinging loose. “Fuck, you’re so big,” she moans, tossing her head back, her mask glinting in the light. “Filling me up—shit, I love this.”

Eunbi’s not just watching—she’s all over you, her hands sliding across your chest, nails raking over your abs like she’s marking territory. “God, look at you,” she murmurs, leaning down, her tongue flicking out to tease your nipple. She sucks it hard, teeth grazing the edge, and you hiss, the sensation sharp and electric. Her fingers dig into your sides, her curvy body pressed close, her breath hot against your skin. “You liking this, babe?” she asks, voice dripping with heat, her lips brushing your ear. “Somi’s tight little pussy fucking you good?” She’s playing with you, egging you on, her hands roaming while Somi keeps bouncing, the slap of skin loud and rhythmic. “Fuck yeah,” you grunt, voice tight, “she’s killing me.” Eunbi laughs, sucking your nipple again, her tongue swirling as Somi rides you harder, her moans getting louder, her tits practically hypnotizing with every bounce.

Somi leans forward, hands braced on your chest, her nails digging in as she grinds down, her pussy clenching around you. “Shit, your cock’s perfect,” she pants, smirking through the mask. “Eunbi’s lucky she gets this all the time—bet she brags about it.” Eunbi pulls back from your nipple, grinning up at Somi. “Damn right I do,” she says, all smug. “He fucks me so good—wait ‘til you see him wreck me next.” Somi laughs, breathless, her hips slamming down faster. “Oh, I’m watching, bitch—gonna steal some moves.” Their dirty talk’s bouncing around you, filthy and raw, and you’re just soaking it in, hands gripping Somi’s hips tighter as she rides you like she’s trying to break you.

Then it’s Eunbi’s turn. Somi slows down, reluctantly climbing off, her pussy leaving you slick and throbbing as she flops beside you, panting. “Your girlfriend’s up,” she says, smirking, brushing her sweaty hair back. Eunbi straddles you quick, her softer, curvier frame settling over your hips, her big tits swaying as she gets comfy. She grabs your cock, guiding it to her pussy, and sinks down slow, letting out this long, shaky moan as you fill her up. “Fuck, babe,” she breathes, her voice all soft and needy, “always so good.” She starts riding you, her movements smoother than Somi’s, her hips rolling in deep, lazy circles that make her massive tits bounce, heavy and full. The camera’s still catching it—the way they jiggle, her nipples hard and pink, her pale skin glowing under the lights.

Somi’s not idle—she shifts closer, her hand sliding up Eunbi’s thigh, then leaning in to suck on one of her bouncing tits. Her lips wrap around the nipple, loud and wet, sucking hard as Eunbi moans sharper, her rhythm faltering for a sec. “Oh fuck,” Eunbi gasps, her hands tangling in Somi’s blonde hair, pulling her closer. Somi pulls back just enough to talk, her voice muffled against Eunbi’s skin. “Fuck your girlfriend, dude,” she says, glancing at you with that masked grin, “she’s dying for it.” Then she dives back in, sucking harder, her tongue flicking over Eunbi’s nipple as Eunbi rides you faster, her pussy squeezing you tight.

“Goddamn, babe,” you groan, hands gripping her hips, feeling the softer give of her flesh compared to Somi’s firmness. “You’re so fucking wet—love watching you bounce on me.” She smirks down at you, her eyes half-lidded, all lust and heat. “Yeah? Love your cock splitting me open,” she says, Somi’s right there, her mouth switching to Eunbi’s other breast, leaving the first shiny with spit. “Shit, look at her go,” Somi mutters between sucks, “fucking your girl like a pro.” Eunbi laughs, breathless, grinding down harder. “He’s mine, but I’ll share—just keep sucking my tits like that.”

“You’re so fucking hot riding him,” Somi says, pulling back to slap Eunbi’s ass lightly, making it jiggle more. “Bet he’s losing his mind.” Eunbi fires back, “He fucking loves it—look at his face.” And she’s right—you’re gritting your teeth, groaning, caught up in the heat of her pussy, the bounce of her tits, Somi’s mouth all over her. Your hands roam, sliding up Eunbi’s sides, brushing Somi’s arm, keeping them both close as they tease and fuck you senseless. Then Eunbi slows down, rolling her hips a little more on your cock before pulling out and passing the turn to her friend.

Somi’s still buzzing from her last ride, her skin flushed and sweaty as she climbs back onto your lap, that mischievous glint in her eyes flashing through the masquerade mask. “Yes! My turn again,” she says, grabbing your cock with a quick, firm grip. “And this time, I’m taking it in my ass—I fucking loved that shit earlier.” She’s not messing around, already lining you up, the tip brushing her tight hole. You groan as she sinks down slow, her ass stretching around you, hotter and tighter than before, her long legs trembling as she adjusts. “Fuck, yes,” she hisses, tossing her blonde hair back, her firm, round ass pressing against your hips as she takes you all the way in. The sensation’s unreal—her walls clamping down hard, her moans sharp and needy as she starts moving, slow at first, testing it, then picking up speed. Her massive tits bounce with every roll of her hips, the slap of her skin against yours loud in the room, the RGB lights painting her in wild streaks of color.

You’re lying flat, hands gripping her thighs, but your mind’s already racing ahead. You glance at Eunbi, who’s kneeling beside you, her curvy body glistening, her pussy still dripping from riding you earlier. “Babe,” you say, voice rough, “sit on my face—I wanna eat you out.” Her eyes light up, a dirty smirk spreading across her lips. “Fuck, yes,” she says, scrambling over quick, her thick thighs straddling your head. The camera on the tripod next to the bed is angled masterfully—a perfect side shot of Somi riding your cock in her ass and Eunbi lowering her pussy onto your mouth. The red light blinks on, capturing everything as Eunbi settles in, her wet, puffy lips brushing your mouth, her scent hitting you hard—sweet and musky, all sex and heat. You dive in, tongue lapping at her folds, tasting her, and she moans loud, her hands bracing on your chest as she grinds down.

Somi’s riding you harder now, her ass bouncing fast, the tight grip driving you wild as you thrust up to meet her. “Shit, your cock’s stretching me so good,” she pants, leaning forward, her tits swaying with every move. Eunbi’s rocking her hips on your face, her juices coating your chin, and you suck on her clit, making her gasp, her fingers digging into your skin. “Fuck, babe, eat me—don’t stop,” she groans. The camera’s got it all—Somi’s toned frame slamming down on you, her ass jiggling, Eunbi’s softer curves grinding on your mouth, her big tits bouncing as she rides your face. The side angle’s perfect, the lights shifting from purple to red, their bodies glowing like some X-rated art piece.

Then it gets hotter—Somi leans forward, grabbing Eunbi’s face, and they crash their lips together, kissing sloppy and deep. Their tongues tangle, moans muffled against each other’s mouths, and their hands are all over each other’s tits, squeezing hard. Somi’s fingers pinch Eunbi’s nipples, tugging them just enough to make her whimper into the kiss, while Eunbi’s hands cup Somi’s bouncing mounds, kneading them rough. “Fuck, you’re so hot,” Somi mutters between kisses, her voice wrecked, her ass still slamming down on your cock. “Love watching you ride his face,” she adds, smirking against Eunbi’s lips. Eunbi pulls back just enough to gasp, “Yeah? Love how he’s fucking your tight little ass—slut.” They laugh, all breathy and lust-drunk, diving back into the kiss, their hands groping harder, their moans syncing up.

You’re in deep—Somi’s ass is relentless, squeezing you with every thrust, her rhythm fast and brutal, her firm cheeks slapping your hips. Your tongue’s buried in Eunbi’s pussy, lapping at her clit, sucking hard, her thighs trembling around your head as she grinds down. “Shit, babe, you’re killing me,” Eunbi moans, her voice hitching, her nails raking across your chest. Somi’s not letting up either, her hips rolling faster, her ass taking you deeper. “Fuck, he’s so big—feels insane,” she groans, glancing down at you, her masked eyes wild with heat. The camera’s catching every second—Somi’s blonde hair swinging, Eunbi’s messy bun bouncing, their tits pressed together as they kiss, the wet sounds of your tongue and Somi’s ass mixing with their gasps and curses.

“Goddamn, you two are filthy,” you mumble into Eunbi’s pussy, your words muffled but enough for them to hear. They break the kiss, laughing, Somi slapping Eunbi’s ass playfully. “Says the guy tongue-deep in his girlfriend while I fuck his cock,” Somi fires back, grinning, her hips grinding down harder, making you groan into Eunbi’s clit. Eunbi shudders, her hands gripping Somi’s shoulders now. “Keep going, babe—fuck, I love your mouth,” she says, her voice all raw and needy, her pussy soaking your face as she rocks faster. Somi leans in again, kissing Eunbi’s neck this time, sucking a little mark there. “He’s fucking you so good with that tongue, huh?” she teases, her hands squeezing Eunbi’s tits again, thumbs flicking her nipples.

Their dirty talk’s bouncing off the walls, all around you—Somi’s bratty edge cutting through Eunbi’s softer, desperate tone. “Shit, Somi, squeeze her harder—she loves that,” you say, pulling back just enough to catch your breath before diving back into Eunbi’s pussy, your tongue circling her clit fast. Somi listens, pinching Eunbi’s nipples rough, and Eunbi yelps, her hips bucking harder on your face. “Fuck, yes—like that,” she gasps, her voice breaking. Somi’s riding you like a damn machine now, her ass slamming down so hard the bed’s creaking loud, her moans turning into sharp little cries. “God, I’m gonna—fuck,” she stutters, her hands braced on your thighs as she grinds down, her ass clenching tight around your cock.

Eunbi’s right there with her, her thighs shaking around your head, her pussy pulsing against your mouth. “Babe, don’t stop—fuck, I’m so close,” she pants, her voice high and frantic, her hands tugging at Somi’s hair now, pulling her back into a messy kiss. Their lips crash together, tongues sloppy, moaning into each other’s mouths as they grope and squeeze, their bodies trembling. You feel it—Somi’s ass tightening hard, Eunbi’s pussy quivering against your tongue—and then they’re both gone, hitting it together. Somi’s hips stutter, her moans turning into a loud, “Fuck, yes!” as she shakes on top of you, her ass gripping you like a vice. Eunbi’s right behind, her thighs clamping down, her juices flooding your mouth as she cries out, “Babe—shit!” her whole body shuddering, her tits bouncing wild as she grinds through it.

The camera’s still rolling, catching it all from that side angle—Somi’s firm frame shaking, Eunbi’s softer curves trembling, their lips locked, hands all over each other’s tits, the RGB lights flashing over their sweaty, spent bodies. They break the kiss, panting hard, laughing through the aftershocks, Somi slumping forward a little, her ass still on you, Eunbi catches her breath while stroking your hair, her pussy still hovering over your mouth. “Fucking hell,” Somi mutters, grinning, “that was insane.” Eunbi nods, breathless, “Best ride ever, babe.” They’re a mess, and you’re right there with them, soaked and grinning.

finally Somi climbs off you, her ass leaving your cock slick and throbbing, and Eunbi slides off your face, her pussy dripping down your chin. You’re sprawled on the bed, chest heaving, the RGB lights pulsing over their flushed, trembling bodies—purple bleeding into red, then blue, like some kind of filthy rave. “Alright, babe,” Eunbi says. “time to make you cum—give us that fucking load.” Somi’s already nodding, her masquerade mask glinting as she brushes her sweaty blonde hair back. “Yeah, dude, we’re draining you dry,” she adds.

You sit up quick, grabbing the camera off the tripod with a shaky hand, flipping it back to POV mode. The little red light is still on, and you swing your legs over the edge of the bed, planting your feet on the carpet. Your cock’s standing tall, slick with their juices, twitching under the lights, and the girls don’t waste a second—they’re on their knees between your legs, a perfect mirrored pair of lust-drunk chaos. Eunbi’s softer, curvier frame presses close on your left, her huge tits brushing your thigh, while Somi’s taller, tighter body slides in on your right, her firm mounds already nudging your skin. They’re a sight—Eunbi’s pale skin glowing, her nipples hard and pink, Somi’s tan lines sharp, her darker nipples perked up, both of them sweaty and glowing, ready to finish you off. You angle the camera down, catching their faces—Eunbi’s sultry smirk, Somi’s masked grin—then lower, framing their tits as they scoot closer.

“Gonna give you the best fucking double boobjob of your life,” Eunbi says, her voice dripping with heat as she cups her tits, squeezing them together. Somi mirrors her, pressing her own boobs tight, her fingers digging into the flesh. “Yeah, these big-ass tits are gonna milk you stupid,” she chimes in, smirking up at you through the mask. They slide in sync, each pair of breasts hugging one side of your cock—Eunbi’s soft, plush mounds on the left, Somi’s firmer, perkier ones on the right. It’s a goddamn dream, your cock swallowed whole between them, the heat and pressure insane as they start moving. They bounce together, slow at first, finding a rhythm—Eunbi’s tits jiggling more, Somi’s staying tight and controlled, the contrast driving you fucking wild. The camera’s catching it all—the way your cock disappears between their sweaty, bouncing flesh, the little beads of sweat rolling down their chests, the wet squish every time they press tighter.

“Fuck, look at that,” Somi mutters, glancing down at your cock sandwiched between them. “Our tits are eating you alive—bet you’re dying to blow all over us.” Eunbi laughs, her tongue flicking out to wet her lips. “Come on, babe, give it to us—paint these fat fucking tits with your cum,” she teases, squeezing her mounds harder around you, her nipples brushing your shaft. You groan, your hands gripping the camera tighter as they work you, their movements syncing up—up and down, slow then fast, their spit and sweat making it slick and messy. “Goddamn, you’re so hard,” Somi says, her tone needy, almost whining, “fucking love feeling you throb between my boobs—cum for us, please.” Eunbi leans in closer, her breath hot against your cock as it peeks out the top. “Yeah, we’re your dirty little whores—begging for that thick load all over us,” she purrs, her eyes locked on yours through the lens.

They’re relentless, tits sliding faster now, the friction building, your cock trapped in this perfect, sweaty vise. Eunbi’s softer flesh molds around you, Somi’s firmer grip keeping it tight, and the combo’s got your head spinning. “Shit, you two are unreal,” you groan, voice cracking, the camera shaking as you fight to keep it steady. “These tits—fuck, I’m in heaven.” Somi smirks, leaning forward so her chin brushes the tip of your cock on the upstroke. “Heaven, huh? Wait ‘til you cum—gonna drown us in it,” she says, her hands squeezing her tits tighter, making you hiss. Eunbi’s not letting up either, her fingers tweaking her own nipples as she moves, her voice all desperate and slutty. “Come on, babe, give us that fucking cum—we need it, want it all over these big, juicy tits—please, fucking please.”

It hits hard—your whole body locks up, a growl ripping out of you as the first spurt shoots out, thick and hot, splattering across Somi’s right tit, then Eunbi’s left. They moan together, loud and pornographic, their tits still bouncing, milking you as you unload. “Fuck, yes!” Somi cries, her masked eyes wide as cum streaks over her chest, dripping down between her mounds. Eunbi’s gasping too, “Oh my god, babe—keep going, coat us!” and you do—spurt after spurt, ropes of it flying, hitting their tits, their necks, a stray shot catching Somi’s chin, another splashing Eunbi’s collarbone. It’s a fucking mess, white and sticky, pooling between their breasts, dripping down their stomachs, and they don’t stop—still sliding their tits around you, slower now, dragging it out.

“Shit, so much,” Somi mutters, her voice wrecked, her hands smearing the cum over her tits, rubbing it in like lotion as she keeps moving, her nipples shiny with it. Eunbi’s right there with her, her own chest a canvas of your load, her fingers scooping some up, grinning at you through the camera. “Fuck, babe, you hosed us—look at this mess,” she says, her tone all proud and filthy, her tits still pressed against your cock, milking every last twitch. Your eyes roll back, a groan escaping as they keep going, relentless, their soft, cum-soaked flesh squeezing you dry. “Goddamn, this is so fucking good,” you rasp, barely coherent, the overstimulation hitting hard as they wring out every drop, their hands slick, their moans echoing.

Then they shift—Somi leans over, her tongue darting out to lick a streak of cum off Eunbi’s tit, sucking her nipple clean with a wet, sloppy sound. Eunbi gasps, giggling through it, then returns the favor, her lips wrapping around Somi’s cum-covered nipple, sucking loud and messy. “Fuck, you taste good with his cum on you,” Somi mutters, smirking, her hands kneading Eunbi’s chest as she licks more, their tongues swapping your load back and forth. Eunbi moans, “Yeah? Then eat it all, you greedy whore,” and dives back in, her tongue lapping at Somi’s tits, both of them giggling and groaning, lost in the naughtiness. The camera’s catching every second—their slick, shiny bodies, the way they’re devouring each other, cum streaking their lips, dripping off their chins.

Finally, they pull back, panting, grinning, their chests heaving as they kneel there, a cum-drenched mess. Eunbi wipes her mouth, smirking at the camera, and leans into Somi, who adjusts her mask with a playful wink. “Well, fuck, that was wild,” Eunbi says, her voice all warm and cheeky, “hope you guys enjoyed the show—thanks for watching us get fucking wrecked.” Somi nods, giggling, “Yeah, you pervs—hope you came as hard as he did. See ya next time!” She blows a kiss, and Eunbi waves, all cute and bubbly despite the filth, their cum-streaked tits still front and center. “Bye, loves!” Eunbi chirps, reaching over to hit the stop button, ending the video with their naughty, beaming faces etched in the frame. The room falls quiet, just their heavy breaths and your pounding heart.

You slide the camera onto the nightstand, the little red light finally off, and flop back onto the bed, your body still buzzing from the insane high. The sheets are a tangled, sweaty mess beneath you. Eunbi and Somi are already up, giggling like kids caught doing something naughty as they rummage through the drawer by the desk. Eunbi pulls out a pack of wet wipes, ripping it open with her teeth, and tosses a couple to Somi. “Alright, cleanup crew,” she says, stepping over to Somi with a smirk. They start wiping each other down, the wipes gliding over their cum-streaked tits, leaving their skin shiny and clean. Somi’s giggling hard, swiping at Eunbi’s chest, her fingers brushing her nipples just enough to make Eunbi yelp and swat her hand away. “Fuck, stop teasing, you perv,” Eunbi laughs, smearing a wipe across Somi’s collarbone, chasing a stray drip that’s trickled down from her chin.

“So,” Eunbi says, tossing a used wipe into the trash by the bed, “what’d you think, Somi? First time getting railed on camera with us—rate it.” Somi pauses, peeling off the masquerade mask slow, revealing her full face—sharp cheekbones, big eyes, a grin that’s equal parts smug and dazed. She tosses the mask onto the desk, shaking out her blonde hair, and flops onto the bed next to you, her head landing on your chest like it’s her personal pillow. “Fucking loved it,” she says, stretching her long legs out across the sheets. “You two are hot as shit—like, I knew it’d be wild, but that was next-level. My ass is still tingling, and those titjobs? Goddamn.”

Eunbi laughs, grabbing her phone off the nightstand and sliding onto the bed beside you, her warm, soft body pressing against your side. “Glad you had fun, you little freak,” she teases, nudging Somi’s leg with her foot. Then she turns to you, her head resting on your shoulder, her messy bun tickling your neck. “What about you, babe? How was it?” You stretch out, one arm sliding under her, the other resting on Somi’s back as she snuggles closer. “Fucking awesome,” you say, grinning up at the ceiling, your voice still rough from all the groaning. “Hands down the best titjob of my life—those four massive tits all over me? I’m dead, bring me back just to do it again.” Eunbi snickers, her hand tracing lazy circles on your stomach, her nails grazing your skin just enough to make you shiver. “Yeah, we fucking killed it,” she says, all proud and smug, her breath warm against your collarbone.

Somi shifts, reaching over to the nightstand and snagging her vape, the sleek little device glinting under the lights as she takes a long pull. She exhales a cloud of sweet-smelling mist—strawberry or some shit—and settles back, her head on your chest again. “You know,” she says, her voice all mellow now, “we should do this again. But like, no cameras next time—just us, fucking for the hell of it. Pure pleasure, no script.” She smirks, blowing another puff of vapor toward the ceiling, the haze curling in the shifting lights. Eunbi hums in agreement, her fingers still wandering over your abs. “Fuck yeah, I’m in,” she says, glancing up at you with a lazy grin. “No pressure, just us getting nasty—sounds perfect, right, babe?” You nod, your hand sliding down her back, resting on the curve of her ass. “Hell yeah, count me in. Cameras are fun, but sometimes you just wanna fuck without the spotlight.”

Somi’s grinning now, taking another hit from the vape, the tip glowing blue as she inhales, then passing it to Eunbi, who waves it off with a laugh. “Nah, thanks—I'm into fitness now,” she says, snuggling closer to you instead. Somi shrugs, keeping it to herself, the faint buzz of the device humming as she lounges there, her long legs dangling off the edge of the bed. The room’s settling into this cozy, post-sex vibe—everyone’s loose, sweaty, satisfied, the tension melted away into something softer. Eunbi’s thumbing through her phone now, her head still on your shoulder, and suddenly her eyes light up, a little gasp slipping out. “Oh shit, check this,” she says, holding the screen up so you and Somi can see. It’s an Instagram DM from Sana—profile pic all sultry and artsy—inviting Eunbi to her podcast later this month. “Hey babe,” it reads, “loved your last vid—wanna come chat on the pod? Yujin told me a lot of good things about you and your boyfriend. You’re blowing up, girl.”

Somi leans over, squinting at the screen, her vape forgotten for a sec. “Wait, who’s Sana?” she asks, her brow furrowing as she props herself up on one elbow, her hair spilling over your chest. Eunbi grins, scrolling up to show Sana’s profile—tons of followers, clips of her podcast episodes, and a few spicy TikToks that Somi instantly recognizes. “Oh, she’s another adult content creator,” Eunbi explains. “Super hot, super chill—does solo stuff mostly, but her podcast’s huge. Talks about the industry, sex, all that jazz. Gets big names on there too.” Somi nods, her eyes lighting up. “Oh fuck, yeah—I’ve seen her on TikTok! That one where she’s in the red sexy dress, vibing to some trap beat? She’s fire.” She takes another pull from the vape, exhaling slow, then grins at you both. “Damn, you guys are legit climbing the ranks—congrats, you sexy fuckers.”

Eunbi’s beaming now, her cheeks pink with pride as she sets her phone down and curls up tighter against you, her hand slipping to rest on your thigh, casual but possessive. “Thanks, babe,” she says to Somi, then looks up at you, her eyes soft but sparkling. “It’s fucking wild, right? Like, we’re actually doing this—people are noticing.” You squeeze her ass, pulling her closer, your chest swelling with that same excitement. “Hell yeah, it’s dope,” you say. “You’re killing it, Eunbi—proud of you.” She smiles, all shy for a sec, then kisses your neck, her lips lingering like she’s savoring it. Somi watches, smirking, blowing a playful ring of vapor your way. “Aw, you two are cute—gross, but cute,” she teases, then settles back, her head on your chest again, the vape humming as she takes another hit.

And you’re lying there, a little smirk on your face, feeling good about finally saying yes to the threesome. At first, you weren’t sure—thought it might be awkward, maybe mess up what you and Eunbi had. But now, with them both next to you, all sweaty and chill after that insane session, you’re glad you went for it. It didn’t feel weird at all—just worked, like they both fit right in. Somi brought the crazy, Eunbi kept it familiar, and it was honestly a blast. No regrets—turned out way better than you figured.

The three of you are just crashed out, all tangled up, The RGB lights keep changing, throwing colors on the ceiling, and it’s a nice wind-down—relaxed, cozy, everyone still feeling it. Eunbi’s messing with your skin, drawing little shapes, Somi’s head’s on your chest, breathing slow, and you’re just taking it in. Eunbi’s rising fame mixes with how wild tonight was. It’s a solid night—real solid—and the idea of doing it again, cameras or not, lingers thick in the air like the sweet haze from Somi’s vape.

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sheabuttahwrites · 16 days ago

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Tag Me In ( part one )

Modern!AU Smoke x Annie

- Shea Buttah Bakery Masterlist - sounds // When You Touch Me - Brandy - warnings - smut, explicit language, there's filth in here - -

Annie was in a bad way today.

Her poor vibrator sat atop her blanket worn out, on its final bit of glint from the last try. She had turned to her side and moved on to watching one of her favorite youtube shows. In this episode, the group was discussing which appetizer was the worst, yet her pussy was leaking between her cheeks as if it were something much more salacious. Her legs squirmed beneath the covers, unable to keep still as she laughed at them joke on each other more than they discussed the actual topic.

She fell back with a heavy, frustrated sigh, wondering why her hormones had to kick in while she was home alone. And, even more, what she was gonna do about it. Especially since she had already made herself cum three whole times with not an ounce of relief in sight. In the midst of near hysteria, she was notified that someone was coming into the garage. She squealed after looking at her phone. A few short seconds later, the remedy walked through their bedroom door.

“What happened?”

“Stack canceled. His lazy ass wanna do it next week now.”

“Oh, wow. Your brother’s a trip.”

“Yeah. I heard Sammie in the background, too, so I’m sure that’s what really changed his plans. They’ll be up to no good pretty soon.”

“You know, I always did like Sammie.”

He chuckled, disappearing into the bathroom. A few moments later, he came out in his undershirt and boxer briefs. “You wanted me home, huh?”

“Hell yeah. Come here.”

The way her tongue ran softly over her lips while her eyes took in every bit of him, he already knew what type of time she was on. It was confirmed when he saw the toy lying behind her.

“What you been in here doing?” He grinned slyly.

“Nothing.” She was grinning herself as she lied.

“Don’t look like nothing.”

“Whatever I did, I still need you.”

He was immediately taken by the pretend innocence in those big, brown eyes. “Yeah?”

She nodded. “Mhm.”

He came closer and picked the vibrator up, turning it on. He switched through every speed before stopping on the highest one. Internally, she was celebrating, as guaranteed satisfaction wasn't too far away. But then he switched it off, put it down in front of her, and, most concerning, backed away. ��First, show me what you be doing when I’m not here.”

Annie’s stomach dropped, taking her smile with it. Though he’d seen, touched, and tasted just about every part of her, this made her nervous for some reason. Maybe because she’d only ever done it by herself? She was on the way into her head when he grabbed her chin and made her look at him, lovingly brushing his fingers down her cheek.

“Go ‘head, baby, don't be shy. I got you.”

Feeling just slightly reassured, she went over onto her elbow. The lump in her throat went down a lot easier than her hand did under the blanket. Then he pulled it back and took away her last bit of comfort, revealing her panties down beside her. But, before she could react, they were against his face getting a long, deep sniff.

“Smoke! Oh my god.” She couldn't help but laugh at him groaning with closed eyes. Like her drawers were the most delicious scent he'd ever had the privilege of smelling. “You are so nasty.”

He winked at her and grinned, throwing them back onto the bed.

Reminded that there was nothing for her to feel unsure about, that this was her man and it wasn’t possible for her to be any safer, she turned her body to face him head on and propped herself up on a pillow. If he wanted a show, she was gonna give him one.

“Ok. That's what I’m talkin’ ‘bout,” he rejoiced, rubbing his hands together and making her giggle even more.

She unabashedly slid her fingers between her lips and closed her eyes. That was just her way of doing things. But he had different plans.

“Nah, mama. Eyes on me.”

She took a deep breath and gladly bent to his will, spreading her legs while her hand slipped around in her wetness. She gazed through her thighs at him and bit her lip. His sexy ass smolder always sent her over the edge, but watching him watch her was turning her on in a way she hadn't expected. She’d never considered voyeurism to be her cup of tea, but now that she was in it, she only had one complaint. Her fingers weren't going to be enough.

She picked up the vibrator and started it on the lowest speed. The corner of his lips went up into a satisfied grin. As anticipated, her helper added a thrill that her hand just couldn't match as she pushed it over her clit. She brought one of her knees up to her chest, her breathing starting to quicken. She was in a groove. A moan spilled from her throat like a sultry melody. His favorite song.

“There you go.”

Smoke came closer, hungrily licking his lips, dimples deep enough to drown in. She liked the hell out of this. Any doubts she might've had before had since turned to titillation. He wouldn't have to tell her again to look at him, because she was locked in. Her hips rolled as she surrendered to the sparks igniting the fire between her thighs, her moans pouring out. He had a fire of his own rising as he witnessed her lose control with her eyes set on him. Overcome, she grabbed her titty and sucked it into her mouth. It was so hard for him not to touch her, but he could do this all day. Taking in the fullness of her body, her deep brown skin thoroughly moisturized, big titties falling from the top of her shirt. Beauty paled in comparison to what she was. And all she wanted was him.

“Feel good?”

“Yeah,” she whispered, squeezing her soaked nipple between two fingers. “Mmmm.”

“Open up, fat cat. Let me see.”

She reached down and spread herself wide. He smiled and leaned in to get a better view, blowing delicately on her pussy before his ascent. She gasped. The breeze flowing against her slippery skin sent a chill through her entire body. She pushed the vibrator against her clit and held it there. She was done. His arms, his chest in that tank top, the thickness. The achingly sensual tone of his voice. The way his dick was running out of space in his underwear. All of it was driving her crazy. She needed to release.

Her mouth fell open and, for the first time since they’d started, her eyes left him. As they rolled, her head followed, tipping back on the pillow she’d now sunken deeper into. Watching her fight—and fail—to keep enough composure to hold her head up, hearing her beg sweetly for him with almost every breath she took, was doing him in. Like her, he wasn't gonna last too much longer.

“Smoke,” she called, desperately.

“Yeah, baby?”

“Please touch me.”

He didn't need to hear her say it again. He started at her knee and gently led his hand down to her inner thigh. Eye to eye with her once more, he gave the softness a light squeeze, then her hips went completely still.

He smiled. “Oooh. This my part right here.”

A heavy crease hit her brow and he saw her pussy start to ripple. He swore he could feel it pulsing against his dick. Mesmerized, he leaned in just as a thick bead of her nectar dripped out, hanging on to the edge.

“Goddamn. Make a mess for me, mama.”

“Fuuuuuck.” Her head slumped back and he grabbed her other thigh, kneading his fingers into them both.

“Mhm. I wanna see that pretty pussy all over these sheets.”

She shrieked and the waves began to ripple faster. The muscles in her thighs were flexing hard against his hands. He licked his lips, watching her leak onto their bed just as he’d asked. She looked up at him, chest heaving, her cries reaching an octave he didn’t have the strength to ignore.

He let her go and started to jump up and down, stretching his neck from side to side like a fighter waiting for his chance in the ring. “Shit, that’s enough.”

Annie drifted out of ecstacy and right into a laugh, where he had his palm out toward her, still jumping. “…You foolish.”

“Tag me in, girl. It's my turn.”

@blackerthings @judymfmoody @lyrarodriguez @fendionmyfeet @fadingbelieverexpert @chaneajoyyy @astoldbychae @hotgrlcece @daddiespamm @lovethecheri @xo-goldengirl @miyuhpapayuh @buttrflybby @jiminie-08 @queengodiva619 @soufcakmistress @shiania @motheroffae @savagemickey03 @infinity2 @uhhh-nunyabidniz-heaux @deepinmydaydream @queenofklonnie22 @irefusetobeacasualty @honestlyurslol @bigjh @katezy2x @brownskincheyenne @shamansha @championshipshade @summrsovrinterlude @freelandgoddess @margepimpson @orchidwonder @lizbehave @spicypiscesssss -taglist-

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kusanagi-haruno · 11 months ago

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⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ NIGHTS LIKE THIS !

ఌ sum: Ever since Gojo saw you, he’s been nothing but love struck. And as time passes, you find yourself feeling the same.

wc: 3.2K

Warnings: Fem!reader, Gojo is basically obsessed with you, Uni AU, Modern AU, Eventual smut, Porn w plot, Making out, Oral (F receiving), P in V sex, Light choking, Praising, Pet names: Pretty girl, beautiful, sweet girl.

a/n: originally this was written for my friend with a different character, but I decided to change it to gojo so I can post it here for you lovelies :)!!!!

Lovestruck Gojo! who forgot how to breathe when he first saw you enter the lecture the first day. His eyes raked over your form, taking in every detail from when you first entered through the door to when you sat down. He bit the inside of his cheek when he saw you sit a few rows in front of him. He ignored the stinging pain that followed after biting the wall of his mouth, too entranced by you to even care.

Lovestruck Gojo! who grew more frustrated as the weeks passed. He cursed his inability to go up to you and just talk. The way your lips seemed to shine every time he looked at them, how the outsides of your eyes creased when you smiled just made him so nervous.

Lovestruck Gojo! who swears his prayers finally have been answered when you two were paired up for a project. He sat up a little bit straighter when the professor announced your name next to his. He swore the sun shined a little bit brighter that day.

Lovestruck Gojo! who’s heart raced when he noticed you make your way towards him at the end of the lecture. He pretended not to notice you, which was hard because he knows he’s noticed just about everything you had to offer. His heart raced when he heard your voice speak to him, in his head was a million thoughts scrambling through his mind.

Lovestruck Gojo! who’s voice cracked when he spoke his first words to you. “I’m sorry?” He questioned when he realized he didn’t respond to you. “Want to exchange contacts? It’ll be easier to keep in touch this way,” he heard you ask. It felt like his breath got caught in his throat, the softness, the perfection of your voice paralyzed him. He knew he had to answer this time, he had to make a good first impression.

Lovestruck Gojo! who hurriedly agreed to give you his number. After that brief conversation, he watched you walk away. He swore his heart would jump out of his chest any moment now, however he wouldn’t even be mad, not when the reason his heart was beating was because of you.

Lovestruck Gojo! who swears he’s on cloud nine. Ever since the both of you have been partnered up for that project, the both of you have slowly gotten closer and closer. Everyday he would wake up with one thought in his mind, you. When he got ready for your guys’ daily meet up to slowly progress on the project, he made sure to look his very best. He always double checked to see if his hair was laid correctly, that his teeth looked white as ever, and that his clothes smelled perfect.

Lovestruck Gojo! who silently congratulated himself every time he made you laugh. Sometimes you would catch him staring, but you found yourself not being bothered by it one bit. You couldn’t deny that you undoubtedly caught feelings for the man in front of you during the time you guys spent together. You found yourself blushing everytime he remembered your coffee order, even more so when he paid for it everytime.

Lovestruck Gojo! who felt like his world was destroyed when the project came to an end. He should’ve felt any form of happiness, but he couldn’t. Not when he had no excuse to see you anymore. When he rolled over in his bed, he felt like sinking into it just to never come out again.

Lovestruck Gojo! who groaned when he heard his phone buzz signaling he got a notification. He silently debated on ignoring it, almost positive it was a random notification from a random app. Although he twisted and turned, soon facing his phone on the nightstand beside him with a small hope that maybe, maybe, you texted him.

Lovestruck Gojo! whose heart went from 0 to 100 the moment he saw it was you who texted him. He immediately opened the notification and read your text, he smiled so hard that it hurt. “Party tn, wanna come? We can let loose a little as a little celebration for finishing that stupid project :).”

Lovestruck Gojo! who never got ready so fast in his life before. He made sure to reply to your text before doing so, he’d rather die than have you think he purposefully ignored you.

Lovestruck Gojo! who had no idea just how fast your heart was beating. Your friends pressured you into texting him, knowing just how much you liked him. You didn’t know whether to curse them out or hug them, but the thought diminished as soon as you saw he replied to you, agreeing to come.

Lovestruck Gojo! who felt the same as he first did the very first second he saw you when he saw you tonight, in front of him. He clenched his fists when he took note just how many other men were in the same building as you, almost hard enough to draw blood. All negative feelings vanished when he locked eyes with you, and instead new ones blossomed. He took note how you styled your hair, and wore a little more makeup than usual. His eyebrows furrowed when he thought that you wanted to look good for somebody else.

Lovestruck Gojo! who slowly lost himself in your eyes. The both of you agreed to dance with each other, mirroring each other's smiles. He lost track of time, not that he cared though. The only thing he cared about was the feeling of your arms around his neck, your eyes looking right at him and fuck the glossiness of your lips. Everything about you was perfect, and he wanted to kill every man who looked at you tonight.

Lovestruck Gojo! whose body felt like it was on fire right now. He doesn’t know who leaned first, but he couldn’t give a fuck about that. Not when the feeling over your soft, plushy lips against his sent his mind, body, and soul to heaven and back. He could only focus on the small, shaky breaths that escaped your lips when he sucked particularly hard, and fuck he loved it more than he should. What’s new though, he always loved you way more than the normal amount.

Lovestruck Gojo! who almost whined when you finally broke the kiss, but what you said after instantly made up for it. “Wanna get out of here?” He didn’t know how a person could be so fucking adorable, but you break his expectations everyday.

His silently nodded, little pants escape his lips as you take his hand and lead him out of the party.

As soon as the two of you barely make it to your dorm, you’re pushed up against the door. You let out a gasp when your head meets the firmness of your dorm door, but quickly the pain turns into pleasure when he takes the opportunity of your opened mouth to slide his tongue into your mouth.

You feel his hands touch every part of your body, trying to memorize every part of you. You hear him chuckle against your lips when you let out soft whines when he touches a particularly sensitive spot, and fuck did that make you wet.

“Such a fucking pretty girl,” he mumbles into your mouth. You let out a whine at the praise, your hands resting against his firm chest. His hands rest on your hips, squeezing them whenever he finds himself feeling too much of everything.

He often found himself denying that you were real, but you were here, under his touch, kissing him. Him, of all people. If he told his past self that he’d up like this with you, his past self would laugh, or faint, either or.

You find yourself slowly backing up until you hit your bed with him looming over you. The both of you take a second to just look at each other, a million things spoken with just one look. Both of your eyes gazing at each other full of lust and love before leaning back into each other with more passion than before.

“G-Gojo..fuck,” you moan out as you arch your back. The man on top of you started to slowly roll his hips against yours, the feeling making pleasure flow through the entirety of your body, no area left untouched. “I- ah..I know baby I know”, he coos, feeling the same if not more.

You feel his big hands tug at your shirt, a silent demand to take it off, and you do with no hesitation. Gojo is awestruck, absolutely entranced with how beautiful you look. Every part of you is absolutely perfect, fuck he feels like the luckiest man alive right now.

He detaches his lips from yours, a small string of spit hangs between the both of you. His hands move from the side of your face to your chest, then slowly down to your hips before resting on the side of your stomach. He leaves soft kisses against different areas of your stomach as his hands roam your torso, silently worshiping your body.

“Fuck you’re so beautiful,” he praises, his thumbs stroking the sides of your torso. You let out soft airy breaths in response to his delicate touches, each kiss igniting a small flame in the same area he kissed you.

When he finally makes your way down to your waist, he looks up at you, silently asking for permission. You give him a slight nod and lift your hips to help him remove your pants. Once Gojo throws your bottoms on the floor somewhere you start to get flustered. Almost your whole body is exposed while he’s still fully dressed. Guess you’re going to have to change that.

You softly call out his name, to which he answers with a small hum. His face is near your clothed pussy, so when he hummed you felt every little bit of it. You subconsciously opened your legs to the feeling of pleasure that sparked through your body as, and let out a squeak when he places a small kiss to your clothed pussy.

“Gojo..” you whine. “Y-you’re still dressed,” you pant out. You feel him chuckle from in between your legs and you let out another small moan in response. “Aww, is my poor baby embarrassed?” He mocks, a small smirk gracing his features.

“N-no..” You mumble with a small pout, but the both of you know otherwise. Gojo quickly rids of his shirt and leans down to give you a quick peck before moving down to your pussy.

You feel your panties are wet, and he sees that they’re wet, and you should feel embarrassed but you don’t.

Gojo tears off your panties and before you can complain, he licks a long stripe from your pussy to your clit. You buck up in response to which his hands fly to your hips to hold them down. After that he makes quick work of making a mess out of you.

You release moan after moan when he repeatedly laps your clit, showing no sign of stopping. The lewd noises of your wet squelches and his sucking fill the room, along with your whimpers and his groans.

As he eats you out the small praises he drunkenly says are lost on your ears. The only thing you can focus on, can even comprehend, was the feeling of his tongue against your wet pussy and oh, the finger he slipped in your poor little pussy.

“Such a good fucking girl, taking me so well,” he praises when he sees you take his finger with no struggle. When your legs twitch he knows you're close and speeds up the thrusting of his one finger and the speed of his tongue against your clit.

“Ah, ah fuck! G-Gojo,” you scream out, so close, just one more second and…

You let out a sob when you feel his finger quickly slip out of your sobbing pussy, and the feeling of his tongue no longer working on your clit. You could almost cry at the lost orgasm.

“Y-you’re so mean,” you sniffle out. “Can’t have you cummin yet baby,” he says shakily. His breaths come out in pants, his thoughts all over the place but the only constant is you.

He leaves a trail of kisses along the inside of your thigh, sucking on them every few kisses. He mumbles soft praises in between, “You're so beautiful, my pretty girl, doing so well.”

When he decides your thighs are littered with enough marks, he moves up your body coming face to face with you. His two fingers prod at your mouth, silently telling you to open your mouth. You obey, your tongue swirling around his thick fingers, tears threatening to spill your eyes.

While you’re working on his two fingers he took the liberty of slowly rolling his hips against yours. He kisses your cheek when he removes his fingers from your mouth, and slowly trails them along your body till he reaches your pussy.

The both of your lips connect when he slowly drags his fingers lightly down your body till they stop at your entrance. He coaxes you to breathe, staring into your eyes as he teases your clit.

He starts to pump his fingers into you, your juices coating his fingers. As you start to loosen up even more he slides another finger into you. The feeling of his thick hands inside of you make you feel impossibly stretched. It feels so good, everything feels so good fuck.

As you near your orgasm you pull him close to you, whimpering and panting wanting, needing to finish as his fingers ruthlessly attack the spongy spot inside your pussy.

“Pleasepleaseplease,” you whine fucked out on his fingers. “Please Gojo let me cum,” you lean in to kiss him but he pulls back, teasing you. He pretends to think, already knowing the answer. “You’ve been such a good girl,” he growls out. Matching his thrusts with his words. “Guess I should let you,” he finishes and kisses you.

His fingers speed up making your legs twitch as you reach your climax. Your moans are beautiful against his ears, he can never get enough of you. You’re so perfect.

You call out his name when you cum, your juices spraying out and coating his fingers. He slows down his tempo to help you ride through your orgasm, swallowing your cute little pants and whines.

“How’s my sweet girl doing?” He coos, cupping your cheek and using his thumb to caress the side of your face. You lean into his touch, still blissfully fucked out on his fingers. You let out a hum to signal you’re still with him.

Red coats your cheeks when you hear him say that you taste so fucking good. You use both of your hands to grasp on his forearm that’s attached to the hand on your cheek. “Mm Gojo,” you softly whisper out his name, not completely sure what the real goal was. You just wanted to say his name.

“I know baby, I know,” he quickly places a peck on your forehead before leaning back and quickly undoing his belt and jeans, leaving him in his boxers. Still in your fucked out state you don’t notice just how big he is.

He makes quick work of his boxers, throwing them in a random corner of the room before leaning down over you. “Is this okay? Are you okay with this?” He asks, and you could almost laugh if you weren’t out of breath. Of course you were okay with this, more than okay. “Yesyesyes, just let me feel you. I want you. Please,” you breathe out, looking straight into his eyes.

And something in him just snaps.

Hearing you beg for him, how utterly desperate you sound, it’s too much, you’re too much. His feelings for you are too much. He drags you to the end of the bed and places your legs over his shoulders. He shoves your full length inside of your pussy and you cry out. He’s so big…

You barely have time to adjust before he pulls back out and slams back into you. You grip onto his back, nails scratching down the entirety of his backside. “‘Ts too much- Ah!” moan after moan fills the room, the lewd sounds of your skin slapping against each other is basically drowned out by both your cries and his grunts.

The ruthless pace he sets makes your tits bounce against his chest, and he doesn’t fail to notice. His mouth greedily sucks on one while his hand fondles the other. “Oh my god! You feel so good ah..,” the sound of your cute little moans do downright dirty things to him. It makes him want to fucking ruin you.

When he decides your right boob is marked up enough he moves to your other, spitting on it before continuing his same merciless treatment on it.

You feel like your soul left your body when one of his hands lifted your hips a bit so he could thrust deeper into you. His cock is filling every single bit of you, and your pussy is greedily sucking him in.

“Ngh..Gojo feels so good. Your cock is filling me ah! so well,” you chant out his name like a prayer.

Once he declares both of your pretty tits taken care of he wraps a hand around your throat and makes eye contact with you. “Beautiful girl..taking me so well. Perfect, you’re fucking perfect,” he praises against your lips.

Both of you are near, you can feel his cock twitching inside of you and Gojo can feel how your pretty pussy is gripping him even more tight. It’s basically calling out his name, pulsing around his dick like a needy little thing.

“Gojo!” You scream out when you cum for the second time that night. Just a few more thrusts and he releases inside of you as well, spilling his warm cum inside of you.

His pace slows as he rides out his orgasm while also helping you ride out yours. “So perfect..did so well, pretty girl, did so fucking good,” he whispers. He continues to let out sweet praises as both of you continue to catch your breath.

You weren’t sure when you closed your eyes, but when you reopened them you were now in the bath against a firm, hard chest. You close your eyes again, relishing the feeling of being relaxed against him.

Gojo on the other hand is still in awe, he can’t, will not believe that you’re here with him. Leaning against him like this has been routine for years, like you guys have been together.

He rests his cheek against your head and you softly hum. His hands gently rub incoherent shapes against your hips as the two of you seek comfort against the both of each other.

Lovestruck!Gojo who kisses the crown of your head as his arms snake around your waist. His hold tightens, and you let it.

Lovestruck! Gojo who promises himself to keep holding you like this now, and in the future. Who promises to never let you go, and you’d never dream of letting him.

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gf2bellamy · 4 months ago

Note

hi athena I recently fell in love with your writing and I figured I'd try sending in a request, I'd love to see your spin on this:

perhaps a shy!reader and spencer get stuck in an elevator at quantico? I was thinking that the reader works elsewhere in the FBI and the two of them have exchanged glances like a hallway crush??

do with that what you will it's so random lol and keep on writing!!! your posts always make me smile <3333

elevator — spencer reid

pairing: spencer reid x reader ( no use of y/n ) content warnings: being stuck in an elevator ( + some statistics abt it bc it's spencer we're talking about ) , one tiny mention of claustrophobia a/n: hiiiii <3 i hope this is what you asked for <33 ty for your request !

You were so ready to go to bed.

Correction, you had been thinking about your bed since the moment you dragged yourself out of it this morning. Every second of your exhausting day had only reinforced one goal: getting home, slipping under the covers, and finally resting. With a relieved sigh, you stepped into the elevator, pressing the button for your floor. The doors began to slide shut when you heard a voice.

“Wait!”

A hand shot out, halting the doors just in time. Your heart stuttered as you looked up and met his eyes.

Dr. Spencer Reid.

The same Spencer Reid who made your pulse race just by walking past your desk. The one you exchanged fleeting glances with in the hallway but never had the courage to actually talk to. The one whose voice alone made your stomach flutter in ways you didn’t care to admit. He stepped inside, shifting his satchel higher on his shoulder.

“Hi,” he said softly, his voice warm, almost hesitant.

You swallowed, feeling your face heat up. “Hi,” you echoed, barely above a whisper.

Oh God. That was so quiet.

You resisted the urge to facepalm right then and there. Instead, you focused on the numbers ticking down as the elevator descended. Beside you, Spencer tugged at the strap of his bag, his fingers fidgeting, something you had noticed he did when he was nervous.

Was he nervous?

Before you could dwell on the thought, a sudden jolt rocked the elevator. The lights flickered, and the movement came to an abrupt stop. You let out a small gasp as your balance shifted. For a split second, you thought you were about to fall. But before you could, a warm hand shot forward, steadying you.

Spencer’s hand. His fingers wrapped gently around your wrist, anchoring you before you could stumble.

“Are you okay?” he asked, his brows knitting together in concern.

You exhaled, nodding quickly as you regained your footing. “Yeah—yeah, I think so. What just happened?”

Spencer glanced up at the ceiling, analyzing the situation almost immediately. “It seems like the elevator stopped. Possibly a mechanical failure.”

Your stomach twisted. “You mean we’re stuck?”

“For now,” he admitted. “But most modern elevators have emergency systems in place. It shouldn’t be long before it’s back up and running.”

You nodded, trying to push down the creeping anxiety. You weren’t necessarily claustrophobic, but this wasn’t exactly ideal. Spencer must have sensed your unease because his grip on your wrist loosened slightly, though he didn’t let go just yet. Instead, he tilted his head, studying you.

“You sure you’re okay?” His voice was softer now, gentle in a way that made your stomach flip for an entirely different reason.

You swallowed, forcing a small smile. “Yeah. Just… wasn’t expecting to get stuck in an elevator at the end of the day.”

Spencer’s lips quirked slightly. “Statistically, it’s rare, but not impossible. Elevators have an average failure rate of about one in 5,000 rides.”

You blinked, processing that bit of information before mumbling, “Oh… okay.”

Your eyes drifted downward, drawn to where his hand was still wrapped around your wrist. His grip was warm , but the realization made your face heat up. Spencer must have noticed because he quickly followed your gaze and immediately let go, his fingers retracting.

“Sorry,” he muttered, rubbing the back of his neck as his other hand went back to fiddling with the strap of his satchel.

You flexed your fingers absentmindedly, missing the warmth of his touch more than you’d like to admit. The elevator hummed with silence as the minutes stretched on, neither of you speaking.

You were stuck in an elevator. With Spencer Reid.

The Spencer Reid you had spent far too long stealing glances at from across the bullpen. The Spencer Reid whose voice alone sent a flutter of nerves through your stomach. The Spencer Reid you had been crushing on for ages but had never quite found the courage to talk to.Your heart pounded so fast you were almost convinced he could hear it.

After another long pause, you cleared your throat. “Uh… shouldn’t we press a button or something?”

Spencer blinked, looking almost startled, like he had been lost in thought himself.

“Oh. Right.” He seemed flustered as he reached forward, pressing the red emergency button. A small beep echoed through the space, but nothing else happened. The elevator remained still. The two of you stared at the button. Then at each other.

A small smile tugged at the corners of your lips, and before you knew it, a quiet giggle escaped you.

Spencer tilted his head, his brow furrowing slightly. “What?”

You shook your head, grinning. “I don’t know… this just feels like something out of a bad rom-com.”

His lips twitched, like he was fighting back a smile himself. “Technically, rom-coms often rely on contrived meet-cutes or forced proximity to create romantic tension. Statistically speaking, getting stuck in an elevator with someone you like—”

He stopped abruptly, his mouth snapping shut.

Your breath hitched. Did he just—

Spencer’s face turned an unmistakable shade of pink as he quickly averted his gaze. “Uh—I mean, hypothetically speaking, of course,” he stammered.

Your heart thudded against your ribs, and suddenly, the broken elevator was the least of your concerns. A tense silence stretched between you. Your brain scrambled to process what had just happened, what he had just said.

Spencer Reid, Spencer Reid, had just implied, no, accidentally admitted, that he liked someone. And while logic told you it could have been a general statement, the way his ears burned, the way his fingers fidgeted with the strap of his satchel, and the way he wouldn’t meet your gaze told you otherwise.

Your breath felt stuck in your throat. You should say something. Anything. But your mind had gone completely blank, and all you could manage was shifting slightly on your feet, your fingers tightening around the hem of your sleeve.

Spencer, still looking anywhere but at you, cleared his throat and rocked back on his heels. “Uh—so, um, the emergency system should register the alarm soon,” he mumbled, his voice noticeably higher-pitched than usual. “It’s standard protocol for maintenance teams to check non-moving elevators within, uh, approximately five to ten minutes. Depending on how busy they are. Which, statistically, varies based on the building’s occupancy and—”

He was rambling. He always rambled, but this felt different. His words were rushed, like he was trying to fill the silence, trying to fix whatever had just slipped out.

And you were standing there, internally panicking, heart hammering so hard it drowned out half of what he was saying.

After a moment, Spencer finally risked a glance at you, and the moment your eyes met, you quickly dropped your gaze to the floor, heat creeping up your neck. The realization that he noticed your nervous reaction only made things worse.

He hesitated. “Are you okay?”

You swallowed, nodding a little too quickly. “Mhm.”

Oh my god, say actual words.

Spencer shifted, watching you with those observant eyes. The same ones that had probably already figured out that you were completely losing it over a simple slip of the tongue.

Desperate to distract yourself, you turned slightly, eyeing the elevator panel. “Maybe we should, um… press another button?” Your voice was quieter than you would have liked, but at least you said something.

Spencer blinked, as if realizing he had completely forgotten about that. “Oh. Right. Good idea.”

Reaching forward, he pressed the lobby button. Then the button for your floor. Then, seemingly just for good measure, the emergency button again.

Nothing. The elevator remained still.

You huffed out a quiet, nervous laugh. “Guess we’re really stuck.”

Spencer exhaled, rubbing the back of his neck. “Yeah… guess so.”

The silence settled again. You shifted on your feet, sneaking a glance at him. He wasn’t looking at you anymore, his gaze was fixed on the ground, his expression unreadable.

Maybe you were overthinking this. Maybe he hadn’t meant anything by it. Maybe he was just talking statistically, like he always did.

Or maybe…

Maybe you weren’t the only one who had been stealing glances in the hallway.

Before you could spiral any further into your overthinking, the elevator suddenly lurched back to life with a jolt. You barely managed to keep your balance, your hands instinctively reaching for the railing behind you. Spencer, on the other hand, swayed slightly but recovered just as quickly, his hand gripping the strap of his satchel like a lifeline.

The flickering overhead light steadied. The buttons lit up in sequence.You were moving again.

You should have felt relieved. But instead, there was this strange, almost disappointing weight settling in your chest, like the moment was slipping away too fast, like something important had just been cut short. You risked a glance at Spencer. He was still staring at the elevator doors, his lips slightly parted, his brows furrowed.

Then, just as the doors slid open with a ding, he took a sharp breath and turned to you.

“So—um.” He cleared his throat, shifting on his feet. “I was wondering if maybe you’d, uh…” He hesitated for half a second, his fingers tapping anxiously against his bag. “If you’d like to get coffee with me sometime?”

You blinked. He was asking you out. Spencer Reid was asking you out.

The words barely registered before you felt yourself nodding. “Y-Yeah,” you managed, your voice coming out a little too soft, a little too breathless. “I’d like that.”

Spencer’s shoulders relaxed just slightly, like he’d been bracing for rejection. His lips quirked into a small, nervous smile. “Okay. Great. Um—I mean, I don’t know if you’re busy tomorrow morning, but there’s this coffee shop near the Bureau that has really good espresso, and their pastry selection is actually pretty impressive for a small establishment—”

He was rambling again. But this time, it didn’t feel like he was covering up awkwardness.

It felt… endearing.

You bit back a smile. “Tomorrow morning sounds perfect.”

Spencer blinked, like he hadn’t expected such an easy answer. Then his smile widened, just a little, and the tips of his ears turned pink again. The elevator let out another soft chime, reminding you both that the doors had been open for a while now. You stepped out first, turning back just in time to see him hesitating for a second before following after you. You walked down the hallway, side by side.

The thought of being with Spencer, of sharing more than just quick glances in the hallway, sent a thrill through you.

#criminal minds #criminal minds x reader #spencer reid x reader #criminal minds fanfic #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds x you #spencer reid x you #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fanfic #criminal minds fic

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smartkookiee · 6 months ago

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Vampire Boy || Teaser

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𓆩♱𓆪 pairing: vampire!Jungkook x human!Reader (afab, she/her)

𓆩♱𓆪 content: 18+ explicit content, established relationship au, vampire au

𓆩♱𓆪 series warning/tags: golden retriever boyfriend jk, “27” jk 26 reader, oh they are so in love, modern day, vampire activities, blood drinking, fluff, silly, some angst, smut, some gore and blood, blood kink?? (Squint), Jungkook really likes your blood, my own vampire rules?? But similar to traditional vampire rules??, Jungkook is so whipped, past trauma, comedy, y/n is so sweet but also is a little bit of a brat, they are soooo down bad for each other, vampire!Jimin, vampire!Jin, vampire!Hoseok, vampire!Yoongi, other vampire characters (the girlies), these two are little freaks, unprotected sex (Jungkook literally cannot get y/n pregnant), cream pie, fingering, dick riding, oral f and m receiving, discussion of feeding on animals and people, vampire turning trauma, Jungkook is severely afraid of garlic (lmao), vampire traditions and rituals, family trauma, family death

𓆩♱𓆪 description: So your boyfriend is a vampire…It’s actually not too different than having a human boyfriend. He is kind and caring and genuinely loves you. He’s just a touch afraid of garlic and he’s kind of cold. Other than that everything is the same and you couldn’t ask for anyone better. You cannot imagine spending your life with anyone else, except… it would be only your life going on.

which wasn’t a problem… right?

𓆩♱𓆪 teaser word count: 1.4k

Comment on this post if you want to be added to the tag list!!

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Jungkook was extremely nervous.

This was a conversation he had meant to have for a long time. A year, maybe longer. He always found reasons to delay it, to avoid it. It wasn’t going to be a problem telling you; he had gotten the go-ahead from everyone. Actually, he’d had it for over a year now, but their approval didn’t matter. What mattered was what came after he told you.

Were you going to freak out? Would you believe him? Would you be mad?

A million different scenarios had run through his head all week about how this could go. The possibilities gnawed at him so deeply that he had unintentionally been avoiding you. Not responding to texts or calls as quickly. Avoiding hanging out or dates. It was entirely out of character. The longest the two of you had ever gone without seeing each other was five days, and that was only because of a vacation. Now, over a week had passed, and his silence was suffocating you.

You didn’t think anything was wrong but this sudden distraction and silence from Jungkook was freaking you out. Had you done something or said something to make Jungkook mad? Did you do something that was upsetting? Was he just not feeling it anymore? You had broached the topic of moving in together recently and you wondered if that had made Jungkook uneasy. Everything seemed fine up until now. Almost perfect even, then suddenly Jungkook had completely distanced himself.

You were jumping to the worst conclusions, the biggest one, a break up. Which is what you had been emotionally preparing for. Jungkook was going to dump you and you would just have to deal with that. Easily, you could already feel this would be the biggest break up of your life. The both of you had already shared and done so much together, you couldn’t imagine giving yourself to someone else the same way.

That’s when Jungkook said he wanted to come over tonight to talk about something, you were doing everything in your power to keep yourself composed. You had been shaking and anxious since you got the text.

Even worse when you get the knock on the door.

With your hands still shaking and your heart pounding in your ears. You twist the knob and pull the door open, Jungkook standing with a soft smile on his face standing in front of you. The smile disarming you slightly.

“Hi,” you said, forcing a smile back as you tried to hide the storm brewing inside you.

“Hi baby.” Jungkook hesitates a step forward, but can sense some unease coming from you. “Can I come in?”

You hadn’t realized that you hadn’t opened the door enough that he could enter. You clear your throat, “Yes… obviously.” You open the door and step to the side so he can come in. The pet name was a good sign but you are still on edge.

As he walked in, the silence in your studio apartment felt deafening. Every creak of the floorboards, every breath you took, seemed to echo. You closed the door, the sound reverberating through the small space, amplifying the tension. Jungkook paused in the middle of the room, uncharacteristically quiet, his steps heavy with unspoken words.

You moved around him, trying to read his face. He looked tired and conflicted, his teeth tugging at his bottom lip. He avoided your gaze. With your anxiety spiking, you retreated to the bed, the only real place to sit in your tiny space. Perched on the edge, you gripped the blanket beneath you like a lifeline.

“You wanted to talk?” Your voice was a little hoarse. Feeling like your entire body was about to start shaking.

Jungkook nodded, his fingers fidgeting as if searching for something to anchor him. “I… I don’t really know how to say this,” he began, pacing back and forth. “I’ve been thinking about this for so long, and now that I’m here, I… I don’t know how.”

The growing sense of dread in your chest felt unbearable. You couldn’t take it anymore. “If…” You paused, swallowing the lump in your throat. “If you’re just going to dump me, please don’t drag it out. Just say it.”

Jungkook's eyes widened for a moment, “What?”

You look at him, seeing the visible confusion on his face. “That’s what this is right? You wanted to talk… and that typically means you want to end things.”

“Y/N.” Jungkook starts but with a wave of your hand you cut him off.

“No, it’s okay. If that’s what this is, it's fine, just please don’t make me wait to hear it.” You hadn’t realized but you were digging your fingers into your mattress now. So hard your knuckles had gone white.

Jungkook paused for a second before he laughed, tilting his head. Eyes sympathetic. “Oh baby.” He comes over and kneels on the ground in front of you.

“Don’t laugh at me.” You whine, his smile felt almost mocking now.

“I’m not laughing at you. I’m not breaking up with you.” Jungkook sighs, he reaches and takes your hands in yours. Lacing your fingers together, “I love you, I don’t want to break up.”

You stay silent, his face has returned to its familiar soft nature versus the stressed one a moment ago. He wasn’t lying. “What?”

“We aren’t breaking up.” Jungkook kisses both of your hands, soothingly. Holding them close. Watching your face morph from concern to relaxation as his words settle in. “Why would you think that?”

You let out a heavy sigh you didn’t realize you were holding in, “Oh… We had talked about moving in. I thought I had freaked you out or something and you were going to bolt.”

Jungkook laughed some more, just a quiet laugh under his breath. “You really think asking me to move in together freaked me out? We basically live together already.”

Your mouth falls into a pout, “I don’t know! You were all quiet and weird! I didn’t see you this week and you were barely talking to me!” You lay back on your bed, covering your face with your hands. Maybe you did jump to too many conclusions, but all the behavior this week was weird.

Jungkook gets to his feet but lays down next to you on your bed. “I do have something to tell you and it is serious. I just didn’t know how I wanted to tell you yet so I didn’t want to talk to you until I figured out how I wanted to do it.” He rested his hand on your stomach, wanting to pull you closer but letting you stay where you were.

You peak between your fingers to look at him. Jungkook's eyes are full of love only for you and no malicious intent behind them. “Is it going to give me a heart attack? Like the one you almost just gave me?”

Jungkook shakes his head. “Might be confusing but hopefully no heart attack.”

“Well tell me. I can handle basically any news you have for me now.” You both sit back up on your bed. You pull your legs under you so your legs are crossed together.

Jungkook paused. Now he really had to face the music. You could tell whatever it was really was serious and probably wasn’t going to be easy. He just needed to do it. He just needed to rip the band aid off and say it. Get it off his chest. There was no easy way to say it, and he would spend a lifetime explaining if he needed to.

“Okay.” He stayed quiet for a moment, “I-... shit this is hard.”

You watched as he figured this out in his mind. You could tell he was really jumping through hoops. “You’re not pregnant right? I’m not ready to be a dad.”

You laugh at your own joke but Jungkook just rolls his eyes with a smile. Knowing you aren’t serious and just trying to break the tension. “This is serious!”

“Sorry. Take your time. You know you can say anything to me.” You say with sincerity, reaching a hand to rub his arm.

“I know.” He nodded, “It just changes a lot.”

“Okay now you are really making me nervous.” You shift uncomfortably on the bed, you really hoped something wasn’t seriously wrong. Like he was sick or something.

He looks between your eyes for a moment, the whole nature of the relationship you two had built will change. Everything that you knew would suddenly be different. That terrified him. He couldn’t predict what would happen next. He can say everything perfect and could be just right and still not know what you would do next.

He just needed to say it.

“I’m… I’m a vampire.” Jungkook whispers.

Your eyebrows knit together, “What?”

Jungkook takes in a long long deep breath, meeting your eyes. “I’m a vampire.”

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A/N: Happy New Year Everyone!!! This was one of the surprises I had for the new year! This is going to be a four part mini series that I have wanted to do for a couple of months!! I hope you all will enjoy it!! I'm not sure when the first part will be posted but I wanted to get the teaser out in the new year so you all could get a little sneak peak (I adore these two and I know you all will love them too, they are so silly).

I was really wanting to do an established relationship but didn't want to do a full story so this will fulfill that for me hehehe. Oh also every chapter is going to be very long so the updates may take some time but will be full of so much content.

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eddiesxangel · 1 year ago

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That’s that me, Espresso | rockstar!eddie

@mmunson86 requested: I can’t stop thinking about rockstar!Eddie x pop!Princess! reader! & its all thanks to miss SC & Espresso! Imagine they are at one of her concerts right right & she has Eddie sit in the middle of the stage! she is about to debut this song its the last song for the night and she dances on him , for him , around him & Eddie is loosing his mind so right after the concert he wastes no time and takes her into the dressing room & the rest well you know the rest 🙂‍↔️💗

Cw: modern au, Rockstar!Eddie x Pop!princes wife reader. Age gap, Eddie is a filthy simp for his girl, soft!Dom Eddie (sir), oral (f receiving), p in v (unprotected), small bit of anal fingering. Talks of pregnancy.

2.3kwords

We are back baby!!! From the Wildflower universe, if you want more of the lore on these two.

“You ready, Angel?” Your husband smiles at you.

Husband, it still has a nice ring to it. You’ve been married just under a year. Giving birth to your little one put the wedding on the back burner, but you started the wedding planning once Lila Rose was 7 months old.

“Yeah, I think so,” you smile. You’re already in your hair and makeup, just waiting for your turn to get on stage.

The rowdy crowd of music festival goers grow impatient as the crew tirelessly works to remove the previous acts' set design.

“You think they’re going to like the new song?” You fiddle with the bedazzled mic in your hands.

“You kidding me? They’re going to love it!”

Eddie always encouraged your work, even if it wasn’t his thing. He loved every song because it was yours.

“All performers take their mark,” you hear the stage director in your ear.

You give Eddie one quick kiss and make your way to the stage.

The set went perfectly, but the riding anticipation of the new single was still in the back of your mind.

“Okay, Coachella! I’m going to need you to help me out with something.” You smile. “This is my last song of the night, and it’s brand new, so I’m a bit nervous.” You pace the stage.

“Now I have a special someone backstage with me, and I know he won’t come out unless we pressure him, so I’m going to need your help, okay?” you walk over to side stage and look him in the eye

You knew he would kill you, but you needed him for the extra moral support, and you kinda had a plan up your sleeve.

“Come on out, Eddie, baby,” you smile, and the crow starts to chant Eddie’s name.

Feeling embarrassed and a bit proud of you for getting what you wanted. Eddie stocks onto the stage, giving a small wave, not wanting this to be about him.

“Sit,” you speak into the mic and point to the fold-out chair in centre stage.

Eddie sits, and before he can protest anymore, he hears the first few beats of the music.

“Nice,” you sing in your breathy tone your husband can’t get enough of.

Now he's thinkin' 'bout me every night, oh Is it that sweet? I guess so Say you can't sleep, baby, I know That's that me, espresso Move it up, down, left, right, oh Switch it up like Nintendo

Eddie really loved that last lyric. He thought it was very clever of you because he knew it was about him and how he eats you out.

Say you can't sleep, baby, I know That's that me, espresso.

You and your dancers moved to the beat without missing a step.

I can't relate to desperation My 'give a fucks' are on vacation And I got this one boy

You turn to your husband and wink.

And he won't stop calling

You take a few short steps around to the back of the chair.

When they act this way

You lean in from behind and run your free hand down his shoulder to his chest and back up.

I know I got 'em

You swear you hear him moan.

I'm working late 'cause I'm a singer

You twirl your hair around your finger, then summon Eddie to come closer.

Oh, he looks so cute wrapped around my finger

He gets up and follows you like a puppy as you strut across the stage. My twisted humor, make him laugh so often My honey bee, come and get this pollen.

You flick up the edge of your mini skirt, and Eddie can see the lacy underwear beneath your stockings.

He needs this song to be over so he can finally have you. You've been rehearsing for this moment for months now. Stressing over it and with the baby, you and him have had hardly any time to have sex like you used to.

He's thinkin' 'bout me every night, oh Is it that sweet? I guess so Say you can't sleep, baby, I know That's that me, espresso Move it up, down, left, right, oh Switch it up like Nintendo Say you can't sleep, baby, I know That's that me, espresso

Eddie is back in his seat by the second bridge, and your dancing is driving him absolutely crazy. You know what you are doing. He can see it in your eyes; your mischievous gaze tells him you had this all planned out. You probably faked being nervous just to get him out here so you could seduce him.

Eddie was losing the battle of not getting hard in front of the thousands of fans watching. He couldn't help it; his bombshell of a wife was so irresistible.

Is it that sweet? I guess so That's that me, espresso

Eddie listened as you thanked the crowd. He took your hand and yanked you off stage once he thought it had been enough time for your final bow, letting you soak in this moment before he whisked you away.

“Eddie!” You squeal while trying to keep up with him in your platform go-go boots.

“Gotta have, you know,” he growls in your ear so only you can hear.

“Really baby? I worked you up that much?” You swoon.

After all this time, Eddie still makes your heart flutter. You never thought soulmates existed, but when you met Eddie, all that changed- especially after having his baby. The way he was with your newborn had you wanting to jump his bones before the doctor okayed you for sex again.

The trailer was close but not close enough in Eddie’s eyes. A thin sheen of sweat was starting to form on Eddie’s brow, and he couldn’t tell if it was from the hot Californian sun or the fact that his cock was about to bust through his jeans, and he was trying not to have anyone notice.

“Get out,” Eddie commands as the trailer door swings back. Eddie opens it so hard.

Your team looks startled as you and Eddie enter the small space.

You give them an apologetic look and they place down their stuff and leave you both alone.

“You were perfect up there.” he pulls you in for a kiss. “So fucking proud of you.” He kisses down your neck.

“Mmmm, thank you, baby”

“You’re a goddamn succubus, you know that, Angel?” Eddie shuts the door behind them and locks it before drawing the blinds.

“Is that right? Mr. Munson.”

“Oh, it is, Mrs. Munson.” Eddie pulls you in by the waist for a heated kiss. Still, after all this time, you both were so greedy for one another. Nothing can ever break the bond between the both of you… not again.

“God, Angel, you were a goddamn tease on that stage; you got me looking like a simp.”

You pull back, curious as to where he had heard that term.

“Simp?”

“VR tells me things.” Violet Rose, Eddie's oldest, whom you’ve adopted, is now twenty two.

“Okay, old man,” you giggle, and he walks you back to the sofa in the trailer’s back corner.

“Enough talking, more kissing.”

Your tailored dress, made just for you, was not easy to strip. Eddie was having a hell of a time trying to get out of it, only to groan when he saw your pantyhose as another barrier.

“Why do they make these things so tight.” He grumbles as you giggle at him.

“You weren’t complaining about it ten minutes ago,” you snide.

“Don’t make me put you over my knee.” He smirks.

“No, Sir,” you put your lip.

Finally, once you are out of your garments, Eddie kneels right between your legs.

“Baby, you’re going to hurt your knees,” You push his long hair back. “Why don’t we go -OH - to the couch” Not listening, his lips are already on your throbbing cunt.

The plus from your clit was relieved as Eddie’s tongue grazes it before quickly lapping and flicking at it.

“Oh fuck!” Your legs buckle, and your grip on Eddie’s hair tightens. He growls at the pain in his scalp, but he loves it all the same.

You feel his tongue go down, then to the left, then the right and finally circles your clit.

“Mmmmm, tastes so good, Angel”

“Please don’t stop!”

You feel Eddie's skilled tongue glide through your slick folds before you feel his hands nudge your legs, signalling to open them wider.

Eddie’s thick long fingers pump up into your warm wet cunt until you’re losing the battle to say upright. Your body is hunched over as Eddie sends waves of pleasure through you.

“Mmmm, that’s it, that’s my good girl. Cum for me.” The pads of his fingers graze you g spot each time. He doesn’t stop until he knows you are satisfied.

“That was a big one, baby; singing for me, go, you all worked up, didn’t it?” He stands and leads you to the couch until you’re lying down, legs spread nice and wide for him.

“Mmmhmmm,” you hum as you watch Eddie finally strip.

His body never looked better; he wants to be the healthiest to watch your baby grow up and maybe put another one in you soon.

“You ready for me, sweetheart?”

“Yes, sir, more than ready.” And it was true; it’s been a few weeks since you’ve had time to have sex, and it was long overdue.

All the pent-up sexual tension between the both of you is finally being released when Eddie's hard cock slides into yours effortlessly.

“Fuck I missed my pussy, baby girl.” His head tilts back, and you take the opportunity to suck on his neck, just as you know he likes it.

“So fucking beautiful” his cock pumped in and quickly backed out.

The tip of his dick ring never failed to make you see stars. Already you’re a moaning mess for him, cock drunk, and it’s not even been a minute yet.

“There she is, there’s my good girl” Eddie palms your tit as he continues to thrust deep inside of you. He watches your eyes roll to the back of your head, blissed out by how he makes you feel.

“More” you moan.

“More what?”

“Sir, please, I need you. Baby, I love you. I love you, please, I need it.” You babble.

Eddie's heart swells. He loves you so much he would give you the moon and stars if he could. Hearing you love him, especially when the two of you are like this, really makes him kick into high gear.

He will never take for granted those three words when you say them to him; your past is too painful not to.

“Tell me what you need, baby girl.”

“Fill me.” You pull him down into a kiss. Your tongue explores his mouth.

His hand that was planted on your waist is now travelling lower to your ass.

“This what you wanted, baby? All of your holes filled?” His finger teases your puckered hole.

“Yes!” You gasp.

“I think that can be arranged. Suck” he points his finger at your face, and you take as much of it in your mouth. You suck on it until it’s dripping with your saliva.

“Such a dirty girl, letting me fuck you and play with your ass hole.” His finger slowly glides in, and he pumps it to match the rhythm of his thrusts. “Isn’t that right?”

“Yes, sir!”

“God, I love you.” Eddie can’t help but to fuck you frivolously. The sound of wet skin slapping together filled the thin walls of the trailer.

“Please, please, please.” You were so close you could feel the pit building.

The pressure of his piercing brushing your g spot with every heavy thrust, each shape snap of his hips making him slide deep inside-mixed with the pressure of his finger pressed deep inside of you was bringing you to the edge of bliss.

“You going to come when I tell you to, Angel?”

“I can’t-can’t hold it!”

“Yes, you can,” he growls.

“F-fuck,” you curse him. You can’t hold it for much longer.

“Mmm, that’s right, babygirl. You’re going to listen to what I tell you.”

Your pussy naturally grips Eddie's cock so tight he almost loses it.

“Please, Sir. I want to cum. Please!”

The look in your eyes has Eddie reeling. The way you beg and submit to him, his perfect girl. His perfect wife, the perfect mother to his children.

“Cum” he growls, and you let out a cry of relief.

With your arms wrapped around the back of Eddie's neck, you pull him down into you on instinct. His body weight pressed into you, and your cunt grips his cock so deliciously Eddie is coming with you.

“Shit, baby girl, I think you nearly killed me that time,” Eddie chuckles as his legs give out and his total weight collapses on top of you.

You giggle dumbly as Eddie plants kisses all over your face.

You look up; his face is red and sweaty, but he’s never looked more beautiful.

“That was long overdue.” You sigh with relief.

“You’re telling me,” he chuckles with you.” “Let’s get you cleaned up, mama.”

“You trying to knock me up, Munson?” Deep down, you’d love to have another baby.

“What if I was?” He looks back over his shoulder, catching you checking out his juicy ass.

“Then I’d say we should keep practicing.”

“Wait for real?”

“You’re no,t getting any younger, “ you giggle.

“Oh, you little minx, you’re in for it.” He runs back towards you, lifts you off the couch, and plops you in his lap.

“I’m sorry!” You laugh as Eddie tickles your sides.

“You really want to start trying?” He asks genuinely.

“Yeah,” you nod.

“Guess it’s time for round two, gotta make sure it really sticks.”

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#eddie Munson x reader #Eddie Munson x you #Eddie Munson smut #rockstar!eddie x reader #rockstar!eddie munson #rockstar!eddie x you #rockstar!eddiemunson #rockstar!eddie Munson smut #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson x female reader #Eddie Munson x popstar!reader #wildflower #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x fem!reader smut #Eddie Munson #Spotify

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tommydarlings · 1 month ago

Text

Face slapping | l.n

—★ dom!lando x sub!reader

—★ smut, face slapping (obviously), chocking, sucking on fingers, lots of spit

—★ 1.5k

—★ Even though you knew that lando wouldn’t judge you for anything, you were still nervous to tell him about your favorite kink which was getting slapped across the face — but it turned out that your dear boyfriend just knew you too well. (based off of this request !)

check this out: MASTERLIST | KO-FI | PATREON | CARRD

Lando and you always had a great sex life. It was fun, quite adventurous and you always enjoyed it, no matter if you did it in bed, on the kitchen counter, or hastily on the soft carpet in the living room, you literally did it almost everywhere.

And you felt no shame for it, neither of you did.

But what you did feel a bit of shame for, was the fact that there was a specific thing you were curious to try with him in bed — or on the kitchen counter or wherever…

Slapping.

Just getting — preferably not so gently — smacked across the face by him while he’s pounding into you.

It sounded like a wet dream to you, one that you’ve been having for a while now but never dared to mention in Lando‘s presence.

Even though that was stupid because your boyfriend was always willing to try everything with you in bed, no matter what, you only needed to suggest it nicely to him and he would immediately be down for it.

Honestly, he would be down for everything that involved you in combination with sex.

Now you were here, eating a nice dinner together with your man in your expansive and modern kitchen, your eyes not leaving his veiny hands.

“I mean I’m aware that you love my hands but why have you been staring at them like that for the past ten minutes, baby?“ he raised one of his brows.

You gulped briefly before you finally looked away, “Oh, n-no reason a-at all,“ you replied quickly.

Your boyfriend grinned as he put his fork down, “no? No reason at all you say?“

You shook your head, “Nope,“ you looked at him again, “no specific reason, you know I love your hands,“ you shrugged like it was no big deal but Lando knew that there was more to it, that this was a big deal.

The McLaren driver leaned back in his chair, his eyes never leaving your face, the pad of his fingers tapping against the surface of the desk.

You bit your lip as soon as he got up, your eyes staying on your plate.

Lando smirked down at your sitting figure, “You can tell me everything, you know?“ he mumbled deeply.

“I know,“ you replied quietly.

He tilted his head to the side as he stood next to you, “I’m not sure if you know, my love,“ he suddenly raised his hand and slowly trailed the back of his fingers up your arm until he reached your neck,

“You have a question? Just ask me, baby… I’m not gonna bite or smack you for it,“ but at the mention of the word smacking, you tensed up, sitting up a bit straighter as you clenched your thighs under the table.

And Lando was unfortunately smart enough to pick that up.

He smirked a bit, “I’m not gonna bite you…“ he tested if it was the first or the second thing he mentioned, “or smack you across your pretty little face,“ and there it was again.

Your boyfriend grinned almost proudly, the back of his finger now running along your soft cheek, “smacking huh? Why didn’t you say anything earlier?“ he asked in a serious tone.

You gulped, still a bit tense, “I don’t know what you’re talking-”

“You're clenching your thighs under the table, baby…“ he looked down at your thighs before his gaze stopped on your clothed pussy.

After a teasing amount of silence, Lando gripped your chin and turned your head so you were forced to look up at him, his grip rather tight, “do you want me to smack your pretty face?“

You briefly looked down and gulped heavily before you put your eyes back on his handsome face and nodded slowly.

He shook his head, “I need words, open that pretty mouth, baby c’mon,“ he tapped your bottom lip with the pad of his thumb,

“Yes,“ you whispered.

“Yes what?“

You glared at him for a second, “Yes, I want you to smack me across the face,“ and Lando grinned, happily nodding along to your sinful words.

And then he already grabbed your upper arm, pulled you out of your chair and dragged you over to the big couch.

———

You thought your dirty fantasies were sinful, but your boyfriend pounding into you was even more sinful, no doubt in that.

Both of you were a moaning mess. He was groaning and breathing heavily as he moved his hips in steady and quick motions, one of his hands bending your leg to keep them open for him while the other one was rather tightly around your throat, choking you.

After some time, you rolled your eyes into the back of your head with a loud groan, “oh f-fuck, baby,“ you arched your back, “please!“

He looked down at you, his cock filling your wet pussy so perfectly, “what, huh? What do you want, baby?“ he murmured, his thumb pressing down onto your pulse point.

You gulped as you took a deep breath,

“You know… w-what I want,“ you glared at him for a second, your tits bouncing at his quick movements.

But then it already happened.

As soon as you finished your sentence, he smacked you across the face, once on the right cheek and then on the left cheek, leaving both of them a bit red.

You gasped loudly before you grinned, genuinely loving it, “don‘t ever look at me like that again, yeah? You have absolutely no right to have an attitude right now,“ he told you before he slapped your face a third time, making your head shoot to the side once again.

And you loved it — how could you not?

“Ah fuck,“ you groaned in a higher tone before he quickly bend down and kissed you deeply, still ramming his big cock into your clenching hole.

Lando chuckled as soon as he pulled away,

“You like that, huh?“ he quickly kissed both of your reddened cheeks before he slapped the left one and then the right one, always giving both of them their deserved attention.

You groaned and nodded with a wide smile, your one hand holding your leg to give him better access, the other one holding onto his arm, occasionally squeezing the skin.

Lando wore a smug look on his handsome face as he watched you nod your head, “Yeah? Oh you’re a little whore aren’t you?“

The young driver adjusted his position a bit, his thumb caressing your red cheek, “another one?” he asked quietly.

You pouted playfully before you nodded.

Quickly, your boyfriend put his other hand around your throat again, choked you and then slapped your already red cheeks again, watching with a focused expression how your face turned from one side to the other.

“You love that so much, it’s… crazy,“ he chuckled deeply, quickly smacking you again before he softly caressed your red cheeks.

After some time, you nodded,

“I-I know,“ you gulped and gasped, his hand around your throat making all of this even more of a challenge but you couldn’t complain.

Lando glanced down at his cock disappearing in your pussy, his right hand squeezing your throat, his left one still slapping your red and wet cheeks.

You watched as his lips parted in a quiet moan, his brows furrowed in pleasure and concentration, “you feel so fucking good, baby,” he breathed heavily, his pointer and middle finger tapping onto your bottom lip, silently asking you to open your mouth.

And you immediately did — and he wasted no time and shoved the two long digits into your mouth, running them along your tongue before shoving them down your throat that he was still squeezing then and there.

“That’s a good girl,“ he said in a raspy tone as he continued pounding into you, bringing you closer and closer to the sweet release with each passing second.

You threw your head back after he pulled his fingers out of your mouth, a small string of saliva making its appearance between your tongue and the pads of his fingers, making you grin a bit.

“Look at that, baby,“ he quickly smeared it all over your lips before he slapped you again, making your head shoot to the side.

The McLaren driver smirked, “So messy, yet so pretty,“ your boyfriend leaned down and crashed his lips against yours, kissing you messily and deeply.

“Cum for me, c’mon… I can feel that you‘re close,“ he whispered against your wet lips, continually gently slapping your left cheek.

With loud gasps for air and trembling legs, you let go, cumming hard around his cock.

Lando nodded, “Just like that,“ he groaned quietly, his hand briefly squeezing your throat before he grabbed your leg, kissing the inner side of your calf, his eyes never leaving your beautiful but messed up face.

“You enjoyed that?“ he asked you as he noticed that you started to calm down again — and you quickly nodded.

“Good, I did too,“ Lando mumbled before he leaned forward and gently kissed your cheeks.

#fanfic #fanfiction #lando x reader #lando norris x reader #lando norris x reader smut #lando norris imagine #lando norizz #lando #lando norris #f1 #smut #f1 x reader #formula 1 #f1 2025 #f1 fic #f1 imagine #f1 fanfic #f1 smut #classic f1

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ryusuisloveinterest · 6 months ago

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Dr. Stone headcanons of the Wise Generals' sleeping habits? Pretty please🥺

hello 🦕 anon! So sorry for the wait but I hope you enjoy the little headcanons! Just imagining this was so cute to me so I really hope you enjoy!🫶

5 wise generals sleeping habits 💤💞

Senku:

I think Senku would actually have a pretty good sleep schedule

He needs the right amount of sleep to use his brain to the fullest

As for sleeping in general he’s a side sleeper

He hates laying on his back and hate laying on his stomach

He’s not a cuddler AT FIRST

But as time goes on he gets a bit more clingy

First it’s just hand holding

Then it was intertwined legs

But one night he woke up and you weren’t there

He walks around the hut (if it’s the Stone Age) or the house (if it’s modern or 4d science) looking for you

He kinda gets nervous until he sees you coming out of the bathroom

He chuckles as you follow him

As soon as you both lay in bed he locks you with his arms and legs and you’ve both slept like that ever since

Chrome:

Chrome tries to have a good schedule, but his mind just wakes him up in the middle of the, curious about many things he’s yet to learn

You’ll often find him messing with his rocks or just sitting up and looking outside

“Oh I’m sorry did I wake you? I just couldn’t sleep.”

A lot of times you’ll just sit with him and let him ramble or you slowly drag him back to bed

There are some nights where you’ll fall asleep while you guys are talking and either you’ll wake up in the same spot you fell asleep in or you “magically” end up back in your bed

The few times Chrome doesn’t wake up he’s a heavy HEAVY sleeper

I’m talking like the world could literally be ending and he’s still somehow asleep

He’s an everywhere sleeper. As in his body is all over the place when he’s asleep

You two will start off cuddling but by the end of the night Chrome’s horizontal to the bed with his waist all twisted up and his arms all over the place

You might even accidentally get punched or kicked once or twice💀

Gen:

Gen can just magically falls asleep

He doesn’t even show signs of being tired he’ll just be like, “goodnight y/n” and then knock out

He doesn’t really have a sleep schedule but always gets his 8 hours or more

Like some nights he goes to bed at 8 but then wakes up at 7 or he goes to bed at midnight and wakes up at 11 in the morning

I say he’s either a normal side sleeper or he sleeps in the fetal position

Sometimes he’s cuddly and other times he’s not

He’s either all up on you, just holding your hand, or just close

Ukyo:

I think Ukyo would still kinda have his military sleep schedule engraved in him somehow

From what very little I know about the military there’s the same rise and shine and nighty nighty all the time so expect Ukyo to have the same schedule every single day

I think he’s a light sleeper so try your best not to toss and turn

He likes to sleep on his side or on his back

His breathing is very light so it literally sounds like he’s dead some nights

It’s genuinely concerning

He loves cuddling, unless you move around a lot, then it’s harder for him to sleep

Massage his head and he’s out

He’s honestly like a cat, just so satisfied when you rub his head

Ryusui:

What’s a sleep schedule 😀

He either goes to bed at a reasonable time or is just up for days straight with little naps here and there

“My desire doesn’t sleep! So why should I?”

I swear

You have to pull him to bed

When he FINALLY lays down, he’s all over you

Like you like your personal space, but he LOVES it

He’ll either be holding you, or you’re on top of him, or he’s on top of you, or some other weird position

I hope your body’s normally cold cause his body runs extremely hot, so if you run cold then it’s more bearable

Has the cutest little snore

I wouldn’t even consider it that it’s just a little squeak he kinda makes when sleeping

Sometimes he sleeps the whole night, other times he wakes up and starts doing something

If you choose to stay up with him because he would never make you he’ll share his thoughts and desires with you

But if you stay asleep you’ll feel a light kiss on your head and hear a small “I love you” before he’s off doing who knows what

#dr stone #dcst #dr stone headcanons #dr stone x reader #senku ishigami x reader #senku ishigami #chrome dr stone #chrome x reader #gen asagiri #gen asagiri x reader #ukyo saionji #ukyo saionji x reader #ryusui nanami x reader #ryusui nanami headcanons #ryusui nanami

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acotarxreader · 1 year ago

Text

Other Worlds

Azriel x reader

Synopsis: Nesta accidentally pulls you from our realm into theirs and a certain Spymaster can't help but be enamoured.

Original Request: "So I was wondering if you could do like Reader is from the modern world but ends up in the ACOTAR world, and ends up like falling in love with one of batboys."

Warnings: Fluff, mentions of cuts from a fall, my silly wordplay

A/N: I loved writing this, it really had me in my silly sense of humor (at one point Azriel is jealous because he thinks Xanax is a person) and just like also so happy to have written my first request! I hope you like it Anon and tolerate my silliness.

------------------------------------------------------------------

“Do you think she’s dead?”

“Hard to say, you fall that height and would expect it” Nesta gently rocked the body back and forth with the sole of her shoe and you groaned.

“This is exactly why you shouldn’t practice without Amren Nesta” Feyre bit out.

“And how was I supposed to know that a human would fall out of the sky? And besides, I did catch her before she hit the ground” Feyre gave a huff to her sister’s bored tone.

“But not before all the trees Nesta”

“Details, details”

“Rhys is gonna kill you, we have to move her before he finds out” Feyre got level with your marbling body, sticks and leaves sticking out of your hair from your fall through the canopy above. Nesta folded her arms across her chest in protest as Feyre rolled you onto your back, a deep whimper escaping your throat.

“Well she’s not dead”

“For now” Nesta raised an amused eyebrow before rolling her eyes and squatting to lift your feet as Feyre caught your shoulders with her own disapproving look.

“Her clothes are so odd, is it continent fashion?”

“Hard to say, the material on her legs is so…dense?” Nesta replied, a thumb rolling over the cuff of your jeans, your Doc Marten burying into her sternum.

The two sisters carried your weak body through the hillside towards the cabin they had retreated to for a break from the Illyrians. They reached the humble home after a small uphill climb in the Winter air and gently placed you down on the couch again. The two stood then at the foot of the couch, unsure of what to do next with their new house guest, a thud from outside followed by a swear interrupting their thoughts.

“Shit it's Azriel with the food supplies you forgot”

“You forgot” Feyre returned

“Whatever, here help me cover her” The two sisters sheathed you in a thick woollen blanket as Azriel pushed through the door causing the females to shoot straight up, standing shoulder to shoulder to try to hide you behind them.

“Hey, I dropped a bottle of liquor on the path sor- what are you two doing?” he looked suspiciously at the two, plopping the crate of food down by the mouth of the door.

“Nothing!” their heads snapped to one another at the same time, cursing their simultaneous reply.

“You two have the same look on your face that Cassian had when he was trying to hide the blood ruby he got from Summer Court after his experiment with arson” he gave a laugh that turned nervous when the females didn’t do the same, another almost panicked glance shared between them.

“Well if that’s all Az, thanks for coming” Feyre made a quick movement to Azriel, catching his shoulders and turning him back towards the door, Nesta taking a wide stance to try to obscure more of you.

“Fucking hell” your voice rattled out in pain as you pushed to sit up, the wool sinking down to your lap as your heavy hand found your bleeding head. Azriel’s eyes grew to nearly the width of his skull as he looked frantically between Nesta and Feyre.

“She did it!” they said in unison again, pointing to one another.

“Oh Rhys is going to kill you” he whispered angrily, moving to the couch as Nesta sidestepped, throwing an anxious look at Feyre.

“Whe-re the fuck a-m I? What happ-ened?” your hand traced through your thick hair, branches catching in the locks. You squeezed your eyes together tightly, trying to bring the cozy cabin into focus before swinging your legs to the ground and supporting your weight with one arm. Your movement went entirely still as you looked up to find the three members of the Night Court staring at you with matching bewilderment.

“Am-am I dead?” Your stare landed on Azriel’s wings, conclusions forming quickly.

“No unfortunately not” Feyre elbowed Nesta into the ribs as Azriel analysed your whole figure with his hazel eyes, his shadows swirled around his feet until they wrapped around yours. Your shriek of pure terror caused them to dash back to their master.

“You're okay!” Azriel tried but it was too late, you were in full panic mode, your system shutting down in utter distress until you felt your blood pressure hit the soles of your feet after hitting the ceiling, sending you into a loss of consciousness.

“Nice going you big bat, you killed her” Azriel gave a dirty look towards Nesta, her eyes rolling for the thousandth time that day.

“Send for Madja-”

“-Rhys will kill Nesta for this”

“Well I think her little magic trick will die without her” Feyre folded her arms into her chest, weighing up the options.

“We could give her the tonic that's here, let her heal without everyone gawking at her at home. I’ll go back with Nesta and explain, by the time we’re here again perhaps she’ll be healed and Amren will be home from her travels and can send her back”

“And am I supposed to play healer Feyre?”

“Well you have more experience with healing because of the battlefield than us and besides, Nesta isn’t known for her bedside manner” Azriel sighed before rubbing a hand across his face at Feyre’s logic, she showed him how you got here in his head to help her point.

“Okay fine, go but if she dies, I’m not to blame” They nodded in agreement, taking another look at your floppy body before heading for the door with their things, kicking the box of supplies out of the way.

Azriel lifted your legs slowly back onto the couch before fetching a dish full of mountain water and healing tonic. He hovered the cloth over one of your large gashes that had cut straight through your straight-leg jeans. He looked over your body, unable to hide his curiosity towards the university logo decorating your sweatshirt, the deep purple colouring at the very ends of your hair as well as the multiple pieces of metal piercing through your ear's cartilage. Despite the series of cuts and bruises generously coating you, Azriel believed you might be the most beautiful creature he had ever seen and you were entirely out for the count.

He sighed, dropping the cloth back into the dish and going to make tea with another healing concoction. He rolled his shoulders back and tucked his wings in as tight as possible to minimise their appearance before gently tapping your shoulder to bring you around. When that didn’t work, he fetched one of Cassian’s training boots and ran it beneath your nose, you stirred immediately. You went to shoot up in shock, his strong steady hand, gently pressing you back down.

“You’re okay, you…you just fell but you’re okay.” he said as softly as possible, the ease of his voice unable to settle the rising worry across your face.

“I-I fell?” he gave you a small nod, not entirely a lie he thought to himself.

“Fucking hell my head-” you once again ran your hands down your face, the dry blood slightly flaking in the movement “-do you have any paracetamol or something?”

“Para-what-almol?” Azriel’s eyebrow raised in question before he reached for the tea he made for you from the small table behind him. You removed your hands from your face and looked towards the squatting Illyrian, taking in the beautiful male in front of you, pain being replaced by embarrassment. You pushed up despite his disapproval look, returning to the same position you were in before you fainted.

“Sorry, I should-I should go? Emm…where are we?”

“This is Velaris”

“Velentia?! How did I get here?!” You shot to your feet in surprise, the blood rushing and sending you shakenly back to the soft fabric almost as quickly.

“No, I’m not sure where that is but you’re not there, here take this” he passed the cup with a half laugh and you looked down unconvinced.

“No thanks man, not here to be poisoned” Azriel scoffed in slight offense as he watched you wince to put it back on the small table. You look down at your freshly ripped jeans, your fingers tracing the fresh wounds.

“I’m Azriel” His voice brought your eyes back to him as he passed you the soaked cloth, allowing you to run it over the gashes.

“YN” You gave a small smile back, fighting the singe of the elixir.

“YN? That’s an odd name”

“You say that as if there’s an Azriel at every petrol station in town” You half laugh, more questions entering Azriel’s head than answers. Azriel rose to his feet and headed into the kitchen with the abandoned groceries as you finished with your leg, starting on your forehead.

“No paper here or something?” Azriel looked towards you as you took the cabin in in all its glory, Feyre’s artwork the object of your marvelling.

“They’re Feyre’s, she was here earlier. She went a bit mad up here when she found out Rhysand was her mate”

“Mate? Oh she’s like Australian?”

“What? You speak in riddles” he laughed, joining your side on the couch with his own cup of tea. You looked at it with an air of hunger, not unnoticed by the Spymaster, he looked from the cup to your face.

“You can drink it YN, it’s not poisoned, here look I’ll take a sip” You watched him take a taste before offering it back to you where you took it from him, its fresh floral taste having an almost reviving effect, you drank it almost one gulp.

“Now, I’m afraid you can’t go home just y-”

“Fuck I knew it! What’s in this tea?! I’m being kidnapped!” You shot towards the door, almost knocking the dish of water all over the floor, sending Azriel swearing. You reached your exit and with a wave of his hand, Azriel locked it from the inside.

“YN, no one is going to hurt you, you just, this is going to be hard to explain, one of my…friends brought you here by accident” You still tried to pull on the knob of the door, glancing from it to Azriel as he stood to close the distance.

“Stay back! I know self-defence!” Azriel couldn’t hold his laugh at the small human girl before him threateningly looking at him. He went to catch your arm softly, only for you to send your heavy-booted Doc straight into his instep, followed by the base of your palm up and into his nose, the shock of your sudden movement catching him off guard. He groaned slightly reaching for his nose as it bled, missing your hand reaching for the keys in your pocket and the mace on the keychain. Azriel roared at the feeling of the spray of chemicals burning into his eyes, sending him onto the floor writhing in pain.

“Fuck! Fine! Die in the snow!” He shouted out, waving his hand and releasing the door. You hardly heard him, whipping the door back as the now night air lashed in near-freezing gails of icy snow. You fought the tornado of air as you put the oak door between you and it, sliding down the wood to the ground, your body screaming in pain still from the fall. Azriel sat up, still blinking hard to clear the burning liquid.

“And you thought I’d be the one to use poison” A breathy laugh left him as his red eyes watered and you found yourself matching his smile.

“I promise I won’t kill you, if you don’t kill me” he gave you a genuine look and for some reason you felt such a wave of trust hit you. You agreed, too tired to run from him or face the snow and you rolled your head along the door before looking back at the Illyrian, tracing your eyes along his linen shirt and leather pants

“Are you in a motorbike gang or something?”

“Gods I hope you start making sense soon” he pushed up from the ground, doing his best to not untuck his wings for balance. You looked up at him and reluctantly took the hand he offered, noting the deep scaring covering them like burls on a tree. He followed your eyes to his hands before he gingerly took them back to replace them across his still-stinging eyes. Azriel threw himself back down on the couch and you followed suit.

“I’m sorry about the-” you gestured to your own eyes and he gave a small laugh.

“It’s okay, I’m impressed a human would have such speed, to be honest”

“Human? And what are you a fish?”

“No” he didn’t return your laughing tone, only reaching for your disregarded cloth and placing it over his eyes. Your hand ran down the side of your jeans until you retrieved your phone, the screen fully destroyed from your dance with the trees.

“Great” you sighed, throwing it down on the table, Azriel watching the action.

“Nesta couldn’t save your mirror from the fall?”

“Nesta? Rhysand? Azriel? No one called like Dave around here?”

“Not really the fashion in Prythian” he smiled.

“Prythian? Like from the children's stories?” you chuckled at him.

“No, Prythian like the realm” he tossed the cloth back into the dish, the red in his eyes subsiding.

“My mom used to tell me stories about Prythian and these like great bat boy warriors with these really big-big-win…” you trailed off as you looked to see the shape of Azriel’s wings over his shoulder.

“Really big? Well, thanks for the flattery” He laughed aloud as your face greyed.

“Fuck, it’s happened, studying for my physics final has finally driven me insane, this is all in my head, a stress-induced dream” Azriel reached to your thigh and gave you a gentle pinch following your matter-of-fact speech, causing you to flinch a little.

“Okay so not a dream…”

“Not a dream, my brother’s lovely ma-wife’s sister, pulled you through a sort of rip in the realm and landed you here…not very carefully might I add” He said softly so as to not have you black out again, you nodded very very slowly to his words. You faced away from him, fixing your stare on the smashed phone, you thought of your physics lectures. The theories of tears in the fabric of time being possible, the possibility of alternative realities, the possibility of unexplored realms before settling finally that this wasn’t a possibility, this was a reality.

“So, okay, right-” you bit your lip, working through the thought, Azriel trying to push the shiver down his spine away at that action “-okay cool, right, so I’m gonna need like an excuse note or something for the exam and then, right, cool, Xanax maybe”

“Is Xanax a friend of yours who can help?” Your head shot towards Azriel at his genuine question and you let a roar of laughter leave you.

“Definitely although I don’t think they’re here somehow” you offered with a smirk, Azriel feeling a weird sense of jealousy at not being the object of this smile.

“Well, we’ll make do and try to get you home” You nodded sheepishly to him.

“Do you not want to go home YN? You seemed pretty eager when you tried to break my nose earlier” he smiled and you gently knocked into his shoulder playfully.

“I mean…I’m not in a rush to get back to the test”

“Okay well, it will be a day or two before my friends are back and Rhys has calmed down over Nesta bringing you to greet us so you’ll have time. As for now, care to have something to eat? You can help me make it so we both know neither is trying to poison the other” he gave a light laugh while standing again, and you followed him along to the kitchen.

For the rest of the night, the both of you spent your time cooking, laughing and teaching one another about your worlds. Azriel explained the Courts, his role and his family’s as well as giving a shortened version of their relationships with one another. In return, you told him about your studies, what Instagram was and how democracy works. Azriel wasn’t sure he’d ever felt such strong feelings towards someone he’d just met before and it confused him almost as much as what microwaves were.

“Here you go, a glass of our best liquor, you deserve it” Azriel passed you the tumbler as you sat cross-legged on the couch beneath the woollen blanket you were previously hidden under.

“Oh slay”

“No, I didn’t kill anything to get this for you” You almost choked on the drink with the laugh that left you at his confused words.

“No Azriel it’s like-actually maybe I’ll explain drag culture to you another day” He nodded eagerly at the prospect of learning more, sinking into the couch alongside you with his own drink.

“So have you girlf-mate type person like Feyre and Rhys?”

“No, no girlf-mate type person-” he teased back and you sighed, clipping him with the pillow from under your elbow “-do you?”

“Nope, to be honest, I don’t think I’ll be missed from home, I lost my parents young and never really found my flock at college either” you shrugged.

“How could anyone not miss you YN?”

“You have to say that, you’re my captor”

“Actually Nesta captured you, I’m just minding you-” You returned his smirk “-speaking of which, time for sleep, tomorrow they should be back to figuring getting you home for your exam” you whined like a misbehaving child but you’d been fighting off sleep since dinner so agreed with him.

He lead you to his room in the cabin before offering you one of his clean linen shirts and leaving you to sleep. You practically swam in the fabric, with no wings or Illyrian muscles to fill it out, feeling the same way about the colossal bed that you slipped into. You looked up at the ceiling where Feyre had painted delicate little consolations, the day washing over you, had all your prayers finally been answered? You smiled as you gave into the sleep that hunted you all day.

----------------------------------

“We are sending her back!”

“Amren can’t guarantee she’ll end up in her realm, she’s not going anywhere!” You wiped the sleep from your eyes, Azriel's blunt tone waking you from the best sleep of your life.

“She can’t stay here Az!”

“And what if she ends up somewhere a lot worse, she coul-oh YN you’re awake” You looked from the doorway between the two gorgeous Illyrians.

“This is Rhysand”

“Oh, your majesty I suppose” you did a half bow after stepping closer to the males, a small laugh leaving Rhysand at the action.

“Don’t flatter him YN”

“YN, flatter me if that would make you happy” he grinned, Azriel rolling his eyes.

“You’re exactly as described” You shrugged at him, settling down on the couch between where the lllyrians stood

“I would like to apologies for Nesta’s…interuption to your day to day life and more so for…probably being all Nesta when you woke up” Rhysand offered, Azriel folding his arms tightly across his chest as he inspected you closely, you in his shirt may now be his favourite sight. Rhysand watched the slight change in his brothers demanour at your presence, this increasing his worry.

“Now YN, it’s time we get you back to-”

“-I heard you guys say you can’t say for certain I’ll get home” you cut across Rhysand, his eyes darting back to you, Azriel trying to bury his smirk.

“I’m confident we know how to get you there”

“Okay cool, so Feyre will accompany me”

“What?” Rhysand bit out.

“Well its just if you’re so sure you’ll get me in the right spot, surely you’ll have no issue allowing Feyre to accompany me yanno, since you’re confident” Azriel lost his battle in holding in his smirk.

“She’s got you there Rhys, if one of us wouldn’t do it, why should she?”

“Because she doesn’t belong here” Rhysand chewed out, locking eyes with his brother.

“She is sitting right here and she isn’t going near any wormhole or whatever if you’re not sure I’d get there safe” You forced his attention back to your with your sharp words.

“Who said anything about worms?”

“YN has a habit of speaking in riddles” Azriel sat alongside you, giving you a somewhat proud smile, his arm instinctively resting on the back of the couch behind you.

“YN, I’m sure you’re great but I can almost guarantee that our world is vastly different to yours, it’s a lot to take on for your mortal mind, perhaps we could arrange a home for you in the mortal realm?” you tilted your head side to side weighing up his offer before Azriel replied for you.

“I can teach her our ways, I can school her like you did Feyre” Rhysand sighed out but couldn’t deny the way Azriel looked at you and you at him was deeply familiar to him.

“Fine, a week, you may stay a week and if it doesn’t work out then the mortal realm it is, we’ll set you up with a nice manor and you’ll live very comfortably”

“Like Downton Abbey?” you teased despite your audience.

“I’m not familiar with that region”

“Is that where the drag culture is?”

“Of sorts” you laughed at Azriel and his quizzical words, his hazel eyes so enamoured by the sight, further cementing Rhysand’s suspicions. Rhysand sighed deeply ensuring you agreed to the terms and to be taught by Azriel before he left to continue to reprimand Nesta.

------------------------

Over the next week it became abundantly clear that despite being from two different realms, you and Azriel were made for one another. You both had the same humor and intelligence as well as thirst for knowledge. You continued to teach him about your home and he taught you about the new world around you and the more you learned the less you wanted to leave. On your first day in Velaris, you thought your heart may burst with the growing love for the place and even more so for your guide.

“And then Cass completely blew the building up, I thought the vein was going to burst in Rhysand’s head” Azriel tilted his head back and laughed loudly while you both crossed the bridge of the Sidra, your last official day in the Night Court before you had to decide. Somewhere along the way, Azriel and your hands became interlocked and forgot to separate.

“You live such insane lives here”

“And you could too” he stopped you in your tracks, his eyes warming over your body as he looked down on you, the sinking sun reflecting off of the snow.

“Maybe with less arson though” he added with a grin you loved so much.

“Az, I’d love to stay but-”

“-No, just say ‘Az I’d love to stay’ and leave it there” he fought his faltering smile as you looked down at his shoes, both hands held in his now.

“But Az-” you couldn’t find the end of the sentence, the words lost on Azriel’s lips as they met yours with such searing passion. His mouth slotted over yours with such a perfect fit it was like they were always meant to be there. You stood further on your toes to deepen the kiss as his hands traced around the nape of your neck and yours landed around his torse. You separated when the need for air almost matched the need to never let go.

“I-I can’t remember the end of my last thought” you laughed lightly and he grinned. “So you’ll stay?”

“I don’t think I was ever going to be able to walk away from you…well not without mace anyways” you smiled back into another kiss, the second of many many more.

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Let Me Know What You Think Friend!?

Part Two

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thesecondhandwoman · 6 months ago

Note

could i request a modern au w/ambessa, where she and the reader are celebs (actor au works with this if you want), and during an interview, the reader gets a rude question or comment, and Ambessa defends them? Like- public relationship or not, she's gonna protect her s/o from rude people

LIGHTS, CAMERA, ACTION

Ambessa x f!reader

Synopsis (AU): You and Ambessa were famous actors, constantly working together throughout your career, and the outside of it as girlfriends too. However, during an interview, an offensive question comes up that makes it a lot more serious.

Request: Anon 🤍

The bright studio lights bathed the room in a harsh glow, illuminating every detail of the set. You and Ambessa Medarda sat side by side on the plush chairs, the centerpiece of yet another promotional interview for Steel Hearts, the summer blockbuster that had shattered box office records. The film followed two battle-hardened warriors—Ambessa as a commanding general and you as a brilliant strategist—forced to unite against a common enemy. Critics had raved about your on-screen chemistry, and audiences couldn’t get enough.

The press tour, however, had been less glamorous. Endless questions, prying eyes, and the constant pressure to present a perfect image had drained your energy. You were thankful for Ambessa’s steady presence. She’d been through this circus more times than she cared to count, her calm demeanor and sharp wit a masterclass in handling the media.

Ambessa exuded power even when seated, her tailored black suit hugging her frame perfectly. Her polished shoes gleamed under the studio lights, and her short, silver hair was styled to perfection. Her hand rested casually on her knee, but you noticed how close it was to yours, her pinky brushing against your hand in a silent gesture of reassurance.

You glanced at her briefly, catching the subtle quirk of her lips, the kind of smile that was just for you. It was the same smile that had made you fall for her months ago when you were shooting the first battle sequence together. You had stumbled over your lines, nervous in her commanding presence, and she’d leaned in with that quiet smirk, whispering, “Relax. You’re brilliant.”

Those words had stuck with you, much like the woman herself.

The interviewer, a man in his late forties with a practiced grin, adjusted his cue cards. He was the latest in a string of journalists, most of whom asked similar questions. You hoped for the same today—something easy, something routine.

“So,” he began, his gaze flicking between you and Ambessa, “Steel Hearts has been a phenomenal success. Congratulations to you both. The chemistry between your characters has really resonated with audiences. Was that something you had to work on, or did it come naturally?”

You smiled politely, though your nerves prickled. “It’s always a process, but Ambessa made it easy. She’s a phenomenal scene partner.”

Ambessa chuckled, her voice a low rumble that seemed to command the room. “She’s being modest. Most of my best takes were because of her.”

The interviewer nodded, though there was a glint in his eyes that made your stomach twist. “Interesting. Well, some might say your character’s intelligence and strength were a bit aspirational. Do you think that’s realistic, given your off-screen persona?”

The question hit like a slap. Your smile faltered as you processed the insult buried in his words. Aspirational? Off-screen persona?

Beside you, Ambessa’s posture changed instantly. Her jaw tightened, and her eyes sharpened into a glare that could cut glass. “Excuse me?” Her voice was calm but laced with danger.

The man blinked, clearly taken aback. “I just meant—”

“No, I’d like you to clarify,” Ambessa interrupted, leaning forward slightly. Her presence was overwhelming, even seated. “Because it sounds like you’re questioning my partner’s capabilities, and I won’t let that stand.”

“I didn’t mean—” he stammered, his face reddening under the lights.

Ambessa cut him off with a cold smile, the kind that made her on-screen enemies cower. “She’s worked tirelessly for this role, and for every role she’s ever taken. If you can’t recognize that, then perhaps you’re in the wrong profession.”

The room fell into an uncomfortable silence, the tension thick enough to suffocate. You glanced at Ambessa, your heart pounding. Her protective fury was palpable, a force that wrapped around you like armor.

The interviewer fumbled with his cards, desperate to move on. “Well, moving on, what’s next for you two after Steel Hearts?”

You answered automatically, your voice steady despite the lingering sting of the earlier question. Ambessa’s hand rested on her knee again, close enough for her pinky to brush yours. It was a small touch, but it grounded you.

When the interview finally ended, Ambessa stood first, extending a hand to help you up. You took it, her grip firm and steady, and the two of you walked out of the studio together.

The moment you were alone in the hallway, she turned to you, her features softening in a way only you ever got to see. “Are you alright?”

You nodded, though your voice wavered. “I didn’t expect that.”

Her hand cupped your face gently, her thumb brushing over your cheek. “You don’t deserve to be spoken to like that. Ever. If anyone tries it again, I’ll make sure they regret it.”

A shaky laugh escaped you. “You’re terrifying when you’re angry, you know that?”

Her lips quirked into a small smirk. “Only when I have to be.”

You leaned into her touch, letting her hand anchor you. “Thank you for standing up for me. You didn’t have to go that far, though.”

Her eyes softened, the steel melting into something gentler. “Yes, I did. You’re brilliant, and no one gets to diminish that. Not on my watch.”

The sincerity in her voice made your chest tighten. She always had a way of making you feel like the center of her world, even when surrounded by the chaos of fame.

Ambessa tilted her head toward the exit. “Come on. Let’s get out of here. You’ve had enough of this circus for one day.”

The car ride back to the apartment you shared was quiet, the kind of silence that felt comforting rather than awkward. Ambessa’s hand rested on the center console, and without thinking, you reached over to lace your fingers with hers. She glanced at you briefly, her expression softening further, before returning her eyes to the road.

Once you were home, you kicked off your heels with a sigh of relief. Ambessa followed you into the living room, shrugging off her suit jacket and tossing it over the back of the couch.

“Wine or tea?” she asked, already heading toward the kitchen.

“Tea,” you replied, sinking into the plush cushions. “I need to unwind, not wind up.”

She returned a few minutes later with two steaming mugs, handing one to you before settling beside you. You curled up against her, letting her arm drape around your shoulders. The warmth of her body and the quiet intimacy of the moment eased the tension that had been coiled in your chest since the interview.

“You know,” she said after a moment, her fingers tracing lazy patterns on your arm, “you handled that question well. Even before I stepped in.”

You huffed a laugh. “I don’t know about that. My brain practically short-circuited.”

“Maybe,” she admitted, “but you didn’t let it show. You’re stronger than you think.”

You looked up at her, the weight of her words settling over you like a blanket. “You always know what to say.”

“Not always,” she said with a wry smile. “But I know how much you mean to me. That makes it easier.”

Your heart swelled, and before you could stop yourself, you leaned up to press a kiss to her lips. It was soft and lingering, a silent thank you for everything she’d done for you today—and every day before.

When you pulled back, she was looking at you with the kind of intensity that made your cheeks warm. “You’re everything to me,” she said quietly, her voice a promise. “I don’t care what anyone else thinks or says. I’ll always have your back.”

Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes, but you blinked them away, instead curling tighter against her. “I love you, Ambessa.”

Her arm tightened around you, her lips pressing to the crown of your head. “And I love you. Always.”

The rest of the evening passed in a blur of quiet conversation and shared laughter. The world outside could wait; for now, it was just the two of you, safe in each other’s arms.

The next morning, headlines about the interview flooded your notifications. Most of them were centered on Ambessa’s fiery defense of you, with phrases like “Ambessa Medarda Shuts Down Rude Interviewer” and “Power Couple Goals: Ambessa Protects Her Partner.”

You showed her one of the articles over breakfast, raising an eyebrow. “Looks like you’ve gone viral.”

She glanced at the headline and shrugged. “Good. Maybe next time they’ll think twice before asking you something stupid.”

You laughed, leaning over to kiss her cheek. “You’re incredible, you know that?”

She smirked, her confidence as unshakable as ever. “I try.”

#ambessa x reader #ambessa x you #ambessa fanfic #ambessa medarda #ambessa #ambessa arcane #arcane ambessa #arcane fanfic #arcane #lesbian fanfic #lesbian #fluffy fanfic #fluff #fanfic writing #fanfic

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moonstruckme · 10 months ago

Text

Thawing Out

collab with @ellecdc

cw: modern au, alcohol, brief talk of injuries/chronic pain

poly!wolfstar x fem!reader ♡ 1.4k words

“Oi! What’s this?”

You sit up from your stretch with a sheepish look on your face, legs spread out on either side of you on Sirius’ rug.

“You know there’s no practice during lounge time,” he scolds.

You roll your eyes but come out of your split, standing to take the drink Sirius holds out for you. “I just felt a little tight.”

“Probably because of how hard you’ve been working at not jumping.” He clinks his glass against yours, taking a hearty sip.

You copy him, and your face scrunches. “Oh, my god.” You sound like you’re fighting a gag. “What’s in this?”

“It’s sangria.” Sirius’ voice is a bit wounded. Which feels appropriate, because you’ve just reacted to his sangria like it’s petrol.

“You mean there’s a whole bowl of it?”

“That’s how it typically works.” He takes another sip, swishing it around his mouth a bit. It’s really not bad. “I make drinks, babe. Not juice.”

“I’m going to have to revoke your drink making privileges again after this,” you sigh, folding one leg under you as you sit down on the couch. You take another sip, tentative and with narrowed eyes like you’re suspicious of the liquid in your glass, but this time you swallow without complaint. “Do you really think I’m working hard at not jumping?”

Sirius grimaces. He should have known better than to think he could breeze by a comment like that.

“Listen,” he says, “he’s not wrong about everything. I mean, about most things, definitely—” you give a little smile, the reward he was seeking “—but he’s got a point on this one. I can feel you tensing right before the jumps. Before a lot of things, actually. You’re holding yourself back.”

You rub your lips together, a nervous tic of yours that torments Sirius like nothing else. He fights the urge to lick his own lips in response.

“Do you remember what Peter said about my jumps?” you ask him.

Sirius feels his mouth twist with a malice not meant for you. He tries to quell it. But fuck—why are you still thinking about that wanker?

Peter Pettigrew was a mistake in trust Sirius never should have made. His judgment has always been wonky where James is concerned; Peter was James’ friend, so he was Sirius’ by default, but Sirius still should have known better than to bring him around you.

Before, there would have been three of you here. Peter used to like to sit on the couch with Sirius, and you were more than happy to lounge around on the rug and stretch, no matter how many times Sirius told you to lay off yourself and relax for once. He was totally prepared to have to shoot you down if you suggested inviting Remus tonight, but despite how comfortable you seem to have become with your new coach over the last couple of weeks, you haven’t seemed inclined to bring your relationship outside the rink. Sirius is grateful. Now that it’s just the two of you, he intends to keep it that way. It had more than stung to learn that Peter sold the both of you out, but it was worse knowing that Sirius could have avoided it had he simply used the acumen he’d always prided himself on to sniff out the rat before it happened.

Fuck, the sangria is already going to Sirius’ head; he has half a mind to go to the pillock’s apartment and burn it down. If Peter’s half as smart as he thinks he is, he’ll have already moved.

“No,” Sirius says, already tired with this conversation. He takes another lengthy sip from his glass. “What did he say?”

You curl your feet a little closer to you, and—yep, if Peter’s ever stupid enough to come within Sirius’ sight again, he’s going to knock his fucking teeth out. “He told the other coach that I was one bad jump away from injuring myself into an early retirement.”

From your weary tone, Sirius can guess that you’ve memorized it verbatim.

“He didn’t know what the fuck he was talking about,” he tells you firmly.

Your voice gets smaller. “He usually did.”

Your defeat hits Sirius right in the center of his chest. It makes his wrath fizzle. He doesn’t like to think about Peter’s better qualities, but you’re not wrong. He wasn’t always a complete idiot when it came to coaching.

You lean your head on the couch cushion, and Sirius mirrors you unthinkingly.

“You think you’re going to get hurt.” His voice comes out even softer than he intends. It’s a question, and also not.

You nod anyway. “I can’t stop thinking about it. I know I’m messing us up, but I don’t want to fall and then not be able to compete.”

Sirius’ mind flashes to Remus, to his grimace when he stands from the bleachers, the limp he tries to hide. From your expression, you’re thinking about him too.

“You’re not messing us up, love.” The endearment slips out too easily, Sirius’ throat all buttered up by sympathy and booze. “Only yourself. You’re falling more now than you did before, you do realize that?”

Your expression creases slightly, which is answer enough.

“Every time you tense up or hold yourself back,” he says, “you’re more at risk for a bad fall than you would be if you committed. I’ve seen you fall more in the last couple of weeks than I think I ever have. Whatever Pete—Peter—was talking about, you’re only as much at risk of getting hurt as everyone else that’s as good a skater as you are—I mean, you have the skill to protect yourself, you’re just not using it. You trying to play it safe is less safe than when you didn’t worry about it.”

You sit with this for a minute, rubbing your lips together thoughtfully. Sirius notices that at some point, you’ve nearly drained your glass as well.

“Oh,” you say simply.

He can’t help the grin that splits his face. “Oh?”

“I hadn’t quite thought about it like that.” You take another sip, eyes stuck in the middle distance.

“You can just say I’m the wisest person you know. It’s all right.”

Your gaze cuts to him. “Would you like that engraved on a trophy?”

Sirius feels his smile grow. “Sure, I’ll add it to my collection.”

“Oh, you are insufferable,” you chuckle. “Don’t think it was your original idea, though, was it?” A grin spreads across your face, one Sirius doesn’t like very much. “In fact, I think you’ve just agreed with Remus. Quite heartily.”

Sirius feels his mouth pucker in distaste. “That was incidental.”

Your laughter is diabolical. He wonders whether you were quite so wicked before you met him; it’s impossible to say, now.

“Should I skip practice tomorrow?” you ask gleefully. “That way you two can spend the entire time waxing poetic about how right the other is.”

He levels you with a dead stare. “Don’t fool yourself, doll. You like me too much to condemn me to such a cruel fate.”

“You’re so full of it.” You roll your eyes with a smile, swirling your glass. “He is sort of your type, isn’t he?”

Sirius’ throat nearly hurts from the force of his scoff. “What—dull, stubborn, and pompous? Fuck off.”

You hum, your gaze playful. “But also quite fit, right?”

Sirius narrows his eyes at you, but that only makes yours twinkle more. He feels it like tiny little firecrackers in his gut. Even though you’re only teasing, he can see where you’d get the idea. When Sirius dates boys, he tends to go for ones taller than him, with Remus’ same lissom frame and enigmatic allure. But with Remus, there is no enigma; he’s a tosser, clear as day. And truly, Sirius hasn’t found anybody as lovely as you in some time.

“Sounds like you’re the one who fancies him,” he says, keeping his voice light. He makes his expression go impish and teasing. “We can both do better, don’t you think?”

You roll your eyes, but your expression is inscrutable as you take another sip from your glass. Until you take another sip, that is. Then, your lip curls. “Ugh, we can certainly do better than this. Do you have something I could add to it?”

“You want me to let you sully my creation,” Sirius deadpans.

“I want you to let me make your monstrosity potable.”

“I’ll make you a deal,” he says. “I’ll let you, but then no more shop talk for the night.”

You grin, sitting up. “I promise.”

“There’s orange juice in the fridge.”

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planetveensz · 7 months ago

Text

the feeling that remains — ellie williams

— part 1/7 you meet ellie during highschool, the catalyst of some of the best years of your life... until they aren't. three years after breaking up, you're trying to move on with your life. dina and jesse are getting married; and when dina asks you to be one of her bridesmaids, how could you refuse? but guess who just so happens to be jesse's best (wo)man? tw: second chance romance! exes to lovers! modern!au, fem!reader, slow burn, mult storylines, angst, fluff, first meetings, religious trauma, homophobia, gay slurs, drinking, smoking, mild violence, possibly some ooc vibes, eventual smuttt :p wk: 5.4k, spotify playlist! an: ellie my wife <3 i hope i do you justice in this fic <3 this is probably going to be a bit slower to update, once every two weeks maybe? a lot of this is based off my own personal experiences as a gay woman so it's very near and dear to me :) i am always open to suggestions, feedback, and ideas! so pls send them in! enjoy xx

series masterlist | part 2

IT RAINED THE NIGHT you first met Ellie.

You knew who she was; there were always rumors about her floating around school. People called her terrible names behind her back, said she was someone you shouldn’t hang around. You avoided her not because you believed them, but because you were intimidated by her.

Ellie was devastatingly pretty; had such kind green eyes and a sweet smile, she was also way cooler than you could ever dream of being. You were sure if you tried to speak to her you wouldn’t get one word out, she made you so nervous.

You watched her diligently from inside Dina’s living room, a paper party hat on your head. Dina invited you over to celebrate her 16th birthday, throwing a small party. Her parents were out of town and her big sister Talia had gotten her hands on some alcohol. You’d known Dina from a very young age; you went to the same preschool and became best friends in kindergarten. Dina was one of your only friends, aside from the girls in your church choir.

Now that you had entered the second half of your sophomore year, you felt as if Dina stayed friends with you out of pity. She was always dragging you along, taking it upon herself to invite you to things. You appreciated it but had an inkling no one else wanted you around like she did. Dina required that you made an appearance at all events she hosted; she was also sure to bring you to bonfires and house parties, claiming you as her “plus one”.

You sighed and passed a red solo cup from one hand to the other, wiping the condensation off on your jeans. You were tipsy, it was the second time you had ever had alcohol outside of church. When you first arrived, you eyed the cup Dina handed you suspiciously. “Don’t worry,” Dina said, “you won’t go to hell for getting a little drunk.”

You had taken the cup with a shy smile. “Happy birthday, Dina.” You handed her the gift you’d been holding in your other hand. She gasped, hands falling on your shoulders with the most gleeful smile on her face.

The wrapping was perfectly done, you had hunched over the thing until every line was parallel and taped down perfectly. You finished it with a charming blue ribbon, tied in a neat bow at the front. “Oh, it’s lovely!” Dina gushed and you preened under her kind words. She untied the bow and carefully ripped open the paper to reveal her present. She squealed, pulling out the special edition copy of Pride and Prejudice. “You shouldn’t have!”

Really, you shouldn’t have. You saved up every cent you earned from chores the last four months to afford the book, but you wanted to spoil Dina. She deserved it, for sticking with you all these years, for being such a good friend. Before you could reply, she snapped that stupid party hat on your head and gave you a big kiss on the cheek. “You’re precious,” Dina said earnestly, “I adore you.”

You flushed at her words, unable to take the compliment. You scratched the back of your neck, attempting to brush off the twisting feeling in your stomach. You laughed awkwardly, “thanks.” Dina snorted, patting the same cheek she’d smooched.

“Now drink up, church girl, the party just started!”

You’d lost sight of Dina a while ago, choosing to stand aside in the living room while people chattered around you. Some music was bumping from an old speaker Dina thrifted with you a few months ago. There weren’t that many guests, a handful of people you knew from school, some of Talia’s friends as well. Ellie was sitting on the back porch around the firepit with Jesse and a couple of buddies, smoking a joint and talking loudly with each other.

The fire flickered and illuminated the freckles on her cheeks. You smiled to yourself when you noticed her dimple became more prominent the more animatedly she spoke. That’s when the rain started, along with a boom of thunder in the sky. Your little bubble popped and everyone shuffled inside, opting to sit in the living room. You could feel the strained expression form on your face as it became more crowded.

Jesse noisily suggested playing truth or dare and you took that as your cue to leave. You snuck off into the kitchen, filling a glass with water. Your mouth had gone dry from your drink and your head was swimming a little from the effects of the alcohol. The water soothed your throat as you drank it.

“Not interested in playing games?” You choked on the mouthful you were about to swallow, whipping around to see Ellie leaning against the entranceway to the kitchen. Her eyebrows raised at your reaction and you could see that she was fighting off a smile.

You wiped your mouth with your hand. “N-no. Well, yes, I mean—” you paused. “Just needed some water.” You lifted the cup in your hand.

“I can see that.” Her smile was sly and precarious. You weren’t sure if she was teasing, flirting, or making fun of you.

You squinted your eyes at her, “are you not interested? In playing games, I mean.” Ellie took a few steps towards you. Her auburn hair was damp from the rain and you could smell it on her sweatshirt; an earthy, rich scent.

She plucked the cup from your hands, sipping on your water. She placed it on the counter, empty. “Not really, no. They’re lame.” She tilted her head at you, a hazy look in her eyes.

“Are you high?”

She laughed right in your face, “yes, you priss. That’s what happens when you smoke.”

A raging warmth bloomed on your face. This was maybe the second time you’d ever spoken to Ellie alone; the previous being a bunch of stuttered sentences while you both waited for Dina to join you after school. You didn’t remember her being this snarky. “Okay.” You stressed, “no need to be rude.” You crossed your arms defensively.

She huffed through her nose, a smile on her lips. She flicked the hat on your head. “Just messing with you.” She bit her bottom lip and your gut twisted in anticipation.

You ripped the hat off your head, placing it on the counter next to the cup; suddenly feeling juvenile for wearing it. You plucked up all of the courage you had, from the alcohol and pure spite. “You sure you aren’t being a flirt? I’ve heard things about you, Williams,” you tilted your head playfully so she knew you were joking too.

She was full-on grinning, her eyes sparkled. That dimple below the left corner of her mouth appeared. Your breath caught in your throat. “Wouldn’t you like to know?” She leaned in slightly, looking at you with an expression that made butterflies flutter in your stomach.

You scrunched your nose at her, genuinely smiling for the first time that night since seeing Dina. “Y’know,” you turned your head away from her, looking up at the ceiling to avoid her piercing green eyes, “I’ve never smoked before.”

Her smirk was pure electricity, “well, that just won’t do.” The cutesy butterflies became a hoard of bats when she pulled a new joint out of her back pocket. Her hand grasped yours and you were taken aback at how soft her skin was. You stared at your conjoined hands as she began pulling you to the other side of the kitchen, towards the connecting hallway.

You laughed and allowed her to lead you upstairs to the last door on the right, Dina’s room. Ellie shut the door behind you both and plopped herself on Dina’s window seat. You watched, frozen, as she wrestled the creaky old window open and stuck the joint in her mouth. “C’mere,” she nodded to the space next to her, speaking around the joint, “I don’ bite.”

You sprung into action, stumbling over to her. You sat next to her, your knees knocking against hers. She lit the joint, sucking in air so that the end ignited. She grasped it between her pointer finger and thumb as she passed it to you. “Now, don’t inhale too much, you’re gonna cough a lot cuz this is your first time.” She facilitated, “just take small hits until your throat’s used to the burn.”

You nodded, letting her words sink in. You brought the joint to your mouth, curling your lips around the filter, and breathed in. The taste was pleasant, but the burn was not. You immediately let out a cough, a puff of smoke escaping your mouth, unable to help yourself. You passed the joint back to her.

She smiled at you knowingly, “I was really bad the first time I smoked,” she laughed slightly, “nobody told me to take it easy so I inhaled way too much.” She took a hit of her own. “Coughed so hard I threw up.”

You let out a surprised laugh, shocked to hear that someone with her reputation had a story like that under her belt. “When was this?” You asked curiously.

“Back in Boston, before I moved here.” Ellie explained, “I did it right in front of the girl I had a massive crush on. It was so embarrassing.”

You smiled at her affectionately; passing the joint back and forth, you allowed a light daze to settle over your mind. “The first time I ever drank, Dina and I snuck a whole glass of vodka from her mom’s stash during a sleepover. We got so drunk we had to lay on the floor, everything was spinning so bad.”

Ellie gave you a bemused smile, “damn, church girl has a bad side.”

“I didn’t really want to do it at first, but, y’know,” you shrugged, picking your fingernails.

“What?” Ellie urged.

“It’s Dina.” You stated.

Ellie nodded, understanding settling on her face. “Oh, so you have a crush on Dina?”

“What?” You exclaimed, “no! I mean, she’s my best friend—”

“Yeah.” Ellie interrupted, “your best friend. Don’t worry, your secret is safe with me.” She shoved your shoulder, laughing at your mortified face. “All closeted girls fall in love with their best friend, it’s a right of passage.”

“Wha—?” Your face flamed with embarrassment, “Ellie, I am not gay. It’s a sin.”

Her eyebrows raised at you and she scoffed. “Right.” She said.

“I have nothing against gay people,” you held your hands up, attempting to explain yourself, “I just can’t—I can’t be gay.” She chewed the inside of her cheek as you accepted the joint from her hands, taking an especially large hit. You cough like crazy when you pass it back to her. “I have no problem with you, I’m sorry I said that.”

“‘s okay.” She said, tucking a stray piece of hair behind her ear and dropping her head to gaze at her shoes.

“No, it’s not.” You leaned forward so that you could look her in the eye. “I’m not like the other kids at school, I’m not some bigot.”

Ellie laughed at you again, “I got it, I got it.” Her eyes sparkled when the moonlight bounced off of them; you found yourself needing to catch your breath, chest tight. It was the smoke, just the smoke.

There was a knowing look on her face when she looked at you again, like she understood something you didn’t. “So, what exactly have you heard about me, then?” She asked you suddenly.

“That you’re a… raging lesbian that sells drugs and fights people for fun.” You crooked a smile at her when you said it. Ellie laughed out loud, cackling with her head thrown back. You couldn’t help but join in.

IT BEGAN TO RAIN when your flight took off for California.

You had the window seat and because of your anxiety, you held your pee for three hours instead of squeezing past your neighbors to get to the restroom. While rushing to the airport bathroom, you felt a string of buzzing in your pocket. You pulled your phone out and watched as nearly a hundred texts from Jesse pinged on your phone, stress-ridden and panicked; finally loading after you got cell service again.

You smiled wistfully, using the toilet before even attempting to respond let alone read his manic word vomit. You headed to the baggage carousel as you began to sift through the messages. Most were just mangled screaming, some half-literate, some fully realized thoughts. You rolled your eyes affectionately, a smile tugging on your lips.

Jesse was asking Dina to marry him today.

Instead of sending a supportive text, you decided giving Jesse a call would do a lot more good. He picked up after the first ring. “Jess,” you greeted carefully, “I got your messa—”

“Please help me!” He wailed on the other side of the phone. You attempted to disrupt the laugh that passed through your lips with a cough; he had never sounded this frazzled before.

“What’s wrong?” You urged, eyes flickering to the conveyor belt as it started spitting out suitcases.

“I’m not sure if I should wear the blue suit with a red tie or the black suit with the black tie or the gray suit—”

“Jesse, dude,” you said slowly, “please, calm down. You’re working yourself up for no reason.” You spotted your luggage and huffed as you lifted it off the carousel. “This proposal is super intimate and private, I don’t think you should wear a suit at all.”

“But Joel said—”

“Jess, I love and respect Joel so much, but don’t take advice from a man who’s never been married and hasn’t had to worry about what he’s wearing for a woman since Ellie graduated from college.” You said expressionlessly, all in one breath. There was a pause over the phone.

Jesse erupted into laughter. “Oh, man,” it sounded like he was wiping a tear, “I can always count on you to make me feel better.”

You couldn’t help the smile that twitched onto your lips. “You should wear dark bottoms with a light top or light bottoms with a dark top. Think dressed up casual, if you go too fancy it’ll clash with the location.” You had the phone wedged between your ear and your shoulder as you fiddled with your purse, trying to grab your sunglasses. “I’ll find some inspiration for you on Pinterest.”

“Ugh, you’re a lifesaver.” Jesse sounded much more relaxed. “Thank you.”

“Of course, Jess, call me if you need anything else, okay?” He made an affirmative sound before you said your goodbyes and hung up. You chuckled, shaking your head at your best friend.

Your next call was to Talia, who said she was parked in front of your terminal. The California heat embraced you when you stepped outside of the airport lobby; it felt like coming home. You loved the feeling of the dry, unforgiving air against your skin. It had been too long.

A melancholy feeling took hold of your heart, squeezing it gently within its bitter palm. So much had changed since you were last in Cali; everything had changed the day you left Cali.

Talia drove a swanky little Volkswagen Beetle, it was a bright yellow and she had the top down. The wind brushed your balmy skin as you drove along the Californian coast; it was like a dream realized. In two hours, your best friends would be engaged.

“The engagement party’s gonna have an open bar,” Talia grinned, one hand on the steering wheel, “you better know I’m gonna abuse that shit after all the trouble we’ve gone through.”

It was true; keeping this massive secret from Dina, being emotional support for Jesse, and helping to plan the proposal. It was a lot of work, but it was worth it.

“She’s going to love it so much, I don’t even care how stressed I’ve been.” You replied, imagining the look that was going to be on Dina’s face when she showed off her ring.

Most guests didn’t know what the party Jesse had planned was actually for, meaning it’d be a shock for nearly everyone there. Dina loved surprises and having a surprise engagement party after her proposal was going to be like icing on the cake for her.

Talia hesitated and you looked at her inquisitively, “...are you like—worried about Ellie being there?”

You laughed nervously in response, “now that is something I’m not thinking about.” And you really hadn’t. You had gotten so good at pushing Ellie and all of the emotional baggage that came with her out of your mind. You forced yourself not to think about her; to keep her intimate smiles and loving giggles from resonating in your head.

It had been three years; having thoughts about your ex after that long was kind of concerning.

Talia relented, allowing you to stop the conversation before it happened. You spoke about the dress you’d brought to wear to the party and sent Jesse some outfit ideas from your Dina + Jesse Wedding Inspiration board.

Dina’s face sparkled as bright as the darling ring on her left fourth finger. Just as you thought it would. You were over the moon for her; the choked gasp she let out when she saw you for the first time in the cramped bar nearly made you sink to your knees. Your sweet Dina was finally getting everything she’d dreamed of.

“You’re here!” She exclaimed into your hair as she hugged you tight against her.

You rubbed her back, “of course I am. I wouldn’t miss this for the world.” When you pulled apart her eyes were wet with emotion.

“Ugh,” she dabbed at her lashes, “don’t make me cry, you fucker.”

She’d slipped away into the crowd not much longer after that, tending to the other guests who were congratulating her and Jesse. Before you could huddle back into a corner, Jesse squeezed you into his embrace and kissed the top of your head. The tears that burned the back of your eyes convinced you to grab another drink before disappearing.

You signaled to the bartender, who approached you with a smile. “Whiskey, neat,” you said, propping your arms onto the bartop. “Please.”

“I see some things never change.”

Your head whipped to your right at the sound of a familiar drawling voice.

Ellie Williams’ gorgeous green eyes met yours, a hundred-watt smile forming on her face that sent your heart into palpitations. She was wider, fuller, clearly stronger. All signs of youth had been erased from her face with age. She’d always been annoyingly attractive, but apparently, you couldn’t catch a break from that fact even if she was your ex-girlfriend.

Even if she was your biggest heartbreak.

“Ellie,” her name left your mouth like a whisper, or maybe a prayer. How long had you secretly begged to see her again?

“Hey,” she greeted; leaning coolly against the bar, propping her tattooed forearm on the edge. You swallowed thickly.

“When’d—” your voice cracks, “when’d you get here? I didn’t see you come in.”

Her gaze swept down the length of your body and it felt like she just casually set you on fire. “I snuck in a couple minutes ago. I missed the big entrance, don’t tell anyone.” She gave you a half-smile, that fucking dimple creasing the corner of her mouth.

You felt like you were totally fumbling this interaction. She had completely thrown you off your axis; tossed a wrench into your meticulous plans to avoid interacting with her. The bartender placed your drink in front of you and Ellie grabbed their attention to order her own.

You gulped down your whiskey in three large mouthfuls, eye twinging at the taste. Your sinuses cleared and the additional oxygen to your brain calmed you a bit. “Oh—and another whiskey for the lady, please,” Ellie said as you placed your empty glass on the bar top.

You chuckled embarrassedly when Ellie winked at you while she spoke, mortified with yourself. Oh, you were entirely falling apart.

“How’s your mom?” Ellie asked and you released a breath.

“Um—good,” you cupped the back of your neck with your hand, avoiding her face. “She moved up to Boston last year to be closer to me. She’s uh, remarried.”

Ellie’s voice raised in surprise, “oh, you’re on the East Coast now?”

“Mhm,” you nodded, sending the bartender a smile when they placed your new drink in front of you, “moved there for work.” When Ellie didn’t say anything you spared a glance at her.

She looked kind of shell-shocked, a tick in her mouth that made your gut turn. You knew why, but didn’t have the strength to say anything about it to her. “What’s Joel up to? We haven’t spoken for a while.”

Ellie forced a smile, “oh, you know. Being an old man.” She wrung her fingers together like she was building her courage. “So, were you ever gonna tell me that—”

Someone called out your name from behind you. Abby Anderson approached you with her arms open and you let out a gasp when you saw her. “Abs!” You gave her a big hug. “Jesse said you weren’t coming!”

“I wasn’t, but when I heard you’d be here—”

You smacked her shoulder playfully, “stop that.”

“I was able to use some PTO last minute.” Abby’s pouty lips pulled into a smile.

A warm hand brushed your lower back, sending a shiver up your spine. Ellie leaned down to speak softly in your ear, “I’m gonna go congratulate the happy couple, I’ll see you later?”

The musky, spicy scent of her cologne flooded your senses and everything became hazy. She smelled downright edible.

“Yeah.” You breathed out, eyes fixed on the slope of her nose and lips.

She squeezed your hip lightly as her hand moved away. “Anderson,” she greeted Abby.

“Hey, Ellie, nice to see you,” Abby replied. Ellie sent her a two-finger salute, then walked towards the hoard of people surrounding Dina and Jesse.

“Jesus fuck,” you complained, fanning a hand on your blistering cheeks.

Abby snorted, “how ya doin’?”

You sent her a withering look. “Shut up.”

DINA FORCED YOU to come to her house for a party again.

This time, you arrived before most guests; tupperware of freshly baked chocolate chip cookies clutched in your sweaty hands. You were nervous about the social interaction, dreading it, actually. Your hand trembled when you pushed open Dina’s front door.

Ellie trailed in after you, keys dangling off her index finger while she held the screen door open for you. She was your designated driver for the night. You insisted you didn’t need one, you weren’t going to have more than one drink, but she wouldn’t surrender.

A cookie Ellie had hand-picked as the best from the batch was hanging out of her mouth. You suspected that was the real reason she wanted to drive you, first pick out of the cookie selection. You rounded the corner and entered the kitchen; some of your anxiety was chased away when you laid eyes on Dina and Jesse.

Jesse squealed in excitement when he saw the treats you brought over. He did a little dance when you opened up the container for him. “You are an angel.” He said as he groaned into the cookie he’d snatched.

Dina smacked his shoulder when he grabbed a second one, telling him to fuck off and save some for the rest. You could see the hearts in her eyes when he turned to her with a sweet smile on his face then devoured the second cookie in one bite.

Time passed, more people were filtering in from the frigid air. You could tell most of them pregamed, eyes drooping and cheeks flushed with blood. One especially belligerent guy you’d seen in the halls at school screamed, “Merry Christmas, bitches!” when he entered the doorway. You cringed, and Ellie laughed at the disgusted look on your face. She pulled you to the couch, shoving a glass of whiskey into your hands.

You cast another look at the sweater she was wearing, a reindeer with the word “horny” underneath it, and dropped into the cushions. “That sweater is so stupid,” you told her for the third time that night, and she gave you a devious smile.

“So you’ve said.” She plopped down next to you, spreading her legs comfortably, “I think you’re secretly jealous. Your sweater looks straight out of a granny catalog.”

You gasp, feigning offense. “How dare you!” Glancing down at your cheerful sweater, you realized that maybe it kind of did look like it could be found in an old lady’s arts-and-craft magazine. There were three snowmen lined up across the front with sewn-in sequins, pom-poms, and other knick-knacks as decoration. You sighed defeatedly, “but you’re right.”

Ellie shoved you on the shoulder as she laughed. You loved seeing her this way, carefree and relaxed. Whether it was the false bravado or misconstrued rumors, your impression of Ellie before your friendship began was completely wrong.

In the months since Dina’s window, you’d learned how similar Ellie really was to you. She preferred the quiet; she liked to read, play video games, and have movie nights. You look back on how nervous you were around her and laugh, Ellie was a big dorky sweetheart at her core. Nothing like the sly playboy-like image you had in your head.

You pulled your legs up, turned to face her, and tucked your socked feet under her thigh as you sipped on your drink. The burn in your throat was pleasant. You leaned your side against the back of the couch as you asked her, “have you finished Jane Eyre yet?”

“No! Shit, I’m sorry!” She turned to you with wide, guilty eyes. You laughed against the back of your hand at her expression. “I’ve been meaning to finish it, but I’ve been playing that game I told you about,” her hands flailed as she spoke, “you wouldn’t believe what happened.”

You suddenly focused in on the way her mouth moved as she spoke. The way she pressed them together when she was thinking of a word to use, the way she licked her bottom lip between sentences. She was so enthusiastic when she talked about the things she was interested in, her eyes lighting up with delight.

You realized that you had been tuning out her words as you stared, only catching the last half of her rant. “Is this about your fungus game?” You asked, playing dumb so that you could see the annoyed expression form on her face.

“I’ll have you know that fungus game is the most emotionally tormenting thing I have ever played in my entire life.” She stated, looking you dead in the eye.

“Oh, I believe you. Remember how you called me crying—”

“No.” Ellie cut in. You laughed into your whiskey as you took another sip.

“I wonder if I’d survive that apocalypse.” You mused out loud and Ellie snorted from beside you.

“Definitely not,” she said confidently, “you’re too sweet, you’d die after ten minutes outside.”

You gave her an offended look. “I am not that sweet, I’m just nice to you because you’re my friend.”

“Yeah, right.” Ellie teased, “you feel guilty after killing spiders.”

“They are an essential part of our ecosystem!” You defended yourself.

Ellie snickered like she’d won the argument; you opened your mouth to make another point when someone cleared their throat from beside you. That drunk boy you recognized from earlier stood in front of the couch, glancing between the two of you. “Hey.” He greeted.

“Hi?” Ellie responded, the tone of her voice raising into a mocking question.

The boy didn’t deter, “I’m Axel.”

“Okay?” Ellie’s voice became more sarcastic.

He was looking at you when he asked, “do you want another drink?”

You glanced at your nearly-empty glass of whisky and shrugged, “honestly, I’m good, I wasn’t planning on having more than one. Thanks, though.”

“‘Cmon,” Axel smiled broadly at you, “it’s Christmas! Just have one more—”

“She said no, Axel,” Ellie said firmly, “why don’t you fuck off?”

Axel scoffed, his eyes still trained on you, “why do you even hangout with this faggot?”

Before Ellie could get up to put him in his place, before she could even react to his words, you were out of your seat. Ellie could only watch stunned as you punched Axel so hard in his face that he stumbled, dropped his drink, then fell to the floor. There was a lull in the crowd of people as they watched it all unfold, Jesse pushing through the kitchen to see the commotion.

If that wasn’t enough, you stomped towards a man already wounded, rearing your foot back threateningly. That’s when Ellie finally reacted, standing up quickly and grabbing you around the waist to pull you away as you screamed, “don’t you ever use that word you limp-dick, good-for-nothing—”

“Whoa, whoa!” Jesse held his hands up, trying to calm you down. “What the hell is going on?”

“Get him outta here, Jesse!” You growled, fuming, “get him out or he’ll have two black eyes!”

Ellie hadn’t removed her arm from around you yet, watching as Jesse pulled the boy up and walked him to the front door. She released you when the door closed. Dina approached, grabbing your face between her hands. “You okay?” She asked, watching as you took quick, aggravated breaths.

“Yeah, I’m fine.” You said sternly, wiping at the angry tears forming in your eyes. “He called Ellie a—” you send a sidelong glance at Ellie, whose gaze hadn’t left your face during the entire altercation.

“We’re okay, Dee,” Ellie soothed, “he was just being an asshole.”

Dina nodded, looking between the two of you. You huffed, lurching towards the coat rack to grab your jacket and shoes. “Need some air.” You informed everyone before stepping out the back door.

The frigid winter air nipped at your nose as you huffed breaths into the night. Your fists were clenching and unclenching, the buzz of adrenaline still in your ears. Ellie stepped out not five minutes later, dressed in her boots and jacket.

“Hey…” she began cautiously. But you threw all caution to the wind.

“Aren’t you sick of it all?” You asked angrily, turning to look at the side of her face. Your implication goes unsaid. The rumors, the homophobia, the name calling.

“I mean, yeah, but what am I gonna do?” Ellie shrugged, unperturbed. “I can’t control anyone's actions, only my own. I choose to ignore it.” Then she smiled at you, tilting her head towards the grassy lawn, “‘cmere.” She grabbed your hand and a blanket off the back of a chair and pulled you away from the porch.

Ellie spread the blanket out in the middle of Dina’s yard, sitting on top of it and motioning for you to join her. You sighed, obliging. Your shoulders touched when you situated yourself next to her, laying down flat on your backs.

It was quiet for a few moments, then you saw it. A streak of white light flashed across the sky and you gasped; one hand jumping up and pointing to where the burning asteroid just was, the other grabbing her forearm. “A shooting star!”

When you turned your head to see if Ellie had caught it too, she was already looking at you. “Make a wish,” she said softly, her eyes just as tender as her voice.

You dropped your arm and the fingers on your other hand trailed down her forearm to lace her fingers within yours. You smiled, bad mood completely forgotten. “I wish I could see your face again when you realized I wasn’t as sweet as you thought I was.”

Ellie’s astonished expression made you giggle and squeeze her hand. “I can’t believe you.” She said earnestly, turning back to look at the stars.

“I know, I’m full of surprises.” You said cockily, proud that you threw her off so much that she hadn’t been able to come up with a single sarcastic comment. She laughed freely into the crisp night air, you watched her breaths condense and then evaporate.

An overwhelming feeling overcame you, something like endearment or adoration. “I’m so glad you’re here.” You whispered, just loud enough so she could hear you. You weren’t sure if “here” meant “here in this moment” or “here on planet Earth”, but Ellie didn’t seem to care.

She squeezed your hand back, “I’m glad you’re here, too.”

#my writing ⟡ ࣪ ˖⋆.˚#ellie williams x reader #ellie x reader #ellie tlou x reader #ellie x fem reader #ellie williams x fem reader

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