#on the other hand they really need to sit down and have serious talk about everything that has happened

[puma-riki]

R U Ok?

R u okay? 참을 수 있겠니? ──── nerd! Jake x fem! reader

𓂃 𓈒𓏸‪‪ fluff est. relationship skinship kissing making out jake in glasses

~ Synopsis - Jake goes on a small rage rant about a shitty TV character and he looks a little too fine doing it

note: DOUBLE UPDATE WHO IS SHE rubbing my hands together like an evil fly writing this I love Jake and his weird ahh but anyway omg I wrote this for my lovely miseo soup @chrrific (like a week ago but I was putting off proofreading and editing sorry queen) after we took a love language quiz and got intellectuality as one of our top choices and I'd literally never heard of that before as a love language but imma tell you right now, its the best one. Anyway, convo spiraled from wanting an emotionally intelligent man who actually cares about things other than himself to making out with nerd jake so enjoy! AND BFYR: Minor TSITP spoilers!!! Jake is ranting about how awful Jeremiah, a character from the TV show The Summer I Turned Pretty, is as a boyfriend and just as a person in general to the main character, Belly (Her real name is Isabel don't ask me why she chose Belly as a nick name okay,,) All you really need to know is Jeremiah is the worst character ever, is a manipulative, stupid, impulsive, cheating, COLLEGE super-senior, frat manchild that should honestly just disappear off the face of the earth so Belly can finally be with his super-hot, Stanford premed student, older brother who is actually in love with her for who she is and isn't just with her because he doesn't want his brother to have her! Unlike a certain someone! #BellyWakeUp #DumpHim #IHateHerBf

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The opening credits rolled on the TV, casting flickering shadows across the dim living room. The scent of popcorn lingered in the air, but it had long since been forgotten in favor of the warmth that pooled between you and Jake on the couch.

Jake was on his fourth tangent about this show and his words came out faster the closer you leaned into him. Your arm was looped through his, your legs tucked under you and resting against his thigh under the throw blanket strewn across your laps.

You had begged Jake to watch The Summer I Turned Pretty with you since the trailer for the new season dropped. Now it was finally out, and you were completely absorbed in the mess that is this show.

Is it incredibly corny? yes. Are you still going to watch it? 100 percent.

"I actually fucking hate that guy." Jakes voice cuts through the silence as he huffs.

"Jeremiah?" You ask, stifling a laugh, eyes still on the screen.

"Yes!" Jake says exasperated, like he actually knows the guy. He suddenly sits up straighter, knocking the blanket askew and jostling your legs, which he silently apologizes for by rubbing your knee.

"Yes! Jeremiah! I swear he's like... he's like the worst possible boyfriend archetype," His voice is loud and irritated, but the lighthearted kind of irritated.

Or maybe the serious kind- because now he's dragging his hands down his face. "And not even in a redeemable, morally gray way. He's just- emotionally- he's like static! Zero development and we're already on season 3!"

You tried to stifle your laugh, turning your face into his shoulder.

Jake didn't notice. Or he pretended not to. His brows were furrowed, hands, flying in wild gestures as he adjusted his glasses and continued his passionate rant.

"He doesn't communicate, like, at all. It's always this broody, assholey 'I'm jealous but I'm not going to talk about it and ruin every ones mood with my pissy attitude' thing, and Belly's just so supposed to know how he feels? Like she's just supposed to read his emotional state and just understand everything like she's a mind reader."

You hum in agreement, and he takes that as encouragement. He's full on monologuing now. He's turning towards you now, bracing one arm on the back of the couch.

"And then, when he does talk about his feelings, it's all these vague and corny ass metaphors and dramatic sighs. Like bro, you are not a Byronic hero, you're just insecure and manipulative. Say what you mean! Use your words! Language is literally the foundation of civilization."

"Byronic hero?" you ask raising a brow.

He freezes mid gesture. The frustration in his voice melts into gentle explanation.

"It's like a character trope. They've got this moody rebellious vibe- very emotionally complex, usually with some kind of tragic or mysterious past"

His hands settle, one drifting down to your knee, casually tugging at the fabric of your pajama pants. His glassy eyes soften when they meet yours, the fire of his rant now replaced with something tender and melty. He's done a complete 180 from an absolute rage rant to a affectionate puppy.

"Oh," you say, a smile tugging at your lips. "So like Batman?"

Jake blinks, then grins- wide and stupid and hopelessly in love. "Yeah," he says mirroring your smile. "Exactly like Batman."

"Except that motherfucker wishes he was Batman. He-"And you've lost him again.

You're not even watching the show anymore. Or listening to Jake really-. Your eyes are locked on him. The way his hands move. How his glasses slide down the bridge of his nose every time he gets worked up, the faint blush on his cheeks from sheer frustration- or maybe lack of oxygen from how much he's talking.

You bite your bottom lip without even realizing it, watching the curve of his mouth as he talks, his hoodie sleeve scrunched at his forearm, exposing skin and veins you have absolutely no business staring at but can't help yourself. His black hair is messy and falls forward in furls that he has to run his hand through every few seconds.

He's still got an elbow propped up on the back of the couch, his body leaned towards you, his knee nudging yours under the blanket.

"And like, okay, you don't have to be perfect, but at least try to process your feelings instead of treating Belly like she's your emotional support girlfriend-slash-therapist. I swear he needs like, five years in therapy and a Beginners Guide of Self-Awareness- no, scratch that, he needs a flow chart. I could make one. Like a literal 'Think Before You Speak' decision tree-"

He pauses mid sentence.

Because you're staring at him. Not in a "I'm listening to you" way. In a "I'm two seconds from climbing you like a tree" kind of way.

Jake blinks. His hand falls from the couch and back to his lap, fiddling nervously with the blanket. He avoids eye contact with you.

"Uh...whats up?" he asks, voice suddenly a lot softer. "Why are you looking at me like that?"

"Like what?" You're playing dumb, and Jake knows that. You lean in a little closer, your hand sliding over his knee under the blanket, slow and deliberate.

Jake swallows. "You- you know what I mean." He can feel his face heating up and his heart rate pick up speed.

"Mmm... I don't know what you mean." You say, voice slow- way too much for Jake to handle.

"Are you- wait pause. Are you turned on right now? Because I'm slandering a fictional man?"

You bite back a laugh, but it turns into a grin as you scoot closer to him to close the space between you, eyes flicking from his lips to his flushed cheeks,

"It's not the slander," You murmur. "It's the way you talk. You're so..." Your words trail off as your eyes drift back down to his lips and Jake audibly gulps. You kiss him once, short, just enough to make him chase you. "-smart. And you're kind of pretty when you're frustrated."

Jake short circuits

He watches you, dazed, your eyes reflect the dim lighting in the living room and trail up his arms, his chest, his lips, and finally his eyes. You bite your bottom lip again and Jake can feel his brain physically melting in his skull.

"Wow- HA- it is... really hot in here!" Jake blurts out, voice an octave too high. He lets out a breathless laugh as he practically leaps up from the couch, shuffling backwards to create some distance between him and your intoxicating presence.

"Are you hot?" He asks, scrunching his eyebrows in questioning, one hand pointing at you and the other pulling at the collar of his hoodie.

You can't help but snort at how your boyfriend has basically teleported to the end of the couch, huddled up in the corner of the sectional like he's been cornered by a predator.

"I'm actually really cold..." You pout, already beginning to crawl towards him.

"You're such a liar." Jake accuses. He tries to retreat deeper into the cushions, both forearms now braced against the back of the couch like he's trying to keep you at bay with the power of sheer will.

"Am not." Your pout deepens, now you're right on top of him. Literally. Both of your knees hug his hips, and you settle on his lap with an ease that makes Jake visbily forget how to breathe. Your hand slowly, excruciatingly so, slides up his chest, and you can feel his heart hammering against your palm like its trying to escape.

"Won't you help me, Jakey?" You ask sweetly, tilting your head.

You're about to ruin his entire nervous system with how hot he feels. jake's mouth opens. Closes. No words.

Just the softest, more broken sounding, "Oh my god."

You lean in, your lips ghosting over his jaw, then the corner of his mouth.

Jake makes a sound- half gasp, half whimper- his hands balling into fists on the back of the couch, unsure if he's allowed to touch you yet. If he does, he knows he's never leaving the couch again.

"Y-You're being really unfair right now," he mumbled, voice breathy and cracking.

"Oh?" you whisper, brushing your lips against his. "How so?"

Jake doesn't even know. His brain is fried beyond repair. Still he tries to gather something so he doesn't look like an absolute idiot underneath you.

"I was- in the middle of a point." he says, sounding genuinely betrayed, like you interrupted a thesis defense.

"Awh, I'm sorry Jakey." Your empty apology leaves your mouth so softly and so sweetly, he would have believed you if he wasn't one heartbeat away from blacking out. The hand resting on his chest travels further up. You hook two fingers in the collar of his hoodie and pull. You can feel his erratic breath catch on your lips.

"Go ahead." You murmur. "I'm listening, I promise."

Again. No idea what he was talking about prior. All he knows is you're sitting on top of him like you literally just fell from heaven and your hands are all over him.

Jake blinks hard, rebooting.

"Right..." He exhales shakily, really trying to pull any coherent thought he had just 5 minutes ago to the forefront of his brain. But he can't.

"I- can't think when you're on top of me like this." He confesses, finally meeting your gaze, "Like, not even a little bit."

You hum, smile tugging at your lips. "Thats okay. I like when you're stupid too."

You kiss him properly now, and he folds immediately- his hands abandon their place on the back of the couch and clutch at your waist, thumbs digging into the fabric of your pajama pants like you've just unplugged him from reality.

His lips are soft, desperate, like he's kissing you with everything he has and it still doesn't feel like enough. He keeps trying to deepen it, glasses jostling on his face as he does, like if he can just get closer, he'll stop feeling like he's floating six inches above his own body.

One hand moves up your back, tentative at first, then clutching like he needs something to anchor him. He inhales sharply when you shift in his lap, and the sound he makes is embarrassingly close to a whimper.

You smile against his mouth. He's so gone.

Still- because he is who he is- Jake tries to rally.

"Wait- wait, okay-" He pants between kisses. "I just- I feel like I was saying something about—mmph— narrative structure— or maybe it was— God I don't even know, was it emotional stakes?"

You begin kissing down the side of his neck, slow and soft. His hands twitch.

"I had a point, I swear," he mumbles, breath hitching. "There were, like, layers. I used the word Byronic at some point."

You hum as you press your mouth to the spot just below his ear. "I believe you."

Jake practically combusts.

"You're- this is illegal," he whines, letting his head fall back against the couch and dragging his hands up under the hem of your shirt but not going any further. "I'm being seduced during a media critique."

You pull away from him fully, so you can look at him.

"I'm sorry, baby." You can't help but laugh at his dramatics and how much of a mess he looks: hair tousled, lips shining and just a bit swollen, glasses slightly fogged and skewed, and eyes glassy and absolutely smitten.

"I just-" You look away from him, but you can feel his eyes dragging across your face. You hum, trying to find the words as your hands smooth out the fabric on his shoulders. "I just like how passionate you are about things, even if it's over a dumb character you hate from my show."

Jake feels like his heart is about to give out. Because of the way you're smoothing out the wrinkles in his hoodie. Because of how breath taking you look, still on top of him, eyes glued to what your hands are doing. Because of how shy you've suddenly turned after saying you like how he shows interest in things you like.

"And..."

Your movements slow on his chest and your hands snake up to wrap around his neck. You're still looking away from him, eyes glued to a random spot over his shoulder.

"...I like how understanding you are. You use words I've never heard before in my life and you take time to explain what you mean without making me feel stupid for not understanding." A soft smile plays on your lips while you run your fingers through the hair starting at the base of his neck.

When you finally decide to look Jake in the eyes, he has the biggest, stupidest grin on his face. He doesn't say a word. Just looks at you.

'What?" You burst into a fit of giggles, feeling a bit self-conscious at his unresponsiveness.

"I think I'm in love with you."

"Well... I would hope so, I am your girlfriend." You say, shrugging your shoulders and giving him an awkward smile, "Or else this would be really embarrassing."

You're his girlfriend. You've been his girlfriend for almost 2 years and still, hearing it out loud makes butterflies scatter in his stomach.

Jake hums, eyes flicking down to your lips, then up to your eyes. "Can I have another kiss."

You don't even say anything, just laugh and give him what he asks for, leaning in to kiss him again.

Jake's glasses shift awkwardly on his nose, bumping against your cheek. He lets out a flustered noise of protest.

"Wait— shit—my glasses—sorry." He fumbled, trying to adjust them one-handed without pushing you off. Or far.

You giggle, reaching up to gently take them off for him.

His breath catches.

"Hey, what—what are you doing?" he asks, eyes wide as you slide them off and lean back to set them carefully on the coffee table.

"They're fogging up," you murmur. "And they keep getting in the way."

Jake stares up at you, stunned, glasses-less and helpless. How is he supposed to see you clearly now.

"But I need those..." he says, voice cracking like you just told him you were taking oxygen out of the room. "I'm like, legally blind. I'm emotionally compromised and visually impaired"

You tilt your head, smiling down at him, hands gently threading through his hair. "You'll survive."

Jake lets out the most pathetic little noise. "That's not guaranteed-"

You kiss him again, and any lingering thoughts he had—about his glasses, story arcs, character flaws, or general structure of fiction scatter into the wind like dust.

He kisses you back harder, more desperate now, arms fully wrapping around your waist and pulling you flush against him like he needs to memorize every inch of you. His lips move sloppily against yours, like he's trying to tell you everything he's feeling without using words for once.

"You're gonna kill me," he mumbles against your lips. "This is how I go. This is it."

You laugh softly, your nose brushing his. "Shut up and keep kissing me."

He does.

Eagerly. Stupidly. With his whole nerdy, overwhelmed, besotted heart.

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𝐏𝐞𝐫𝐦𝐚𝐧𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐓𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 (𝐎𝐩𝐞𝐧!)ᯓ★

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[alyakhq]

# PRETTY HURTS ! ᯓ★

ᯓ★ SYNOPSIS: the og3 being there when people are being mean :(

ᯓ★ PAIRINGS: xavier, zayne, rafayel x reader (separate)

ᯓ★ WARNINGS: racism, insulting, rafayel is more hurt than you are, ass touching (xavier), A LOT of kissing, suggestive at the end, rafayel cries

ᯓ★ A/N: THE ASK guys i can’t write fluff im so sorry, i really love dialogue (I HOPE ITS NOT OBVIOUS) 💔 t

ᯓ★ XAVIER ! wc : 1030

July 25, the hottest day since you and Xavier went on holiday. For the last week you’ve been thinking of going to the beach with a few friends of yours and after a while of planning, the idea made it out of the groupchat and into reality.

The beach was slightly empty, and spacious enough to give everyone a separate chair for themselves. The bag filled with all sorts of stuff in the middle. Xavier at first wasn’t planning on going because you were, he decided to go too.

Around the afternoon, you and Xavier were sat on one chair — Xavier laying on it, and you straddling his waist — just sharing the vanilla ice cream you got, whilst majority of his friends were playing volleyball.

Only some of them had a girlfriend, and one of them definitely didn’t like you.

— When walking to the meet-up up point, she made sure that you didn’t get in her car but she has requested Xavier in there.

“Xavier! Xavier! There’s space for one person in my car!” she’d yelled, making her voice more high pitched and winking at him from her seat.

“No thanks, I’m going with my girlfriend.” Xavier declined, taking your hand and moving to his own car, not minding the dirty looks she gave the both of you.

— When travelling to the beach, she somehow ‘forgot’ to get your lunch when going to the shop, despite having a list.

“Oh….sorry, I forgot your food…” she sarcastically said, trying to seem apologetic but it failed drastically.

“That’s fine, we can share,” Xavier split the sandwich in half, giving you the bigger piece and majority of his snacks. Even giving you his own energy drink — that he definitely needs.

“…Okay then.” She snarled, walking back to her car.

— When at the beach, all she did was comment on everything you did.

“A purple bikini? I haven’t seen someone wear that.” she’d laugh before seeing Xavier’s purple trunks, only to realise your matching.

“Why are you sitting like that?” she’d glared, before seeing Xavier pull you into his lap.

“You should go get the food for us. Since I didn’t it anyway” she’d tilted her head towards the street far away, only for Xavier to get up too.

As soon as she left, you and Xavier sat right back down, “I don’t really like her.” Xavier whispered, pulling you closer to his chest. “Neither do I,”

Sneakily, he took a good 1/3 of the ice cream in only one go, hiding his head after, licking his lips, “Reminds me of you.”

“Behave.” your hand flicked his forehead, seeing him chuckle after.

…But only 5 minutes later, she sat at the chair beside you and Xavier, despite her own chair being further away before laying down, stretched out.

She sighed dramatically, “Oh my Gosh, I need a tan so bad.” her head turned to you before speaking in that insufferable voice, “Don’t you think?”

Not really wanting to talk, your head barely turned to her, “…I guess so.”

“You don’t need to be in the sun y’know, you’re already darker than before we came. You can sit in the shade with the others.”

Feeling instantly insecure, a fake smile appeared on your lips, head tilting with a ‘laugh’, “Haha, yeah.”

Trying to distract yourself with sharing your ice cream with Xavier, she continued to comment.

“No really, how are you so dark? Normally, people onto tan a few shades but it’s like you’ve been here longer than everyone else,” She laughed before tapping Xavier’s arm, “Isn’t it? She should go to the shade,”

With a few shaky breaths, the tension just got worse, the feeling of just sheer anxiety filled your head. You were about to speak when Xavier’s angry serious tone filled the air.

“No, she shouldn’t. She’s perfectly fine here with me under the sun.” never had you ever heard him sound so angry, his hand went around your waist, another hand going down to your ass, grabbing a cheek in his hand making you gasp, “Xavier?!—“

The woman’s eyes travelled down to his hand, seeing him carelessly grope you with ownership. With a scoff, the girl sat up, “Are you sure? I mean look at her—“

His head finally turned to her fully, “I’m so sure. In fact, we didn’t need your input either. Instead of focusing on tanning, you should focus on that hairdo.”

Shock spread out on you and the woman, your head lifted off his chest to look at him, “Xavier!”

The girl’s hand went to her chest, staring a him with an offended look in her eye, “Excuse me?”

His eyes examined her hair again properly, his eyes narrowing his slight disgust and anger, “The highlights are rubbish, and the extensions are overdue.”

The girl got up, gasping whilst running off to her other friends, “How rude…”

Xavier’s hands went to your face, his tone soft and gentle, “Forget about her. She doesn’t know true beauty. You’re beautiful.”

“…Thank you Xavie,” your hands wrapped around his neck, resting your body in his lap, his hand cold enough to soothe your burning body.

“This is why we should go on trips by ourselves, I don’t like these people. They’re all mean.”

“Only she’s the mean one,” you replied, looking into his eyes.

“Not really, all the ‘men’ are just like her, if I wasn’t here they’d probably be on you.” he kissed your cheek, “Kissing you, and trying to do stuff with you. And I’m not letting that happen.”

Xavier’s kisses increased, his lips wrapping around your neck and sucking on the skin at every kiss, licking the dark spot afterwards, “…just imagining them touching you…trying to kiss what’s mine..” His hand squeezed your ass once more.

“They wouldn’t do that!—Ah!”

“Are you defending them?” Xavier’s hand slapped your backside, quite harshly, before rubbing the area, “Let’s go to the car,”

He stood up, you still in his lap, legs around his waist and your around around his neck, his hand underneath your backside to keep you still, “I’ll show you who you belong to, just wait to we get to that hotel.”

ᯓ★ ZAYNE ! wc: 1011

As a wife to the most known cardiologist in Akso, you always tried your best to come and say hello to his colleagues. You and Yvonne are already good friend but Greyson, and other doctors barely even talk to you.

So today, you went there again to stay in the staff room for a little! Packing a few containers of freshly made food, you went to Akso around Zayne’s break time. Since you made him take breaks, you’ve been getting more calls from him — which lead to people, especially Greyson, asking you for the recipe to he delicious food you were making.

Now you can meet them again in person!

Walking to the reception, you met Yvonne there instantly, “Hii!!” you smiled, giving her a hug over the counter as she gasped in shock, “You came!! Oo, and i have new drama for you.”

“I’m definitely interested but right now, I need you to do me a favour which is to give food to everyone before it gets cold.”

“Food?” Yvonne jumped, looking down at the bag you were holding. Taking out a hot container, you handed her the food, along with the other containers for his colleagues. “I have to go see Zayne, i’ll be back!!”

“Bye!!”

Making your way to his office, you spotted Zayne walking down the hallway with a rather…annoyed look on his face. One that a simple eye couldn’t tell. You could barely hear his mumbled words but some came through to you, “…i said no, miss. I have better things to be doing.”

“Hahaha! You’re so funny!! You could be doing me, zay zay!” a female voice filled the space after his words, and your head turned to see a woman — who looked way too young to be a new doctor — literally running to catch up with him. Her head tilted and voice raised insufferably high.

“Stop calling me that, and no. I’m not interested.”

Zayne’s head lifted when he saw you, his eyes widened and ears turning a soft red. A smile came to lips as he slowed down before meeting you, “Hi darling, I didn’t know you were coming.”

“I wanted to surprise you!” His hands wrapped around you, soft lips kissing the top of your forehead. His hand sneakily took the bag from you, before looking inside, “Thank you honey.”

A voice came from the side, “That’s why you don’t wanna go with me..?”

The both of you turned to look at the volunteer beside him, who was now standing there with a fake grin, her eyes staring at you mostly.

Zayne’s tone darkened, the harpness even made your heartbeat rise, “My declines weren’t enough? What made you finally understand?”

“Well…um you like,” she glared at you, a slight disgust on her face, “dark woman. I mean, she’s dark dark. And you’re so natural, i thought you were into paler woman? Like me.”

You paused.

Your body went still, thinking to yourself about what she said. Nearly instantly, your mind ran through constant scenario. Am I a good wife? Do I not look good enough?

“You don’t know me. Or my wife for that matter.” Zayne scoffed, his hand pullling you to his chest, a heavy hand putting your head to his pecs.

A laugh came from her as she looked at you, “Wife??” the woman turnt to him fully, “C’mon Zay Zay, don’t make me laugh—“

“Denied.”

“—you can settle for better—“ she paused, staring at him, “…What?”

“Your application to be a university student here is denied. Your stuff is in the staff room, take them and leave in the next 5 minutes.” Zayne felt a glare, the only one that made him shiver slightly, staring down to see yours.

The woman instantly turns to you, “For her?! Are you serious?” Her hand went to yours, a stinky finger in your face. “Wait, you can’t! What’s your response huh?”

Zayne swatted her hands away, “Miss, I could denied you even if you had made a a single mistake during your ‘shift’, but if you want details, Verbal Abuse. Get out.”

“Ugh!!” The woman cried out before stomping, rushing to the staff room and grabbing her belongings with slight screams of ‘betrayal’, “I didn’t want to be in this hospital anyway!”

A series of kisses landed on your face, hands holding your cheeks still. Your husband, the stoic stern man, serious and cold hearted doctor was kissing you over and over in the hallway of his hospital.

“Zay-“ Kiss “Sto-“ Kiss “ZAYNE—“ Kiss

“You’re gorgeous my love, don’t ever think different,” his kisses continued, until you had to forcefully push him off.

With a hand on his chest, you tried to speak once more “Yes! I understand, now! Zayne!—“

“Shh, you’re attracting people,” his hand went under your jaw, holding your face up to kiss you deeply, “It’s you—attracting people!—“

His kisses deepened, his tongue fighting against yours whilst his body pinned you to the wall of the hallway, his hands going to your lower back, the other behind your head to shield you from the harsh wall.

He groaned into every kiss, panting after his hunger increased. It wasn’t visible but you could feel it, that familiar bulge—

“….Ahem?” a voice came from behind him, it was Yvonne.

Desperately, you pushed Zayne off rapidly, turning to her fully, “Vone! Um—yes?”

“I wanted to say that your food was delicious and that Zayne should try it, but I think he finds something else delicious at the moments so…see you later!”

She walked back into the staff room, leaving the both of you in the empty hallway. The embarrassment crawling up your cheeks, “Save it for later when you get home, Z.”

Walking off, your mind ran through that moment again and again.

Until Zayne held your wrist tightly, pulling you close to his chest, his eyes dark with just, “I can’t wait, my love. Please, come.”

His strong hand lifted you bridal style, kissing you once more before leading you to his office, to enjoy your company further.

ᯓ★ RAFAYEL ! wc: 1130

Rafayel’s newest piece of work was already a global success. His theme which related to the ocean and love — how the water can call someone, and personally? It was his favourite piece.

Only before it had a special piece to it. You were in every painting. Walking towards the beach in that gorgeous beach dress, collecting shells with him, splashing him with water and holding a special seashell like a flute. It made him fall in love 10 times more, if it was even possible.

Today, you were at his open gallery, walking through the hallways with the man of the event himself.

“Gosh, you designed the place nicely, Raf,” a hand went to your hair, his long fingers digging into the coils before gently pulling them apart, admiring the bounce of the healthy curls.

“It was a piece of cake with you by my side, cutie.” His lips landed on your forehead, as he took a deep inhale of your scent, “My wife.”

Lifting your head higher, on your hippie toes, you nuzzled your nose against his, “My husband.”

Walking through the gallery once more, you stumbled upon one of your rpwesonally favourite paintings he’s done this time round. A shot from behind, taken to capture the smooth curve of your back and your curves in the bikini dress you wore, your bouncy curls falling onto your shoulders, tied back with a special accessory of a seashell. Everything stood out perfectly.

Rafayel was staring at you, wondering how he was so lucky to finally have you in this lifetime, “Is this one really your favourite?”

“Yeah! Look at it, it’s so natural,” you cooed, pointing at the gentle tones he used, “This must’ve taken ages.”

“Anything for you—“

“Mr Rafayel!” A woman’s voice brought you to from the intimate moment. Great.

Dressed in ‘rich’ attire, she stood with an assistant, her attitude already stunk of disgust and jealousy, “Oh! It’s a honour!”

She held his arm, smiling so hard her lips might fall off. Rafayel smiled back uncomfortable, removing his arm from her hold, “Ah, the honour is mine.”

The woman then turned to you before giving you a smile, which only told you that she as a problem. She turned her body so her back was facing you, trying to nearly move you out the way.

“Anyway!” She turned her head to your husband, all jolly, “I wanted to ask, who is that woman is those photos?”

Rafayel turned to the painting behind you two — smiling when seeing your frame on the canvas, “Her? That’s my wife,”

In seconds, the tension grew, the woman staring for a second “…Wife?” The woman’s smile dropped a little.

Thinking that this was the time to ‘introduce yourself’, you stood closer to Rafayel, “Hi,” you spoke, interrupting her as she stared at you before scoffing, feeling offended that you were closer to him.

“She’s much darker from the painting, isn’t she?” Rafayel and you stared at her crazy, your heart tightened. She laughed, looking at you and then the painting to compare the both of you in real life and you drawn, “Jeez. I think he might be drawing another woman, lady—”

Rafayel gasped, his hand going to his heart, eyes widened. Then, those hands started covering your body from her, purple eyes staring her up and down.

Just like that, the whole gallery silenced, hearing Rafayel gasp that loud and him hugging you tight. People looked, not daring to say a word. You however? Didn’t like the attention that was suddenly on the both of you, it made it even worse.

Did you really look that different? You were only outside at the beach with him for a good two hours to do everything off your ‘Beach date!’ list, there’s no way…or was she just reaching? No, she can’t be.

Staring down at yourself, your mind began to wander, looking back at the painting and thinking…I haven’t gotten dark. I’m not that dark, she’s just—

“Blasphemy!” Rafayel yelled.

Your head turned so quick, staring at his shocked and betrayed face, his hands covering you more. Rafayel lowered his head to you, “I can tell what you’re thinking, and I promise you that you’re never ‘too dark’, what is she on about?!”

His head snapped back to her, “You’re a demon!”

“What?!”

Your head looked up at him, “Rafayel?”

He turned to the other way before screaming, “Security!! Security!! Get her out!”

People began to whisper, wondering what this woman must’ve done to get on his nerves. Rafayel — the person who leaves his own exhibitions, walks around with no bodyguard and didn’t even care when there was an active shooter in the gallery because he wanted to stay on call with his wife.

He looked so tough and strong…

That was until Rafayel stared at you, holding your face and looking with nothing but melancholy, “You’re so beautiful, my wife my bride my love. You’re gorgeous no matter what, i love you two much. How dare she say that! To my wife? Is she crazy?”

“Not even I, the amazing artist, could ever paint your beauty, and she dares to insult you? She’s insulting me then too!”

“What?”

“We’re one together cutie, my souls belongs to you, my life is in your hands, everything i do is for you! She’s insulting both of us! I can’t believe that someone could ever say that about me amazing wife, my reason to live, my—“

Putting a hand on his chest, you spoke softly to try and calm his nerves, “Okay Rafa, I know. She’s crazy—“

He hugs you tighter, one arm wrapping around your waist to hold you to his chest. His other arm on the back of your head, massaging your curls and nuzzling his head in yours, “No! I can’t stand it. I’m getting her banned from my island.”

Meanwhile, the woman was screaming, fighting against the security guards with no effort, “I’m no demon!—Get your hands off me! Do you know who I am! I am…”

The woman’s complains continued as she was grabbed and escorted by the security guards, her fake purse landing on the floor like a reminder that she was gone. You could feel your husband scoff at the thought once more, his finger gently moving to your hand to caress the stone in your ring finger. Soothing him.

The aggressive taps on his phone, messaging Thomas an angry message, his chest rising and falling faster than ever…yeah he was angry.

“…Never will anyone speak of my wife like that…that’s so not right.”

Kissing his cheek, a hand went to his arm, rubbing the muscle that was underneath, “It’s okay Rafayel, let’s just—“

You went to move when you heard it….barely audible..

Sniffle

“…are you crying?”

@ alyakhq , do not plagiarise, copy or translate my work pls :)

[melonba11s]

Suit and Tie (Strade/MC fanfic)

Contains: formal wear fetish (reader has one), alludes to canon events, shock collar mention, fluff, oral sex, Strades wearing a suit lol

Strade had been in a bad mood that morning.

He didn't take it out on you or Ren, he just stewed silently. Didn't smile as much when it came to conversation.

You asked Ren quietly what was up with him.

"He has a *wedding* to go too." Ren said, before giving an odd snicker.

"A wedding?" You said incredulously. "Who would invite that guy to a wedding?"

You forgot how normal, how loveable Strade was to the outside world. To those who didn't see him down a few steps and behind a locked door.

Ren shrugged.

"Some neighbor. He fixed their fridge and they invited him. He *hates* dressing up."

Dressing up. Of course someone like Strade would hate the constrictive bindings of a suit and tie. Someone trying to keep him held down in the form of clothing.

Ren seemed eager to see Strade for a whole other reason. Perhaps relishing in the chance to see his captor uncomfortable, feeling out of place.

You really couldn't imagine him cleaned up and wearing something other than cargo pants or jeans.

Or spending more than 10 minutes getting ready.

"Ren, should I shave?" his voice called from the bathroom.

"No, it's uncanny." Ren replied, flatly. You couldn't imagine Strade clean shaven either.

Strade spent a few more minutes rustling around in the bathroom before he finally emerged.

He looked... dulled. All of his energy quashed into a red suit that squared off his shoulders a bit too much. Even his hair was more under control, pulled back into a small tie that rested at the nape of his neck.

He tugged at his collar a bit, groaning.

"Why doesn't anyone ever just host a wedding at a bar or bowling alley?" A rhetorical question, based in his frustrations.

"You look good." The words fell from your mouth before you could stop yourself.

Different, but good. His eyes locked onto yours. The beginnings of curiosity and excitement flickering like a flame in his eyes. Wanting to make you tell him more, make you admit something else.

Then he glanced at the clock.

"Scheiße, I need to leave." He grabbed his wallet off the table and stuffed it into one of his suit pockets, before grabbing his car keys.

Then he grabbed a smaller remote, and spun a dial. You felt your collar light up, and stiffened, prepared for a shock.

Just a few small beeps. Decreasing the perimeter on the collars. An extra precaution for when he was gone longer than normal.

"Have fun." You said, barely lifting a hand to wave as he brushed past you and Ren and towards the door.

A grunt in response. He was not going to have any fun.

The sound of a door closing, a lock clicking into place, and silence settling down in the house.

"... So, what do you wanna do?" You turned to look at Ren. You supposed you should try and enjoy this alone time while you had the chance too.

The hours ticked by. Mid morning turned to early afternoon.

You and Ren watched TV. You ate lunch together. You lived *normally* for the first time in months.

But you couldn't get that damn suit out of your mind. Ren could tell you were distracted too.

"You have a fetish or something?" he had asked, catching you off guard.

"No! I just... Like the way suits look... they seem to make people a lot more attractive."

"So you do have a fetish."

"Shut up, you're one to talk."

Non-serious bickering that always felt good to get into. The kind friends had.

And yet even as the afternoon turned to dusk and Ren crept to be alone in his room, you stayed in the living room, thinking.

Thinking about how Strade's sweat would cling to that suit. How it would wrinkle over time as he moved and had a few drinks.

How he'd be dreaming of getting back home and taking it off. Maybe right in the hallway.

Weddings were emotional affairs, maybe he'd call you to him, force you onto your knees-

The sound of a garage door opening made you sit up. You were on your feet in seconds and adrenaline pushed you to race to find somewhere to hide, be out of the way. Somewhere Strade wouldn’t think to look.

Surprisingly. You stood in front of the fridge.

"I bet he'll want a beer." you thought. One of his favorites, cheap and tasting more like failed sourdough than a proper lager.

By the time the door opened, you had made your decision. You waited patiently, holding the cold can of beer, just inside the collar’s perimeter.

You could hear him kick off his dress shoes with a mumbled complaint about aching feet. Followed by a groan of relief as those aching feet hit chilly hardwood.

"Here." You said softly, as he appeared from around the corner.

Hair still up, but not as neat. The front of his suit was unbuttoned to reveal the dress shirt and he'd loosened the tie considerably.

The Strade you knew was oozing out from its cage. Eyes flickered from your face to the beer.

He took it as condensation began to form on the can and opened it. The sound of metal snapping open seemed so loud in the darkened house.

He took several long gulps before wiping his mouth on the sleeve of his suit, no longer having to worry about looking presentable.

"Thanks, Liebling." his voice was husky. He began to shrug the overcoat off.

"wait." you placed a hand on his arm. He stopped, eyes crinkling as he finally smiled.

"Ooh, that's right." A hand meeting your cheek before moving up to ruffle your hair. "You like suits."

You nodded, no use trying to hide it.

"I could tell by how you looked at me" he was moving closer. You took a step back into the wall, swallowing heavily.

You could smell him. Sweat, the myriads of cologne and perfume other guests had worn, the lingering of a steak dinner and champagne.

You pressed yourself against him and slid to the floor, knees hitting the wood.

"Strade." Your mouth felt so dry. "Can I please?..." You couldn't bring yourself to say it. You rubbed your cheek against his thigh, then pressed your face into his crotch.

Greeted with the pleasant surprise that he was already hard. You couldn't help but open your mouth and inhale his sharp musky scent, hoping to be able to taste it as much as you smelt it.

"You really are weird..." You looked up at him. He seemed so far away, those amber eyes glowing with affection.

His hands undoing his belt as you eagerly pulled his slacks down.

You should slow down, try not to look so eager as his cock twitched, freed from the sweaty confines of his boxers.

"to hell with it." you told those reasonable thoughts, circling the head of his cock with your tongue before taking him in your mouth.

The moan that came from him was delicious, his eyes closed as you took him further in. Feeling him buck his hips against you a bit and digging his hands into your hair.

If he had been trying to stay in control of himself, he failed. Because it wasn't long before you weren't doing any work at all, and were just letting him thrust into your throat.

Hands limp at your sides, looking up at him with misplaced adoration as he came down your throat.

"Swallow it all." he said, breathlessly. You didn't have a choice. If you did you still would.

The afterglow was nice. Panting, leaning against his legs as Strade steadied his breathing, a hand on your head.

"... How was the wedding?" you finally asked. Silence stretched on. You wondered if Strade was ignoring your question.

"I'd have rather spent the day with you."

You glanced at the clock.

“It’s still early.” you began to rise. “We can.. I don’t know. Spend the night together.”

A hand ruffling your hair.

“Right you are, Liebling. Let me get this monkey suit off.”

A quick plate of leftovers microwaved for him and another beer, you both had started out sitting on the couch, Strade now stripped down to nothing but a pair of sweatpants.

But as time went on, as the TV changed channels and programs, you had melted into each other. Strade laid out across the couch, a mess of limbs with your cheek pressed against his chest.

You found yourself staring at his hand, limp and upturned as he focused on the TV.

You slid your own palm across his and was met with a firm squeeze, and caught him smiling slightly.

"You're clingy tonight," he commented. Were you?

"I'm not used to you being gone." you replied. It was true. You'd grown used to Strades generous showering of physical affection and his overbearing company. Even if he was your kidnapper, he had a way of worming into your body and leaving holes in his absence.

A small chuckle.

"Oh so you have... what is it?... *separation anxiety*?"

You weren't going to grace him with an answer. You stayed quiet and just squeezed his hand back, focusing on its callused surface.

Strade would take silence as an answer too though, and you groaned as he began to sit up, forcing you up.

"I suppose I should give you some extra attention, to make up for it." you swore he *purred* those words, as he maneuvered you like an awkward mannequin until you were pinned underneath him on the couch.

You could feel your heart beating against your rib cage as you swallowed nervously.

The soft thud of Strades knees hitting the floor, apprehension and excitement flooding your body as he slid down until he was between your legs.

"Spread 'em." your joints felt stiff as you obeyed, whining softly as he worked your underwear down.

This felt familiar, you knew what he was up to, and you couldn't help but reach down to grab a handful of his hair.

"wai- AUGH" his teeth sunk into your inner thigh. On instinct your thighs snapped closed on his head, and he looked all too pleased with himself.

"Don't get greedy..." A light hearted warning that held no threat behind it, just simple teasing.

Making fun of you for being eager.

You knew your arousal was visible to him. You gripped the couch instead of his hair, afraid of more teeth as Strade pressed his mouth against you.

He enjoyed you like he enjoyed his beer. Peering at you over the rim of the glass with gleeful eyes as he ran his tongue across you fervently, enjoying every noise you made.

Eager groans of enjoyment coming from deep within his chest as he settled in, hands on your hips gripping you tightly. Strade was never one to let anyone take a meal away from him.

His already fast pace increasing as you began to writhe and moan. Nothing was ever slow or sensual, he wrung orgasms out of you like he started a lawnmower. Quick, jerking motions.

You closed your eyes and arched your body into him as you came, half expecting your fingers to put holes in the upholstery with how hard you gripped the couch.

He always had a self satisfied grin on his face whenever he was done performing. You remembered the first time you saw that smirk with half lidded eyes as he licked his lips.

The first time you saw that expression he hadn't let you stay with him on the couch.

You were glad he always let you stay by his side now.

[divineandmajesticinone]

PIT BABE SEASON 2 (2025) I EP. 2

"Don't you want me, Babe? Truth is, I wanted you the second I walked in."

[monicaalexandraaa]

The Dilf is back and I am thrilled !!!!!!!🤩🤩

Such a great part! The beginning was so sweet, such a fun date idea😌You always write emotion incredibly well. I could feel y/n’s nerves / sadness from the interaction with Sloane. It’s like I almost started overthinking with her😆I love that he wanted to get to the bottom of it. He picked up on it right away and wanted to do whatever he could to fix it.

He'd do anything it took to get her to see she wasn't just some phase, some easy girl he could control… It was never that with him.

Every moment of vulnerability she showed him he immediately gave her what she needed. He didn’t tease her for it or make her feel dumb. He really proved that he was all in just as much as she was and I really loved that🥰

And of course not only did he plan on telling her but showing her too🤭the smut was everything and more😍😍

These two are sooooooo good !!!!! I enjoyed this so much. Guru doing Guru things and blowing me away as always🩷🩷

DILF [3] | older!harry

→ MAIN MASTERLIST ← -- | DILF [1] | DILF [2] |

Summary: Y/n's been dating Harry for a couple of months but a few interactions make her wonder where they really stand. Harry makes sure she knows just how much she means to him.

A/n: They're back! Here, we pick up with them a couple of months after part 2.

Word Count: 6.6k

Warning: age gap, smut, self-doubt, slight angst, a couple of awkward interactions with women in Harry's past

. .

“You’re enjoying this way too much,” she said, feeling the clay slip between her fingers again as he guided her hands from behind.

Harry’s quiet laugh brushed warm against her neck. “Maybe. But watching you struggle is adorable.”

She turned her head to look at him over her shoulder. He was close enough that she could see the faint gray threading through his hair at the temples, close enough that she could feel his body against her back. God, he smelled good, he always did. The extra effort he consistently put in for her did not go unnoticed.

“You know, when you said you were taking me somewhere different, I had no idea it would be so…” she glanced down at the sloppy spinning mound between their palms, “…messy.”

He grinned, his big hands steadying hers. “Thought you’d appreciate something that wasn’t just dinner and drinks this time.”

“I do,” she admitted, voice a little softer. “It’s just… hard to look cute with mud under my nails.”

Harry turned his face, his mouth near her ear. “You always look cute. Even when you're messy.”

Heat shot straight up her neck. She tried to focus on the lump of clay, but his palm was spread over hers, warm and steady, and she couldn’t stop thinking about the way he’d touched her the last time they were together, the Thursday before (though that night was spent just in her apartment and mostly in her bed).

“Careful,” she said quietly. “You’re going to make me mess it up again.”

“It’s already ruined,” he teased, nodding at the uneven lip of the bowl. “But you’re trying. That’s what counts.”

She rolled her eyes, but her smile stayed put. She was having a lot of fun, even if she was awful at pottery work. He'd promised her that they'd actually go out and do something fun this time. She liked it. Liked that he’d planned this as an actual date, not just another excuse to get her into bed. Which part of her worried about, with any guy, not just him.

His hands left hers, and she turned, watching him move away to pick up a rag.

“Let’s call it a masterpiece,” he said, wiping his palms on a towel. “You hungry?”

“Starving.”

“Good.” He met her gaze, soft and lingering. “I want to feed you. Then I want to take you home.”

Her stomach flipped at his words. She wiped her hands clean and tried to pretend her cheeks weren’t burning. But when he took her coat off the back of the chair and held it out for her, she didn’t bother hiding her smile.

The sidewalk was slick from an earlier drizzle, the streetlights turning every puddle into a scattering of gold and red reflections. Y/n felt almost weightless when Harry laced his fingers through hers as they walked. She was still getting used to him.

It was stupid how much it meant, that simple gesture. That he’d hold her hand like that in public, like he wasn’t even thinking twice about it. It felt good, being with him. Easy. Like they’d done it a hundred times already.

Harry glanced down at her as they reached the corner. “You cold?”

“No.” She smiled, leaning closer just because she could. “I’m fine.”

He squeezed her hand lightly, and they turned the corner toward the little restaurant entrance, golden light spilling out onto the sidewalk. That was when the woman stepped into their path. Pretty. Sleek dark coat. High-heeled boots that clicked confidently against the pavement.

Harry slowed, his hand loosening from around Y/n’s.

“Harry?” the woman said, her eyebrows lifting in polite surprise.

Y/n blinked up at her, thrown by the way he'd let go of her hand and in the way she was looking at him.

“Sloane,” Harry said evenly.

Sloane’s gaze slid to Y/n, and for a split second, something sharp flickered behind her eyes before her expression smoothed over. “Crazy running into you here.”

Y/n felt the question rising in her throat—Who is this?—but before she could ask, Sloane smiled, all polite curiosity.

“And… you are?” she prompted, looking at Y/n directly.

“I'm Y/n,” she said, glancing from Sloane to Harry.

“Y/n.” Sloane nodded slowly, lips pressing together. "Let me guess… You're his niece? The one from out of town?"

Her brows pinched together as she glanced up at Harry. She didn't even realize he had a niece. That wasn't something they'd discussed yet.

Harry’s jaw ticked. “She’s not my niece.”

“Oh.” Sloane let out a small, surprised sound, her gaze swinging back to Y/n. “I see.” She paused, studying her for an extra beat, eyes scraping over her frame, before her lips curved again. “Sorry. Just… you look so young. It threw me off. Surely this isn't some kind of date…”

Y/n swallowed, trying to ignore the flush climbing her throat. “I’m not that young.”

"This is a date, actually," Harry said.

Sloane hummed, tilting her head thoughtfully. “Well. That’s nice, Harry.” She flicked her eyes toward him, the corner of her mouth lifting. “I didn’t know you were into…”

Harry’s brows lifted. “Into?”

Sloane waved a hand, dismissive, a laugh trickling from her throat. “Oh, you know. Younger women. It’s sweet. Keeps you young, too, I suppose.”

Y/n opened her mouth, then shut it, unsure whether to feel embarrassed or annoyed. Her voice was calm when she finally spoke. “We’ve been seeing each other, a while.”

“Have you?” Sloane’s gaze sharpened, yet somehow her expression was still pleasant. “Aww, cute. How long?”

Y/n didn't appreciate the condescending tone.

Harry’s voice was even. “About two months now.”

Sloane blinked once, the only crack in her practiced composure. “Two months,” she repeated softly. “Well. That explains it, I guess.”

“Explains what?” Y/n asked, before she could think better of it.

Sloane’s smile thinned. “Nothing. Just… a bit of confusion about why our plans fell through about two months back.” She turned her eyes to Harry again. “I imagine this is why you cancelled on me?”

Harry’s jaw flexed, but he didn’t deny it. “Yeah.”

For a moment, no one spoke. A car crawled past, headlights sweeping over the three of them in a long, uncomfortable arc.

Sloane’s polite tone returned like a switch had been flipped. “Anyway. I won’t keep you. Enjoy your evening.”

She gave Y/n a final, assessing look that somehow made her feel like she was standing there in a too-short skirt and borrowed shoes, even though she knew she looked fine.

Then Sloane turned and walked off, her heels tapping briskly down the sidewalk. Harry let out a quiet exhale. Y/n didn’t look at him. Her pulse was beating hot in her ears.

“Y/n,” he said gently.

She shook her head, voice tight, eyes focused on the restaurant. “It’s fine.”

“It’s not. I can tell you're upset.”

“I said it’s fine.”

When she finally forced herself to look at him, his expression was serious, eyes searching hers. His hand closed around hers again, thumb brushing over her knuckles.

“Come on,” he murmured. “Let’s go inside.”

She let him guide her to the door, but the heat in her chest didn’t fade. And she couldn’t stop hearing Sloane’s voice in her head, all honeyed sweetness over something sharp.

You look so young. It’s sweet. How cute.

The hostess led them to a small table near the window, the soft glow of string lights overhead doing nothing to ease the tight knot in Y/n’s chest. She wasn't jealous… Not of Sloane. Though the fact that she knew something about a niece who lived out of town while Y/n didn't, felt strange. It was the first time she'd felt so out of place next to Harry since they'd started dating.

Harry pulled out her chair for her, but she sat without meeting his eyes. When he took the seat across from her, she could feel him watching, even as she pretended to study the menu.

A beat passed. Then another. “Y/n,” he said quietly.

She kept her eyes on the drink list. “Hmm?”

“You sure you're okay?”

“I am.” She flipped a page, ignoring how her voice trembled just annoyingly. “I'm fine.”

His brow creased. “Something's got to you.”

She forced a small smile as she finally looked back up at him, though it felt thin on her face. “Can we not do this here?”

He watched her for another long moment before nodding once, settling back in his chair. “All right.”

She hated how relieved she felt when he didn’t push. She needed to get her thoughts in order anyway before they talked it out. But the reprieve only lasted until the server came to take their order.

Harry asked for a steak and a glass of red. She ordered pasta she knew she wouldn’t eat much of, her stomach already in knots. She was being silly. Or… maybe she wasn't.

When the server left, Harry folded his arms on the table, studying her. “You know she doesn’t matter. Right?”

Y/n traced the rim of her water glass with her fingertip.“I’m aware.”

His voice softened. “Then why are you acting like something bad just happened between us?”

She huffed a quiet, humorless laugh, eyes still fixed on her glass. “I’m not.”

“You are.”

“I just…” She stopped, shaking her head. “It’s stupid.”

“Try me.”

“It’s nothing, Harry. Can we please just not?”

His jaw tightened, but he didn’t argue. He shifted back when the food arrived, thanked the server, and set into his meal without comment. He was frustrated, made obvious by the tension pouring from the set of his shoulders.

She pushed pasta around her plate, appetite long gone. Her mind kept replaying Sloane’s voice, the way she’d looked at her like she was some novelty that Harry had picked up along the way. A temporary distraction.

You look so young. I didn't know you were into…

Why did Harry like her even? What did they really have in common? Was he one of those men who liked the younger ones? Easier to manipulate, someone with less experience who wouldn't give him too much lip? Y/n didn't feel like she was a pushover, but what if she'd gotten it wrong? Maybe he was just enjoying fucking a pretty young thing because he wasn't serious about their future.

When she finally glanced up, Harry was watching her steadily, his expression unreadable.

“You’re not eating,” he said quietly.

“Yeah, I am,” she said, stuffing a forkful into her mouth and chewing as she raised her brows.

His eyes narrowed a fraction. “Y/n.”

“I’m fine,” she insisted, softer this time, though she knew he didn’t believe it. She didn't believe it herself. But she didn't want to get into it at the restaurant in front of everyone. She'd come out looking like the dumb young girl who was overreacting.

They finished in tense silence, her fork barely touching the food again, other than a few mouthfuls to prove that she was eating something. The only sounds were the muted clink of silverware and the low hum of conversation from other tables.

When the check came, Y/n offered her card, but Harry waved her off and paid without comment. He stood and held her coat out for her, but she couldn’t quite meet his gaze as she slipped her arms into the sleeves.

Outside, the night felt colder than before. She kept her hands stuffed in her pockets instead of reaching for him. Harry didn’t say a word as they walked the short block to where he’d parked. He unlocked the car, stepped around to open her door, and waited while she slid in.

The moment he closed his own door and settled behind the wheel, she felt the hush of the car wrap around them. No music, no chatter from nearby tables, no reason left to keep pretending.

He didn’t start the engine. He just sat there, hands resting on the steering wheel, staring straight ahead.

“Are you going to drive?” she asked, though her voice came out small.

“Not until you tell me what’s going on,” he said calmly, turning to look at her.

She shifted against the seat, pressing her palms over her thighs. “I told you. It’s silly.”

“Are you jealous of her? Cause you shouldn't be.”

“Harry…”

He turned his body toward her. The low light from the dashboard cut across his face, tracing the lines of tension around his mouth.

“I’m not taking you home like this,” he said quietly. “If you don’t want to talk to me, fine. But I’m not going to pretend everything’s okay when it’s clearly not. You're upset about something.”

A knot tightened in her throat and she swallowed around it. “I'm not jealous, so you know. The issue is… It's… dumb.”

“Then humor me.”

She rubbed her thumb over the seam of her coat, trying to gather the mess of her thoughts into something she could say out loud. “It’s just… that woman.”

“Sloane.”

“Yeah.” She hesitated, eyes fixed on the dash. “I know it’s not about her, not really. But she—” Her voice caught, and she pressed her lips together.

“She what?”

“She looked at me like I was… like I was this stupid little girl you picked up for fun. At least that's how it made me feel.”

His brow furrowed. “That’s not what this is.”

“I know.” She forced herself to look at him. “I do know that. But it made me think… about the age thing.”

His expression didn’t change, but she felt the heat rush up her neck as she continued. “I mean… we’re at different places in our lives. You’ve got kids, an ex-wife… a whole history I’m never going to be part of. And me…” She let out a breath. “I’m just some… twenty-something who doesn’t know what she’s doing.”

The confession hung there, raw and unpolished. She could feel her pulse hammering behind her ribs. The more she spoke, the dumber she felt.

Harry drew in a slow breath, his gaze steady on hers. “Is that what you think I see when I look at you?”

She didn’t answer because she wasn’t sure.

He reached across the console and covered her hand with his. “Y/n. If I wanted something easy… someone who didn’t have opinions or who was just here to make me feel young, I wouldn’t have come looking for you." He pushed out a laugh. "You're smart, outspoken, feisty… and to me, you and I get along really well. I don't really think much about the age difference.”

Her eyes burned. She tried to blink the heat away, but it didn’t help. “Then what is this? Because I…” She swallowed. “I really like you. And maybe that’s stupid, but I do. And I don’t know what this is to you.”

He was quiet for a long moment. Long enough that her heart sank, sure she’d just made everything worse. Then he gave her hand the smallest squeeze.

“It’s not stupid. And it’s not nothing. You’re not nothing to me.”

She felt something crack in her chest, relief and fear tangling so tightly she couldn’t pull them apart. He seemed so sincere. It was in his eyes, in the way he seemed so sure of what he said. She let her eyes wander over the numbers on the clock on his dashboard briefly.

Harry’s voice softened. “Look at me.”

She shifted her gaze back up to his again

“I like you,” he said simply. “I like you more than I've liked anyone in a really long time. And it’s not about your age. It’s about you. Like, genuinely, Y/n. I like you.”

Her throat tightened, her voice a whisper. “I don't know what to think sometimes. Because I really like you. One of my friends even warned me not to get attached because chances were you'd regret this or decide you'd had your fun and be done. I want to prove that that's not true, but I don't know… After what Sloane said…”

His jaw flexed, and for the first time that night, something like anger flashed in his eyes. Not at her, but at the idea itself. “People like that don’t know shit about us. They'll see soon enough that we're solid.”

She blinked, a shaky laugh escaping before she could stop it. Her grin widened as his did.

His thumb brushed over the back of her hand again. “You don’t have to prove anything to anyone. Not to Sloane, not to your friends, not to me.”

“But I feel like I do.”

He nodded, as if he understood more than he was saying. “Then let's figure this out together. Yeah? Probably time to really sit down and talk about what this is.”

The silence that followed wasn’t heavy this time. It was tentative. Careful. But it felt gentle and hopeful.

Finally, he released her hand and started the engine. “All right,” he said, his voice low as he started up his car. “Let’s go back to mine and we'll talk about all this.”

The drive was quiet, but not uncomfortable. She felt like her skin was still buzzing from the way he’d looked at her when he was talking, like she was something precious, not temporary. That was all she wanted, really. To be taken seriously.

When he pulled into his driveway and turned off the engine, neither of them moved for a second. He just looked at her, his big hand resting on the gearshift like he was still debating whether to say more but he didn't. He climbed out and came around to open her door (always the gentleman), and when she stepped out, he caught her chin in his hand, tilting her face up to his.

“You believe me?” he asked, voice low.

She swallowed. “I do.”

His mouth twitched. “Okay. Good. We've still got more to talk about.”

Inside, the house was dim and quiet. He flicked on the light over the kitchen and set his keys down. She hovered awkwardly by the counter, suddenly unsure what came next after her silly tantrum. Well, it wasn't really a tantrum, more like a moment of uncertainty and wavering confidence in what they were doing. What they were.

Harry turned to her, and for the first time all night, he looked uncertain too. Like he wasn’t sure if touching her would be the right thing. She hated that she'd made it weird.

“You want a drink?” he asked.

“No,” she said softly. “I just… I think I need you to tell me what this is.”

He stepped closer. “What do you want it to be?”

She hesitated, searching his face as she shook her head. “I'm starting to have real feelings for you, Harry. I need to know we're on the same page. I want it to be something real.”

“It already is.”

Her breath came out in a wisp, and she opened her mouth to argue… she didn’t know why, maybe just out of stubborn habit, but he shook his head and cupped her jaw gently in his hand to keep her focus on him.

“I’m serious,” he said. “This isn’t casual for me. It hasn’t been for a while. I've got real feelings for you too, Y/n.”

She blinked, her heart fluttering so fast it almost made her lightheaded. “So what are you saying?”

He exhaled a slow, steadying breath, like he was working up to something.

“I’m saying…” he said, pausing as he took her hand and jutted his head toward the living room. "Let's go sit down."

She followed him to the couch, and just when she thought they'd both sit, he pulled her with him, dragging her into his lap and shifting them both until they were sitting together, looking at one another. He put an arm around her, his other hand on the top of her thigh.

“I've been thinking about it a lot, and I want you to be my girlfriend. If you want that too. Feels right to me.”

For a second, she couldn’t find her voice. All she could do was stare at him, her pulse thumping wildly in her ears. She gripped the side of his sweater in her fist and when she finally managed a breath, it came out thin. “Yes. I want that.”

His hand slid to the back of her neck, and he kissed her before she could say anything else. It was different from the other times. Like he was sealing something between them. Like a handshake but far sweeter.

She slid her hands up to the front of his chest, and when he pulled back, she was smiling so wide it almost hurt.

“You look happy,” he said quietly, thumb brushing over her cheek.

“I am,” she whispered.

“Good. That's what I want to see.”

He kissed her again, slow and sultry, his tongue sliding against hers, and she felt her body soften against his as all the tension she’d been carrying seemed to melt away.

When he finally pulled back, he moved his lips up to kiss her forehead. “Come on,” he said. “Need to make sure you understand how serious I am."

He didn’t rush her. Just led her down the hall with one big reassuring hand at the small of her back. When they reached the bedroom, he turned on the lamp on the dresser to fill the space with warm, honey-colored light. Then he faced her, quiet, searching her eyes as if he was giving her one last chance to change her mind.

She didn’t. She wouldn't. Harry was the man of her dreams, and if he was serious about all this… if he really wanted them to take their relationship to the next step, she was all in.

She stepped close and pressed her palms to his chest, feeling the steady thump of his heart under her hands. God, he was gorgeous and so nice. She didn't know why she ever had second thoughts about his intentions.

“You’re sure you want me as your girlfriend?” she whispered, a cheeky soft smile working its way up on her mouth. Despite her grin, her question was serious.

His lips curved, soft and reassuring. “I’ve never been more sure about anything.”

His hands came up to cup her face, and he kissed her again. Long, unhurried, like he had all night to convince her she was all he wanted. She felt her body melt into his, her breath catching as he slid his hands down her sides, thumbs brushing over her hips.

When he pulled back, he started working the buttons on her coat that she'd yet to remove. It was slow and methodical, like every layer he plucked at was something he’d been waiting to see. A pleasure to shed each layer with the utmost care.

“You’re beautiful,” he said in a whisper, sliding the coat from her shoulders and letting it fall to the floor. “So fucking beautiful. And so smart. So good for me.”

Her hands fumbled with the buttons of his shirt, but he didn’t laugh or tease her, just helped her, undoing each one until she could push it over his broad shoulders. She smoothed her palms over the warm skin of his chest, feeling the way his breath caught when she touched him.

“You make me feel like…” She trailed off, a flush of embarrassment washing over her at the vulnerability of the moment.

“Like what?” he asked softly.

“Like maybe this is real.”

He bent to kiss her jaw, his voice low and rough. “It is real, baby.”

His fingers slipped under the hem of her top, before he pulled it over her head. She shivered nervously, and at the cool air as it touched her skin, but he was already smoothing his palms up her arms, steadying her.

He kissed her again, deeply, ravaging, and her knees went weak at the slow slide of his mouth against hers. When she whimpered, he groaned and pressed her back toward the bed.

“Lie down,” he murmured against her lips.

She sat and then lowered down, her breath coming in soft little gasps as he followed her onto the mattress, bracing himself over her on his forearms. His eyes roved over her face as his chest rose and fell heavy.

“So pretty,” he said.

She puffed out a bashful laugh.

He kissed her throat, her collarbone, the tops of her breasts, taking his time, not hurrying to get her naked all at once. His big hand slid up to cup her cheek, thumb brushing the corner of her mouth.

“I want you to know how serious I am about you. Want you to feel it,” he said against her skin.

“You already showed me,” she breathed.

“Not enough.”

He kissed his way down her belly, pausing at the waistband of her skirt, and looked up at her. She watched him move his hands up her thighs, pushing the material up over her hips, revealing her thin underwear. He pressed kisses to every inch of skin he uncovered.

When he settled between her thighs, she gasped, one hand flying to his hair.

“Harry—”

“Shh.” His voice was husky. “Just let me take care of you.”

His mouth found her through her panties, warm and unhurried, his tongue stroking over the damp fabric until she was trembling. He moaned into the soaked cloth and lifted to look up at her.

She clocked that cocky grin on his face as she hooked his thumbs under the elastic of her waistband. "Love getting you messy."

Biting her lip, she watched as he pulled her skirt off and then finally removed her thong, dragging it down her legs slowly. He took his time, kissing the soft skin of her inner thighs, breathing her in like he couldn’t get enough.

He started easy and slow, flicking his tongue over her clit in steady, teasing strokes. When she whimpered, he slipped two fingers inside her, curling them just right until her hips were lifting up off the mattress.

If there were things about Harry that she could brag on (there were many), one of them was that his cunnilingus game was on point. She'd never slept with anyone as good as him in general, but the way he could make her come with his mouth?

“Look at me,” he rasped.

She forced her eyes open, and the moment their gazes locked, the heat that had been building finally broke as he sucked her clit into his mouth and dragged his fingertips into that gooey, mushy spot inside of her that made her brain melt. She came with a soft, broken cry, her body shaking under his mouth.

He didn’t stop until she was squirming, fingers pumping, tongue swirling, and she was too sensitive to take any more. Only then did he kiss his way back up her body, his lips soft and warm against her skin.

She caught his face in her hands when he reached her, kissing him hard, tasting herself on his tongue. Her heart was pounding wildly from everything. Not just the orgasm, but also because of the talk they'd had. They were official. They were real. This was real.

“Need you,” she whispered. “Please.”

His breath shuddered out. “Yeah?

She nodded quickly and watched him as he shifted, removing his pants and then his underwear. He reached over to grab a condom from his nightstand. She sat up and helped him roll it on, her hands shaking with urgency to feel him inside of her.

He grinned at how excited she seemed to be. Yanking her thighs and pulling her against him, he leaned over her and kissed her slowly, only to feel her writhing under him impatiently.

He laughed. "What's the rush? I just made you come and you're already acting like you haven't even been touched?"

She rolled her eyes and lifted her hips. "You're my boyfriend now. Want to feel what it's like to have my boyfriend fucking me."

He moaned, hands dragging down her arms and then over her breasts before he pushed her thighs further apart. He tilted his gaze down between her legs, where his cock was hanging just over her. She felt him slide his thumbs down to her slick labia and then he pulled, opening up her hole to get a good view of where he was about to be buried.

"You drive a hard bargain, honey. You sure you're ready to feel it?" He grinned, eyes moving up over her body, scraping over the tops of her tits and up to her face.

She nodded. "Yes. Right there where your fingers are. Push your big cock in there, Harry."

Y/n was vibrating with need as he massaged just around her entrance, his fingers sliding around her pussylips slowly and pulling them apart again before he finally lined himself up with her.

With his thumb gliding over the pulsing hood of her clit he pressed his tip just past her tight muscle, and she inhaled sharply at the stretch (she always had to brace herself for that initial plunge). Harry cooed softly, halting his thrusts as he rubbed circles into her, watching her pretty bud shift under his thumb and the way her wet pussy was wrapped just around his tip.

When he was satisfied that she was ready for more, he shifted into her again, pressing more of his impressive girth deeper, spreading her open slowly.

"My girlfriend…" he said in a voice that couldn't even be considered a whisper. She almost didn't hear it. Y/n reached out to take his free hand, moving his grip from her thigh to thread their fingers together.

"Yes, your girlfriend."

With their eyes fixed, he buried in until his pelvis was pressed into her clit. Both of them reeling from the intimacy of it. And somehow, it felt different. It wasn't just sex. It was something bigger than just sex.

She wrapped her legs around his waist, her free hand bracing his shoulder. He stayed still for a moment, just watching her face.

“You okay?” he asked.

“Yeah,” she breathed. “So good.”

He groaned and began to move, slow and deep, every thrust measured. It felt so good every time they fucked, but this time was even better. Her insides ached around his cock as he dragged in and out languidly. She felt like he was trying to prove something with every careful slide of his body against hers.

And maybe he was. Maybe he wanted her to understand just how much she meant to him. How committed he was to her and only her. He'd do anything it took to get her to see she wasn't just some phase, some easy girl he could control… It was never that with him.

He rocked into her, lowering his chest enough that she could feel the sweep of his chest hair over her nipples. His lips brushed over hers as he panted. "Y'my girl, Y/n… Gonna make sure you know I mean it."

She moaned, sliding her fingers up against the back of his neck to pull his mouth down against hers. He flexed his fingers against hers, their hands still grasped together as he fucked in deep.

The sound of his length gliding through her was wet and filthy, lined by their moans and the soft plapping of skin together. Her body wrapped around him, little muscles flexing over his cock as he stuffed into her, lips and tongues moving together… it was all bringing them both to their end rapidly.

He felt her tensing under him. Pushing in as deep as he could go, until her body was shuddering and she was gasping, he ground into her when she came. The pulsing of her walls on him had him sucking in a sharp breath and pressing his forehead to hers when her lips were no longer moving with his. Her soft gasps mingled with his low groans, and then it was his turn.

His movements were harsher, faster, as he fucked in. Sweat formed over his chest as he braced himself for his orgasm. He drove into her, hips pumping until finally he was coming, buried in tight and throbbing as he filled his condom.

"Fuck…"

After, he didn’t pull away. Just stayed close, kissing her cheeks and her mouth, his hand stroking her temple until her breathing slowed and she finally opened her eyes. He was smiling down at her. A soft expression, gentle, full of feeling and warmth

“Told you I was serious,” he said.

She smiled, her heart thudding. “I believe you.”

.

The morning sun spilled across the kitchen floor, catching on the steam curling up from her mug. Y/n tugged the hem of Harry’s soft old t-shirt lower over her bare thighs and shifted on her stool, trying not to grin like an idiot but failing miserably.

It was hard not to with him standing across the counter in just a pair of sweats, hair still messy from her fingers not long before.

He poured more coffee into her mug, even though she hadn’t finished the first. “What're you smiling about?” His grin gave away that he already knew.

She shrugged, wrapping her palms around the warm ceramic. “You.”

“Oh yeah? Like that I make you smile so big.” He reached over and tugged gently at the sleeve of her borrowed shirt. “This looks better on you.”

“Better than on you?” she teased.

He leaned over the counter, close enough that she could smell the faint clean musk of his skin. “Much better,” he said, voice low.

He sank over her skin. She was about to say something stupid, something mushy she’d definitely regret admitting out loud, when the doorbell rang.

Harry straightened, brows pulling together in confusion.

“Expecting someone?”

“No.” He glanced toward the hall, then back at her. “I'll find out who it is. Be right back.”

Her pulse ticked up as he walked to the front door. She couldn’t hear what was being said at first, just the low rumble of his voice. Then another voice, higher in pitch, a little sharp, feminine: “—and I just thought I’d drop by since you didn’t answer your phone.”

Y/n’s heart thumped harder. She knew without even seeing who it was. And god, she wasn't ready for this yet. She took another sip of her coffee, ears straining to listen as she moved from the stool and stepped toward the living room mindlessly.

Harry’s reply was quiet, but it didn’t hide the tension. “All right. Everything okay?”

“No. I wanted to talk about Riley. And about next weekend. But—”

The woman’s voice cut off, and Y/n realized too late that she’d stepped halfway into view, mug clutched to her chest like a shield.

Harry’s ex was tall, polished, her hair perfectly done, even this early. She turned her eyes on Y/n and took her in with one slow, measured glance.

“Oh.” Her mouth curved, though it wasn’t exactly a smile. “Sorry, I didn’t realize you had company.”

Y/n swallowed, acutely aware she wasn’t wearing pants. “Hi,” she managed, her voice embarrassingly small.

Harry’s hand lifted, almost like he was going to reach toward her, but he stopped himself. “This is Y/n. Y/n, this is Colette… the kids' mom.”

“Y/n,” his ex repeated, lips pressing together. “Nice to meet you.”

“Nice to meet you, too,” Y/n echoed, trying to ignore the heat climbing her cheeks.

The silence stretched between the three of them, brittle and awkward. She was kicking herself for having stepped toward the living room. She should have just stayed put, but what was done was done, and now she was staring at the woman Harry had once been married to. The mother of his kids.

His ex shifted her gaze back to Harry. “Anyway,” she said briskly, “I wanted to go over Riley’s behavior. Her teacher has said she’s been acting out again, and I don’t want it escalating before next weekend when you get them.”

“Of course,” Harry said, his jaw flexing. “Let’s—”

His ex lifted a brow, flicking her eyes pointedly to Y/n. “Maybe we can talk privately?”

Y/n’s face went hot. “I’ll, um… just—” She gestured vaguely toward the hallway and retreated before she could finish the rest of her sentence.

In the bedroom, she set her mug down on the dresser. God, she felt stupid. She was an intruder in someone else’s life… someone with kids, an ex, responsibilities she couldn’t even begin to understand.

She perched on the edge of the bed, fingers knotting in the hem of the t-shirt, and tried to breathe, to calm herself a little. This was part of the deal; she'd have to get used to the occasional run-in with his ex. She just hadn't been prepared for it.

It felt like forever before the front door finally shut again and Harry's footsteps padded down the hallway. When he stepped into the bedroom, he didn’t look annoyed. He looked tired, but the second his eyes landed on her, something in his expression softened.

“Hey,” he murmured, crossing the room.

“Sorry,” she blurted, before she could stop herself. “I didn’t mean to eavesdrop. Or interrupt. Or—”

“Stop.” He crouched in front of her, big hands bracketing her knees. “You didn’t do anything wrong.”

Her eyes darted to the door, then back to him. “She hates me.”

He huffed a quiet laugh. “She doesn’t even know you.”

“She hates that I’m here,” she insisted, voice cracking as she looked down at the lack of clothing she had on. “That I’m… like this. Prancing around in your t-shirt while she's—”

His thumbs brushed slowly over her thighs. “She can think whatever she wants.”

“She’s the mother of your kids, Harry. I want to make a good impression. I think I just blew it.”

“You're overthinking it. And you’re my girlfriend.” His voice was steady. “You have every right to be here. She'll get used to seeing you around.”

She swallowed. “I just don’t want to make everything harder.”

His hands slid up to her hips, pulling her closer so he could press his forehead to her sternum. “You’re not. You’re not making anything harder. You make everything better, in fact. Don't stress about this, baby.”

She let her fingers drift into his hair, holding him there. “Okay. Promise?”

He tipped his head back, looking up at her. “I promise. I wouldn’t have asked you to be mine if I weren't ready for all of this.”

Her chest squeezed so tight she thought it might break her ribs. “Okay,” she whispered.

He kissed the underside of her jaw. “You’re staying,” he said simply. “I want you here. Next time, I promise I'll introduce you properly. Was just caught off guard by her showing up like that."

She nodded. "Yeah. Hopefully next time we get a heads up so I can get dressed and make myself look presentable."

He laughed. "You're perfectly presentable just like this."

"I'm not. But thank you." She grinned.

"You good? I don't want you getting in your head about this. There's nothing to worry about."

"I know. You're right. I'm good, Harry."

He smiled, that slow, easy grin she was already addicted to. “Good.”

. .

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[guliexe]

━━━ONE ON ONE 18+

Nishimura Riki x Female!Reader — University AU

.ᐟwarnings/tags: study buddies to lovers, inexperienced reader, hard dom!riki, crush!riki, porn with some plot, texting, teasing, making out, praising, fingering, oral (f. receiving), choking, marking, slapping, possessive, demanding riki, spit, handjob, p in v, unprotected sex, creampie, aftercare

♡ you start studying with your quiet crush, until one day, he invites you over, and you end up sobbing, ruined in his bed.

.ᐟwc: 7.4k

It wasn’t anything serious. At least, that’s what you kept telling yourself. You and Riki didn’t really talk. Not the way other classmates did—casual, loud, back-and-forth in lecture halls. He was… quiet. Always showing up late but somehow still getting a seat near the front. Always in dark clothes and expensive jewellery. Always watching more than speaking. He didn’t try to stand out. He didn’t raise his hand. And yet somehow, you noticed him first. Well. Maybe not “noticed”, more like kept noticing. Like your brain started analyzing him every time he walked into the room: black hoodie again, earphones in, notebook half-open but never messy. You never even thought he’d noticed you at all.

Until he did.

It was a Tuesday, and you were stuck. The professor handed out a printed exercise to be solved in pairs, but your usual friend wasn’t in class. You were halfway through trying to solve the second question alone, chewing the cap of your pen in mild panic, when you heard a voice behind you. “…You’re doing it backwards.” You looked up. He was already sitting in the empty chair beside you, like it was the most normal thing in the world. Riki. His voice was lower than you expected. He leaned over and tapped his pen against your sheet ,not correcting you, just quietly showing you. You blinked at him. “Oh. Thanks,” you managed. He didn’t reply. Just kept working beside you until the time ran out. And when the professor collected the papers, he stood up and left without saying anything else.That was it. Or… you thought that was it. Until a week later, when you were reviewing notes from the last lecture and couldn’t find a single readable thing in your handwriting. You remembered his — clean, sharp, borderline aesthetic. You didn’t know why, but you pulled up the class group chat, scrolled, found his number from a previous message, and tapped it. You weren’t even sure he’d remember who you were. You weren’t sure why you were nervous. But you texted him anyway.

You

hey riki!! do u still have the notes from class today? i zoned out halfway :(

♡

Riki

yeah

figured you would

♡

You

what’s that supposed to mean

♡

Riki

you always zone out around the halfway mark

kinda cute tbh

You stared at your screen, heat blooming in your cheeks.

You

i’m gonna take that as a compliment

♡

Riki

was one

He was so casual, unreadable, like he hadn’t just short-circuited your brain. It started with a single text from him the next day:

Riki

still need help with the lecture stuff?

library’s dead today, come by if u want

Your stomach flipped a little when you read it, mostly from surprise. You hadn’t expected him to follow up. Definitely hadn’t expected him to remember your struggle with the content. So you said yes. You found him at a tucked-away table in the back corner of the campus library, hoodie pulled over his head, one earbud in, notebook already open. He looked up once when you arrived. Didn’t smile, just nodded. You sat beside him. Close, but not close enough to touch. You opened your laptop, pulled out your notes, and tried to pretend your hands weren’t slightly shaking. For the first ten minutes, neither of you spoke. He scribbled something down. You typed a few lines. It was quiet, comfortably quiet. But there was something about being this close to him that made it so fucking hard to focus and he smelled so good. You weren’t sure why it made your mouth dry. After a while, he leaned over just a little to glance at your screen. “You copied that part wrong,” he said. You blinked. “Huh, really?” He reached out, brushing your hand by accident—or maybe not—and pointed directly at the mistake. “This line. He was talking about this, not that. You flipped them.” “Oh,” you said, staring dumbly at the highlighted section. “That makes way more sense.” He hummed. Barely a sound. Then sat back again like he hadn’t just leaned close enough for you to feel his breath on your cheek.

You tried to keep reading, but your eyes kept drifting.

To the way his fingers drummed against the edge of his notebook.

To the way he chewed on his cheek while concentrating.

To the way his sleeve slipped up just enough to show the veins in his wrist and arm.

You forced yourself to focus. Mostly.

You didn’t plan to run into him again. Not really. You were just looking for somewhere quiet, someplace your brain might actually work for once, and the upper floor had study rooms that no one ever used. It was a last resort. You walked in with your headphones already on and your brain half-fried. And then you saw him. Riki. Sitting alone in one of the back corners. Legs sprawled, earbuds in. A pen spinning between his fingers, that same black hoodie pulled halfway off one shoulder. You froze in the doorway. He looked up, and for a second, he just stared. Not surprised. Not curious. Just calm. Like he’d been expecting you. Then he jerked his chin, wordless, inviting you to sit with him. Your pulse jumped. You tried not to show it as you stepped inside. “You’re here a lot,” you said quietly, settling into the chair beside him. “Yeah,” he replied, eyes dropping back to his notebook. “Quiet’s good.” It was. Too good, maybe. Every time he shifted in his seat, every time he tapped the table or flipped a page, it felt louder than it should’ve. You tried to focus on your own material, but your eyes kept wandering. To the veins on his hands. The way he leaned back and chewed on his pen cap. The curve of his lip when he was thinking. God, you needed to get a grip. You were scribbling out notes on a problem you didn’t totally understand, squinting your eyes, when his voice came low beside you.

“You’re writing the wrong formula.” You blinked. He leaned in, arm brushing yours as he took your pen without asking and struck a line through your equation. His handwriting replaced it. Clean and annoyingly perfect. “That’s how you mess the whole thing up,” he said simply, handing your pen back. You stared at the page. “Thanks,” you said. Quiet. Maybe too quiet. He didn’t move away. Just sat there, watching the way your eyes lingered on the ink he’d left behind. Then finally, with a slight tilt of his head, “You always squint your eyes when you’re stuck?” You stiffened. You hadn’t even noticed you were doing that. You looked up, startled, and he was already looking at you. Calm. Casual. His gaze didn’t move. It felt like too much, suddenly.Too much eye contact. Too much attention. Too much heat. You forced a laugh, ducking your head. “Wow. You’re observant.” He didn’t answer. But he didn’t look away either. And for the rest of the session, you couldn’t shake the feeling that he was still watching you. Not obviously, not openly, but just enough to make you not being able to focus. The study session lasted just under an hour. By the end of it, your head was clearer, and your notes were neater. You were packing up your bag when he finally spoke again. “You work better in silence,” he said simply. Not a compliment. Just an observation. You paused. “Do I?” He met your eyes. “Yeah. You get distracted too easily when it’s loud.” Something about the way he said it made you wonder what else he’d noticed.

He’d asked you after the last session — just kind of offhand, like it didn’t mean anything.“It’s quieter in my dorm,” he said, packing up his notes. “You can come by next time if you want.” That was it. No expression. No explanation. You’d nodded too fast. Now you were standing outside his door, staring at the number. You knocked twice before you lost your nerve. It took a second, but he answered. His dorm was small, neat, two desks, one unmade bed, the faint smell of detergent and whatever cologne he always wore. His roommate wasn’t home. He didn’t say that part, but it was obvious. The room felt still. You stepped inside carefully, clutching your bag, suddenly hyper-aware of your outfit. You hadn’t meant to dress like this, not for him, anyway. The kinda sheer tank top was just convenient, and the skirt? You told yourself it wasn’t that short. You’d worn it a million times. But Riki’s eyes dropped for just a second before he stepped aside to let you in. And that second? It lit your whole body on fire. He didn’t say anything about it. Of course not. He just sat at his desk, motioning to the chair beside his. “Here.” You took your seat.

For the first ten minutes, it was normal. Mostly quiet. His pencil scratched lightly against his notebook. You tried to copy a few things he wrote down, but your focus was elsewhere. You could feel the heat of him beside you. His knee brushed yours once, and it sent your heart into your throat. You didn’t move. Neither did he. You thought maybe he hadn’t noticed. But then, after a long pause, he spoke. “You wore that on purpose?” His voice was low and calm. Almost lazy. Your stomach dropped. “What?” you asked, too quickly. “That skirt.” You froze, heart hammering, unsure if you were supposed to laugh or deny it or what. You weren’t even sure if he was joking. But when you glanced at him, he was still staring at your thighs, then your face, with that unreadable, maddening expression. “I didn’t mean to,” you said, breath caught. “I just… it’s hot out.” Riki’s eyes dragged over you one more time, slowly. Like he was thinking about something. Measuring it. Then he looked away. “Shame,” he muttered. It was barely audible. And he didn’t elaborate. He just turned back to his page, pen in hand, like that was the end of it.

But your whole body was lit up. Nerves everywhere. Blood rushing to your face, your throat, your fingertips. And even though you tried to keep reading, keep writing, keep breathing normally, you couldn’t stop feeling the heat of his presence beside you. Still quiet. Still unbothered. You tried to keep your hands steady, not to squirm in your seat, not to think about the way his voice had dropped on that one word—Shame—like he meant more than he said. Riki hadn’t touched you. He hadn’t even looked at you again. But it didn’t matter. Everything between you had changed. You stole a glance at him. He was focused again, or at least pretending to be. The sharp angle of his jaw, the loose way he held his pen, the little crease between his brows , it all looked the same, but you knew it wasn’t. He had noticed. And worse, you couldn’t stop wondering what else he’d noticed. “Need help?” he asked, suddenly. You blinked. “Huh?” He nodded at your page. “You’ve been staring at that question for five minutes.” You scrambled to look down, pretending like you were just distracted. “Oh— yeah. I don’t get it.” “Let me see.” He reached for your notebook, leaned in close enough for your shoulders to brush, and took it gently from your hands. Your breath caught. His thigh pressed against yours. Just slightly. He didn’t move.

He explained the answer softly, pointing as he spoke, the tip of his pen gliding over your paper. You weren’t listening. You couldn’t. Because all you could feel was how close he was. How warm he felt. How good he smelled. How careful and deep his voice was. You swallowed hard. He handed your notebook back, fingers grazing yours. “You okay?” he asked. You nodded fast. “Yeah. Just— tired.” He studied you. His eyes flicked down your face, slow, deliberate. “You always get like this when you’re tired?” You blinked. “Like what?” Riki didn’t answer right away. He slightly shifted in his seat and turned toward you. Then, in that same dead-calm voice: “Fidgety. Quiet. All flushed.” Your breath stopped. He wasn’t smirking. He wasn’t teasing. He looked completely composed like he was stating facts, which somehow made it worse. “I’m not—” you tried, voice weak. He cut you off. “You are.” Then silence again. The air between you was thick. Too heavy to breathe. And then, his hand moved. Slowly. He reached out and touched the side of your thigh, not high, not too far, just above your knee. He didn’t say anything, didn’t look away from your face. He just watched. Watched like he already knew what you were thinking. Your lips parted, but no words came out. You didn’t stop him. You didn’t move. And maybe that was all he needed. His touch dragged a little higher. Still slow and patient. Your chest rose with a sharp breath, and his eyes flicked down, just briefly, to your mouth, then back up. Debating.

You stared at the notebook in front of you like it might save you, but your body was already betraying you. Heat bloomed under your skin, your hands twitched in your lap. You couldn’t look at him, but you felt him. Silent. Watching you. Then, finally, his voice, low, right beside your ear. “You’re shaking. You bit the inside of your cheek. He didn’t move his hand, didn’t tease. You turned your face slightly, just enough to catch his eyes and he was already looking at you. Expression unreadable. Completely composed. Then, after a beat, his thumb dragged slightly along the inside of your thigh. Barely anything, but it lit you up. He leaned in, voice low and even, “You get like this for anyone else?” Your heart slammed in your chest. Your mouth parted, but the only sound you made was your breath hitching. He didn’t push, he just watched, already knowing the answer. You couldn’t answer him. Not with words. Not like that. So you just stared, lips parted, heart in your throat, too warm, too aware of every place his hand touched. Then, his fingers slipped slightly higher. Slow and measured. He was feeling it too, the shift in the room, the heat between you, the way your body leaned in before you even realized. He leaned closer, not fully, just enough that his shoulder brushed yours, his thigh pressed against the side of your leg.

You swore you heard the faintest breath from him like he was steadying himself. Then his hand slipped under the edge of your skirt. Bare skin. You sucked in a breath and finally looked at him. His expression hadn’t changed, but his dark eyes gave him away. There was nothing casual in that stare anymore. His fingers moved again, a little higher, then stopped just before the heat of your core. You tensed, but you didn’t pull away. “Knew you’d let me.” he said, softly. The words slammed through you like a current. Your breath hitched hard. Still, he didn’t move further. He just watched you squirm, fingers barely pressing into your thigh, letting the weight of everything unspoken hang thick between you. You weren’t sure if you were going to melt or burst. His hand moved again, slipping just a little further, fingers grazing the soft curve where your thigh met your hip. Your breath caught, shallow and quick. Riki’s breath hitched softly against your neck as he leaned in, just enough that you could feel the warmth, his steady, quiet presence like a steady flame flickering against your skin. You could feel him—so close now, that his chest brushed against your arm, his steady heartbeat like a silent drum beside you.

Your pulse thundered in your ears, loud and urgent. He stayed there, patient, watching. Then, the quietest sound, a breath, almost a sigh, right at the hollow of your neck. Your skin tingled. And then, his lips brushed your skin. A gentle ghost of a kiss that sent a shiver down your spine. You turned your head slightly, searching for more. His eyes met yours, dark and unreadable, holding yours with an intensity that made your heart leap. Without breaking eye contact, he tilted his head and pressed his lips to yours. It was soft at first, testing. But then it got deeper, firmer, as if he’d been holding back all along. Your hands twitched at his waist, unsure and desperate. The world shrank until there was only the two of you—breath mingling, heat pooling between you. He pulled back just enough to whisper against your lips, voice low and steady. “Finally.” His lips pulled away from yours just long enough to catch his breath. Then, without a word, Riki’s hand slid from your thigh to your waist, gripping firmly as he pulled you up and pressed you back against the edge of the desk. The smooth wood was cool beneath your palms, but his body was hot and heavy, looming over you, shadowing your smaller frame. You could feel the weight of him, the strength in his arms holding you in place. His mouth crashed back onto yours, more demanding now, hungry and fierce. His hands roamed freely, sliding up your sides, cupping your ribs, fingers pressing into the soft skin of your tummy.

You gasped when one hand slipped beneath your shirt, fingers ghosting over bare skin, no barrier, nothing between you and him. Your back arched instinctively. His other hand found your throat, thumb brushing lightly, fingers framing your pulse. His eyes closed as he kissed you like he was starving, like he needed to devour every inch of you. Your hands tangled in his hair, desperate to hold on, to pull him closer. His mouth moved against yours with an urgent rhythm, deep, claiming. You felt every heartbeat, every breath, every touch. You were pinned but free all at once, lost in the heat of him. And even as his grip tightened just slightly at your throat, it wasn’t rough, it was possessive, controlled, making clear you belonged to him in this moment. The world outside ceased to exist. There was only the two of you, pressed close, skin on skin, heat and hunger tangled in every kiss and touch. You couldn’t keep still anymore. Your legs squeezed together, your hands gripping the edge of the desk like you’d fall apart without it. His touch was everywhere—soft palms sliding under your shirt, thumbs brushing over your bare chest, knuckles grazing places that made you gasp and twitch and whine without meaning to. You were dizzy with him. Every breath came out too fast, too shallow. He pulled back from the kiss just enough to look down at you. Your lips were parted, swollen. Your chest rising in frantic little jolts. “Fuck,” he muttered under his breath, gaze dragging across your face.

You whimpered. It slipped out before you could stop it—quiet, needy, helpless—and his eyes darkened instantly. He liked that. One hand splayed across your stomach, holding you still, the other slid higher, over your chest again, thumbs brushing your nipples until your head tipped back and a shaky moan slipped through your lips. You were panting now, thighs pressed together, aching. “Riki…” you breathed, barely a whisper. His hand came back up to your throat, firm but gentle, tilting your chin so you had no choice but to look up at him. You were flushed. Eyes wide, lips wet, a total mess. And he looked down at you like he’d never seen anything more perfect. “You look so fucking pretty like this,” he said lowly, like he was talking to himself more than you. You blushed, a sigh leaving your mouth, back arching into his touch. His mouth crashed onto yours, hungrily, like he needed to shut you up before you begged. His hips pressed forward, caging you completely, and you felt him, hard through his jeans, pressed against your lower stomach. You made a soft, desperate sound in your throat, and he swallowed it down. Your hands moved without thinking, tugging at his shirt, trying to get closer, trying to do something with how badly you wanted him, but he didn’t rush. He kissed you harder, messier, until your legs felt weak and your body trembled beneath him. Until all you could do was gasp and whine and let him touch and take. You weren’t thinking anymore. Just feeling. Every brush of his fingers, every scrape of teeth, every low breath against your skin. And the worst part was how badly you wanted more, how badly you needed it. How you would’ve said yes to anything he asked.

Your chest rose and fell in short, shaky breaths as he pulled away just enough to look at you again, eyes half-lidded, lips kiss-bitten. His hand slipped down from your throat, trailing slowly along your collarbone, then lower, until his palm flattened over your ribs again. His eyes dragged slowly over your body—the way your chest heaved, the way your thighs pressed together like you were trying to hold yourself in place. Then he leaned in, voice brushing against your ear, low and steady, “Look at you,” he murmured. “So worked up and I haven’t even done anything yet.” Your breath caught, eyes fluttering shut for a second, because God, he was right. His fingers skimmed just above your waistband, dragging across your lower stomach, the touch featherlight, maddening. “You want it that bad, baby?” he asked, quietly, like he already knew the answer. You let out a whimper, soft and high, nodding before you could even think. That made him smile, just barely. Almost smug. His fingers dipped under the hem of your skirt, warm and unhurried. “Let me see how bad,” he said.

His hand moved with ease, sliding beneath your skirt, soft fingertips dragging the fabric of your panties down your thighs—slow, almost teasing. He didn’t take them off, just pushed them down, exposing you enough to make you shy. The cool air hit you, and then, his fingers. Two of them, thick and warm, sliding through your soaked folds like he was testing you. Your hips bucked. He chuckled, quiet, deep in his chest. “So wet already,” he murmured, more to himself than to you. “Dripping.” Your face burned, but you couldn’t look away. You were panting, lips parted, eyes wide as his fingers pressed in just a little. You whined. He exhaled slowly, enjoying every second of watching you unravel. And then, without warning, he pushed his fingers in—deep, smooth, filling you so easily your head fell back with a broken moan. “Fuck,” he muttered under his breath, his jaw tense. “You feel insane.” Your walls clenched around him, and he felt it, smirked a little when your legs twitched, when your body rocked instinctively against his hand. His other hand slid up your thigh, settling on your hip to hold you still. Then he started moving. Slow thrusts of his fingers, curling just right, his thumb dragging over your clit in lazy, perfect circles.

You were gone. Melting. Whimpering with every curl, every press, every stroke. Your thighs trembled. Your hands flew to his shoulders, fingers digging in like you needed something to hold onto. “Riki—” you gasped, voice wrecked and whiny. “Please—” He leaned in again, his breath hot against your neck. “Please what, hm?” You whimpered, hips jerking. “Need m-more,” you managed. His fingers thrust a little deeper, a little faster, his thumb pressing harder on your clit. “You’ll cum for me like this,” he said lowly, lips brushing your ear, “and then I’ll give you more.” Your body arched. The pressure built fast, tight and overwhelming, and all you could do was nod, desperate little noises spilling from your lips as your climax started to crest. You were already close, right on the edge, hips twitching, thighs shaking, the pressure unbearable. But then his hand shot up, suddenly, firmly gripping your jaw. His fingers pressed into your cheeks, tilting your head up, forcing you to look at him. “Let go,” he whispered, fingers thrusting faster now, relentless. “Be a good girl and cum.” That was it. Your entire body shattered. You came with a cry, legs clamping around his wrist, hips jerking against his hand as waves of heat and pleasure rolled through you. Your eyes barely stayed open, wide and glossy, locked onto his as you came undone right there on the desk, whining, pulsing hard around his fingers. He watched you, tight grip still on your face, other hand working you through it like he wanted to see you lose control. “Good girl,” he muttered, lips brushing yours. “Just like that.”

You were still trembling, thighs twitching from the aftershocks, breath coming in sharp, uneven gasps. He pulled his fingers from you slowly, watching the way you flinched from the overstimulation. His hand was slick with you, dripping, and he stared at it for a beat, eyes dark and unreadable. Then he dropped to his knees. Your breath hitched. You barely had a second to react before his hands gripped your thighs, spreading them wider, and his mouth was on you. A gasp tore out of your throat as his tongue dragged through your folds, slow and greedy. “Ngh—Riki!” Your hand flew to his hair, the other on the desk, fingers gripping the edge until your knuckles turned white. He moaned softly into you, the vibration making your hips buck. His hands squeezed tighter, holding your thighs apart, keeping you open for him as he lapped up every drop of your release, messy, shameless. Your head fell back. Another whine escaped your lips, high and breathless, and still—still—he kept going, tongue swirling around your clit, flicking with just enough pressure to make your eyes roll back. When he finally pulled away, your skin was hot and damp, your whole body still twitching, breath caught in your throat. He stood, and then his hand wrapped around your neck again—firm, possessive—and he yanked you into a kiss. His mouth crashed into yours, lips slick with your taste, tongue sliding against yours with no warning, no hesitation. You whimpered against him, hands reaching for his shirt, for anything to ground yourself.

He kissed you like he owned you. Like he needed to devour you. His grip on your throat tightened and you moaned into his mouth, helpless and hazy, your whole body pliant against his. And when he finally pulled back, his lips were swollen, his eyes dark, and his voice—fuck—his voice was low and raw when he spoke. “You’re mine,” he said, quiet but rough, meant for just you. “Got it?” Your heart stuttered. He’d barely said more than a few words to you since you met—always calm, unreadable, barely emoting—and now he was gripping your throat, kissing you like he wanted to ruin you, claiming you like you already belonged to him. You didn’t even hesitate. Your head nodded, small and shaky, your whole body still trembling under his touch. “I’m yours,” you whispered, breathless. It came out like a confession, sitting heavy in your chest for too long, just waiting for him to pull it out of you. Your eyes met his, wide and glossy, and the look on your face, sweet and desperate, giving him the biggest puppy eyes he’d ever seen. But you looked so pretty like that—wrecked and breathless, your lips parted, your thighs still shaking, feeling like you needed him more than air.

Riki’s jaw tightened, and something dark flickered across his expression. His grip on your face stayed firm, fingers digging just a little harder into your cheeks. “Don’t look at me like that,” he muttered, voice rough, barely held back. “You’ll make me fucking crazy.” But he was already leaning in again, mouth finding yours in a mess of tongue and teeth, kissing you so hard your head tipped back from the force of it. You moaned into him, needy and sweet, letting him take whatever he wanted, and he did. Then suddenly, his arms wrapped around your thighs and he lifted you. You gasped, hands flying to his shoulders, legs instinctively wrapping around his waist, your body still trembling from the aftermath of his touch. He carried you the short distance from the desk to his bed and laid you down gently, never breaking contact. His body hovered over yours, eyes locked on your flushed, fucked-out face. Your shirt was rucked halfway up your stomach, your lips swollen from his kisses, thighs still twitching where they wrapped around his waist. He stared at you for a long, quiet second, trying to memorize you like this. Then his hands came down, one to your thigh, pushing it open wider, the other to your ribs, sliding up your bare skin under your shirt, slow and deliberate until his palm cupped your chest. No bra. Just you, soft and warm and whimpering under his touch. “You don’t even know what you do to me,” he muttered. You bit your lip, hips shifting instinctively, seeking friction. Anything. But he didn’t give it to you, not yet. He just leaned down, mouth brushing your neck, tongue licking a slow stripe up to your jaw before he kissed you there, hot and open-mouthed, leaving a mark. Your fingers clutched at his shirt. “Riki…” He hummed lowly, like the sound of his name falling from your lips lit something in him.

His mouth found your ear, breath hot, “Tell me you want it,” he said. “Say it.” Your whole body was burning now, flushed from head to toe, your voice coming out in a shaky, helpless whisper, “I want it. I want you.” And that was all it took. He kissed you again, before his hands moved, yanking your shirt up and over your head, tossing it aside without a second glance. Then he just stared. Your bare chest rising and falling, skin flushed, nipples already hard from his teasing. His hands dragged up from your waist, until they cupped your tits, thumbs brushing over them gently, considering the way his jaw clenched like he was barely holding back. “Look at you…” he muttered, voice ragged. “Fuck.” And then he was on you. Mouth hot and desperate, he ducked his head and devoured you, lips closing around one nipple while his hand kneaded the other, tongue flicking and sucking until your back arched off the bed with a gasp. He bit,not too hard, just enough to make you squeal, and soothed it with his tongue right after, moving between your breasts like he couldn’t choose which to ruin first. You were already panting, fingers tangled in his hair, thighs rubbing together. Sloppy kisses turned into bites. He left hickies on your neck, down your collarbone, over the swell of your tits, under them, across your ribs. You could feel the bruises blooming under his mouth, red and raw, one after the other like he wanted to brand every inch of you. He kissed down, mouthing at your tummy next, dragging his teeth over the soft skin before sucking another mark right beneath your navel.

And all that while watching you. Smirk barely there, eyes half-lidded but burning, soaking in every whimper, every twist of your body, every broken moan. “No one else gets to see you like this. Only me.” he said against your skin. He leaned back just enough to yank his shirt over his head in one fluid motion, tossing it aside carelessly. You barely had time to look—at the lean muscles, the toned arms, the sharp lines of his waist—before his hands were back on you again, sliding under the waistband of your skirt. “Lift your hips.” he said, and you obeyed without thinking. He dragged the skirt down your thighs, watching the way you shivered beneath him. He took his time peeling it off, letting his hands skim down your legs like he was memorizing the feel of you. Then he tossed it aside and looked down at you—naked, body covered in marks, chest rising and falling fast. “Fuck,” he muttered under his breath, eyes roaming like he couldn’t decide where to touch you first. His hands found your hips, big, warm and possessive, and then they started moving. One slid up your side, across your stomach, over your breast, the other to your jaw, fingers stroking gently before slipping between your lips. “Suck,” he said, low and commanding. Your lips parted automatically, and you wrapped them around his thumb, letting him press it down on your tongue. He watched you—watched your pretty, desperate mouth take it in, cheeks hollowing slightly as you sucked. “That’s it,” he murmured. “Good girl.” You whimpered around his thumb, pussy pulsing, body practically buzzing from the tension. His other hand was still moving—down your ribs, over your tummy, lower, skimming just above your heat. Then he sat back a little on his knees, keeping his thumb in your mouth as he reached for his waistband.

He hooked his fingers into the edge of his sweats and slid them down just enough to reveal the outline of his cock through his boxers—thick, hard, straining against the fabric. Your breath caught, eyes flicking down before darting back up to his face. And he was already watching you. A soft smirk curved his lips as he tilted his head, thumb still resting on your tongue. “My cute girl,” he cooed. “So needy for me already… you really can’t help yourself, can you?” You hummed around his thumb, cheeks flushing even deeper, thighs pressing together as the heat pulsed harder between them. His hand drifted back to his waistband, and this time, he slipped his fingers under. You watched with wide eyes, heart pounding, breath catching in your throat when he finally pulled his cock free. So big and heavy, flushed at the tip, already leaking. The sight made your stomach flip, your mouth go dry, and you could barely look before your gaze darted away, face burning. “Aww,” he murmured, voice low and rough, “what’s wrong, baby?” You shook your head quickly, eyes flickering back up to his face, trying not to stare but completely failing. Your thighs squeezed together instinctively, your body so hot you could hardly stand it. He leaned in closer, one hand returning to your cheek, fingers stroking your flushed skin. “Shy all of a sudden?” he teased, a dark smile playing on his lips. “You were being so brave for me a second ago.” You whimpered, squirming under his gaze, his cock now resting heavy against his abs as he leaned. He took your hand and gently guided it to wrap around him. “Come on,” he whispered. “Touch me.” Your fingers curled around him, tentative and trembling, and his breath hitched like he hadn’t expected you to feel that good.

He swore under his breath, hips twitching slightly, and his head fell down. “That’s it,” he whispered, his hand covering yours, guiding your movements slow and steady. “Just like that.” You stroked him softly, your touch shy, eyes flickering between his flushed cock and his face—so close, so focused, the sight of your hand on him was driving him insane. Your hand stayed on him, guided by his, and the longer you touched him, the more confident your fingers became. You swallowed hard, heart racing at the weight of him in your palm, pulsing in your hand. His cock twitched again, and a low groan left his lips, rough and strained. “Fuck,” he muttered and leaned closer, his forehead brushing yours. His breath was warm and shaky, fingers tightening over yours. “Doing so good.” You looked up at him, wide-eyed, lips parted. There was something in the way he stared back, eyes hooded, jaw tight, he was barely holding himself back. He took your hand away from him gently, kissed your wrist, and pressed your arm back against the bed “Spread your legs for me.” You obeyed. Slowly, nervously. But the second your thighs parted, his gaze dropped and darkened. “God,” he said under his breath. He crawled between your legs, hands running up your thighs.

He leaned down, kissed you—soft, slow, deceptively gentle—before lining himself up, one hand wrapped firmly around his cock, slowly moving it up and down your folds, the other resting over your ribs grounding himself. “You ready f’me, baby?” he asked, voice quiet, low against your mouth. You nodded, a soft, breathy sound escaping your lips, but it wasn’t enough for him. His hand slid to your throat again, “Use your words.” “I—I want you,” you whispered, and the moment the words left your mouth, his hips pushed forward slowly. The stretch made your breath catch. His hand slid under your thigh, hitching it up. You could feel him, pressed just against your entrance, stretching you, but not moving yet, giving you time. His hand curled around your jaw, thumb brushing your lower lip with surprising tenderness for someone who’s splitting you in half. You gripped the sheets beneath you, lips parting in a gasp as the pressure built inside you. Every inch filled you more than you expected, and it was overwhelming, unfamiliar, but somehow addictive. Riki’s mouth found your shoulder, teeth grazing lightly over your skin, like he was trying to distract you from the way he was sinking deeper. “You’re doing so good,” he murmured against your skin. You whimpered, your body tensing. “Breathe for me,” he said, and his voice was so calm, so steady, it soothed you even while you felt like falling apart. You let out a shaky exhale, eyes fluttering shut, and after another moment, he was fully inside.

Your eyes met his, teary and wide, and your lips trembled. “Riki—s’too much,” you admitted, voice almost shy. He smirked, “I know,” leaning down to kiss your jaw. “You’ll take it for me, won’t you?” Your stomach flipped at the words. You nodded, more sure this time. Then he pulled back just a little, before thrusting again, and your whole body shuddered at the sensation. “That’s it,” he whispered, voice ragged as he buried himself deeper. “So tight… fuck, y’feel so good.” His hips rolled into you slow, dragging against your walls, making you moan louder with each stroke. You clung to him, nails digging into his arms, breath coming in sharp little gasps as he set a rhythm. It was too much, too full, too good, and your body couldn’t keep up. Every time he moved, you clenched tighter around him. He pulled back slightly and grabbed your leg, lifting it high and pressing it over his shoulder. The angle changed everything—you cried out, high and helpless, your head tilting back against the mattress as he thrust deeper, harder, splitting you open with every roll of his hips. “Yeah,” he muttered, fingers digging into your thigh, mouth kissing it softly, as he started to lose control. “That’s it. Let me hear you.” You were loud. Whining, whimpering, trembling under his body, your hands gripping the sheets. “R-Riki—!” you sobbed his name, tears welling at the corners of your eyes as your body jolted under the force of each thrust.

And that did something to him. His hand shot to your throat again, squeezing just enough to make you gasp. You were a mess. Eyes wet, lips trembling, mouth open in breathless, broken sounds, and when the first tear slipped down your cheek, he smiled. Not sweet. Not soft. A sharp, dark twist of his mouth like he was proud of it. And then he slapped you. A clean, firm hit across your cheek—quick and shocking—and you gasped, more in disbelief than pain. Your head whipped slightly to the side, your moan caught somewhere between pleasure and stunned heat. His hand lingered there, fingers spread across your cheek, claiming you. “Fucking love seeing you cry for me.” Your stomach dropped, heat flooding your veins, and you started sobbing harder—overwhelmed, aroused, completely undone. Your hands reached up, grabbing the one that had just hit you, fingers curling around his wrist, holding it like it anchored you. You couldn’t believe it. Couldn’t believe that your crush—the one who barely spoke, who barely looked at anyone—had slapped you, and now he was fucking you like this, praising the tears he pulled from your eyes, and you fucking liked it. You needed more.

He shifted his weight, grabbed both of your thighs, and lifted—guiding your legs up and over his shoulders in one smooth, strong movement. The change in angle made you moan loudly, the new depth dizzying, the sound leaving your lips raw and wrecked. Your hands fumbled at the sheets, knuckles white as you held on, tears spilling down your cheeks again as the pleasure pushed you past the edge of sense. “Riki—” you choked out, completely gone, “I… I can’t—” “Yes, you can,” he groaned, slamming into you harder, his hand tightening on your jaw. “You’re gonna take every fucking inch.” Your eyes rolled back, body arching, sobs turning into moans, hands gripping him like he was the only thing keeping you from falling apart completely. His gaze locked onto yours, dark, possessive, mouth parted slightly as he caught the sight of you all spread out and shaking for him. “Open your mouth.” You gasped, but you did—lips parting, eyes wide and waiting. He leaned over you, hips never slowing down, and with a sharp breath through his nose, he spit into your mouth. “Swallow.” You did. Without thinking. Without hesitation. And that seemed to please him. His hand came to your cheek, thumb brushing away a tear like he was calming you, and then—Slap.

A soft one. Just enough to make your breath catch, to light another spark under your skin. You whimpered and he firmly gripped your jaw, tilting your head to make sure you looked at him. “You’re fucking perfect,” he whisper softly. “You’ll do anything I say, won’t you?” Your pussy clenched around him, back arching from the bed. And still, you nodded, too far gone to form words, too desperate for him. You were gasping, moaning brokenly into the heat of his neck as he pounded into you, deep and rough, your legs high on his shoulders. His grip on your thighs was bruising, and you clung to the bedsheets, your vision blurred from tears and pleasure. Your body was stretched and aching, but it didn’t matter, not when he was murmuring filthy praise in your ear, not when every thrust perfectly hit your cervix. “You’re mine,” he whispered. “This pussy—” he snapped his hips hard, making you cry out, “—belongs to me.” You sobbed, nodding, walls fluttering around him. “Want you to cum with me,” he said roughly, teeth gritted as his rhythm got sloppy. “Let go, baby. Make a mess on my cock.” You couldn’t hold back anymore. You came hard, a cry catching in your throat as you clenched around his cock, trembling, unraveling. The moment your body gave out beneath him, he buried himself as deep as he could go and let go, filling you with a whimper, low and desperate in your ear. His cum making you feel so full, so warm inside you. “Mine,” he muttered again, softly kissing your neck.

Your breathing was still shaky when he pulled out, careful and slow. You winced a little at the sensitivity, and immediately, Riki’s expression changed. The fire in his eyes dimmed and his hand came to rest on your thigh, warm and gentle. “You okay, baby?” he asked quietly. “Yeah… just sore.” you blinked up at him. He leaned down, brushing a kiss to your temple. “Stay here.” You watched him move around his small dorm room, grabbing tissues. He cleaned you up gently, his touches surprisingly sweet and patient. When he was done, he tugged the sheets over your bare body, then slid in next to you, wrapping an arm around your waist. It was quiet for a while. Your heart was still trying to calm down, and Riki just lay there, soft hand caressing your tummy. Then, out of nowhere, he spoke. “Wanna go to the movies tomorrow?” You blinked, turning your head to look at him. “What?” He glanced down at you, his face unreadable, but there was something softer around the eyes. “You heard me.” You couldn’t help the smile that tugged at your lips. After everything, after the rough, possessive way he’d claimed you, this was the last thing you expected. You buried your face in his chest, cheeks burning. “Okay,” you whispered. He pressed a kiss to the top of your head. “Cool.”

my other works ➵ masterlist

a/n: i got a little carried away with this one yall lmao i've been so fucking obsessed with this man lately i can't stop thinking abt him please i need him so badddd :(

© guliexe

[violetrainbow412-blog]

Callsign: Heartbreaker [B. F.]

Bob Floyd x fem!reader

wc: 1.3k summary: Jake runs his mouth. You do something about it.

Hangman was, to say the least, a tremendous pain in the ass. He had been annoying the entire squad for weeks since you guys had arrived at TOPGUN, and that night at The Hard Deck wasn't about to break his streak. Maverick had given you the night off, and you all agreed to meet at the bar to relax, share laughs, and, for once, behave like normal young people and not like human weapons ready to take off.

But, as usual, the atmosphere ended up turning in an uncomfortable direction.

“You know what, Bobby? I’ve always wondered…” Jake began with his snake-like grin, leaning his elbow on the bar and twirling his beer glass between his fingers. “How is it possible that someone so boring, so… a glasses-wearing model, made the cut for TOPGUN?”

Bob looked up from his soda, confused, as if he really thought he'd heard him wrong.

"Sorry?"

“Yeah! I mean, just look at you,” Jake leaned toward him, with the enthusiasm of someone who thinks he’s about to say something brilliant. “We have pilots with incredible reflexes, combat instincts, good looks… and then there’s you.”

The entire group looked at him in annoyance. Phoenix snorted. Rooster put down his glass with a thud. No one had the energy for another one of those nights.

“Maybe the filter measures talent,” Bob replied calmly. “Not cheap charisma.”

“God! What a virginal answer,” he let out a husky laugh, taking a long drink of his beer. “Look, don’t take this the wrong way… but I’m curious.”

Suddenly he turned to the rest of the group, his words slurred with some alcohol already on his tongue.

“Do you think if I walked up to the ladies at the bar and asked if they’d sleep with Bob, anyone would say yes? Anyone? Just one?”

Phoenix, sitting next to Bob, tensed.

“Shut up already”

"Come on, I'm talking about science! I'm sure they wouldn't even choose him in a simulation with limited oxygen."

“Yeah, Hangman. You’re not in high school,” Rooster muttered, rolling his eyes.

"I'm serious," he insisted, growing more and more satisfied. "You've probably never been kissed without eyes closed, and I bet no one asked you to a dance in high school. Am I right?"

Fanboy, crossing his arms, decided to intervene:

“Do you have any medical needs or are you just afraid of going unnoticed?”

Jake shrugged in mock humility.

“Nah, I'm fine. I just don't want anyone to get confused and think he represent the standard of what women want.”

Then, with the elegance of a Casanova-like idiot, he turned toward a group of girls sitting nearby.

“Ladies,” he said, pointing at each other with his thumbs, “who would you rather spend the night with: the cowboy with the perfect smile… or Bob?”

The girls laughed, amused by the show, but said nothing. Jake took it as a victory.

“I think you have your answer there.”

He was about to take another sip of his beer when you stepped forward. Without a word, you firmly took the bottle from his hand, brought it to your lips, and downed the entire thing in one gulp. When you were finished, you set it down in front of him with a thud.

The sound rang like a bell.

The group fell silent. Everyone looked at you. Jake raised his eyebrows, puzzled. You stood up slowly, with that dangerous calm that comes before a storm, and walked over to Bob. His eyes widened in surprise.

Once there, you sat sideways on his lap, as if it were the most natural thing in the world. He immediately tensed, as if he'd just been thrown into a burning cockpit.

“Hey, what are you…?”

“You have beautiful eyes. Has anyone told you that before?” you asked with a sweet smile, tilting your head.

Your hands gently moved up to his cheeks, as if you were about to fix something delicate. He swallowed, motionless. Then your fingers slid to the gold frames of his glasses.

“Let me get this out of the way, ‘kay?”

You carefully placed them on the table, though your fingers trembled slightly. Not from nerves, but from anticipation. Then you leaned in and kissed him.

But it wasn't a tender or symbolic kiss. It was a kiss with intention. Your lips pressed firmly against his, pushing in without asking permission, as if you'd been waiting for an excuse to do so. It wasn't sweet. It was slow. Deliberate. With tongue.

Bob froze at first. Literally frozen. As if his system was trying to process what the hell was going on. But when you felt him exhale against your mouth, exhausted, you knew you'd broken him.

His hands flew to your waist. He held you awkwardly, and in the next second, he pulled you tightly against him. He sat up straighter in his chair, his lips began to respond more decisively, and his fingers crept up your back as if he wanted to memorize every inch of you through your clothes. You shifted slightly on his lap, searching for a better angle, and you felt him tense even more.

You bit his lower lip. Hard. He gasped, barely audible, and took the moment to slip his tongue in, slowly, uncertainly, but hungry. He touched yours tentatively, then more boldly, and you moaned softly against his mouth.

Your hands tangled in his hair, gently squeezing the back of his neck as you kissed him deeper. He held you more firmly, and your hips moved against him once more, intentionally. He moaned. It was noticeable. And it wasn't from discomfort.

When you pulled away, both of you were breathless. Your lips were wet. His too. The tension was still there, vibrating between the two of you.

Fanboy's eyes were wide open. Rooster choked on his beer, staring at Hangman as if he'd just seen his soul leave his body. Phoenix was smiling as if a wish had just been granted. Everyone else watched in surprise.

Slyly, without moving yet, you decided to speak:

“You’re a good kisser, Lieutenant.”

Bob was completely flushed. His chest was rising and falling rapidly, as if he'd just run ten miles. You retrieved his glasses from the table and, without taking your eyes off him, put them on him yourself. You took your time, adjusting them as if it justified touching him one more time.

Then you calmly climbed off his lap. Your legs were slightly trembling, but you pretended not to. As you passed Jake, you looked down at him—because he was always taller, but never bigger—and narrowed your eyes.

"Keep messing with him and I’ll take him to my room and won’t stop until he’s wrecked and exhausted. Capiche?"

Jake didn't move. His forced smile failed to hide the tension in his jaw. Embarrassment burned across his face.

“Oh, and by the way…” you added without looking back “If you want someone to pay attention to you, stop using teasing people as a flirting technique. You just look pathetic.”

The group tried to hold back, but the laughter was too much. Until Fanboy blurted it out, in a broadcaster's voice:

“And the award for the most insecure pilot disguised as arrogant goes to…!”

The collective laughter was thunderous. Jake said nothing. He turned toward the bar, as if he needed to hide in his own reflection.

Congratulations to Bob were not long in coming.

"Who would have thought the shyest guy could win over the hottest pilot on the team? No offense, Phoenix..."

"Do you want any more of us to keep bothering you, Bob? We can do that. Maybe she'll make good on her threat."

Between whistles, jokes, and pats on the back, Bob could barely contain his smile. His eyes never left yours. They sparkled. As if the world had changed color.

You winked at him, flirtatiously.

And that was all it took to shatter him.

[lovcrss]

crawling into joel’s lap after a long day.

cw: light smut, needy joel, nicknames (baby), teasing flirty banter

he’s sitting on his chair on the porch, legs spread and head relaxed on the headrest, finally relieving tension built up from the day. the feeling is almost perfect, only one thing’s missing.

that thing steps out of the house, moving easily in light, short but comfy sleeping clothes. you set yourself down on his lap and drape your legs over his, your ankles on the armrest, looking at him with a cheeky expression.

joel can’t help but let his lips curve upwards, hand immediately running over your leg to your hip, placing it there. “what have we here, hm?”

with a smirk, you kiss his cheek, his beard scraping your face slightly. “a tired grump in need of a drink,” you joke with your head on his chest.

“i got what i need right in front o’me,” he mumbles into your ear, nuzzling his face into your hair, the thick sharp beard itching the side of your face again.

cold night air grazes your exposed skin, causing you to shift in his lap to which he reacts by holding you tighter against him, his hand on your hip firmer and his other hand supporting your back and a grunt.

you hum with a smile on your face, playing with the buttons of his flannel. “really? what, your cigarettes?” the ones that laid on the table next to you in their box.

“‘course,” he huffs sarcastically, trying his best to sound serious. “the hell else would I be talking about?”

“alright,” rolling your eyes, you push his face away from your hair to the other side while he laughs, only to return with his lips attacking your neck. “what’s the matter, baby?”

your fingers attach to his gray hair while he explores up from your neck to your chest. he caresses gently the soft skin of your thighs with his rough fingers, sending shivers over your body.

his gentleness makes you melt, the way his fingers skim over your inner thighs have you gasping his name.

“you’re adorable when you squirm,” he rasps, making sure there isn’t an inch of skin left unkissed.

“stop embarrassing me,” you chuckle, moving while his big hands stay steady over your body.

joel looks up at you with his dog-like eyes. “you want me to stop?” he asks, the hand on your hip snaking upwards, slowly dragging the tips of his fingers over your sides until they reach the curve of you breast.

the way he touches you has your head spinning, needing to compose yourself. changing position, you stand up and place your legs on the sides of his so you’re straddling him. “no,” you say with a hint of a whine in your tone, placing your palms on his chest. “not done with you.”

the sight of you on top of him like this had his jeans tightening around his crotch. one hand slipped under your top again while the other cradled your jaw. “look at you,” he mumbles before connecting your lips in a hungry but slow kiss, almost unconsciously rocking his hips into yours.

the action causes you to let out a whimper into the kiss, only leading him to hold you even passionately. he pulls away to catch his breath. “baby, if you keep making those sounds…”

surprising him, you grind your hips against his already hard cock and let out a small sound again to provoke him, kissing him as a distraction. “what then?”

he shakes his head, “then we’re not sleepin’ tonight.”

suddenly, joel picks you up with your legs around his hips and you squeal, his big hard-on under his jeans digging into your core. he carries you inside with his face in your neck and keeps his word.

[dolcekissy]

disclaimer // 18+ content. this story includes mentions of sex, fingering, oral, and yeah.

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rafe being obsessed with his best friend would definitely consist of him basically fighting demons the entire time he's with you. poor baby just wants to fuck you sooo bad :(

sucking on a lollipop? his dick is hard the moment you started pulling the wrapper off the lollipop. sitting in his bed with him while scrolling on instagram? his dick is hard the moment you sat on his bed.

definitely fantasizes about the time you finally do let him hit. he's not gonna be a weirdo and beg ─ have you seen him? he's not one to beg for pussy, he'll make mfs work for his dick imo.

rafe would definitely want you to go everywhere with him ─ to the point if someone sees rafe out somewhere ─ you're definitely somewhere trailing behind him.

golfing with top? you're there. running errands? you're there. at a party? you're there. you're always there with him.

"do i really need to go get gas with you?" rafe nods his head, grabbing your arm and his keys as he shoves you into the passenger side and shuts the door. "it takes two seconds to pump your gas and go back home... what am i going fo─"

"shut up."

rafe would definitely be up your ass too ─ he's with you 24/7 too. you don't mind it but sometimes he does a little too much, like when he follows you to the bathroom when you have to pee or when he'll check your location and see your at the store ─ he'll just pop up out of nowhere.

"fuck! you scared me! how did you know i was here?" your eyes are wide ─ your hand resting over your chest to calm yourself as he looks at everything in your cart.

or when you're taking a shower, poor boy just can't leave you alone.

"rafe. i'm taking a fucking shower, get out!" you yell as he patiently sits on the toilet seat ─ your towel and clothes sitting in his lap as his foot taps against the floor, completely ignoring what you were saying as he starts talking about something random.

he lowkey just wants to take a peek at your naked body too.

wait whaaat, who said that?

rafe cant sleep without you ─ so if you're out late, your parents know your sleeping at rafes.

half the time he's trying to calm himself down because he's hard as fuck seeing you in a tank top and pink, satin shorts. he's mentally fanning himself with his hands as you back your body up into his ─ praying you don't feel his hard on.

turning the other way immediately, his back facing yours the second your ass presses up against him. "hmm, m'just gonna face this way ─" he says it so awkwardly too, leaving you confused but also you couldn't give a fuck less.

rafe would be over the moon the second you let him hit. i wanna say he'd cum so fast like a teenage boy but i feel like he would also wanna savor the moment.

he'd take it so serious, finger fucking you, eating you out, kissing and licking your tits ─ literally everything. then he'd fuck you sooo good ─ just so you know this is what you've been missing out on this whole time.

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[hyunjinsmuze]

A/N it’s not letting me reply to my requests but this is a request!!! so if you have any send them to my inbox 💞

You Can Join

warnings: cock warming, oral (fem receiving) a little m x m, use of ‘good girl’

contains: ⛔️smut, threesome, a little fluff

summary: you were only supposed to be seeing your childhood bestfriend and now your involved in a secret you can’t forget

pairing: leeknow x han jisung x reader

words: 3.8k

You used to think summers lasted forever. Long days, scraped knees, and the sound of Changbin’s laugh ringing through the sticky heat like a bell. Back then, he wasn’t a famous rapper with millions of fans chanting his name. He was just Changbin from two streets over, the loud, scrappy kid who could never win at Mario Kart but insisted on rematches until the sun went down.

You didn’t grow up inseparable. It wasn’t like the dramas made it out to be. There were years when you barely talked, middle school drama, new friends, life. But the bond never really broke. You always came back to each other in the end, like bookmarks in a story neither of you had finished reading.

High school was when things started to shift. He got serious about music. You got serious about... well, trying to survive exams and not lose your mind. You cheered him on from the sidelines, sent him stupid memes at 3 a.m., sometimes didn’t talk for weeks but always picked back up like no time had passed.

Then came his debut.

You were proud — like, beyond proud. But it also meant distance. Not emotional, not really. Just time zones, tour schedules, and a version of him you could only see through screens and stage lights. Still, when he did reach out, it was always genuine.

Which brings you to now.

The friendship isn’t deep in the way some childhood friendships are, but it’s solid. It’s honest. He’s one of the few people who’s seen you ugly cry after failing a test and laugh until you snorted cola out your nose. That counts for something.

And the rest of Stray Kids? You’ve met them. Not in a fangirl way, you made that clear from day one. You weren’t there to drool over their visuals. They were Changbin’s people, and slowly, over a handful of get-togethers, they started to become yours, too.

Lee Know was cool, in that slightly intimidating “I’ll-read-you-in-two-seconds” kind of way. He didn’t talk much to you at first, but when he did, it was sharp, not unkind, just observant.

Jisung? He was chaos personified. Hyper, a little awkward, full of jokes. You liked him. He made you feel like you belonged even when you were just sitting quietly on the edge of a group.

You’d hung out with them a few times, movie nights, random meals when Changbin dragged you along, that one beach trip where you fell asleep with sand in your hair and woke up to Jisung drawing something obscene near your ankle with sunscreen.

Still, you were careful. You never overstayed. You knew their world was hectic, private. You never wanted to be that person , the childhood friend trying to milk clout or cling to old memories.

But when Changbin messaged out of the blue, “Hey, I miss your dumb face. Come hang out this weekend?” you said yes without thinking.

Because some bonds don’t need daily maintenance. They just exist. And sometimes, all it takes is a text to remind you that yeah, he still thinks of you as one of his people.

And you? Well. You missed being around people who knew you before.

˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚

It’s quiet when you arrive — too quiet, considering the chaos that usually defines anything involving Stray Kids. You press the buzzer and wait, your reflection staring back at you in the gloss of the dorm’s front entrance glass. The door clicks open and you step inside, greeted by the soft hum of electronics and the faint smell of ramen and cleaning supplies, someone must’ve just cleaned.

You slip your shoes off and glance around. No one's in the hallway. No laughter. No shouting. You frown a little but shrug it off. Changbin did say they might be out. Still, it’s kind of eerie being in their dorm alone, even though it’s not your first time.

Text from Changbin [4:38 PM]:

"Running late — got caught in traffic. Be there in 45ish. You can chill, everyone else is probably out too 🫠 Don’t eat all the snacks."

You snort. Typical.

You wander in further, your steps light on the polished floor. The living room is the same as you remember, slightly messy, with throw blankets half-folded and a weirdly large collection of remotes that no one ever knows how to use. There’s a hoodie draped over the arm of the couch. You recognize it, it’s Jisung’s. You pick it up, giving it a small shake before tossing it neatly onto the back of the chair.

There’s something a little too domestic about it all.

You flop down on the couch and stare up at the ceiling, letting the silence fill your ears. It’s weird. Not uncomfortable exactly, but unfamiliar. Like you’re sitting inside someone else’s life. You scroll your phone for a bit, switch to some random playlist, and then let your eyes close.

For a moment, you think about Changbin again. It’s always a little bittersweet, seeing him now. You’re proud of him, always, but it’s hard not to notice how different his world is from yours. You’re still you — still figuring things out, still living in the spaces between job applications and late-night cravings. Meanwhile, he’s out here living the kind of life people only dream of.

And yet... he still invites you back.

Maybe that means something.

You sit up, stretching your arms over your head. “Okay,” you mumble to no one. “What now?”

Your eyes wander toward the hallway. A faint sound catches your ear, not music, not talking exactly, but something. A soft thud. Maybe a laugh? You tilt your head. Could be someone’s home after all. You hesitate. You’re not the type to snoop, but boredom’s a dangerous thing.

And maybe… maybe you’re curious.

You make your way down the hall quietly, your bare feet making barely a whisper against the floor. The noise comes from upstairs, the door to the second floor is slightly ajar. That’s when you hear it again.

Voices. Low. Male. A laugh — breathy, almost choked. Then something like…

A kiss?

Your stomach twists strangely, and for a second, you think maybe you misheard. You’re halfway up the stairs before your mind really catches up with your body. You're not trying to spy. You just—

Okay. You kind of are.

Curiosity gets the best of you.

You step carefully up onto the second floor, trying not to breathe too loudly. You follow the sound to one of the bedrooms. The door is cracked open, just enough. You peer through the gap.

And freeze.

There’s Lee Know, sitting back against the headboard. Jisung is half in his lap, straddling his thighs, his hands tangled in Lee Know’s shirt. Their mouths are moving together, slow, deep, like they’ve done this a hundred times before. It’s intimate in a way that feels like a secret and a confession all at once.

You suck in a quiet breath, stepping back. The door creaks just a little under your weight.

Jisung jolts first, wide eyes snapping toward the door. You can see the panic rise in his expression, the way his body goes tense and stiff like someone flipped a switch.

Lee Know’s gaze follows a second later, but his reaction is the complete opposite.

Calm. Composed. Maybe even amused.

“Shit,” Jisung breathes, scrambling a little, pulling at the edge of his shirt.

You’re already raising your hands. “I-I didn’t see anything. I swear. I just heard someone and thought— I’m sorry—”

Lee Know’s voice cuts in. Smooth. Unbothered.

“Don’t go.”

You blink.

He shifts slightly, and Jisung stares at him like he’s grown a second head. “Hyung—?”

“If you don’t tell anyone…” Lee Know’s gaze slides back to you. “You can join us.”

Your brain short-circuits for a second. “W-What?”

His head tilts, dark eyes sharp but unreadable. “I’ve seen how you look at us,” he says casually, like he’s stating the weather. “Especially Jisung.”

Jisung turns red, still trying to process the situation.

You stammer something, probably the beginning of a very weak excuse, but then Lee Know adds, “Come here.”

It’s not a question.

Something about his tone sends a small, electric thrill down your spine. It’s commanding. Teasing. Like he already knows what you’ll choose.

And then he looks to Jisung. “Tell her.”

Jisung licks his lips, eyes flickering nervously between you and Lee Know. “I… We’ve both— kind of— We’ve thought about you. A lot.”

There’s silence. Charged. Breathless.

Your heart is thudding way too fast.

You don’t say anything. Not yet. But you don’t move either.

You’re not leaving.

Not yet.

You should leave.

You should turn around, go downstairs, and pretend you never saw anything.

But you don’t.

You stand there, fingers clenched against your palms, heart racing so fast it drowns out the sound of your own thoughts. Jisung is still flushed, hands halfway tangled in the hem of his shirt, looking between you and Minho like he’s waiting for someone to wake him up.

Minho is steady. Always steady. His gaze stays locked on yours.

“Come here,” he says again, voice lower now, smooth like honey with a dangerous edge.

You step into the room.

Because you’re not pretending you didn’t hear him. You’re not pretending you haven’t thought about it, too — maybe late at night, alone, your thoughts wandering a little too far into dangerous territory. You’ve seen the way Jisung looks at you when he thinks you’re not paying attention. You’ve caught Minho smirking, watching you with those unreadable eyes.

You just never thought they talked about it.

“You’re really not going to tell anyone?” Jisung asks, his voice soft, uncertain.

You shake your head. “I won’t.”

Minho smirks slightly, satisfied. He pats the edge of the bed. “Then sit.”

You do.

Close enough that your knees brush Jisung’s thigh.

He swallows hard.

Minho shifts beside him, draping one arm behind Jisung casually, fingers ghosting over his shoulder. “We’ve thought about you,” he says, the words slow, deliberate. “A lot.”

You exhale slowly, trying to calm your pulse. “Like… thought about…?”

Minho’s eyes flick down your body, then back up, sharp and warm. “Like how you’d sound,” he says, “if we took turns kissing you.”

Jisung lets out a quiet breath, staring at his lap. Minho’s hand moves to his neck, thumb stroking over his pulse.

“Thought about how you’d look,” he continues, “with your head thrown back, mouth open, begging for more.”

Your thighs press together instinctively. He notices. His smirk widens.

“You’ve got no idea how pretty we think you are,” Minho adds, leaning a little closer. “Or how much we talk about you when we’re alone. Isn’t that right, Ji?”

Jisung groans softly, hiding his face for a second. “Hyung…”

“Tell her.”

You glance between them, your skin prickling with heat.

Jisung shifts, eyes flicking up to meet yours. “I—I think about you all the time,” he admits, his voice tight. “Like, fuck, it’s bad. The things I’ve imagined doing to you…”

You shiver.

He looks wrecked just saying it, pink-faced, pupils blown wide, lip caught between his teeth. “I’ve— I’ve jerked off thinking about you,” he blurts out, then immediately covers his face again. “Fuck.”

Minho laughs under his breath. “You’re so shy now, but you’re the one who whines when she texts you at night and you can’t touch yourself.”

You blink. “Wait, what?”

Jisung squeaks. “Hyung!”

“He gets so desperate,” Minho murmurs, leaning in toward your ear. His breath is hot against your skin. “He’ll send me voice notes begging for permission to touch himself. Just because you posted a photo looking too good.”

You don’t know where to look, everything is heat and tension and the sense that a line has already been crossed, and now there’s no going back.

“What about you?” Minho asks, eyes gleaming. “Have you thought about us?”

You nod slowly. “Yeah.”

He raises an eyebrow. “Both of us?”

You glance at Jisung, then back at him. “Yeah. Both.”

There’s a long pause.

Then Minho leans forward and kisses you.

It’s not soft. Not testing. He kisses you like he’s claiming something, like he’s known you’d taste good and now he’s proving it. His hand comes up to cradle your jaw, angling your face exactly the way he wants, tongue sliding against yours, hot and sure.

You whimper into his mouth before you even realize you’re doing it.

When he pulls back, Jisung is staring — eyes blown wide, chest heaving.

Minho tilts his head. “You want to kiss her too?”

Jisung nods, almost desperately.

You don’t even have to move — he leans in and captures your lips in a kiss that’s messier, needier, full of shaky breath and whispered sounds. His hands tremble as they cup your waist, thumbs sliding under your shirt just barely.

When you part, you’re breathless, your mouth kiss-swollen, your head spinning.

Minho’s hand slides down your back, warm and confident. “You want to join us, don’t you?”

You nod.

He smirks, pleased. “Good girl.”

Those two words set something off in you, a shudder deep in your gut. You gasp softly, and Minho clearly notices.

“Oh? You like being called that?”

You bite your lip.

Jisung’s hand moves to yours, fingers lacing together. “Can I touch you more?”

Minho hums. “Only if she says yes.”

You nod again. “Yes.”

Jisung shifts forward and places a kiss just below your jaw, sweet and a little clumsy. His hand slides up under your shirt, not rushing, just exploring — fingers brushing your ribs, then higher.

“You’re so soft,” he whispers. “So perfect.”

Minho watches you like a predator. “I want you to take your shirt off.”

You hesitate only a second before pulling it over your head.

Both boys groan at once.

“Fuck,” Jisung breathes, hands now on your waist. “You’re actually— you’re so hot, I don’t even know what to do—”

“Relax,” Minho says, voice low. “We’ll show her everything. She’ll beg for us by the time we’re done.”

He moves behind you, kissing down the curve of your shoulder, slow and sensual, while Jisung presses soft kisses to your stomach. Your skin is hypersensitive now, every brush of breath or fingertips makes you twitch.

“You still sure about this?” Minho murmurs near your ear.

You nod again, breath hitching. “Yes.”

“Say it,” he says, licking the shell of your ear. “Tell us you want us.”

“I want you,” you whisper. “Both of you.”

Minho smiles against your skin. “Good girl.”

He moves to unhook your bra, and the moment it falls, Jisung lets out a shaky groan.

Minho slides his hand over your chest, slow and possessive. “Next part,” he whispers, fingers grazing over one of your nipples, “we make you ours.”

Minho doesn’t give you time to overthink.

He nudges Jisung back with a quiet, firm “lie down,” and the younger boy obeys instantly, scooting back against the pillows with wide, glassy eyes.

Then Minho turns to you.

“Strip,” he says simply, voice cool, controlled.

You obey, slowly, nervously, but already burning up. You feel their eyes on you as you slide your pants down, then your underwear. By the time you’re bare, Jisung is chewing his lip and Minho is watching you like he already owns you.

“Fuck, she’s gorgeous,” Jisung whispers.

Minho doesn’t smile — not exactly. He’s too focused. But there’s satisfaction in the way he looks at you, like he’s seeing a fantasy finally come to life.

“C’mere,” he says, and you climb onto the bed.

He positions you right between them, Jisung beneath you, hard and panting, and Minho behind, still half-clothed but completely in control.

“You’re going to take us both tonight,” Minho murmurs in your ear. “You want that, baby?”

“Yes,” you whisper.

“Louder.”

“Yes.”

Minho hums his approval and kisses down your neck, his hands sliding around your waist to grope your chest again, firmer this time, possessive. “You’re already shaking,” he whispers. “And we haven’t even touched you properly.”

Jisung’s hands find your hips, pulling you down over him so you’re straddling his lap. His clothed cock presses against you, desperate and twitching. “C-Can I take mine off?”

But Minho presses his hand flat against your stomach. “Not yet.”

He glances down at Jisung, who’s panting, already bare, his cock twitching in his pants. “You want her mouth first, Ji?”

Jisung’s eyes are huge, pupils blown. “Y-Yes— wait, I mean—”

Minho smirks. “I meant your mouth on her, baby.”

Jisung’s brain visibly short-circuits.

“Oh—fuck, yes. Yes please.”

Minho grips the back of Jisung’s neck and nudges him downward with calm authority. “On your stomach. Face between her legs.”

You lie back, breath caught in your throat, and Jisung slides down the bed like he’s being summoned by gravity, kissing your thighs, trembling with anticipation.

Minho moves behind him, still fully dressed, and leans over to trail kisses down the curve of Jisung’s spine.

“She’s so wet for us already,” he murmurs, and Jisung groans in agreement as he drags his tongue through your folds, slow and reverent.

Your hips jerk.

“Oh my god—” you gasp, fisting the sheets.

Jisung moans against you, messy and needy — tongue swirling over your clit, then dipping inside you with growing urgency. He clutches your thighs, holding you open, face buried in your heat like he can’t get close enough.

Minho watches over his shoulder, one hand gripping Jisung’s hip, the other stroking down his back.

“Good boy,” he says, and leans in to press a soft, open-mouthed kiss between Jisung’s shoulder blades. “Just like that. She loves it, doesn’t she?”

You whimper a moaned “yes,” toes curling.

Jisung licks you faster, lips wrapping around your clit now, sucking gently — making obscene little sounds between desperate breaths. Minho kisses along his spine again, trailing down to the small of his back.

“Such a slut for her,” he murmurs, voice dark with heat. “Bet you’ve dreamed of this. Her thighs around your head. My hands on you. All of us like this.”

Jisung groans into you, the vibration making you gasp, your legs shaking.

“You’re gonna make her come, aren’t you?” Minho growls. “Make her gush all over that pretty mouth.”

You’re already close.

Your hips buck against Jisung’s tongue, and Minho strokes the inside of your thigh, watching your face intently.

“Let go, baby,” he whispers. “Come for us.”

You cry out, hips jerking, back arching, one hand tangling in Jisung’s hair as the orgasm crashes over you. He groans into it, licking you through every wave, hands gripping your thighs tight.

When you finally slump back, panting and trembling, Jisung pulls back, lips shiny, chin soaked.

He looks completely wrecked.

Minho leans down and kisses the back of his neck. “That’s my boy.”

Then he turns to you, eyes dark and hungry. “you wanna ride him now baby?” you nod eagerly

“Wanna let him fuck you while I play with you from behind?”

Your brain short-circuits for a second.

“Yes,” you gasp. “Yes—please.”

He pulls off jisungs pants kissing his tights as the boy underneath him squirms and whimpers.

Jisung lays flat on his back as minho moved me to straddle jisung.

He grabs a condom and tosses it to Jisung. “Be quick. Don’t get sloppy.”

Jisung fumbles a little but gets it on, and Minho pulls you back just slightly, slipping a hand between your legs.

“Oh, fuck—” you gasp, jerking as his fingers slide through your folds.

“So wet,” he mutters. “She’s dripping for you, Ji. You feel that?”

Jisung nods helplessly, eyes glued to where Minho’s fingers are working you open. “I—fuck, I wanna be inside—”

“Then do it.”

Minho helps guide you down — slowly, inch by inch, and both of you moan when he finally fills you. You’re tight, soaked, your walls fluttering around him as you sink fully onto his cock.

“Shit,” Jisung groans, grabbing your hips like he’ll lose control otherwise.

You brace your hands on his chest, panting.

Then Minho wraps one arm around you, pressing his chest to your back. “You don’t move unless I say so.”

You nod.

His free hand travels down, teasing your clit slowly while Jisung twitches inside you, already close from the buildup.

“Look how pretty you are,” Minho whispers. “Both of you. Fucking beautiful.”

You whimper, trying not to buck your hips. Jisung is moaning, every muscle in his body tense.

“Please,” Jisung gasps. “Please let her move—hyung, I can’t—”

Minho’s fingers pinch your clit lightly, making you jolt. “What do you say?”

“Please,” Jisung groans again. “She feels so good, I’ll go crazy if she doesn’t—fuck—please—”

Minho chuckles. “Alright. Move.”

You rock your hips, slowly at first, rolling them just right so that both of you moan again. Jisung bucks up to meet you, nearly sobbing your name under his breath.

Minho bites your shoulder. “That’s it, baby. Ride him. Make him lose it.”

You do, building rhythm, faster, needier, until you’re both falling apart. Jisung grips your ass, thrusting up to meet you, whimpering with every motion.

“Fuck, fuck, I’m gonna—” he warns, and Minho grabs your hips, slowing you down.

“Let go,” he says. “She can take it.”

Jisung moans your name as he finishes, trembling beneath you.

You’re still panting when Minho slides away from behind you.

“My turn,” he says, pulling his shirt over his head and shoving his pants down.

You stare.

He’s big.

And he knows it, too, the smug look he gives you as he rolls the condom on is enough to make your stomach flip.

He gently moves you off of Jisung and onto your back. “Open for me.”

You spread your legs and Minho moves between them, stroking himself once, twice, before pushing in, slow, deliberate, making you feel every inch.

You both groan.

“Fucking tight,” he mutters, gripping your thighs. “God, you feel like heaven.”

He starts slow, measured, deep strokes that make your toes curl. His hand slips under your leg, pushing your thigh up to get deeper.

“You’re doing so good,” he says. “Taking me so well. You were made for this, weren’t you?”

“Yes,” you gasp. “Please—faster—”

He obliges, snapping his hips harder, your whole body rocking with the force of it.

Jisung moves beside you, kissing your neck, your collarbone, whispering praise.

“You’re so pretty,” he breathes. “So fucking good, so perfect—”

Minho grabs your jaw and turns your face to his. “Eyes on me.”

You moan louder when he starts pounding into you harder, the bed creaking, skin slapping against skin, sweat dripping down his chest. “You love this, don’t you?” he growls. “Being fucked dumb by both of us?”

“Y-Yes—”

He reaches down, fingers circling your clit again, fast and unforgiving. “Then come for me. Come while I fuck this perfect pussy.”

You break.

The orgasm rips through you, sudden and overwhelming, your vision goes white, your body trembling under the force of it.

“Good girl,” Minho groans, thrusting once, twice, then spilling into the condom with a low growl.

You barely register him pulling out, collapsing next to you on the bed.

There’s a long silence.

Just panting.

Sticky skin and tangled limbs.

Then Minho brushes a strand of hair from your face and leans in, kissing your cheek. “You okay?”

You nod weakly, breathless. “Yeah… more than okay.”

Jisung cuddles up against your other side, nuzzling your neck. “That was the best day of my life.”

You laugh, dazed.

Minho smirks. “Guess Changbin’s gonna be real confused when he gets home.”

You all burst into giggles, tangled and happy and sated.

@hwangjoanna @penguins-in-space @sammhisphere

comment if you wanna be added to the tag list

[xosannie]

3:00 am

☆Genre: Smut 18+ MDNI

☆Pairing: roommate!Seonghwa x fem!reader

☆Word Count: 4.1k

☆Warning: pwp (?), gentle/soft Seonghwa, unprotected sex (be safe horny ppl), needy reader, fingering (f receiving), pet names (princess, baby), some dirty talk, praise, fucked from behind, (lmk if I missed anything) if you see any typos no you don’t

☆Summary: It’s late and you’re too horny to sleep. Luckily you find your roommate up late as well. Come to your surprise he’s willing to help you.

—————————————————————————

You let out an exaggerated sigh of annoyance, shifting on your back after tossing and turning for a while. You stare up at the dark ceiling, admitting defeat after trying to fall asleep and failing miserably. You checked the time, looking over at the clock on your bedside table.

 3:04 am

It was late at night, and here you are laying restless on the bed, aching between your legs. You didn’t know why, but you just felt so horny. Earlier you tried to do something about it, but your fingers weren’t enough to get you close. You tried to ignore the feeling between your legs, but every time you shut your eyes images of dirty scenarios pop into your head.

You kick the covers off you, the cold night air biting into the flesh of your bare legs. You slowly pull yourself off the bed, well if you couldn’t sleep might as well get yourself a little snack. You stepped out the room and into the hallway, quietly walking past your roommate, Seonghwa’s room.

 You cocked your head to the side when you noticed a small light emanating from underneath his door. Oh, Seonghwa is awake, why is he up so late? You knock on the door and slowly turn the knob when you hear a low “Come in”, from the other side. 

Seonghwa sat at his desk, lamp shining brightly beside him. He was wearing his black, silk pajamas, back facing you as he focused on the legos in his hands. You roll your eyes, entering his room and sitting on his bed. 

“Are you really building legos at 3 am?”

 “Yup,” he says popping the ‘p’ sound. 

“Why?” 

“Can’t sleep,” he shrugs.

“That makes two of us,” you mumble.

You plop backwards on his mattress, arms sprawled out on the covers and you hear Seonghwa chuckle deeply. 

“Why can’t you sleep?”

You pause for a moment, well you certainly can’t tell him the real reason. ‘Oh well I’m so horny, it’s preventing me from sleeping.’ Seonghwa doesn’t need to know that.

“Just… restless.”

You hear a small scoff coming from Seonghwa, he still doesn’t turn your direction. He was too fixated on attaching one of the Lego pieces together in the correct spot. 

“I don’t believe you.”

You propped yourself on your elbows to look at Seonghwa, shooting him a confused look.

“What?”

“You’re a horrible liar.”

He puts the legos down and finally turns around in his chair to face you. 

“What’s wrong? You know you can tell me anything.”

You seriously debate if you should tell the truth or not. I mean, you and Seonghwa have talked about personal stuff before. You guys have lived with each other for while now so you know each other like the back of your hands. Seonghwa raises his brows at you, watching you intently as you pondered.

You let out a sigh and sit up straight. Seonghwa turned his chair around so he could face you better.

“Well… ugh, don’t laugh okay.”

“I’m not gonna laugh, what’s up?”

You take a deep breath, cheeks started to feel warmer from what you were about to say.

“I’m just… horny. So I can’t sleep.”

Seonghwa blinked at you, a little taken aback by your words.

“Oh.”

You let out a groan, falling back on the bed and grabbing a pillow to hide your face in. You heard Seonghwa chuckle a little and you kicked him. 

“I said don’t laugh.”

“I’m not laughing at you. You have me worried for a second, I thought it was gonna be something serious.”

“This is serious!”

Your voice was muffled from the pillow, Seonghwa couldn’t help but find your embarrassment endearing. 

“Just go masturbate or something.”

“I tried, but I couldn’t get close.”

You finally sit up, throwing the pillow back on the bed. Your body slumped forward as you frowned.

“Don’t you have some sort of vibrator or something?”

“It’s dead and I lost the charger,” your mumbled.

Seonghwa laughs softly again, he reached up to ruffle your hair and you glared at him.

“Seonghwa, stop that.”

You shoo’s his hand away and he smiles.

“Well I don’t know what to tell you. Just try to ignore it.”

He sits back in his chair crossing his arms. You glare at him again, not enjoying the smug look on his face. 

“You want me dead.”

“So dramatic,” he rolls his eyes. 

Seonghwa thinks for a moment while you sulk on his bed. He bit his lip, taking in a breath before speaking.

“Well… I have an idea, but i don’t know how you’ll feel about it.”

Your head perks up, at his words. You felt like you were so desperate for release that you would do anything so you could sleep.

“What is it? I’ll do anything at this point.”

“Well… maybe you need a helping hand.”

You cock your brow up, what did he mean by that? 

“Helping hand?” You ask slowly.

“Yeah, a second person…”

Your heart started to race a bit faster. What did Seonghwa mean by that? And why was his request only making the ache between your legs grow stronger.

Seonghwa stared blankly at you, waiting for your reply. He rolls his eyes when you remain silent, he can see you weren’t fully grasping his words.

“I’m saying you need to be fucked.”

“I mean… yeah I do but I don’t necessarily have anyone. Especially since it’s 3 in the morning.”

“I can do it.”

Now it was your turn to stare blankly at him. You body froze and your eyes wide, but on the inside you were screaming ‘WHAT THE FUCK SEONGHWA? WHAT DO YOU MEAN YOU’LL DO IT? WAIT, WHY DO I WANT TO SAY YES?’

Seonghwa snaps his fingers at you while calling your name. You snap back to reality, not realizing that you just short circuited. 

“Sorry for a second there I thought you said you would fuck me.”

“I did.”

“Seonghwa!”

“What?! I’m just trying to help. Look if you don’t want to that’s perfectly fine.”

Seonghwa waves his hands in defense, feeling a little embarrassed for suggesting such a thing. He was ready to just pretend like nothing happened and shrug off your rejection, but then you spoke.

“I never say I didn’t want to.”

Seonghwa looked back at you, feeling his heart race faster at your words. He clears his throat and stands up off the chair. You look up at him, suddenly feeling small while he towered over your sitting form.

“Then, let’s get started. The faster we finish the faster you get to sleep.”

Seonghwa sat on the bed, back pressed against the head board as he gestured you to come sit in his lap. Your body moved on auto pilot, crawling over to him and straddling his lap.

“Are you sure this is okay, Seonghwa?”

“It’s okay, I’m just trying to help my friend. If you don’t want this.. just tell me and I’ll stop.”

You felt his fingers graze your cheek as he cupped your jaw. You were already so needy that the gentle touch sent electricity through your body.

“No… I want this. I need this.”

“Alright then.”

Seonghwa smiles feeling relieved at your words. He looked down at your body, admiring how you looked in your oversized shirt and small shorts. His hands ran up your bare thighs, he chuckled when he sees the goosebumps rising up on your skin.

“You look very pretty like this. I always love it when you wear these small shorts.”

His hands reach up to grip your hips. The small touches make you feel more needy, and you couldn’t help it when a whine escaped your lips.

“Seonghwa, please I need you now. Don’t tease me.”

Seonghwa pouts at you, brushing your hair out of your face. He shows mercy, after all you’ve been needy for so long (he also couldn’t wait any longer, he needed to feel you.)

“Aww baby, don’t fret.”

He leans forward, placing soft kisses on your neck. You reach up, gripping at the silk material of his pajama shirt. You let out a sigh, enjoying the feeling of his plump lips on your hot skin. He gripped your hips to pull you closer and you let out a small yelp. 

Your pussy ached, Seonghwa swore he could feel you throbbing through the thin material of your clothes. That made him feral, he didn’t know what took over him when he gripped your shorts and pulled them down your hips.

You gasped, shifting slightly so Seonghwa could slide the shorts off your legs. You let out another whine when his long, cold fingers slid through your wet folds. Seonghwa groaned against your neck. 

“Fuck you’re so wet baby.”

“I told you I’m horny.”

“You’re so cute.”

His praises only make you feel even needier. His voice was so soft when he spoke to you and his warm breath against your neck sent shivers down your spine. You gently pulled at the hair on the nape of his neck when he licked a warm strip on your jaw.

You felt Seonghwa slowly rub circles on your clit with ease. You couldn’t help it when your hips started to grind down against his fingers, his digits sliding against your folds in the best way possible.

“Oh you’re such a needy girl grinding on my fingers like that.”

You nod and hummed in agreement. Never in a million years did you think your roommate would be touching you this way, but right now you didn’t care. All you cared about was Seonghwa and his gentle touches. The whole time you were enjoying yourself Seonghwa  was admiring you, you’re so beautiful it’s mesmerizing.

“Why don’t you say it for me princess?”

“Hm?”

“Tell me you’re my needy girl.”

You felt your core ache with need at his words. Subconsciously, you began to grind harder on his fingers, your hips moving faster the more you grew desperate. Seonghwa smiles to himself at the sight, feeling his own arousal building up in his pants.

“I’m your… needy girl Seonghwa. Please take care of me.”

Seonghwa groaned at the sound of your voice. He pulled his fingers away, grabbing your hips and gently moving you on the bed. Your body felt like putty at this point that you moved without resistance, letting Seonghwa control your body however he wanted. 

“You sound so pretty, I’m gonna take real good care of you okay? Then you can sleep so well.” 

The only response you could muster was a small whine and a nod. Seonghwa didn’t mind though, he knew you were probably already too lost to even form words.

Seonghwa had you laying on your stomach, you cheek pressed against the pillow and your legs spread wide. His hands slid down your body, cupping your ass while he placed a soft kiss on your shoulder blade.

“Can you move your hips up darling?”

You nod, moving your hips while Seonghwa pulled you up simultaneously. You were now ass up, legs spread wide and pussy on full display. What a sight for sore eyes. Seonghwa couldn’t feel his dick twitching in his pants just by looking at you.

He noticed the way your folds glistened with arousal, he moaned at the sight, taking two fingers and sliding them in with ease. 

You whine in the pillow, rocking your hips on his fingers. He slowly started to pump them in and out, holding your hips to keep your still.

“You’re so wet… and warm. What got you this horny in the first place?”

You shrug, turning your head to speak clearer.

“I don’t know…. I just started to feel this way.  But once you began to touch me…”

You let out whines between your word and Seonghwa watched you endearingly. He smiled at you softly as he continued to thrust his fingers as deep as they can go. 

“Did my touch make you more needy?”

You let out a long whine, nodding against the pillow. Seonghwa felt his whole body ignite with desire at your reaction. He needed you, badly. And the fact that you felt the same was doing something to Seonghwa. 

He wanted to keep touching you, and give you all the pleasure you deserve. But the more he looked at you and the more he played with you, he just grew too needy. And by the way your hips were desperately trying to fuck back against his fingers, he’s confident to say you were feeling the same.

“Oh god. I’m gonna fuck you now. Is that okay?”

You nodded eagerly, gripping tightly to the bedsheets beneath you.

“Yes yes please. I can’t wait any longer.”

Seonghwa chuckled at your neediness. He slowly pulled his fingers out, groaning when he saw the slick of your arousal glisten on them.

“I got you princess, I won’t make you wait.”

He pulled the waistband off his pajama pants down to his mid thigh. He grabbed hold of the base, his dick literally throbbing in his hand. He rubbed his red tip against your hole making him moan and you whimper at the feeling. 

“I can’t wait to feel you baby. I’m gonna put it in,” he warned.

Once he saw you nod against the pillow he was ready to go. Seonghwa placed his hand flat on the small of your back, the head of his cock prodded at your hole before he slowly pushed it in.

You let out a gasp, finally feeling what you’ve been yearning for all night. Seonghwa took in a sharp breath, head falling back as he slowly pushed his dick inside you. You were both letting out long moans, and you felt you legs start to tremble already. 

Seonghwa wasn’t the biggest in the world, but god did he feel amazing. He was the perfect size just for you, and when he fully bottoms out and you feel his pelvis pressed against your ass, you were filled just right. No pain, no discomfort, just bliss. 

“Oh my god,”you whispered. 

You both stayed that way for a moment, Seonghwa leaned forward with his chest flushed against your back. His arm wrapped around your waist as he pulled you impossibly closer and you can feel his warm breath on the nape of your neck.

“You have the most perfect pussy. Feels so good,” he mumbled. 

You were going to reply, but your words got caught in your throat when you felt Seonghwa  start to rock his hips back and forth. Your whole body was filled with pleasure and you felt your mind start to cloud. Seonghwa rested his hands on either side of your head, hovering over you. He chuckled when he saw your expression change from desperate needy, to a blissed out face. 

He was so close you could feel his long hair tickling your cheek. He leaned down to kiss your head, whispering praises in your ear. His room was filled with lewd moans, the bed squeaking and hitting the wall. But his favorite, was the sound of his cock pounding deep inside your wet pussy. He tried to keep his own moans down, wanting to only hear yours, but it was hard when you started to clench around him.

You gripped at the pillow beneath you, hiding your face in it and letting out muffled moans. Seonghwa was fucking you just right, hitting all the spots you could never reach on your own. Seonghwa tsked at you, watching the way you hide away into the pillow.

“No no baby let me hear your pretty moans.”

You whine, turning your head to the side to let out clearer moans. Seonghwa pulled away, you felt a rush of air hit your skin. You already missed his touch. You turned to look over your shoulder, ready to let out a protest. But before you could Seonghwa gripped tightly to your hips and drilled into you. 

You let out a yelp and you head fell back on the pillow. The bed squeaked louder beneath you, it wouldn’t be a shock if you hear a complaint from the neighbors the next morning. You reached behind you to grip Seonghwa’s hip, pulling him against you to feel him even deeper. 

Seonghwa groaned, he was mesmerized at the sight of you sucking up his length with ease. He watched intently, grabbing the flesh of your ass and spreading them apart to give him a better view. 

“That’s it baby take my dick, you deserve it. You deserve to get fucked.”

“Seonghwa you fuck me so good. I love it… please don’t stop.”

“I’m not gonna stop princess. Not when you look this good…fuck and feel this good.”

Your legs trembled uncontrollably and Seonghwa noticed. He cooed at the sight rubbing his hand against your back.

“Aw baby are you getting tired?”

You whine, nodding with a small pout. You felt so weak your legs would give out in any moment. He chuckled, pushing you down on the mattress.

“Lay down pretty girl, you did so good just lay there and take it.”

You whimpered, your body fell fully on the bed but Seonghwa didn’t stop. He repositioned himself she could fuck you at the new angle. He hovered over you again, resting his weight on his hands beside you head, You whined and cried into the pillow, you couldn’t control any of the sounds leaving your lips. At this point you didn’t care that it was near 4 am, and neither did Seonghwa. 

With the new position you felt impossible tighter around Seonghwa’s dick. He wasn’t gonna last very long, he grunted loudly cursing in your ear. You felt your own orgasm creep up, you have never came from another man fucking you. Seonghwa just felt so good, he filled you up just right it was like his dick was made for you. 

You reach up behind you, cupping the back of Seonghwa’s neck. Seonghwa leaned in to kiss your cheek, jaw, neck any place he could reach.

“Seonghwa baby I’m close. Please don’t stop please I’m gonna cum for you.”

Seonghwa groaned at your words, his own orgasm dangerously close as well.

“Yeah? You gonna cum for me? Cum on my dick.”

You moaned louder, nodding your head. You turned you head back to the best of you abilities. You and Seonghwa stared into each others eyes, you don’t know what came over you, but the way his lips parted while he panted and his brows furrowed with pleasure. You couldn’t stop yourself when you pulled him down to connect your lips together. 

Seonghwa moaned in the kiss, gripping your jaw with one hand. He snakes it down to wrap around your neck. He didn’t apply pressure, he just wanted to hold it there. A small reminder that right now you were his. The moment you felt Seonghwa slide his tongue in your mouth you were ready to be pushed off the edge. 

Seonghwa whimpered when you tightened around him, he knew your were close. He needed to see it, needed to see you unwind on his cock. He whispered against your lips in a low seductive voice.

“Cum for me baby, you deserve it.”

And with that, your body let go. You pulled away to fall against the mattress, hiding in the pillow as you moaned loudly in it. Your body felt like it was on fire, and your eyes rolled in the back of you head. Seonghwa gripped tightly to your hip when he felt you cum on his cock. His own hips faltered, and he pulled out to release hot cum all over your ass and lower back. His moans were so beautiful, so soft yet sexy. 

You felt like you were on cloud nine, panting against the pillow with your body feeling weak. Seonghwa stared at you, fucked out and limp on his bed. He chuckled breathlessly, leaning in to kiss your shoulder.

“Good girl.”

You let out a weak whine, the sound being muffled by the pillow. He pushed your hair to the side, leaning in to kiss the back of your neck. He caressed your body in a soothing manner, that was probably the best sex he’s ever had and little did he know you were thinking the same thing. 

Seonghwa reached to his bedside drawer to pull out some baby wipes. You shivered when the cold, wet wipes made contact to your skin while Seonghwa cleaned you up. You giggle against the pillow, turning back to look at Seonghwa.

“Thank you.”

Seonghwa smiled back at you, throwing the soiled wet wipe in the trash. He adjusted your shirt so it could cover your body again, giving your some decency. You giggle at the action and shift around so you were on your back. Seonghwa pushed his hair behind his ear, trying not to look at you body (even though he just fucked you against the mattress). You noticed him suddenly get shy, and you reached up to hold his hand.

“I enjoyed it, thank you Seonghwa.”

“Me too.”

Seonghwa smiled brightly at you. He grips your hand tightly, holding it in his lap. You both suddenly felt a weird tension in the air. Did that really just happen? You sit up, scooting closer to Seonghwa. 

Seonghwa stared into you eyes, he wanted to reach up and kiss you again but he didn’t want to possibly make you uncomfortable (again, he was just thrusting his dick in you a few seconds ago). You both stared at each other for a moment, having a new revelation about one another. 

“So… that was new.” Seonghwa spoke.

You giggled and nodded. You could see Seonghwa relax a bit at the sound of your laugh. 

“Very new.”

Seonghwa looked down at your hand in his. You followed his gaze and gripped his hand tighter.

“It was a good new,” you assured. 

“Good.”

You both stare at each other again and you clear your throat when you notice the tension creep up again. 

“Well, I’m actually really tired now. So thank you for helping me.”

Seonghwa nodded, almost forgetting the whole reason why this started in the first place. He felt a small pang of disappointment when you pulled your hand away and he felt you shift on the bed, ready to get up and go.

“Wait… you’re leaving?”

You looked back at Seonghwa’s, your heart ached when you saw the disappointment glint in his eyes.

“I just thought maybe you would want me to sleep in my room.”

“No, stay here. Sleep with me.”

He gripped your hand again to pull you closer. You felt relief at his words, glad he didn’t want you to go. You stood in front of him, wrapping your arms around his neck. 

“If you’re okay with it then… I will.”

Seonghwa chuckled, pulling you back in bed. You squealed at the sudden action and you felt the fluffy pillow beneath your head.

“Obviously I’m okay with it. Don’t treat me like one of your one night stands.”

You giggle at his words, you pulled him down so he could hover over you. You cup his cheek and hold him close.

“No I would never do that. Besides I live with you I have to see you.”

Seonghwa chuckles. He glanced at your lips, wanting to kiss them again. He pushed your hair out of you eyes, his touch was so gentle it made your stomach flip. You could tell he was getting shy again, damn he’s so cute.

“Seonghwa you don’t need to act bashful. You just fucked me so deep and now you’re too shy to kiss me.”

Seonghwa bursted out laughing at your remark, hiding his face in your neck. He felt his ears burn in embarrassment.

“Leave me alone,” he whined.

You chuckled, pulling him up and placing a soft kiss on his lips. He kissed you back immediately, cupping your cheek gently. How could he be so caring and soft when a few minutes ago he was passionately thrusting into you. Now that’s a man with duality.

“Let’s go to bed, it’s really late.” Seonghwa mutters against your lips. 

You nod, pulling Seonghwa in for one last kiss. 

“Okay.”

————————————————————————

The next morning you woke up in bed, but it wasn’t your bed. Deliriously, you examined Seonghwa’s room, it was dim due to the curtains shutting out the bright morning sun. You were a little sad when you felt the bed was empty with only you in it. You picked up the phone to read the time but you were met with a text from Seonghwa.

Nerd (Seonghwa): Sorry I had to leave for dance practice :( I had fun last night though, I’ll see you when I get home <3

You smile after reading the text, plopping back down on Seonghwa’s bed with a content sigh. 

“Damn it Seonghwa. What did you just start?”

~

a/n: I’m writing a new fic and I’m really excited about it >_< (ofc it’s another Mingi one Oop- who should I write about next?)

[fleurfiles]

SOMETHING NEW with caitlyn kiramman

୧ ‧₊˚ your sex life with your girlfriend, caitlyn, was sweet, but a little too…vanilla. so, you tell her exactly what you want, and she fulfills your wishes in more ways than you could think of.

pairings and aus. oldergf!caitlyn kiramman 𝑥 fem!reader

warnings. smut. swearing. light choking. orgasm denial. mention of a safe word, though not used. cum play. bondage/tying up. mommy kink. caitlyn being a big softie for her gf.

gabi’s quick thoughts. none. just this. sorry for the bad ending oops i really had nothing to say </3

word count. 5.5k

masterlist ‧₊˚ taglist

you don’t even knock.

your nerves are too loud for politeness, and your thoughts have been spiraling all morning. you need to say it now, or you won’t say it at all.

you and caitlyn had been dating for months, and she was absolutely lovely in every way. she was passionate, full of care, and she always told you how special you were to her, which, you appreciate. 

but, there was something missing. 

you and caitlyn first had intimacy around three months in. it was the most romantic and sweet thing you had ever experienced, and after, she held you for hours until the both of you drifted off to sleep. 

however, now a couple months later, you were wanting a bit more. it was relatively the same each time— you had gentle sex, with light kisses and fragile touches, cleaned up, and fell asleep. it wasn’t that you hated it— no, quite the opposite— but you were dying to try something new from time to time. you were just too scared to tell her. 

would she be down for it? or would it be repulsive to her? you had no idea. 

caitlyn was always pretty closed off when it came to talking about fantasies or things she wanted to try, which was a surprise, considering she had four years on you, and was way more experienced. you honestly didn’t have a clue if she was into anything other than standard vanilla sex, and at first, it didn’t raise any questions. but you were burning with passion, for such a deeper need that she could only fulfill. 

so, here you stood, right behind her closed door with clammy hands and a heart beating with anxiety. it wasn’t that you feel like you couldn’t talk about it, but everything was just so new, and the fear of messing up swallowed the desire to be direct with what you wanted. 

reluctantly, you pushed the door open, and stopped dead in the doorway. 

“cait, can we talk—?”

there are guards in her room. two of them, standing straight-backed near her window like they’re made of stone, and you have to take a double-take to make sure that they’re even breathing. caitlyn is sitting at her desk, reading something with too many signatures at the bottom, completely honed in. 

she looks up, startled, but clearly pleased to see you. her eyes soften, “darling—”

“i didn’t know you had people in here,” you mumble, one foot already back in the hall, regretting every step that led you here. you should’ve just waited, or called— but it was too late for that now. 

“what’s wrong?” she stands from her chair, already walking toward you, and you already know that there’s a slim chance you can get out of this. her voice lowers, gentle, like she thinks you’re hurt. her chin tilts, “you look like you’ve seen a ghost.” 

you hesitate. you were going to wait until tonight, to maybe whisper it in her ear while you curled up beside her, or maybe say it in a way that didn’t feel so serious. but now you’re standing here in front of her, heart stuttering, hands cold, yet the words are burning up the back of your throat.

“honey, just tell me. surely it can’t be that—“

“i wanted to talk about… um… our sex life.”

it gets so quiet that you hear one of the guards clear his throat in attempt to mask clear discomfort, and caitlyn blinks. her cheeks flush instantly, a pink hue blossoming over her cheeks, spreading to the tips of her ears. you can’t feel her, but you know she’s burning hot. 

“oh,” she says stiffly, pretending to cough, “oh. well then, um…g-guards, you may be dismissed.”

they file out wordlessly, though one of them definitely walks a little faster than the other, and you swear that you can hear one of them pretending to gag, followed by a giggle as they leave. the door shuts with a soft click, and you’re left alone with her, the tension humming in the air like static.

you fiddle with the hem of your sleeve.

“i shouldn’t have just…said it like that,” you murmur out nervously, still messing with the loose frays on your sleeve.  “i didn’t know they were gonna be in here, and now you probably think i’m—”

“no,” your girlfriend cuts in quickly, “i mean— yes, they were here, but no, i don’t think anything bad. just… surprised.”

“you never talk about it,” you say, quieter now, trying to avoid eye contact as best you could. “…and sometimes i feel like i shouldn’t bring it up because you’re always so composed. i just feel like everything’s so taboo between the two of us.”

she takes your hands, thumbs brushing over your knuckles, and looks at you with sweet, glossy eyes. her voice softens, “oh, i’m sorry, darling. i just… i’ve never been the kind of person who finds it easy to talk about those things. even when i want to.”

you nod, heart slowing down. she was right— knowing her upbringing, that probably wasn’t her focus at all. sure, she’s had flings and short-lived relationships, but you were the first girl that she was really with. none of this probably came easy for her, and you didn’t blame her. 

“babe, i wanted to….um. try…some things?” you confess, twisting your foot against the hardwood floors awkwardly. you swallow, trying to ease up, “something new. but not just that— i want us to be able to talk about ‘it’ without it feeling so… fragile. like if i say the wrong word, you’ll shut down. i’m scared of that.”

caitlyn exhales like she’s been holding her breath since you walked in. she pulls you in, forehead against yours, a gentle hand coming up to rub the small of your back, lowering gently to the lowest part. 

“i’m not shutting down,” she whispers into you, “i’m just… learning how to be more upfront about things. when i was younger, it wasn’t really on my mind, you know, love?”

you close your eyes, leaning farther into her embrace, letting her arms fully close around you, circling around your back and up your shoulders. “do you wanna talk now?” you ask her, your voice low, but oozing with nervousness.

she kisses your cheek, then your jaw, then a little lower, lips brushing your neck, sending gentle chills up your spine. you shiver against her as she pulls your face up with her hands, eyes boring into yours. 

she cracks a gentle smile, “we can talk, and then maybe… we can show each other what we want.”

you smile, a little breathless.

“okay.”

and the moment the words leave your mouth, you see something shift in her. it isn’t anything like usual— hesitant and reserved, but instead, it’s something akin to a quiet focus. 

she doesn’t rush at all. she lifts your hand to her mouth first, pressing a kiss to your knuckles like it’s the most gentle thing in the world. her voice is barely above a whisper as her eyes flutter up at you— her usual glassy, bright blue eyes now shadowed over with something you don’t recognize. 

“tell me what you want to try.”

your cheeks heat, but you hold her gaze, careful not to falter. this is what you’ve been wanting for so long, and now that the moment’s finally here, you want to do any and everything but back out. 

“i want you to stop being so careful. with me.”

she tilts her head, partially in confusion, partially because she wants you to elaborate more. so, you clarify.

“you’re always gentle, and so very sweet. which…i love that, don’t get me wrong— but i want more than just sweetness sometimes. i want you tell me what to do and when to do it— i just…i want you to do whatever you want.”

her eyes flick down to your lips. she’s listening attentively, taking in each word like it really matters— which, to her, it does.

you’re slightly nervous now, and a little embarrassed, heat flaring in your cheeks. you physically can’t look at her without doubling over, and you do so— falling into her, saying the rest against her collarbone, your voice barely above the sound of her breath.

“i want to see what you’re like when you’re not being nice. i want…i want you to be mean. rough with me.” 

something flickers in caitlyn, and you feel her nod, her hand coming up to gently stroke your hair. “are you sure?”

“yes.” you reply almost instantly, and that’s all it takes for cait. 

she doesn’t rush, but there’s a purpose to her actions now, a confidence that settles into her spine as she backs you toward her bed. the air shifts with it, and you feel your heartbeat speed up, anticipation curling in your stomach when she kisses you differently this time.

not the soft, tender brush of lips she usually gives you before sleep or bidding you goodbye. this one is deeper, hungrier, like it’s making up for every time she held back. her hands stay at your waist for a second, then trail lower, fingers slipping beneath the hem of your shirt, testing the waters just a little bit. 

she pulls back just slightly.

“i want you to tell me if i go too far,” she says, and she’s nothing but serious. you nod fervently, but she shakes her head, her index finger curling underneath your chin and tilting it up, forcing you to look at her. 

“tell me.”

“yes ma’am.” you squeak out, nodding again, your skin tingly and hot. 

“what a good girl.” she coos, and before you even have enough time to react, her hands find the hem of your t-shirt— which, is really her’s— pulling it off, her fingers brushing over every inch of your smooth skin like she’s committing it to memory. she kisses the space below your collarbone, then lower, and lower, and when you gasp her name, she murmurs “yes, love?” like she’s teasing, but her hands are shaking just a little.

she’s nervous, but she masks it well. you can tell she’s starting to ease up by the way she kisses you and grabs your ass, and not just a little tap like she usually does. her hands are roaming all around you, hungry for you, desperate to make you feel good. 

you reach for her shirt too— unbuttoning it, one by one, until her chest is bare beneath you, excusing a black, lacy bra that she’s wearing. her hair falls forward, brushing your shoulder, and she leans in again, mouth hot against your neck now, teeth grazing just enough to make your breath hitch.

you discard her shirt to the floor like it’s worth nothing, grabbing her face to pull her lips back onto yours. you’re both messily trying to reach the bed, stumbling over shirts and other items that are scattered about her bedroom. 

cait pulls you down onto her crisply made bed, covers shifting as she flips you underneath her with a swift movement, not breaking the kiss. a tiny moan passes through your lips as her fingers toy with the waistband of your jeans, and you can practically hear your own heartbeat in your ears, anticipation rising. 

she shifts down to kiss your jaw, then your throat, then across your chest, slow and methodical like she’s tracing a map she’s read a hundred times but only now dares to touch. she presses her thigh between yours, and you arch into it, your breath catching in your throat.

“c-cait—”

“i know,” she murmurs, her voice dripping honey as she shifts down, her hand reaching the button on your jeans. as soon as she looks up at you for confirmation, you breathe out a helpless plea, and she nods, grinning. 

she slides her fingers onto the buttons, undoing each one carefully, amused at how shaky you get with each one she takes out slow and purposeful, until you’re gasping her name again, this time raw and open. 

with a little bit of force, plus your shimmying, she moves your bottoms down until they reach your ankles, sliding them off and throwing them behind her without another look. 

caitlyn gives you a half-smile when her eyes land on your pretty blue panties, the one with the lace and bow at the top that she had picked out for you. you offer up a sheepish smile, legs squeezed shut, “hi.”

“hi, pretty,” she gleams, tapping your thighs lightly, “open ‘em.”

you oblige, your legs spreading slowly for her, and she lets out a quiet giggle when she sees the giant wet spot at your core. she wets her lips with her tongue, “eager much, huh, babe?” 

you grow shy, your head falling into your shoulder as you nod silently. 

“let me take care of you.” 

caitlyn’s face falls in between your thighs, kissing them repeatedly, landing on all your sweet spots that she knows all too well. both her hands find the waistband of your panties, pulling them down, and you shiver at the new temperature of air. 

she, once again, throws your underwear onto the floor like it’s a piece of trash, cooing out at how pretty you look— and she tells you that, too. 

“you make it so hard to hold back,” she whispers honestly, “i…i don’t think i want to anymore.”

“then don’t.”

and she doesn’t.

“just—“ she brings her wrist up to her mouth, her teeth trapping the edge of a hair tie as her hands cup around her scalp, pooling her hair into a ponytail. she slides the elastic up her fingers and your eyes are glued to her, watching her nimble fingers dwindle, securing her hair and blowing a loose piece away from her face. 

your feel your eyes widen, just a bit. you don’t have much time to react before her middle and ring finger are placed against your sopping pussy, collecting your juices on her fingertips, spreading the wetness to your clit, teasing you. you shudder.

“w-wait, caitlyn,” you interrupt before she can go any further, and she looks up at you, “hm?”

“…nevermind.” you shake your head. 

she hums, but she’s not convinced. her hand slides up to your thigh, slower now, more deliberate. she squeezes it gently, “no. there’s something else.”

you bite your lip.

she shifts closer, blue eyes watching you with that sharp, focused look that always makes your stomach turn instantly. 

“you promised,” she reminds you gently, “that you’d tell me what you wanted.”

you hesitate. it’s not that you don’t want to— it’s just… different this time. harder to say. it’s more than just her changing her demeanor, it’s an action, once that you weren’t sure if she’d be interested in. 

“is it something you’re afraid i won’t like?” she asks gently, not pushing, but just out of pure wonder.

you shake your head.

“then what is it?”

your voice is barely a whisper when you say, “you’ll think it’s too much.”

caitlyn’s gaze softens, but she doesn’t let up. she leans in, brushing her lips just below your dripping core.

“tell me anyway.”

your throat works as you breathe out, honest, “i want you to tie me up.”

there’s a beat of silence, but it’s not uncomfortable. you can tell she’s thinking about what you just said, gears turning like she’s full of ideas.

she pulls back just slightly, just enough to see your face. “you want me to—”

“not in a scary way,” you rush out, cheeks burning, “just… soft. but firm. like you’re in control. i don’t know.” you look away from her, “gosh, i feel stupid.”

“look at me,” she says, and when you do, her expression makes you forget how to breathe. she’s not judging you or looking hesitant, but instead, her eyes are lit up like she’s been wanting to do that all along. 

“you’re not stupid,” she says slowly, “you’re perfect.”

you barely get a sound out before she speaks again, “stay right there.”

you nod, breathless, and watch as she stands up and crosses the room— calm and composed, but she’s got a new pep in her step. she opens a drawer at her desk and rummages around for a second before she returns with a soft, navy silk scarf and that look in her eyes again, the one that makes your knees go weak even when you’re lying down.

“hands up.” she orders, and it isn’t laced with that usual tenderness— no, this was a command, and you follow it.

you lift them slowly. you’re nervous and excited all at once, and the mixture is dizzying. she moves to the side of the bed and she binds your wrists together behind your back, gently but tight enough that you can feel it. her fingers linger after, tracing the new vulnerability she’s created.

“still okay?” she asks, watching your face to make sure you’re alright.

you nod again for what feels like the hundredth time, “yes, please. i need you.”

cait smiles. not her usual amused, aristocratic smirk— not at all. this one is deeper, much darker, and you whine at that, at that look, where you both know the exact same thing. 

she’s gonna make you fall apart. 

she kisses down your neck, your chest, taking her time while your arms stay pinned over your head. she moves lower until she’s sprawled underneath you, her nose laying on top of her clit. she starts off slowly, licking into you slow and precise, holding your thighs open as you gasp her name. you squirm and she presses your hips down with a firm hand, murmuring against your skin, “easy, love. i’ve got you.”

and you know she does. 

her tongue finds your clit almost instantly, toying with the sensitive bud. you sigh, basking in her touch, fingers curling in the sheets where you can, the scarf tight behind your back as your body arches helplessly.

you can’t even hide how loud the moan is. it slips out like a secret, but it’s still very audible. you weren’t expecting her to be this good at what you asked for, nor this focused. this deliberate.

caitlyn doesn’t say anything at first— she just hums low, like she’s pleased with herself. her lips are soft, her tongue precise, her grip on your thighs firm and immovable. it’s everything you asked for— commanding, but still cait, like always. 

then, suddenly, her lips pull away from you with a pop, and you whine out helpless, body shifting on the covers. she pulls her fingers to her mouth and wets them, eyes glued on you, lining them up with your wet pussy. slowly, she pushes them inside you— so deep that you can feel it so high up. she curls them tight and you gasp, and then, she’s gone. 

caitlyn pumps her fingers in and out in a harsh rhythm, fingertips curling as her thumb comes up to rub your clit in sloppy, quick circles. it’s nearly too much for you— it throws you into a haze of nothing but pleasure, the only sounds filling the room being your heavy breathing and the wetness from your cunt. she’s unrelenting, and it’s all you could ever want. 

you whisper her name like a prayer, squirming beneath her touch, but she tuts at you mockingly. 

“don’t run from it,” she murmurs, lips brushing against your sensitive thighs, “you said you wanted me in control, didn’t you?  i’m just giving you what you asked for.”

you whimper at the words, your body already on edge, your wrists aching in the best way. you want more. God, you want so much more.

you don’t even realize you’re crying out until her fingers quicken even faster— rapidly pushing inside you with practiced ease, curling just right, drawing a gasp from your throat that’s half-shock, half-desperation.

“f-fuck, cait—”

“that’s it,” she praises, voice low, “take it. be a good girl and take it.”

your legs are shaking, and she’s not even moving that fast. that’s the thing— she’s not trying to break you, but she’s trying to unravel you. 

her thumb circulates against your clit as her fingers work you open, and your whole body stutters beneath the intensity. you’re so worked up that you almost try to reach out before realizing that you’re tied up— you’re twitching, gasping, panting like it’s too much, but you don’t want her to stop. not even for a second.

she leans forward, teeth grazing your skin, “you like being tied up for me?” she asks you softly, but mockingly, “you like not being able to touch me? hm?” 

you nod desperately, your head thrown back as a string of curses slip through your teeth, “i love it,” you take a second to breathe, “i love it— please, c-caitlyn, don’t stop—”

your girlfriend chuckles— low, dangerous, but seemingly affectionate. her pace quickens slightly, and she’s cooing little praises beneath you as your back arches. you’re so close that it hurts.

“you’re so pretty when you’re like this,” caitlyn tells you, voice raw now, and her usual sweetness is long gone. “falling apart for me, making all these sweet little sounds— fuck, i need you.” 

you feel your walls tightening around her, crying out against her palm, practically begging for whatever else she can give. 

you feel your legs shake and your breath hitch, and you’re so close you feel like your body’s gonna snap. “c-cait, cait, baby— i’m gonna—“

but caitlyn… caitlyn has other plans.

just when you’re about to tip over the edge, she pulls back— fingers drenched, eyes dark, her breathing steady, while yours is completely shattered.

“you thought you were gonna cum, didn’t you?” she questions, thumb tracing a line over your inner thigh as she looks up at you with that look, and you shiver at that.

you nod, dazed and wide-eyed. “yes— baby, please, i—”

“did i say you could? did you even ask?” 

your breath catches in your throat again, this time from the shift in her tone. it’s not cruel, no, never cruel— but stern. in control, just what you had asked for. 

“well, n-no,” you admit, voice small, “but i thought—”

“you don’t get to think tonight,” caitlyn cuts in gently, and she leans up and kisses your trembling lips, “you asked me to take charge. so i am. you’ll cum when i want you to.”

your head drops back against the pillows, a whine building in your throat. she’s already kissing her way back down your body, hands pressing your thighs wide open again. 

you’re too sensitive now. every touch feels like a wild fire. your toes curl, your spine twists, and her tongue is back on your clit like nothing ever stopped— but you know now. you know she won’t let you finish, at least, not until you ask nicely— and even then, you know who’s really in control. 

and somehow, that makes it worse, yet so much hotter.

you cry out again, hips lifting, your legs shaking, and the feeling is so much stronger than before, but she pulls away just before you can get close. 

again.

“caitlyn,” you’re literally begging now, tears stinging against your eyes, “please, i’ll do anything, i’ll be so good. but i just need—” 

“i know,” she whispers, kissing the inside of your thigh gently, and it’s reassuring, “i know, darling. you’re doing so well. but not yet.”

you lose count of how many times she edges you like that— over and over, winding you up like a string she’s pulling tighter and tighter, and refusing to let you let go. she holds your hips down when you squirm, hushes you when you sob, kisses you so sweetly, and still won’t let you fall apart.

“tell me your safeword,” she murmurs, hands smoothing over your stomach with one hand, the other still buried deep inside of your cunt, fingers still at work. “just so i know you still remember.”

you nod through tears, eyes blurry and unfocused, “blueberry.”

she kisses your thighs, “good girl.”

then, she starts all over again. not completely— just enough to work you back up, her mouth replacing her thumb on your clit, and you feel like you’re seeing stars. 

you bury your face in a pillow, the need for stability gnawing at you. you can’t hold on, so you smush your face into the silky case, still wrecked. “please, cait…honey, i-i want to cum. i need to. i’ve been so…so good— and it hurts. please, cait!” 

caitlyn pulls away from your pussy and hums, thinking it over a few times, and then she grins.

“on my fingers or my tongue?”

you blink, gasping, surprised that she was even going to let you finish off. “wh-what?”

“you get one,” she tells you, “and you better cum hard, because i’m not letting you get another one.”

it doesn’t take much thought to answer her question. you choose her tongue, which she favors, and it’s inside you in seconds.

and when you cum— finally, completely, crying into the sheets— you scream her name like it’s the only thing that’ll save you. your whole body locks, and she talks you through it the entire time.

“yeah, that’s it, darling— cum for me.”

“such a pretty girl.”

“i know, i know, but you’re a big girl. you can take it.”

you don’t remember how long it takes for you to catch your breath. you just know that when you do, caitlyn’s right there, smiling. she’s brushing your hair back, her thumb tracing your cheekbone. “still breathing?”

you nod. barely.

“good,” she says, kissing you slowly, sweetly. “i love you.” she reminds you. 

you’re still laid out beneath her, body flushed and soft from the first round, when your free hands reach up to touch her again. your fingers trail up her clothed thigh, light and wanting, but she catches your wrist— not roughly. just firm.

you pause, eyes flicking up, “you don’t want me to touch you?”

caitlyn hesitates. she doesn’t pull you away, not exactly, but her grip lingers for a second, her thumb rubbing absent circles into your skin.

“i do,” she affirms softly, “i do, it’s just… i want to treat you tonight.”

you blink, a little breathless, “treat me?”

caitlyn exhales, and it’s a little shaky. her cheeks are flushed, and you can tell she’s nervous from something she hasn’t said yet, something she’s clearly been holding back.

“it’s stupid,” she murmurs, half-smiling like she’s already bracing to be teased, “i’ve just… i like being the one in charge. with you. i like taking care of you. and…” she trails off, lips parting like she’s not sure if she should finish.

“caitlyn,” you call out her her, and she hums. “baby, you can tell me. this is for both of us, and if you want something, i want you to let me know.” 

“okay,” she whispers slowly, more to brace herself than to respond to your statement. her eyes cast downward like she’s suddenly shy, and you blink up at her, surprised. “i’ve been thinking about something, a word— something i want you to say. but only if you’re comfortable.”

you nod, a little nervous now, but curious, “kiramman, spit it out.” 

you can tell she wants to, but she’s reluctant. she shakes her head and pulls you into her by your hips and kisses you, her fingers dancing against your nude hips, and you forget all about it. not wanting to push her. she throws your leg over hers, her hands roaming all over. she moans into you, “i want to touch you again.” 

you feel like your skin is ignited. you’re wanting more than you can handle, your sensitivity still heightened, but you don’t care. you let caitlyn flip you underneath her, let her place sloppy kisses all over your body, let her tongue graze your clit until your legs shake. 

she finds herself under you once again, her tongue drawing sloppy figure 8’s on your clit, then down to your pussy. you’re so sensitive that you’re already getting close, and caitlyn can tell— she always does. 

when you whimper out, she shushes you, “stop that, darling, let mommy make you feel good. it’s okay, i know— i’m not going anywhere.”

you stop. “caitlyn?”

she stops, and looks up at you. “yes?” 

“what did you just say?” 

she draws a slow breath in, “w-what do you mean?”

“let who make me feel good?”

there’s a pause, and you raise an eyebrow at her, smiling. she looks away for a second and almost laughs— and you know she’s embarrassed, which makes your heart squeeze. 

caitlyn sighs, “you’ve never called me anything like that before. but sometimes, when you let go like that… when you let me take care of you…” she swallows. “i think about you calling me…you know—“

“mommy?”

“right.” she agrees, looking anywhere but in your eyes. 

you stare at her for a long moment, heart skipping. caitlyn, flushed and trying so hard to stay composed, still has her hand pressed to your thigh. she's avoiding your eyes, which is rare. but you know her now— know her well enough to see the part of her that tries to hide when she's so vulnerable.

"you could've just said that," you murmur, voice breathy, warm. "you know i'd do anything for you."

her gaze finally meets yours, and something in it softens. she’s still shy, but she’s loosened up. "it's not just about the name, it's... what it means when you say it."

"and what does it mean?" 

caitlyn takes a breath, then crawls back up over you slowly, her body sliding over yours. her hand wraps gently around your throat— not squeezing, just holding— and the shift is immediate. she's in control again, and she knows it, basking in it. 

"it means you're mine," she whispers with a smile, “and i take care of what's mine. always.” 

you whimper at that, at the return of her weight. she watches you unravel beneath her again, and it must be all the permission she needs, because the next second, she's kissing you— rougher this time, messily, like this is the last time. 

quickly, her hands are between your legs again before you can say anything else, parting you with the same unrelenting precision she always has. she fingers you like she knows you inside and out, because she does. she’s so deep that it almost hurts, but the pleasure’s greater than the pain, and you moan out at that.

“cait, please—“ your sentence dies on your tongue, and just when you start to squirm, chasing the edge, she pulls back. 

“ask nicely.” she orders you, and without thinking, you plead, your head dropping into her shoulder. 

“please— m-mommy, please let me cum—“

the groan she lets out is deep, guttural, like you've just unhinged something in her. she doesn't waste another second— her fingers press inside you, slow but firm, and her mouth is back on your throat, your chest, anywhere she can reach. her other hand holds you down when your hips buck, and when you whimper again, she shushes you gently.

"just relax. mommy's gonna take care of everything."

and she does.

she builds you up so slowly you feel like you're losing your mind, touching you just how you like— soft but commanding, her pace teasing yet cruel. you squirm, and she tightens her grip on your hip.

you feel the coil in your stomach pulse, and you cry out, back lifting off of the covers, but caitlyn doesn’t stop. she just kisses your shoulder, “cum for mommy, baby.”

you feel everything in you snap open, your body shaking in periodic spurts, your back falling back into the sweaty covers beneath you. caitlyn helps you ride out your high and you swear you’ve died and came back to life. 

you both sigh and fall into the sheets, looking at each other before giggling silently. caitlyn cups your cheek, “was that…okay?”

“yeah,” you nod and kiss her plump lips, “more than okay.” 

₊⊹ taglist: @drunkinyourbenz

[azzo0]

Let's talk about Katsuki, who happens to be dating a med student. Both of your guys' schedules are hectic— rising with the sun and sleeping a few hours before it rises again.

But still, you manage to make time for each other. He makes sure to drop by your place on the weekends with your favourite drink even though he knows your nose will be buried deep in your laptop or a textbook. You're not hearing a single complaint from him, though. You can study while he's still there. On his lap.

He'll silently lift you from the chair and sit on it, dropping you on his thighs. You'll kiss his temple and continue working on your laptop while he scrolls on his phone with his forehead resting on your back, or he'll simply close his eyes with his arms wrapped around your waist while his lips lazily kiss your hair or the back of your neck. He lets you study all you want, but sometimes, he feels like being mischievous.

His breath will fan your jugular while his hands slip under your shirt or move ever so slowly down to your thigh, where he'll give it a firm squeeze, pull your legs slightly apart and draw circles with his thumb on your inner thigh. He likes watching you try to pretend like you don't care what he's doing when you're really crumbling with every touch. He keeps toying with you until you finally give up and turn around to give him a rough kiss and order him to carry you to the bed.

He's not the only one who pays visits. Sometimes, after class, you drive to his agency even if he's not there. You wait for him in his office, in his chair, while doing your own thing. Usually, when he's back, he has a bruise or an ugly gash from a fight with a villain. He insists he'll get it checked from the clinic, but you know he won't, so you tend him instead.

He knows med school isn't easy and that you can't be hanging out with him all the time. He knows you like holing up in your room and distancing yourself from the rest of the world when you have exams and tests coming up, so he gives you the space you need. He also knows how much burden you put on yourself during these days, so his brain has developed an alarm system where he automatically knows you're having a bad day. He drags you out of your apartment by force if he has to so you can take in some fresh air, or he simply drops by to make you your favourite dish and clean up for you. He can tell when you just need his company, so he sits on your bed while you study, his presence comforting your nerves a little bit.

He loves watching you study, but his favourite bit is when he is a part of your study/ practice. He willingly gives you his arm to practice drawing blood, even if takes you a few tries to insert the needle properly. Oh, he loves presenting his arms to you, his veins already protruding out. He doesn't miss the glint in your eye or the way you subtly bite your lips before meeting his gaze.

He loves loves loves when you have an anatomy exam most of all. It's not really studying, but damn, it's so hot when you're straddling his lap with his shirt off, your fingers roaming on his bare skin, while you yap on and on in a dead-serious tone about every muscle and structure.

Once, you were sitting on his lap during a similar session and you grabbed his chin and tilted his head head upwards, making him look to the side. You ran your fingers on the strong muscle of his neck that popped out, your touch sending shivers down his spine.

"This, Katsuki, is your sternocleidomastoid." You said.

He turned his face to you again, his pants tightening a bit too much for his liking. He couldn't make out the complex words falling out of your pretty lips because he was patiently waiting for you to point out every muscle of his and then just kiss him. He knew you were well aware of his erection poking your crotch, but you went on despite it and fuck, it pissed him off and turned him on at the same time.

He took your hand and smoothly guided it down to his hardened, clothed dick, "And what is this called, Doc?"

You gave him a coy smile, your fingers playing with the band of his pants, "You see, there are a lot of parts to name here, so I might need to take a proper look to name them all for you."

And all he could do was try not to come undone while you looked up at him through your long lashes while telling him about his own anatomy.

[abbotjack]

thinking about sending robby and abbot nudes but they’re both old and sext illiterate so they respond with something like 👍

Message Received (18+ MDNI)

Content & Warnings: NSFW (18+), suggestive photo reference, fingering (Jack), oral sex f!receiving (Robby), established relationship, dom!Jack energy, softdom!Robby energy, dirty talk, mild brat!reader, age gap, tension-heavy buildup, emotionally grounded smut, and just two very different men completely wrecked by one photo.

word count : 1,723

📩 Robby – “thumbs up.”

You send it on a whim.

Soft lighting. A lace bra you didn’t really plan to wear today. Not overt, but obvious enough.

You wait maybe thirty seconds before regretting it.

Another fifteen before his reply pops up.

Robby : 👍

Just the emoji. No caption. No follow-up. No “holy shit” or “you’re killing me” or “I’m leaving work right now.”

Just… a thumbs up.

You stare at it like it might change.

You : Are you serious?

Three dots appear. Then vanish. Then reappear again.

Finally:

Robby : Sorry. Was in the break room. Looked amazing. Shouldn’t be looking at you like that while Dana’s eating a yogurt next to me.

You laugh—because of course he’s being normal about it. Of course he’s being Robby.

You : Yogurt’s more important than me?

There’s a long pause.

Then:

Robby : No. You’re very distracting. I didn’t know what to say.

That makes you smile. Still, you want more.

You : Wish you were here.

It’s hours later when you hear the key in the lock.

Late enough that you thought he might not come. Late enough that part of you hoped he wouldn’t—just so you wouldn’t have to sit there pretending you weren’t still thinking about that dumb thumbs up.

But the door opens.

And Robby steps inside.

He shuts it behind him gently, like he’s trying not to make too much noise. Drops his keys on the table. Looks at you like he’s still catching his breath from something that’s been building all night.

You’re still in that bra.

The same one from the photo. Still waiting.

He exhales—low, unsteady.

“You’re so mean,” he murmurs. “You know that?”

You tilt your head. “I’m thoughtful.”

He starts unbuttoning his coat. “You sent that while I was sitting next to Dana.”

“I noticed.”

“I panicked.”

“You sent a thumbs up.”

“I panicked hard.”

He shrugs the coat off and crosses the room. Slower than usual. Like he’s not sure he can walk and think at the same time.

“I opened it,” he says when he stops in front of you. “And then had to sit there like I didn’t just get hit by a truck.”

You smile. “You seemed fine.”

“That was me dissociating.”

You laugh, but it’s quiet. He’s close now. Close enough to feel the heat coming off him.

He raises a hand and brushes it down your side—light, steady, like he’s grounding himself.

“I couldn’t stop thinking about it,” he says, voice soft. “What you looked like right before you took it. How long you waited to see if I’d say something else.”

“I wasn’t waiting,” you lie.

He just hums, stepping forward, crowding you gently until your back finds the wall. One hand braces beside your head. The other finds your waist.

“No?” he murmurs, dipping just enough to brush his mouth near your jaw. “You weren’t hoping I’d come home like this?”

Your fingers twist in the front of his shirt. “Maybe a little.”

He kisses you.

It’s soft, at first. Familiar. But there’s a tremble behind it, something fraying. You sigh into his mouth, and when you do, he groans—quiet, rough—and presses in harder. His hands move lower, gripping your hips like he needs to feel every inch of you.

“I wanted to say something,” he whispers against your cheek. “Wanted to tell you what I was thinking.”

“Then tell me.”

He doesn’t.

Instead, he drops to his knees.

You gasp, and he looks up once—just once—to make sure you’re still with him. You are.

He reaches up, hooks his thumbs into your underwear, and pulls them down slow. Gentle. Careful. Like he’s unwrapping something precious.

One hand glides up behind your thigh, lifting it over his shoulder. The other anchors you at the waist.

He kisses your hip first. Then your inner thigh. Then higher.

His stubble scrapes just enough to make you shiver.

And when his mouth finally touches you—hot, open, reverent—you feel your knees nearly buckle.

He holds you steady.

He groans softly at the first taste. Then again when you tilt into him.

You brace yourself against the wall, hand clutching the back of his head, fingers threading into his hair.

He moves slow at first. Methodical. Like he’s trying to memorize you. No rush, no teasing. Just full, devoted attention—lips, tongue, breath—all focused on pulling you apart with steady, quiet purpose.

When you gasp his name, he tightens his grip on your thigh and pulls you closer, mouth sealing over you deeper.

He doesn’t speak.

He doesn’t need to.

Because this is everything he couldn’t say. Everything he didn’t know how to text. Everything he’s been holding back since you first pressed send.

And it’s all here now—on his knees, in his hands, in the way he keeps going until your head hits the wall behind you and all you can do is feel.

📩 Jack – “what is that”

You send it because you’re bored.

Lying in bed. Still damp from the shower. Wrapped in a towel that barely covers anything, legs stretched out across the sheets like you’re not waiting for an excuse. The lighting’s soft—just your bedside lamp, low and gold. It makes your skin look warm. Intentional. You angled yourself toward it on purpose.

You look good. You know you look good.

And Jack? Jack’s on shift. Third night in a row. Which means you haven’t seen him—really seen him—in two days, unless you count that half-second yesterday when you passed in the hallway, both headed in opposite directions. He didn’t stop. Barely glanced. Just muttered “go home” without breaking stride—like looking at you for more than a second might’ve done something to him.

Like it already had.

So you take the photo. Legs just slightly spread. A caption typed with two thumbs and no shame:

You : come home, I miss you

Delivered. Read

Then:

Jack : what is that

You stare at your phone.

You blink.

You : What do you mean what is that. It’s a nude, Jack.

Read.

And then… nothing.

No follow-up. No typing bubbles. No emoji. Not even a fucking ellipsis.

You huff. Dramatic. Roll onto your side with a groan and grab a fistful of blanket like it’s going to do anything to cool the ache you definitely caused yourself.

If you didn’t know him, you’d think he didn’t care.

But you do know him.

And that silence?

That’s not indifference.

That’s a promise.

You’re in for it.

You’re lounging in bed in your underwear when you hear the door.

It’s late. Past midnight. You don’t move.

Jack steps in. Damp from the rain, scrubs wrinkled. He closes the door, sets his keys down, shrugs off his jacket.

Still doesn’t look at you.

You wait. Quiet.

Then—

“You send that picture just to piss me off?”

You smirk. “I was being sweet.”

He finally turns.

“You don’t do sweet.”

“Didn’t realize nudes were so boring to you,” you murmur, stretched out across the sheets. “I won’t do it again.”

His jaw ticks. “I was working.”

You tilt your head. “And now?”

He moves.

One step. Then another. Slow. Controlled.

Until he’s standing at the edge of the bed, looking down at you like he’s still deciding which part of you to ruin first.

He climbs onto the bed, slow and deliberate, the mattress dipping beneath his weight. You watch the tight line of his shoulders, the way his jaw works like he’s still biting back everything he couldn’t say earlier.

“Now you’re getting what you wanted.”

You blink up at him, lashes fluttering. “Oh? What’s that?”

Jack shifts closer, grabs your thigh—strong, steady—and lifts it over his hip, settling himself between your legs. His palm drags down your outer thigh like he’s lining you up. Holding you there. Making you wait.

“Me.”

Then he kisses you.

Rough. Steady. Like he’s been playing this on loop since the second that photo hit his phone and ruined him.

His mouth opens over yours like he needs it just to stay upright. You arch instinctively, back bowing into the pressure, thighs tightening around his hips.

“Thought about this all fucking day,” he mutters into your skin, lips at your throat. “You don’t get to send me that and pretend you didn’t know what it’d do.”

You smirk, rocking your hips into his. “Did it ruin your shift?”

He laughs under his breath—dark, quiet. Dangerous.

“Don’t push it.”

You grind into him again. Slower this time. Testing.

“I missed you,” you whisper, low and saccharine.

He hums—sharp, dry. “Yeah?”

Then his hand moves.

Fast. Precise.

His fingers hook under your panties and tug them down—slow enough to draw a shiver out of you, fast enough to say he’s not asking. They’re gone a second later, tossed somewhere near the foot of the bed.

He doesn’t break eye contact.

Doesn’t say a word as he slides his fingers between your thighs.

You gasp when he finds you—already wet, already aching—and his lips twitch like he’s smug about it. Like he knew.

“You’re soaked,” he says, voice barely audible. “Figured.”

His fingers move slow at first. Two of them. Deep. Steady.

You moan—quiet, caught—and Jack exhales like that was what he needed. The confirmation. The surrender.

His thumb finds your clit. No teasing. Just pressure—tight and constant and mean.

Your hips jump. Your fingers grip his wrist.

He doesn’t let up.

“Jack—”

He shushes you with a kiss, his hand working between your legs like he has all the time in the world.

You cry out—nearly choking on it.

He curls his fingers.

You jolt.

“There she is.”

His voice is steady. Like nothing about this has affected him. Like he’s not hard under his scrubs, not unraveling with every pulse of you around his hand.

He leans in, lips brushing your cheek.

“This is what you wanted, right?”

You nod, dizzy.

“Say it.”

“Yes,” you breathe. “God—yes.”

His mouth grazes your jaw.

“Good.”

He doesn’t stop.

Not until you’re shaking.

Not until you’re arching into him, hand clutching the sheets, panting his name through clenched teeth like that photo wasn’t the start—it was the warning.

And this?

This is what happens when he finally opens it.

[yanderenightmare]

♡ TW: yandere, controlling behavior, coercive control, infantilization, extreme patronization, gaslighting, manipulation, food pusher, forced eating 

♡ FEM reader

Thinking about overcaring boyfriend…

You know, he’s always asking if you’ve eaten today, if you’ve drunk enough water, if you’re wearing enough layers. Typical boyfriend stuff. Only it’s not. No, far from it.

Because he does so by telling you off. Pulling a sweater over your little party dress to conceal you. It’s cold outside, he’ll say, kissing your forehead with a smile—he wouldn’t want you getting the sniffles. And besides, you can undress for him when the two of you’re alone—there’s no need to do it in front of the world.

Scolding you for getting too drunk even when you’re just tipsy. Shaking his head and clicking his tongue at you, urging you to drink water as if it’s your first time touching alcohol. Staying sober himself so that he can take care of you—somebody’s going to have to drive you home at the end of the night, or who knows where you’ll end up! 

Telling you that you’re flirting too much, causing all the guys to stare at you even when you’ve only been talking to your girlfriends. Purposefully getting into a fight with you so that he can excuse you both, apologizing to everyone for what a difficult drunk you are—making you so embarrassed and ashamed you end up following him to the car with your tail tucked between your legs—also because he keeps your phone and purse on him, for safekeeping of course, so you don’t forget or lose them somehow.

“I’m not hungry,” you mumble under your breath. 

He sighs, standing behind you, leaning his hands against the back of the chair you’re seated in. “You say that, but I can’t trust you, can I?”

His head drops to your shoulder, cheek to cheek, hugging you from behind while his arms slip down your chest, feeling your ribs with a curious and clinical touch.

“I know you’re body better than anyone and I can tell you’ve been skipping meals.”

You shake your head. “I haven’t.” It’s the truth—you really haven’t. It’s normal for bodies to change a little every now and again. But it’s not as if he’d ever accept that as an excuse.

“I don’t want to argue,” is all he says. “Now, be a good girl and eat your cake.”

If it were only a piece of cake, you’d have gotten it well over with already. But the platter placed in front of you was enough to feed an entire dinner party. Pink and triple-stacked with mountains of decorative buttercream frosting—god only knows what else is inside.

“I’m not eating an entire cake.” That would be ridiculous. Anyone would agree. But not him. No, you know how serious he is.

“You wouldn’t have to if you just ate when I told you earlier.” 

He speaks softly, in a manner as if it isn’t even your fault to begin with but his own. He’s in charge, after all. All he’s accusing you of is being a handful.

“But here we are…”

He grabs the spoon he’d laid out—no, not a cake fork or a teaspoon, but a tablespoon—and proceeds to gather one big mouthful for you. 

“One drunken, starved girlfriend and one tired, concerned boyfriend.”

You shake your head and seal your lips as he brings the portion up to your mouth.

“If I eat all that, I’m gonna be sick. I just wanna go to bed–” you plead, but he cuts you off.

“It’d be better for you to get sick now instead of tomorrow.” His other hand takes your chin soft but strictly, holding you firmly in place. “Come on now, say ah.”

You’re crying by the end of it. Throat sore and belly overfull, feeling nauseous beyond belief.

“Last bite,” he says, and you no longer have the strength to refuse, even when you doubt there’s any room left to spare. You force it down, and he praises you for it with a kiss on your frosting-smeared cheek. “Good job.”

Between the cake, the alcohol, and his coddling, of course, you feel sick to your stomach.

“What a mess…” he drawls while he holds your hair back from the toilet bowl. 

You feel filthy, sitting on the bathroom tiles between his legs as he rubs your back and coos. 

“You’re lucky you’re so cute, or who knows who’d bother taking care of you—honestly, you’re worse than a baby sometimes. Utterly hopeless.”

He kisses your exposed nape. You swear you feel him smile.

“I’m just kidding. I’ll always take care of you no matter what.”

You hurl again—nothing but pink cream and sprinkles coming out.

“Even if you had no legs and no arms. Even if you were blind and deaf and mute, I’d still be here.” You shudder while he vows. 

You know he means it, too. Suppose that’s a little romantic. It’s just you can’t shake the feeling that he’d prefer for you to be that way.

“You feeling any better?” he asks.

You nod your head.

“Good. Then let’s get you to bed.”

♡ BNHA – Deku, Shoto, Kirishima, Hawks, Shinso, Natsuo, Mirio, young AFO ♡ JJK – Nanami, Geto, Gojo, Yuuta ♡ HQ – Tsukishima, Kuro, Sakusa, Miya twins ♡ CSM – Aki, Yoshida ♡ BLLK – Reo ♡ DS – Doma ♡ WB – Suo, Togame

♡ FEM x M INSERT masterlist ♡ GN x M INSERT masterlist

[howlingmod]

SIT NEXT TO ME!

summary - how some of the survivors and killers show their love ... giggles

misc - low quality content im so tire .... but i must write .... it is demanded of me .....

Noob - Physical Touch

-Simple pleasure, simple guy, what can I say.

-It's not even something they're aware of half the time, a big part of what probably tipped you off to their feelings for you in the first place was their touchiness. While they're more physical with everyone, it definitely lingered with you more. They'd stick closer to you on excursions and, more often than not, would be brushing shoulders with you when working on generators.

-They just like being able to feel your presence, it's grounding to them in a big way. A lot of the time they'll have a hand on you just because it feels comforting, usually it's on your shoulder or they'll reach for your arm if you've got one free (they prefer holding onto your arm/hooking arms more than handholding to be honest ... it just feels so much more secure and special !!)

-Late at night they'll frequently fidget with your hands, looking at all the lines in your palms and the little cuts and marks that litter your skin. It puts them in a trance, you're just so gorgeous to them, in that human, real kinda way. It's hard for them to put into words ...

007n7 - Physical Touch

-Before .... everything, he's a lot more varied. If anything, he probably leaned more towards acts of service- he likes making your life easier, especially with you (presumably) helping him raise c00lkid. It's not easy being a parent, he knows how stressful it and daily living in general can be. He feels good if he can make your day a little less stressful.

-Now though, he really needs that grounding. There's just so much missing. He's not really on great terms with anyone here and he knows he deserves it. You're all he has left. You're the only shred of his perfect life left.

-It's the little things when you guys are around others, the way he sticks to your side, the times where he'll subtly reach for your hand and squeeze it in reassurance, where he'll hug you when you get back from an excursion and look you over. It's the little bits of vulnerability he can spare to show you he loves you.

-Other times, it's more desperate, tight clinging to your form when you lay together because everything's suddenly clamped down on him like a million weights. It's those times that feel most like a perverted version of the ways you used to lay together when things were better, less suffocating and mournful. Sometimes you still expect the door to your room to open and c00lkid to crawl under the sheets with you two. He never does.

Shedletsky - Quality Time

-Ohhh my god this guy does not shut up. He's always got some story to tell you about, some little anecdote that something you said or something that happened reminded him of. You never really know how accurate he's being to reality, you can make your guesses but he'll only ever smile and shrug if you ask for confirmation.

-It could come off as egotistical or annoying if it weren't fairly obvious it was his way of keeping morale up. What, you think he's making things up? Why, he'd never! You'll just have to argue with him about it if you care so much. It's just a way of keeping your mind on something other than your current situation, even if it means he has to be the butt of a joke more than a few times. Besides, he just thinks playfighting with you is fun sorryyyyy <//3

-That being said, he can be serious. What you two are going through isn't exactly easy, you can't always ignore it, you have to face it head on sometimes. If you wanna talk about how scared you feel not knowing what's going to happen, he'll listen and admit he's scared too. If you wanna talk about how hopeless everything feels, he'll admit he's felt the same way a few times before. He might not be as emotional but he's forthcoming with his experiences, the last thing he wants you to feel is alone, if he can make you feel heard and helped then he's happy to admit to every bad dream that's ever haunted him.

-It'll always end with some little glimmer of hope, no matter how vague. He can't afford to lose you to apathy, he'll spin as many tales and sneak as many wishes he has for the two of you into your conversations as it takes for you to keep going just a little longer. He doesn't know what the future looks like, but he wants you to be there with him to see it.

Dusekkar - Acts of Service

-While they're more than good with their words and freely give out their praise to you, they also worry about your physical well-being frequently. Even if you're in good standings, they'll be keeping an eye on you. It's just a habit they've picked up protecting the others that's amplified tenfold for you. Perhaps they're a little biased with their shields, but they couldn't bear to lose you.

-They'll make your life easier in any way that they can, they know that the stress of everything can add up and they want you to stay strong despite it. They can't stand idly by and let you fall to the wayside, rotting in fear and pain. How could they ever truly protect you if they allowed for you to crumble right in their arms?

-It's little things- letting you sleep in longer, making sure you get a little extra food even if it means sacrificing some of their portion, hovering around you whenever you head out on an excursion. You're their world, their muse, their heart- they'll make sure you know how important you are to them and how deeply they care for your health in every way they can, it's what you deserve.

John Doe - Acts of Service(?)

-John's a weird one. He only has so much he can do for you without risking hurting you. If he sticks around you too often that could alert the other survivors and cause them to attack you. He can take bullets, you can't. Additionally, he has to be careful, that corrupted arm of his isn't exactly gentle. He knows fully that he could crush you, kill you in the blink of an eye if he isn't careful. So, he has to settle for little gestures.

-He'll leave you alone when he hunts. He'll heard you in the direction of generators, supplies, warm corners free from the chilling wind. If everyone else dies he'll walk you back home, paint you with their blood to make sure it doesn't look suspicious. He'll watch from afar till you disappear into the closed doors of your 'base.' Even then, you suspect he doesn't leave until later, hovering around as a spare set of eyes and ears on you.

-Even then, he's selfish, takes gambles when he hangs around you for just a little while longer. He'll contort, physically pulling the shoulder of his monstrous arm as far back as he can to avoid the chances of even brushing it against you when he reaches for you with the other. He'll keep it restrained, muscles pulled taut just to keep you to his side in a rare moment of peace. He's a man of few words, you can only imagine what his vocal chords have been turned into, but if you push your head close enough to his chest you just might hear him breathe out an "I love you" in between the pained labor of his lungs.

1x4 - Gift giving

-Likewise, he also can't stick around for very long. That doesn't mean he won't make a lasting mark on you. He's more risky, he knows that if the others found out and tried anything he could paint the walls red with them all before they could even lay a finger on you. He thinks he could take care of you far better than they could, provide a better home, protect you better than they could ever try to. More than once he's thought about faking your death, making a bloody scene for the others to find so he can take you from them. They're only a burden on you, a risk you (for whatever reason) worry yourself with.

-He won't force you, he's some humanity left, but that doesn't mean he won't show them up (to him, at least). He'll present you with enough jewels and gold to make an officiant pale with the dried gums of blood in between the joints, kick supplies in your direction and rip them from the hands of fallen survivors to give to you, he's offered up fingers, bones and heads as a show of his prowess and only grumbles when you turn them down.

-He'll never understand why you bother yourself in the ways you do, taking others under your wing when they can't do anything but leech off of you in return, so he'll have to make up for their inabilities instead. Where they can only take, he'll give you more than you could've ever dreamed for. It's his way of displaying how special you are to him, the pride he takes in you just as you do him. Consider himself a dragon and you the lucky singular he allows into his hoard.

+ (PLATONIC/FAMILIAL) C00lkid - N/A

-Well ... c00lkids always really liked spending time with you and dad! Dad always had cool stories about all the stuff he got up to when he was younger and you always had fun games to play with him and dad. Sometimes you'd draw with him and happily hang up his art to admire everytime you went through the kitchen before work and then he'd spend the whole day drawing more and more for you to look at, making up stories (that usually involved dracobloxxers) and worlds to tell you all about during dinner.

-Other times you guys would play tag! Usually it didn't last very long, at some point you'd get tired and have to sit down for a while and do something else with him (SAD!) but you'd been running a lot more recently! He hadn't been able to tag you in a whiiile, but he knows he will eventually! You've just been giving him another challenge to overcome like you always did, ducking around corners and over ledges. It's hard, he's scraped his knees pretty bad a few times and run into the walls more than he can count, but he always gets back up!

-It's a little weird to him though. He's never really played with anyone other than you and dad. He doesn't really know why those other people are there. You won't tell him. You never stop running. (He misses when you'd get tired, when you'd stop and hold him while you watched a movie together instead.) (He misses you and dad talking to eachother, telling him stories and dancing with him in the kitchen.) (Did he do something wrong? Are you mad at him? Why won't either of you just TALK to him!-) (If he stops chasing you, won't you be sad? Would he be disappointing you?)

-Sometimes he suddenly gets very sad. Sometimes you stand still and look at him from afar and you don't smile at him. Just stare and have this weird, long-gone look he's never seen before. He thinks about walking up to you, asking what's wrong, if you and dad hate him, why you always run but he knows you'll just run again. Instead he just chases after everyone else and wishes dad would order pizza again and you would put band-aids over the cuts on his knees from falling and the pricks of branches on his arms.