#remember to drink water and eat something and be kind to yourself

[livelaughleclerc]

Thank You For The Music - Arthur Leclerc

Pairing: Arthur Leclerc x fem!reader

Warnings: mentions of panic attacks and anxiety. I tried to write a fluffy comfort fic so I hope it isn’t triggering ❤️

Summary: Arthur comforts you on bad mental health days. One time you tell him that listening to Charles’ piano music helps so he plays for you and when he can’t because of work, he sends someone who can.

A/N: the world is pretty crap at the moment and I just needed some soft boyfriend Arthur. Hopefully it brings you comfort if you need it. My DMs are always open if you need to talk 🩵 otherwise, enjoy!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You’d said it so casually one day, snuggled in his arms, wearing his hoodie, all baggy and oversized on you but oh so soft and comforting. “Sometimes when the world is too loud, or my brain has too many thoughts, I put on Charles’ music. It helps. It quietens things, stops the chaos,” you say softly. You almost hope he hasn’t heard. The last thing you want is to make this something competitive between him and his brother. But you should have known better. He snuggles you closer, your head moving into his neck as he kisses the top of your head gently. “Je t’aime. So so much.”

He had remembered. Of course he had. Your sweet, kind, adorable boyfriend had remembered something you had whispered like a confession two weeks ago and never brought up again. You had called him at lunch, a desperate “help!” as soon as he answered. He went into full supportive mode immediately upon realising you were having a panic attack, helping you get your breathing back on track, calming you down and reassuring you that you were safe. Later, when you were done for the day, he was outside your office building, wrapping you into a hug the minute you walked out the door, only letting go to allow you to get into the passenger seat of his car. He gestured to the cup holder between the seats, “I got you your favourite coffee, decaf so it doesn’t spike your anxiety. And a croissant because I am pretty sure you haven’t eaten enough today.”

You loved the way he looked after you, gently, quietly, always there when you needed him.

“I love the way you say croissant,” you said, taking a sip of your coffee with a small smile as your boyfriend started the engine and began driving.

“It is the French way. That means it is the correct way,” he said smugly, glancing at you with a grin, before continuing, “so do you want to talk about everything, or do you want distraction?”

“Distraction please,” you answered, forcing yourself to take a bite of the flaky pastry even though eating was the furthest thing from your mind.

“Great, because I have a story about Leo and my dumbass brother…” said Arthur with a giggle, hand coming to rest on your thigh, a strong reassuring presence as he began telling you about Charles’ latest escapade.

Later, when you had walked in your shared apartment, he had settled you on the sofa, placing a glass of water beside you with a gentle reminder to drink. He had wrapped you in your favourite blanket, the softest one that always smelled like him, comforting you every time. Then he walked over to the piano and began to play. A haunting melody with a hint of joy running through the notes. “You remembered,” you whispered, tears filling your eyes as the music filled your ears, calming your thoughts.

It had been a horrible day. Everything was overwhelming, people constantly needing something from you, the outside world especially loud and the negative thoughts consuming you. Anxiety flowed through you all day keeping you on a knife edge. Somehow you made it through, walking through the door before collapsing onto the sofa, grabbing your comfort blanket and letting the tears flow freely, crying desperately into the soft material, willing your breathing to stay even. Arthur wasn’t home. He was in Maranello for work. You would never ask him to choose you over his job but right now, you wished more than anything you could be in his arms. Once you had calmed down a little bit, you pulled your phone out of your pocket to call him. It rang a few times before his cute accent filled the speakers, “hello ma belle, how was your day?” You weren’t planning on saying anything, not wanting him to worry. You would tell him later, when you were face to face and not what felt like a million miles away, but the minute you heard his voice, something inside you broke all over again. “Arthur, I wish you were here,” you choked out between sobs.

“Baby, I’m so sorry, what happened? Or just life?” he asked, concern evident in his voice. “I wish I was there, I’m sorry. I’m on the other end of the phone for as long as you need, I promise.”

So you told him about your day, about how it was all just too much. And in return, he told you about his time in the sim, his talks with engineers that were too technical for you to understand but you focused on his voice and tried to forget everything else.

A few minutes after he hung up, the doorbell rang. You reluctantly left the sofa to open the door, Charles was standing expectantly on the other side, arms full of Leo who was clearly trying to escape. “Hi, Arthur sent me with instructions,” he announced before walking over the threshold and giving you a quick hug. You frowned in confusion before deciding you didn’t have enough energy to argue and resuming your spot on the sofa. Charles placed Leo carefully into your arms “for cuddling,” he said sagely, before wrapping your blanket around both you and the little blonde dachshund. He went to the kitchen and came back with a glass of water, which he placed carefully on the coffee table, “Arthur said you have to drink water.” You smiled to yourself, not sure when your boyfriend had had time to communicate with his brother about the state of your mental health but eternally grateful he had. Charles cleared his throat “I know I’m not as good as Arthur but I will try,” he said before placing his hands on the piano keys and beginning to play. The melody was familiar, from all the times you had played it through your headphones. “Thank you Charlie,” you said quietly. Resting your head on the sofa cushions, Leo snuffled closer under your chin and you closed your eyes, brain quiet for the first time all day.

[dee-writes-anime]

HII!! I’m back! I was wondering if you could do one where one of the class 1-A boys (you pick, preferably denki, izuku, sero, or bakugo) has a gf that’s a SHY FREAK >:D like i’m talking she’s freaked out when they’re in private. (obviously no smut since they’re underage) but theyre shocked to find out she has that side basically.

oki thank you!! remember to drink water and eat!! don’t burn yourself out!💗

Shy Girl, Shock Value

FEATURING Denki Kaminari x Reader

SUMMARY Denki thinks his shy girlfriend is all softness and sweater sleeves until a quiet moment alone turns into a shocking (and flirty) reveal of her freaky side. He's absolutely not ready… but he's definitely not complaining either.

CONTENT WARNINGS fluff, flirting, mildly suggestive comments, light teasing, shy!reader, freak!reader, denki being very overwhelmed in the best way, established relationship, chaos

AUTHORS NOTE I'd love to revisit this with the other boys, it was really fun!

Everyone at U.A. had an opinion about you.

Quiet. Sweet. A little spacey. The kind of girl who read during lunch, avoided loud groups, and somehow survived in Class 1-A without getting pulled into all the chaos.

You weren’t shy exactly—not afraid to speak when you had something to say—but you didn’t like attention. You ducked your head when people complimented you. You waved off praise. You had a knack for disappearing into corners, especially when the spotlight was on you.

Denki thought it was cute.

More than cute, actually. He thought you were magnetic, even if you didn’t try to be. Even if no one else saw it.

“Alright, one more time,” you said, tapping your pencil against his notebook.

Denki groaned, dropping his head onto the desk.

“Nooo, no more physics! My brain is melting!”

You laughed quietly and nudged his shoulder with your own. “You said you needed help.”

“I do, but I didn’t realize tutoring meant mental torture…”

“Would snacks help?”

He looked up at you dramatically, eyes wide and hopeful. “Do you have snacks?”

You held up a small bag of candy from your tote. “I always bring bribes.”

“Oh my god,” he said, heart visibly melting. “You’re perfect.”

You smiled, cheeks warming. “Don’t let that go to your head.”

Too late.

The two of you had been hanging out more lately. What started as Denki begging you to help him not fail his midterms turned into quiet afternoons in your dorm common room, sharing snacks and notes, feet bumping under the table. He loved studying with you—even if 60% of the time he was just staring at you instead of his work.

You were quiet, but not cold. Sweet, but not weak. And there was something else, too. Something he didn’t quite have a word for yet.

It was the way your eyes flicked down to his hands when he tapped his pencil. The way you tilted your head when he got too flustered. The way you always smirked—just the tiniest bit—when he did something dumb and tried to play it cool.

He didn’t think much of it until that one Saturday afternoon, when you invited him to your room for a study session. Just the two of you. Door closed. No one else around.

You were sitting cross-legged on your bed, your hoodie draped over your thighs, hair pulled back in a messy clip. Denki had barely made it through the first hour of math before laying back with a dramatic groan, hands over his face.

“Kill me,” he whined.

You hummed, flipping a page in your workbook. “Too messy. I’d have to clean up.”

He cracked an eye open. “You’re ruthless.”

“Efficient,” you corrected, and nudged him with your foot.

Denki sat up, rubbing his face, trying to shake the exhaustion out of his brain. But when he looked up at you—at the little smirk tugging at your lips, the knowing look in your eye—something clicked.

“…Wait,” he said slowly, squinting at you. “Are you… messing with me?”

You blinked innocently. “What do you mean?”

He pointed a dramatic finger. “You’re not as shy as you pretend to be.”

That earned him a smile that was way too smug for someone in a bunny-print hoodie.

“I never said I was shy,” you murmured, reaching over to pluck a gummy candy from the bag in his lap. “People just assume.”

Denki watched, dazed, as you popped the candy into your mouth and licked sugar off your fingertip. Then you scooted closer—just enough that your knee pressed against his.

“I like being quiet,” you said softly, voice low enough that it made his stomach flutter. “But that doesn’t mean I don’t think things.”

“Think what things?” he asked, a little breathless.

You tilted your head, feigning thoughtfulness. “Like how red your ears get when I sit this close.”

His hand flew to his ear. “Wha—?!”

You laughed. A real, soft, wicked little laugh that curled in his chest like lightning.

“Oh my god,” Denki said, flopping backward again, arm over his face. “You’re a menace. An actual menace. I thought you were shy!”

“I am shy,” you said, crawling over to sit beside him. “Just not with you. Not when it’s just us.”

He peeked out from under his arm, eyes wide and dreamy.

“…This is the best day of my life.”

For the next hour, studying was hopeless. You kept making little comments—harmless, clever, completely devastating things—and Denki just kept getting wrecked.

You sat way too close. You leaned over him to look at his notes. You tugged the collar of his hoodie to straighten it and let your fingers trail a little too slow. And the whole time, you looked at him like you knew. Like you knew exactly what you were doing and you loved how flustered he got.

But it wasn’t just teasing—it was safe. Sweet. Like a secret game you only played with him.

And Denki?

He loved it.

By the end of the evening, you were both lying on the bed, staring at the ceiling, feet still tangled under a shared blanket. The lights were low. The candy was gone. And Denki’s brain was fried in the best way.

“I don’t want to go back to class on Monday,” he mumbled.

“Why not?”

“Because you’re gonna go back to being all quiet and innocent, and I’m gonna be sitting there losing my mind.”

You smiled at the ceiling. “Maybe I’ll let you in on a few more secrets. If you survive physics.”

He turned his head to stare at you. “You’re actually gonna kill me.”

You looked over at him with that same soft smirk and whispered, “You like it.”

[pastebunny]

the burning

is so low it’s concerning

[eclipixels]

Afterglow

Character: Yoichi Isagi, Meguru Bachira, Hyoma Chigiri, Rin Itoshi, Seishiro Nagi, Reo Mikage, Sae Itoshi, Michael Kaiser

Content: Blue Lock boys after pound town (tiktok trend)

A/N: A request from my one of my fav moots @captainshindo <3

Warnings: Mentions of sex

     Yoichi Isagi

     You’re sitting across from Isagi in a quiet corner of a late-night restaurant, the hum of low conversations and clinking cutlery filling the space around you. The air is thick with the scent of grilled meat and spices, but all you can focus on is him—slouched in his seat, eyelids heavy, hair still slightly damp from the sweat of what you’d done barely an hour ago.

     He looks exhausted.

     The kind of exhaustion that settles in your bones after giving everything—after pushing, pulling, and losing yourself completely in someone else. His navy-blue hoodie hangs loosely on his frame, collar stretched just enough to reveal the faintest trace of teeth marks near his collarbone, evidence of the way your lips had claimed him. He probably hasn’t noticed, too busy fighting the drowsiness that keeps dragging his head downward, only for him to snap back up again when his chin nearly meets his chest.

     “You look like you’re about to pass out,” you murmur, stirring your drink with a straw, amusement curling at your lips.

     He blinks at you, dazed, as if only now remembering where he is.

     “I’m fine,” he says, though the hoarseness in his voice betrays him. He shifts in his seat, one hand lazily rubbing at his face before reaching for the glass of water in front of him. His fingers fumble slightly, like even the effort of picking it up is too much.

     You bite back a grin. “You sure? You look like you had the life drained out of you.”

     At that, a slow, lopsided smile tugs at the corner of his mouth. “I kinda did,” he admits, voice dipping into something softer, something just for you. He leans back, stretching his legs under the table until his foot nudges against yours. “Not that I’m complaining.”

     Your face heats up at his words, but you roll your eyes to cover it. “Eat something before you actually collapse.”

     He groans but picks up his fork, obedient for once. You watch as he takes a bite, chewing slowly, his gaze flickering to you in between. There’s a quiet intimacy in this shared space, the remnants of passion still lingering between you, woven into the way his shoulders relax and the way his foot stays pressed lightly against yours.

     Yeah, he’s tired. But he’s here, with you. And there’s something about that that makes your chest feel warm, like the afterglow hasn’t quite faded yet.

     The waiter approaches, setting down a plate of food in front of you both. Isagi lazily thanks him before turning his attention back to you. You notice the way his fingers grip the fork with a little more steadiness now, the small bites he takes as he refuels his drained body. The sight makes you bite back a smirk, he really had no energy left to spare after earlier.

     “You’re staring,” he says between bites, eyes flicking up to yours.

     “So?” you challenge, resting your chin on your hand.

     He swallows, setting his fork down just long enough to rub a hand over his face again. “So, it’s distracting.”

     You raise an eyebrow, stifling a laugh. “Distracting from what? Chewing?”

     “Yes,” he mutters, the confession dragging a laugh out of you.

     “Just admit I wore you out,” you tease, nudging his foot beneath the table.

     He exhales a breath that’s almost a laugh, shaking his head. “You already know you did, love.”

     The admission hangs in the air between you, making your stomach flip. He doesn’t shy away from it, doesn’t try to cover it up with some cocky remark. He’s just… honest. Open. Your heart does something stupid in your chest, and you quickly focus on your food to keep from letting it show too much.

     “God, what was I even thinking of letting you ride? You nearly killed me,” he sighed dramatically.

     “Oh, but you enjoyed it,” you teased, a playful smile dancing on your lips.

     He raised an eyebrow, a mischievous glint in his eyes. “Hm, well… I might just let you do it again.”

     “Oh?” you smirked, leaning in a little closer, intrigued by his sudden change of heart.

     “Yeah,” he nodded, “but only after my soul finds its way back into my body,” he joked, and you couldn’t help but laugh.

     You catch him stifling a yawn behind his hand, and before you can stop yourself, you let out a quiet chuckle. Then he lets out another yawn, barely covering it with his hand. “I think I’m gonna just pass out here. Wake me up when it’s sunset, yeah?”

     You snort, flicking a stray napkin at him. “Not happening. I’m not carrying your heavy ass home.”

     “You could try,” he mumbles sleepily, already slouching further into his seat.

     You shake your head, watching as his head starts to dip again. “Fine, but if you snore, I’m filming it.”

     Meguru Bachira

     The restaurant is dimly lit, buzzing with soft chatter and the occasional clatter of dishes. You sit across from Bachira, who is currently melting into the booth like a man who’s just ran a marathon. His cheek is squished against the cushioned backrest, golden eyes barely open as he stares at the menu, though judging by the way his pupils aren’t even tracking the words, you highly doubt he’s actually reading it.

     He lets out a long, dramatic sigh and slouches even further, which you thought was physically impossible until now. “M’too tired to read. You pick.” His voice is thick with exhaustion, slow and slurred like he’s seconds from passing out on the table.

     You scoff, flipping through the laminated pages. “You’re the one who insisted on coming here.”

     “Didn’t think you’d drain my stamina that much before we got here.” he mumbles, stretching his legs under the table until his foot nudges yours.

     You roll your eyes, pretending not to feel the warmth creeping up your neck. “Quit being dramatic, you’re acting like you just did a whole workout.”

     “I did,” he insists, lifting his head just enough to look at you before flopping back down. “A very, very intense one.”

     “You sound proud.”

     He grins, not even denying it. “Well, yeah.” Then, he waves his hand. “Give me your hand.”

     You arch an eyebrow, but give in, letting him lazily play with your fingers. His thumb brushes absentmindedly over your knuckles, his touch featherlight, but there’s a sort of intimacy to it that makes your stomach do an embarrassing little flip.

    ��“You’re ridiculous,” you murmur.

     He pouts. “You love it.”

     You do. But you’re not about to give him that satisfaction out loud, so you just shake your head instead.

     The waiter comes by, eyeing Bachira with slight concern, probably wondering if they need to call emergency services for the half-conscious man draped over the table like he’s just fought for his life. Bachira somehow musters enough energy to order something simple, though you’re pretty sure he just pointed at a random item on the menu. The moment the waiter leaves, he groans and drops his forehead against the back of your hand, exhaling loudly.

     “Don’t fall asleep on me.”

     “Mmm,” he hums, muffled against your skin. “No promises.”

     You sigh, but your other hand moves on its own, fingers combing through his damp hair, still messy from earlier. He exhales again, this time with a content little sound that makes you freeze because oh no, that was cute.

     “You’re so spoiled,” you mutter.

     He cracks an eye open, smirking. “By you? Yeah.”

     You smack his forehead lightly, and he laughs, though it quickly turns into a yawn.

     It doesn’t take long before the food arrives, and you thank the waiter while Bachira blinks at his plate like he’s not sure what it is or how it got there. He picks up his fork, twirls it between his fingers, then—

     —immediately drops it with a clatter, staring at his own hand in betrayal.

     “Honey,” he says gravely. “I can’t hold things.”

     You stare at him. “What.”

     “My arms are dead. My fingers? Jelly.” He lifts his hand and wiggles his fingers dramatically. “Look at this. I have no grip strength left.”

     “Oh my god.” You stare in disbelief.

     “This is your fault.” He insists, and your mind wanders back to how he worked you with his hands for what felt like hours before you got here. You resist the urge to bury your face in your hands at the thought. You broke your man. All for an orgasm. They were great orgasms but still.

     “Do you want me to feed you?” You offer, feeling slightly guilty.

     He gasps. “Would you?”

     You were joking, but now that you see the way his eyes are lighting up, you realize you’ve made a mistake.

     Before you can retract your words, he’s already leaning forward, mouth slightly open, waiting.

     “…I regret everything.”

     “C’mon,” he sing-songs, grinning like an idiot. “Say ‘ahhh’ for me first so I don’t feel weird about it.”

     You grab a fry off your plate and shove it into his mouth to shut him up. He hums happily, chewing like a satisfied child.

     “This is amazing,” he sighs, slumping even further against the booth. “I should let you ruin my stamina more often.”

     You nearly choke on your own food at what he said. You grab a napkin and dramatically press it against your forehead like a distressed Victorian widow. “I can’t do this.”

     “Yes, you can.” He nudges your knee with his foot again. “You love taking care of me.”

     “Debatable.”

     “You’re still feeding me.”

     Ugh, he’s right.

     He grins triumphantly, but it’s quickly interrupted by another yawn. His eyes are drooping again, and you can already tell he’s not going to last much longer.

     “Meguru, if you fall asleep in your food, I will take pictures.”

     He waves a lazy hand. “That’s fine, just make sure you get my good angles.”

     You stare at him in disbelief before shaking your head, picking up another fry to pop into his mouth before he actually does pass out. Yeah. He’s definitely not making it through this meal awake. You place a chaste kiss on his cheek as he snores.

     And honestly? You don’t mind.

     Hyoma Chigiri

     You’re sitting across from Chigiri in a quiet corner of a late-night restaurant, the air rich with the scent of sizzling meat and freshly baked bread. The dim lighting casts a soft glow over the table, reflecting off his crimson hair, which is slightly disheveled—strands sticking to his damp skin, the aftermath of everything you’d put him through just an hour ago.

     He looks done.

     Not just tired—wrecked. Like he’s been through a battle and barely made it out alive. His normally graceful posture is completely gone; he’s slumped in his chair, arms sprawled across the table like he physically can’t hold himself up anymore. His long legs stretch out beneath the table, one foot lazily nudging yours as if he can’t even muster the energy for a proper kick.

     “You good over there?” you ask, taking a slow sip of your drink, watching him with thinly veiled amusement.

     He exhales, blinking at you like you’ve just pulled him out of a deep trance. “I think you ruined me,” he mutters, voice hoarse, thick with exhaustion.

     You smirk. “You’re acting like I made you run sprints for three hours straight.”

     Chigiri groans, dragging a hand down his face. “That would’ve been easier.”

     You chuckle, setting your glass down with a quiet clink. "Oh? Are you saying I’m worse than your training regimen?"

     Chigiri gives you a deadpan look, but there’s the faintest trace of a smirk tugging at his lips. "I’m saying I might need a recovery period before I can walk properly again."

     You hum in mock consideration, reaching for a fry from the basket between you. "There’s a reason why you stretch before doing stuff. Maybe you should’ve done that"

     His ears flush pink, and he exhales sharply, shaking his head. A smirk falls on his lips as he sends you a look. A look that got you two here in the first place.

     “Is that why you’re doing alright? Because I stretched you out so good?”

     Now it’s your turn to be flustered. “H-Hyoma!”

     Well, you can’t deny it. You stammer as he lazily steals one of your fries, though it takes considerable effort, his hand moving slower than usual. You watch as he chews, blinking like he’s on the verge of passing out right then and there.

     The restaurant hums around you, the low murmur of conversations blending with the occasional clatter of plates from the kitchen. Outside, the neon lights of the city flicker against the glass windows, casting a soft glow over Chigiri’s already exhausted face.

     He stares at his drink for a long moment before frowning. He groans again, tilting his head back against the seat. "I’m not sure I have it in me to get up."

     “Maybe you should’ve thought about that before bending me over.” You shrugged, a sly grin on your face as you sipped on your drip.

     "I hate you."

     "That’s not what you were saying earlier.” You tease, “Should I jog your memory again?”

     "Again?" he nearly shouted. "I don't think I can handle that for a while. Give me three to five business days."

     “Yeah right, I give it less than twenty-four hours before you’re begging me to let you do me.”

     His lips part like he wants to argue, but all he does is sigh, shoulders sinking further into his seat. He doesn't need to say it—you both know the truth. Instead, he rubs his thumb over your hand, lazy and affectionate, before stealing another fry.

     Rin Itoshi

     You sit across from Rin at the dimly lit restaurant. Your legs feel weak, a pleasant ache lingering in your thighs, but it's nothing compared to the exhaustion practically radiating off Rin.

     His teal eyes are half-lidded, and his usually sharp expression is softened by fatigue. He leans against his hand, fingers buried in his dark hair, as he stares at the menu like it’s some unsolvable puzzle. Every now and then, his gaze flickers toward you, as if blaming you for his current state.

     “What?” You blink at him stupidly.

     Rin exhales through his nose, not dignifying you with a response. Instead, he lets his head rest against the back of the booth, eyes closing for a moment. The rise and fall of his chest is steady, controlled, but you can tell that he’s drained. You did that. Hehe. Wait, oh my god, you did that to him. The thought makes warmth creep up your spine.

     “Maybe you should’ve paced yourself,” you tease, flipping through your own menu. “Not my fault you can’t handle a few rounds.”

     His eyes snap open, irritation flickering across his face, but there’s no real malice behind it. Just a grudging kind of admiration, hidden beneath layers of stubbornness. “Shut up,” he mutters, voice rough, as if he’s still recovering.

     You bite back a laugh. It’s rare to see him like this—unguarded, spent, completely at your mercy in a way that isn’t physical but still intoxicating.

     The waiter arrives, and Rin straightens, but there’s a sluggishness to his movements. You order for yourself, then glance at him expectantly. He sighs before muttering something about just getting whatever you’re having.

     “Too tired to decide?” you hum, resting your chin on your palm.

     Rin glares, but it lacks its usual bite. “Too tired to deal with you,” he corrects, rubbing a hand down his face.

     You grin, satisfied, and reach for your glass of water. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”

     And from the way Rin looks at you, the faintest smirk tugging at his lips, you know that’s exactly what it was.

     You glance over at him, your fingers tapping against your own glass. “So,” you start, breaking the quiet, “how was that game of yours today? You actually manage to score this time?”

     His eyes narrow slightly, but the smile on his lips is knowing. “Of course. Not that you’d understand the level of skill it requires.”

     You arch a brow, leaning forward a little. “Excuse me? I could totally play circles around you.”

     “Sure, you’d be great at running interference. ‘Oh no, I can’t block, I’m too cute, please don’t hurt me!’” he mocks you.

     Your eyes narrow, “You’re lucky I’m too tired to slap you.”

     Rin winces dramatically, then leans back with a smirk. “I don’t think you could handle me one-on-one. You’ve already proven you’re not great with stamina.”

     “Oh? You’re one to talk. Don’t make me remind you how well I can handle my stamina against yours.”

     Rin coughs, his face flushing slightly, but he recovers quickly. “You’re insufferable,” he mutters, rubbing the back of his neck.

     “I’m insufferable? Is that why you were trench deep in me a few hours ago?” You smirk, taking another sip of your water.

     He scowls, but there’s a certain softness behind it. “That’s enough conversation, shut up. I’m exhausted.”

     “Maybe you should’ve thought about that before deciding to go for as long as you did.”

     Rin’s expression darkens with what could almost be called a glare, but it’s too tired to be truly threatening. “Don’t even start. Do you think you have more endurance than I do?”

     “Mhm, I would prove it to you again but,” You lean in a little closer, smirking. “I don’t think you can handle another round of me just yet.”

     “You talk a lot for someone who’s too tired to even sit up straight.”

     “Well, maybe I just enjoy teasing you.” You lean back.

     The waiter comes back, placing your food in front of you. You immediately dig in, savoring the taste. Rin follows suit, though he’s still slower than usual. You catch him glancing at your plate from the corner of your eye, a barely concealed hunger in his gaze.

     “Are you still hungry?”

     He looks up, and this time, his glare is sharper. “I’m not that weak.”

     You smile and slide your plate closer to him, just out of reach. “Sure you’re not.”

     Rin narrows his eyes at you, then at the plate. It’s clear he wants it, but his pride’s getting in the way. The tension is palpable as he debates internally, and you can’t help but laugh softly. “Just take it,” you say, amusement coloring your voice.

     He glances at you, his lips twitching into a grin. “Fine, I’ll take it, but only because I’m too tired to argue.”

     “Ah, see? You do know when to give in,” you say triumphantly, handing it over.

     “Don’t make me remind you how easily I can make you give in.” He threatens, but you hope it's a promise.

     Seishiro Nagi

     It’s a quiet evening at a small, intimate restaurant nestled between two towering buildings. The dim light casts a soft glow over the wooden tables and delicate plates of food. The quiet hum of conversations fills the air, but the two of you are wrapped in a peaceful bubble of exhaustion. You can still feel the lingering heat from earlier, the way his skin pressed against yours, the feeling of his hands tracing patterns along your body.

     Seishiro Nagi sits across from you, his disheveled hair falling into his eyes as he rubs at them lazily. His eyes flicker to you briefly, but they don’t seem to fully focus. There’s a soft, tired smile playing on his lips, the kind that lets you know he's content, but at the same time, it's clear he’s almost struggling to stay awake. You can’t help but chuckle softly at his state.

     "Hey, Seishiro..." you say, leaning across the table just enough to catch his attention. His eyelids flutter, and he blinks a couple of times, as if trying to summon the energy to keep them open.

     "Yeah?" His voice is hoarse, low, and barely audible. It’s clear that he’s fighting sleep, but it doesn’t seem to be working.

     “Are you okay?” You ask.

     “Mhm,” he replies, his voice raspy. "Just never had someone wear me out quite like you."

     Your heart skips a beat at his words. The casual tone in which he speaks holds a sincerity that’s hard to ignore. The two of you had just come from your apartment, tangled up in each other in ways that left you both breathless and sore, and now, here you are, in a cozy little restaurant, trying to gather yourselves.

     "Oh, um. You’re not falling asleep, are you?"

     He shakes his head slowly, but you can see the effort it takes to do even that. His eyelids slide shut for a brief moment, and you can practically hear the exhaustion in his sigh.

     "I'm fine," he mumbles. "Just... really sleepy..." His voice trails off as his head lulls slightly to the side, before he catches himself, blinking rapidly to stay alert. You watch him for a few seconds, amused, as he fights the pull of sleep.

     "You sure we should’ve come out to eat?" you ask. "I can’t help but feel like you’re about to face-plant into your food."

     "Maybe..." he murmurs, his eyes half-lidded. "But the food here’s good… 'sides, I want to be here with you."

     Your stomach fills with butterflies at that, and you feel a warmth spread through your chest. Despite his exhaustion, he’s always thinking of you. He makes sure you’re okay, that you’re happy, even when his own energy is completely drained.

     “Okay, but next time, we’re definitely staying in,” you tease, leaning back in your chair. “You look like you could fall asleep any second.”

     He smiles lazily, not bothering to fight it. His head drops forward for a brief moment before he jerks back up. "Nah... I’m fine..." But even as he says it, you can hear the faint slurring in his words.

     You decide to let him off the hook. The waitress comes by with your food, and Nagi lifts his head slightly as she sets a steaming bowl of ramen in front of him. His eyes widen momentarily at the scent, but they immediately begin to droop again as he lets out another long yawn.

     "Ramen," he mutters to himself, poking the noodles half-heartedly with his chopsticks. “S'good, I’m sure. Just... I’m gonna... just eat a bit."

     You watch as he takes a few bites, each one slower than the last. His head sways a little as if he’s on the verge of tipping over, and you can’t help but feel a sense of endearment well up inside you. There’s something almost too cute about how he’s always so completely and unapologetically tired.

     "Seishiro," you say softly, reaching across the table to gently touch his arm. "C’mon, let’s just go home. You look like you need a nap more than food right now."

     He stirs a little at the mention of sleep, finally looking up at you with that same, sleepy smile. "No... I want to... eat it myself..." His voice barely rises above a whisper. But after a few more bites, his resolve crumbles.

     “Alright, alright," you say, moving your hand to cup his face. His cheek feels warm under your fingers, the soft skin giving way to the faintest stubble. "You should nap after though. You’ve earned it."

     You offer him a gentle smile, one that conveys everything you’re feeling. The tenderness, the affection, the adoration. He closes his eyes at that, his shoulders sinking further into the chair, his body going slack with exhaustion. A few seconds later, he’s practically dozing, his chopsticks still loosely clutched in his hand, hanging precariously near his bowl.

     It’s not long before you’re the one gently guiding his head to rest on your shoulder. He lets out a soft, content sigh, his body softening into you like a piece of clay, finally free from the constant pull of the world. You shift your arm around him, letting him lean into you as you pick at your food, savoring the flavors but most of your attention on the sleepy, warm figure next to you.

     "How do you always manage to make everything feel so peaceful?" you murmur to him, though he’s half-asleep and doesn’t respond. You don’t need him to. His quiet presence is enough.

     Reo Mikage

     The quiet hum of the restaurant surrounds you as you sit across from him, your heart still racing from the moments shared just hours ago. The dimly lit space feels cozy, and you can't help but grin at how relaxed Reo looks, his usual sharp demeanor softened by the weariness of the afternoon. Normally, he’s composed of confidence, like a guy who could tell you the meaning of life while simultaneously solving a Rubik's cube. But now? Now, he looks like someone who just tried to run a marathon, got distracted by an ice cream truck, and then took a nap halfway through.

     His posture is slouched, his shoulders are practically begging for a pillow, and his eyes are half-lidded with a satisfied haze that matches your own. There's no trace of his usual high-strung self. Instead, there’s a vulnerability in the way he lounges in his chair, as if the very concept of sitting upright is an effort.

     He runs a hand through his hair with slow deliberation. You smile, watching him. It's kind of adorable how tired he looks. You’ve always seen him as the guy who has everything under control, but right now? Right now, he’s more like a human noodle.

     The waiter places two glasses of water in front of you, his smile polite but with just a hint of curiosity, like they're trying to figure out if the two of you are on a first date or if something more... intimate... just went down. You can’t blame them. Reo looks like he might collapse into a puddle any second, and you’re still glowing like you’ve just won an Olympic medal in... well, let’s say “passionate hugging.”

     "Are you alright?" you ask softly, leaning forward just enough for him to hear you. His gaze flickers to meet yours, and a low chuckle rumbles from his chest.

     "Can’t believe you’re the one who’s asking me that," he murmurs, his voice rough in the way people sound when they’ve just done something that requires a lot of energy. "I’ve never been so tired in my life."

     You can’t help it. The laugh that escapes you is soft, affectionate, and a little too amused.

     "I don’t mind," you reply, your tone teasing. "I kind of like seeing you like this."

     He raises an eyebrow at that, lips curving into a slow smile, the glint in his eyes now a little more playful. He leans back in his chair like he’s got a question to ask, but it takes him an unusually long time to find the energy to do so.

     "I don’t know if I should be flattered or worried that you enjoy this version of me," he mutters, his hand dragging over his jaw like he’s thinking of adding a full-body stretch to the mix but ultimately decides against it.

     "You’re cute when you're tired," you say before your brain can catch up. The words slip out like they’re your new favorite outfit. Reo blinks at you for a moment, clearly processing the compliment like someone who’s just been told they’ve won the lottery. And honestly, with that tired smile spreading across his face, he kind of has.

     "Is that so?" His voice takes on a slightly deeper, amused tone, as he leans forward just enough that you can feel his presence press down on you. But not enough to touch. He’s definitely holding back, probably saving up that last bit of energy to make it through dinner without literally falling asleep mid-bite.

     "Yeah."

     "I’m not good at this," he suddenly says, his voice so quiet that it makes you lean in a little.

     You blink. "Not good at what?"

     "Being tired," he admits, his voice almost sheepish. "I’m always on the go, always thinking, always—" He stops, then laughs, like he’s just realized how absurd the whole thing sounds. "But right now, I don’t even have the energy to make a joke or flirt with you. I’m just... done."

     The confession hits you like a slap to the face. This is the Reo Mikage who can talk his way out of almost anything and charm the socks off anyone, yet here he is, admitting that he’s exhausted beyond cognition all because of you.

     You let out a laugh, not unkindly. "That’s actually kind of adorable, you know?"

     Reo sighs, his hand reaching up to rub his temples like he’s holding onto his last ounce of dignity. "I never thought I’d get to the point where I’m adorable when I’m barely functioning. This is new."

     "Okay, maybe next time we can take it slower." You reach across the table and place your hand over his. It’s a small gesture, but there’s something comforting about it. Reo’s gaze softens.

     "I’ll take you up on that," he murmurs, his voice laced with a new kind of tenderness. You were already thinking of next time? The thought made him ache between his legs.

     Reo is doing his best to keep his eyes open, but honestly, you can tell he’s fighting a losing battle. It’s like watching a cat try to stay awake, but eventually, it just gives in to the nap.

     "You’re going to pass out in a restaurant, Reo," you tease him softly, and you can’t help the grin that tugs at your lips.

     "I trust you’ll make sure I don’t embarrass myself."

     You smile fondly. "No promises."

     Reo doesn’t respond. His eyes have long since fluttered shut, and his head starts to tilt back. For now, the world can wait.

     Sae Itoshi

     It was a quiet evening, the soft hum of chatter from other diners filling the air, but you barely noticed it. Your mind was still swimming from the rush of what had happened only hours ago, the lingering weight of the experience heavy between you and Sae.

     The two of you had just finished a rather intense bout of passion in the privacy of your bedroom, and while the fire had simmered down, it had left behind a raw, comfortable silence that felt as thick as the air around you now. You sat across from each other at a small table by the window, Sae's face relaxed into something unfamiliar, softer perhaps, but still radiating that effortless cool. Yet, there was an unmistakable tiredness in his demeanor now, a contrast to the usual energy that typically buzzed off him.

     Sae had always been the type to dominate any room, but now, with his legs stretched out beneath the table, his fingers lazily tracing the rim of his glass, there was an undeniable exhaustion in his posture. His usual confidence seemed to have slipped away, replaced with a rare vulnerability. You studied him for a moment, his sharp features softened from the wear of the day, the slight crease between his brows as if he was deep in thought or maybe just too tired to think at all.

     You smirked slightly, leaning forward against the table, meeting his eyes. "You alright?" you asked, trying to keep your voice casual. You knew him well enough to know when something wasn’t quite right. His body language wasn’t the usual effortless grace; it was more like someone who had just run a marathon, but at the same time, was reluctant to admit it.

     He turned his gaze towards you, blinking slowly as if your voice pulled him out of some trance. His eyes, usually sharp and intense, had softened into a haze of exhaustion, though there was still a playful glint in them.

     "Yeah," he muttered, his voice low and almost drawn out, "Just a little tired."

     "Oh? Is it from what we did earlier?" The teasing tone was unmistakable, but you couldn't help it. It had been wild. Sae had been insatiable earlier, his hands never still, his mouth hot against your skin, and his energy was something else entirely. He fucked you so deep and good into that matress you thought you we’re melting into it. But now, he was the one who seemed to need a rest.

     "Don't remind me," he groaned, leaning back in his chair, closing his eyes for a moment. His usual air of confidence had given way to something much more human, and that made him all the more fascinating. It was almost like he didn’t quite know how to handle it.

     The waiter arrived at the table, placing your drinks down with a soft clink of glass. Sae barely acknowledged the server, his eyes still closed, his fingers drumming lazily on the edge of his empty plate. You gave the waiter a polite smile before they left, focusing back on Sae.

     "You know, for someone who's so used to pushing limits," you said, leaning in just a little, "you sure look like you're ready to collapse."

     He opened one eye, "I could’ve kept going if I wanted to."

     You tilted your head, studying him as he let out a sigh, the way his broad shoulders sagged as if carrying an invisible weight. "You sure? You seem pretty out of it."

     "I don’t do ‘out of it’," he replied lazily, rubbing his forehead with the back of his hand. It was the kind of response you would have expected from him, but it lacked the bite it usually had.

     You leaned back in your chair, arms crossed, unable to hide your amusement. "Yeah, sure."

     "You think I'm lying?" He raised an eyebrow, his gaze flickering to yours with a hint of challenge, though the weariness behind it was impossible to ignore.

     You shrugged. "Yeah. You look like you’re about to pass out right on the spot.”

     "Yeah, well..." Sae trailed off, looking at you as if he were trying to decipher something. He reached out across the table, his fingers brushing lightly against yours. "Guess you wore me out. But I can promise you, I could’ve kept going."

     "If you say so, Itoshi."

     "Don’t get too cocky now. You’re not the only one who can wear someone out. Should I remind you of what happened on your birthday?" There was still a playfulness there, but it wasn’t quite the same as before.

     “S-shut up…” You mutter curtly. Even remembering what happened on your birthday with Sae made your legs ache.

     But as you glanced up at him again, you noticed that his eyes were now closed. A little snore escaped his lips, and you couldn’t help but snicker. Sae Itoshi, the unstoppable force, the man who never showed weakness, he was human after all. He could get tired. He could let himself rest. Even if it was slumping over in his chair at some random restaurant.

     "Well, I guess I really did wear you out," you whispered, resisting the urge to laugh out loud.

     Sae’s eyes fluttered open just enough to send you a sleepy glare. "I’m awake, don’t get cocky," he muttered, but the sleepy tone betrayed him.

     “Yes, sir." You teased, taking a sip of your water as you analyzed his features. Oh, how much you adored him.

     Michael Kaiser

     You lean back in your chair, trying not to giggle too loudly as you glance over at Michael, who’s sitting across from you, looking like he’s about to pass out at any given moment. His hair is disheveled, his shirt slightly untucked, and he’s giving you the most exaggerated, tired expression.

     “Are you okay?” you ask, leaning across the table with a soft smile. You trace the rim of your water glass with your fingertips, watching him as he lazily looks up at you.

     He blinks a few times, as though the question takes him by surprise. Then, as if processing your words, he lets out a deep sigh, rubbing a hand over his face.

     “Yeah… I’m good,” he says, his voice a little hoarse, though you’re not sure if it’s from the aftereffects of your time together or just exhaustion. His gaze drifts to the menu, but it’s clear that he’s not really seeing it.

     “Did our earlier activities tire you out?” you muse, tapping your chin.

     “How could it not? I had you on that bed for hours.” He shook his head in disbelief at how you expected him to not be exhausted. “Only reason you’re fine is because I let you be pillow princess.”

     “Hey, I didn’t tell you to be so rough though, that was done in your own self indulgence.” You narrowed your eyes at him. How dare he try to blame you?

     Michael looks up, clearly attempting to muster some strength for a comeback, but all he manages is a weak smile. “You’re lucky you’re cute, Y/n,” he mutters under his breath.

     “Are you saying you don’t have it in you for another around?” you ask with a teasing tilt of your head. He stares at you like he’s about to say something, but then his shoulders droop again as if the thought of moving is a monumental task.

     “Round two?” he repeats incredulously. “You’ve already broken me. What do you want from me, a medal?”

     You chuckle, leaning back in your seat as you give him a playful smirk. “Maybe,” you say before continuing “but, I think you deserve an award for stamina”

     Michael scrunches his nose, clearly starting to get embarrassed, but trying to hide it.

     “I don’t even know if I remember the last few minutes, Micha, you just kept going. Are you human?” You laugh, taking another sip of your water.

     "I came here to eat, not to get all worked up again," he grumbled.

     You flashed him a mischievous grin and winked. "Well, maybe you should've been clearer about what you wanted. I did offer you plenty to consume earlier."

     "Yeah, and you drained all the energy with it," he shot back, barely holding himself together. His breath came in shallow gasps. "Careful, darling. I can have you teary-eyed and screaming again. Don’t talk your way into something you won't be able to handle."

     The thought made you ache between your legs, a burning desire coursing through your body. You had to stop yourself from thinking about it too much, or else you might accidentally kill Kaiser by asking for another round. As much as you wanted it, you knew it would be too much for him in his state.

     "Really? You look like you're about to pass out," you said, raising an eyebrow as you studied his flushed face.

     "Might," he muttered, his voice thick with exhaustion, but there was still a faint glimmer of a smirk on his lips.

     "You know, this is all your fault, right?" you teased, your tone light, but there was a definite edge of playful accusation in your voice.

     "What did you say?" His eyes snapped open at your words, narrowing in your direction as if ready to challenge you.

     "You didn’t have to be so rough," you shrugged nonchalantly, though the memory of what had just transpired made your pulse quicken. "You did this to yourself."

     "As if you'd have accepted anything less from me," he scoffed, his voice hoarse but laced with pride. "Keeping you satisfied is the real workout. The things I do, the way I wreck myself just to make sure you’re pleased..." His words trailed off, and you could feel the smugness in his tone even as he struggled to stay awake.

     "Oh please," you teased, leaning closer, your fingers lightly tracing the edge of his jaw. "You think I don’t know how high you get from making me see stars every time you make me come undone?"

     A low chuckle rumbled in his chest, but he was already starting to drift. "Hm. I guess we both have our own reasons," he rasped, exhaustion overtaking him as his head lolled to one side, his eyes fluttering closed. You couldn’t help but laugh at how quickly he had given in, how the mighty had fallen. His pride might have been unshakable in the moment, but you had a way of bringing him to his knees. You snapped a quick picture, wanting to capture this rare sight of him defeated and completely fucked past exhaustion.

     "Guess we do," you said softly, a fond smile tugging at the corners of your lips as you admired the man who had given you so much yet couldn’t resist teasing you back.

[makeitworse]

OBLIVION

a father to take care of you. a baby to hold as your own. isn’t this what you wanted?

c/w: dark themes. f!reader x inho. age gap (20+ yrs). freudian duh. pregnancy scare mention. father issues. obsession. kidnapping. 18+ ⚠︎ spoilers!

a/n: the evil twin to my junho fic . wrote ts at 3am n can’t tell how good this is so if it’s shit i was hacked

you didn’t think twice when mr. hwang offered to treat you to dinner.

he was kind like that; has been since you moved in.

the first time you met, you’d locked yourself out. mr. hwang hadn’t asked questions when you knocked on his door, all shy and glossy eyed. he just jimmied the doorknob with a practised hand, smiled like it was nothing while you thanked him profusely. it was the kindest thing anyone had done for you in months.

he once helped carry your broken laundry basket up two flights when it was pouring rain — and left a small umbrella hooked over your doorknob the following day.

your first reaction is always to shake your head, say you didn’t want to cause him any trouble — but mr. hwang always insisted. he’d tell you it’s because “you remind me of someone”, a sad smile on his face.

you’d been living close by in the apartment for three weeks now. scraping by is an understatement. you hadn’t bought groceries in nearly a week — living off cup noodles and sheer desperation. you’ve got more than enough money to your name, but you’re worried about burning through it. especially when you haven’t had any luck scoring a job.

so when mr. hwang caught you passing by him in the foyer, suggesting a dinner to celebrate you settling in — it’s not like saying no was an option. not when he’s paying.

he chuckled when you had admitted your tight budget, relieved to finally have something other than a microwavable meal for dinner.

he placed a steady hand on your shoulder, eyes softening. “you need to be eating properly. but i can take care of you for tonight, okay?”

it sounded fatherly. far from like the men you’d learned to avoid. you were well-versed in stranger danger — but you could tell mr. hwang was different. he was polite and warm and everything your real father wasn’t. he never looked too long, never said too much.

so of course you trusted him.

stupidly.

you went to some quiet pub off the main road, the kind of place you never would’ve walked to alone. but with him beside you — holding the door open, sitting beside you in the booth, ordering for you — it could feel safe.

he bought you a drink. just one.

you hesitated, but he just flashed you that warm smile that reeled you right back in.

“you’ve earned it. one won’t kill you.”

so you sipped from the schooner that he paid for, not questioning that his own drink of choice was water.

your one drink became two. then came another. and somewhere between laughter and the second plate of entrees, you lost count.

your senses fuzzed at the edges. the world dulled to a blur of soft lights and his low voice.

he touched your hand when he laughed. tucked your hair behind your ear when you leaned too far forward. called you sweet girl once under his breath, and maybe you didn’t hear it right — but it made something flutter low in your stomach.

you didn’t think about how close he was sitting now, the thin gap of air between your bodies now nonexistent. or how long his eyes lingered, trailing lower and lower with each glance. how his hand hadn’t flinched from your thigh when the conversation drifted into silence.

but you feel … safe. with him. you can’t remember the last time you could around a man his age.

it’s why it all just spills out.

you swore to yourself you’d start a clean slate, take your past life to the grave — but the liquor softened your spine and loosened your tongue, and mr. hwang had that look again. the one that made you feel like a little girl with scraped knees and no one to bandage them.

so you gave in. you told him everything.

your pregnancy scare. the absence of your period for agonisingly long weeks. you were terrified — not to be a young mother, but of your dad. what he would do.

after you had confided in him, your own father — blood of your blood — had threatened to send the baby away or even kill it with his bare hands if he had to. you admit it with a laugh, but a voice crack halfway through betrays you. his hands were big enough, heart black enough. you don’t doubt that he would’ve done it.

your voice trembles when you tell him how they treated you after word got out. the whispers, the side eyes, the cold shoulders from people who used to smile at you. you couldn’t go to the market without someone turning their back.

in the end, after nearly two months of horrifying confusion — you bled.

you didn’t cry when you said it. your tear ducts had long run dry. you hadn’t cried in weeks.

there was no use sticking around acting like you belonged, not when you weren’t even pregnant with the bastard child they were eagerly waiting to burn at the stake.

so you hightailed. left it all behind. borrowed money from a sketchy loan shark under your father’s name as a bitter farewell and didn’t look back. the debt was on him, not that you’re going to know if he paid it back.

maybe he did. maybe he couldn’t. maybe they killed him and it’s all your fault. but you’ll never find out, now that you’ve got no intentions of looking back.

now that you’ve got mr. hwang to guide you.

he never interrupted as you laid your beating heart bare. just sat beside to you, quiet and still, like a priest receiving a confession.

“if i had the chance...” you start, then hesitate; eyes faltering to your hands in your lap. you don’t want to say it out loud, which is all the more reason why you should.

you swallow. “i’d give it all up. everyone’s lives in that godforsaken town — just to know that i could’ve been a good mother, if i got the chance.”

you didn’t see the shift in his eyes. didn’t catch the way his jaw twitched, something low and guttural clawing at his chest. a need.

you don’t realise the gravity of your mistake, admitting that to him.

he stands after that, careful not to touch you. paid the bill, calmly without saying a word.

“you’ve had a big night,” he tells you softly, a lullaby with teeth. “let’s get you home. i’ll check on you tomorrow.”

you nodded, letting him guide you outside into the cool bite of nightfall air. you were dizzy, legs unsteady, but he was there — always was. his hand hovered near your elbow, steadying you without touching. gentlemanly. paternally.

so you kissed him.

on your tiptoes, you leaned in and pressed your lips to his clumsily, off-balance.

and for a heartbeat, he let you.

but then his fingers twisted in your hair, tugging you back with a force that made your mouth break away with a gasp.

“don’t start something you might regret,” he warned, breath nearly a pant — eyes burning.

you blinked up at him, dazed — scalp stinging from his tight fist. the line between protector and predator smudged like ink.

he finally frees his hand, smoothing your hair down gently like it never happened.

“sleep it off.” he murmured, softer now. “you’ll see me in the morning.”

you didn’t know it yet — but in that moment, you stopped being someone he pitied.

rather, someone he had no intentions of letting go home alone.

the streets were quiet as you walked together — mr. hwang even quieter.

you were still reeling — heart weighing heavy from everything you’d just confessed, your body warm and sluggish from the drinks. shame crept up the back of your neck — you must’ve made a fool of yourself. dumping your sob story on him, forcing a kiss.

he kept close regardless, his steps in sync with yours, gaze flicking sideways every so often like he was making sure you didn’t drift too far.

you thought he was being protective. you thought that’s what this all was.

a neighbour seeing you home. a friend. a father figure.

the silence between you had grown… heavier. like a storm waiting just behind your shoulder.

you approach a dark corner you finally recognise, not far from the apartment complex now. hurried to climb back into the comforts of your bed, you stumble ahead a step or two. and that’s when you made the mistake he’d been waiting for.

you turned your back to him.

his arm snaps around your throat in one fluid, practiced motion — tight, terrifyingly calm.

the balls of your feet lifted off the ground. your nails flew to his arm instinctively to claw at the skin, the wet warmth of blood coating your fingernails.

you try to scream, but the pressure crushed your windpipe. the world narrowed at the corners of your eyes. adrenaline jolted, ugly and loud in your chest. you kicked, jerked, thrashed, — but he held you like he was anchoring a balloon, steady and cold.

you trust him. you trusted him.

it wasn’t like in the movies — no sharp gasp and instant fade to black. it was minutes. terrifyingly long minutes of struggling while the edges of your vision darkened, your limbs growing heavier, your thoughts floating away like debris in water.

and then black swallows you whole.

inho was sure he’d seen your face before.

it had haunted him in sleepless nights — your mouth, your eyes, that tired sadness behind your smile. he could discern grief when he saw it. he knew you. and when you laughed, just once, his ear pressed against your wall — he nearly said her name by accident.

he couldn’t forget a face like yours. gorgeous, rich with the same beauty his late wife was blessed with.

it wasn’t until you told him your story — tear-streaked and drunken and messy — that it all clicked into place.

your father.

that name etched into the ledger. he’d skimmed over it weeks ago in the pre-season briefings, but now it burned. he recalled the debt, the forged signature. thirty million won, vanished under a daughter’s hand. the hand he now held, sitting at the bedside while he watched you sleep.

he couldn’t bring himself to be angry.

because when you cried into your hands, begging the night for a second chance to be a mother, inho didn’t see a criminal. he saw redemption. his own.

his late wife died alone in a sterile, cold hospital room — belly swollen, body emptied of everything that mattered. he hadn’t been there. hadn’t held her hand. hadn’t saved her. it was all for her, and he failed — failed them both. and they had to reap what inho sowed.

but now there was you.

waltzing into the apartment complex with dirty cash to your name, no one back at home to miss you, looking to inho for guidance like you’d fall apart without him.

you had that same softness around the mouth. that same storm behind the eyes. you, who’d been denied the chance to be a mother. who still ached for the weight of a child in your arms.

you’re lucky he found you.

so when your body went limp in the dark, he carried you home gently. tucked you into warm sheets, brushed the hair back from your face, pressed a kiss to your temple with the reverence of a man kneeling before an altar.

you’d forgive him. eventually. inevitably.

once you woke up — once your eyes beheld her — you’d understand.

our baby girl.

round cheeks. soft hands. the most precious eyes on earth. she cooed in her crib when inho passed by, holding you bridal style in his arms — her tiny fists waving in the air like she already recognised you from her dreams.

she wasn’t really yours. nor was she inho’s. by blood, that is. but none of that mattered now.

all that’s ever mattered to inho was family.

the one he’d been robbed of.

it’d be perfect this time. he could see it already: the way you’d hold her, hum lullabies into her tuft of hair. the way you’d look at him after the first diaper change, maybe annoyed, maybe laughing. domestic. real. real.

he’ll take care of your father — ensure the trash is disposed of the right way.

monsters will only ever exist in bedtime stories to your daughter from now on.

all that’s left was only this: the three of you. a picture perfect little family, built from shared grief and second chances and trust.

and when your eyes would finally open, you might smile. you might cry, or scream, or thrash at the bindings around your wrists.

but you’ll come to understand. you’ll have to.

he’s all you’ve got now, after all.

mlist · taglist 〃

@lightinbug @sherrayyyyy @namsgyu @riddlerloveb0t @ttturnitup @rafesbunniebby @nicaeno @orphicarchive @vix3e @ferrarifinnick @loveesiren @madebybec @avsarchivez @frontwomann @szonyix6277 @namgyooner @thanosspills @retiredpieceofshits

[rafesangelita]

So I just read after hours with dilf rafe and I NEED a fic for the next day aka the day spend at the country club, I am so curious to see how bitchy!kook!reader and the kids interact!

warnings: none really just some fluff <3

a/n: read ‘after hours with dilf!rafe’ here ! and read more about bitchy!kook!reader and dilf!rafe’s dynamic here ♡ also just for reference, i’m envisioning rafe has two kids in this fic; one girl who’s eleven years old, and one boy who’s five years old

you were still getting used to being around rafe’s kids, having never had any siblings of your own, you were learning how to interact with them by watching how they talked to each other and studying them the best way you could. what made them laugh? what kind of stuff did they like talking about? what kind of things did rafe get after them for? rafe could see how devoted you were to getting to know them and he loved that you had opened yourself up to not only letting him love you, but his children as well. despite this whole thing being new to you, you were a doing a damn good job.

everyone was currently at the country club, rafe and his son out on the golf course, and you and his daughter sitting comfortably underneath the shade at a table not too far away, both of you sharing a mocktail as she let you in on all the fifth grade gossip. “she told everyone that i copied her party theme but i had already been planning my birthday party for months! and of course everyone believed her because she threw her’s first..” you scoffed, shaking your head at the pure audacity.

“as if you needed the inspiration,” you rolled your eyes, “people— especially girls in competition with you, are always going to find something to grab onto, whether it be your party theme, your style, your personality.. you just have to remember as long as you’re true to yourself in a world full inauthentic people, they’re always going to try and take what you come up with, so the best thing you could do is just pick your friends wisely and don’t surround yourself with absolutely everyone. that’s what i did, and now i only have bestest friends in my circle.”

she looked at you like she was having an epiphany, her eyes slightly wide as she pondered over your words. “wow, that’s probably like the best advice i’ve ever gotten.” she hummed, taking a sip from the virgin piña colada in your hand. rafe smiled to himself, having heard your entire exchange. “you know what that means?” you asked with a teasing smile, “we’ll just have to throw you a bigger and better party next year.” rafe felt his heart stir at the mention of ‘we’— the adam’s apple in his throat bobbing as he cleared his throat.

drawing your attention to rafe and his son, you saw the way his little cheeks were bright red from the blazing sun beating down on him, his hair sticking to his forehead as he swung his miniature club the way rafe taught him. “ray!” you called after the little boy, “come get you some water, let’s take a little break real quick.” without hesitation, baby ray dropped the club and ran straight into your lap where you held the ice cold water bottle up for him to drink from. rafe all but melted at the sight, the corner of his lips twitching as he watched the you smiled down at his boy.

helping his daughter up from her seat, he fixed her in his lap so he could sit next to you, his lips coming down to plant a kiss on your temple. ray pulled away from the water bottle with a gasp, his legs working to climb up so he could give you a kiss too. you just about died when you felt his lips on your cheek, your arms wrapping around the little boy as he rested his head on your chest. “so what do you feel like eating for lunch?” rafe asked his daughter, tucking a piece of hair behind her ear as she leaned back against his chest. “why don’t we go back home and make something? y/n made these super good sandwiches yesterday and she took the crust off.”

rafe laughed, looking over at you to make sure you were okay with making the kids something to eat. “i can definitely do that, how about this time i show you how to do it so you can make them whenever you want?” at your words, she nodded frantically, shooting up to her feet and tugging on rafe’s arm so all of you can leave. laughing softly at her excitement, you adjusted ray on your hip before you and rafe followed her out of the country club gates. helping rafe put ray in his booster seat, you put his seatbelt on before booping his nose and shutting the door. “hey—” rafe stopped you as you were rounding the truck to get to your side, “you’re doing amazing with them.”

[ninisdollie]

close friends - lee heeseung, koga yudai✧˚⋆˖ ࣪

𓈒ིུ ❤︎ ˖ ݁

“In which reader can’t hide the lustful feelings she has for her boyfriend’s best friend, and him, instead of getting jealous, decides to share”

‎ ‎ ⁺ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ❤︎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ⊹　₊ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ͏͏✧ Content: +18MDNI

fem! reader x heeseung x k, threesome, dom! heeseung x dom! k x sub! reader (although heeseung is more in charge) no mxm action, drinking, cursing, lots of teasing, oral sex (f and m recieving), multiple orgasms, squirting, overstimulation, humiliation, dumbification, objectification, degradation, praising, unprotected sex, double creampie (don’t do this pls), dirty talk, explicit sex, aftercare (so important always!!)

Word count: 15.5k (it’s yudai and heeseung girls i can’t)

Notes: I went so insane with this one so please bare with me lmao, as always please remember everything that happens is consensual !! sorry for the mistakes english isn’t my first language. this one is for my lunéngenes !!

Hate comments will be deleted and blocked, like and reblogs are appreciated !!

Your relationship with Heeseung had always been easy.

From the very beginning, he made things feel simple, like love was something natural, something that didn’t have to hurt to be real. He was warm and steady, all soft hands and sweeter words, the kind of boyfriend that remembered the little things. He always kept your favorite snack in the apartment, knew the exact spot to kiss behind your ear that made you shiver, and held your hand even when no one was watching.

Heeseung didn’t play games, he didn’t raise his voice, he didn’t give you reasons to doubt him, not even once. He never made you feel small.

He spoiled you, completely.

He paid attention to things no one else would, how you always got sleepy after eating, how you liked your wine poured to the halfway point only, how you always looked at yourself in the mirror a little too long when you felt insecure. And he’d counter all of it, instinctively. Wrapping you up in a hoodie, refilling your glass just right, grabbing your chin gently and kissing your pout away like it was his only job.

In bed, he was a dream.

He took his time with you, didn’t just fuck you, he worshipped you. And when you begged for it rougher, meaner, filthier? He gave you that too.

Your pretty boy could turn dark in seconds. He’d pull your hair, make you cry, call you names so cruel your face burned—and he’d fuck you through every single one of your orgasms until you couldn’t remember how to say please anymore. But he always kissed you after, always whispered, “you did so good for me, baby.” He made you feel safe in the filth, loved, even when he was breaking you apart.

He got along with your whole family, watched football matchs with your father and helped your mother bake her signature apple pie, played videogames with your little brother and dollhouse with your little sister. You were sure he was the man of your life, and that you would marry him one day.

You never wanted anyone else.

At least, that’s what you told yourself.

Until K started spending more time around.

K was Heeseung’s best friend, had been for years, even before you were his girlfriend, they grew up together, went to the same college, even shared clothes sometimes. He was around so often it felt normal, his shoes by the door, his half-empty water bottles on the counter, his body draped across your couch like he owned the place. You were so used to his presence, and it never bothered you, not really, he was very sweet with you, always respectful, and you knew how good of a friend he was to your boyfriend.

He was different from Heeseung in every way. Older for a couple of years, taller for a few inches, louder when he laughed, rougher around the edges, casually confident in a way that made your stomach twist. Always teasing, always joking, always so present. Like, everyday. Sometimes he would even go pick you up after work when Heeseung couldn’t because he was at some dinner for his job. He was mostly a gentleman, although obviously sometimes you would hear him talk with Heeseung about the girls he slept with.

He didn’t try to charm you, didn’t even seem to care what you thought of him.

And maybe that was the problem.

You’d watch him from the kitchen sometimes, sweating in a tight shirt after a workout, gulping water like he hadn’t touched it in hours, the sharp lines of his jaw flexing every time he swallowed, his soaked, black hair sticked to his forehead, his plump lips parted as he tried to catch his breath. His arms always flexed when he stretched, and he always stretched, veins popping under his skin, low groan leaving his throat.

And sometimes, when he caught your gaze, he’d smirk. Not flirty, not teasing. Just knowing, like he was aware of the way you looked at him, and he didn’t mind. Sometimes he would say “Do i look that bad today?” and you would chuckle, trying to play dumb.

You tried to ignore it, brush it off, blame it on the wine, the hormones, the stupid crushes people weren’t supposed to get once they were in love.

But sometimes, when Heeseung’s fingers were deep inside you, or when his cock was pressing into you just right, you’d close your eyes, and for just a moment, pretend.

You imagined K’s voice, rough and low in your ear. His hands on your hips, holding you still, the weight of him pressing you down into the mattress, deeper and rougher than anyone ever had.

It wasn’t that you didn’t love Heeseung, or that he wasn’t enough for you. He really was, you wanted to spend the rest of your life with him.

You told yourself it was nothing. Just a thought, just a fantasy. Like a lot of people used to have.

Something you’d never say out loud.

Not to anyone.

Heeseung had always been so good at reading people. Even when he was little, he knew when his father had a bad day at work, he knew when his mother was pissed about the noisy neighbours, he even knew when his first girlfriend cheated on him before even finding something weird.

Heeseung had always known.

He didn’t need you to say it, didn’t need to catch you staring, or find messages on your phone, or hear some guilty confession through your tears.

He just knew.

Because he was watching.

From the very beginning, before you even realized it yourself, he’d seen it. That flicker in your eyes when K walked into the room, the way your whole body subtly shifted, back a little straighter, chin tilted, lips just barely parted, thighs clenched together when K leaned over to show you something on his phone.

You never flirted, never crossed a line. You were a good girl, his good girl. But the way you looked at K? that wasn’t nothing.

And Heeseung saw it, every time.

He was an expert in you.

He knew every version of your body, how you moved when you were hungry, when you were tired, when you were horny. How you bit your lip when you were anxious, how your eyes glossed over when you were tipsy and trying not to let it show. He knew when you were lying, when you were daydreaming, when your thighs were clenched under the table because you were thinking about something you shouldn’t.

Heeseung knew you.

So of course, he noticed.

K was around a lot. His best friend, his brother. They’d known each other forever, trusted each other without question, he didn’t even remember a time of his life where K wasn’t teasing him and playfully bantering with him. He trusted him, like a lot, he was the only true friendship he’d ever had, and he knew that K would never do something that would hurt him.

And that’s what made it all the more entertaining.

He watched the way your eyes dropped when K stretched, the way your breath hitched when he muttered something low under his breath, the way your smile slipped into something dazed after a few drinks when K got too close.

And he saw the way he looked at you too. How he would chuckle at the silliest thing you’d say, how he would tease you just to see you blush and push his chest playfully, how his gaze would dropp even just for a small second through your body when you were in a bikini on a hot summer day. He didn’t blame him, you were the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen, and K was a man, after all.

So he never said a word.

Most guys would’ve lost their minds, picked a fight, accused you of cheating, thrown K out of the house or pulled you into a jealous, angry fuck just to stake their claim.

But not heeseung.

He found it cute, amusing, even. The way you thought you were hiding it, this quiet, little lust that lived just under your skin. He could see how hard you were trying to be good, how guilty you must’ve felt, how much it was killing you not to give in to it.

And more than anything, that’s what got to him.

The idea that you were holding back, not because you didn’t want it, but because you thought he wouldn’t let you.

Heeseung loved you, like really loved you. But his love wasn’t soft and selfless, not really.

His love was possessive.

He didn’t just want you for himself, he wanted every part of you, every thought, every fantasy. Even the most dirtiest, nastiest ones.

If you were going to want someone else, he wanted to know. He wanted to be there.

And with K? He didn’t mind sharing. That was his ride or die, and if he were ever to do something this nasty, of course he would choose him. It was something about his ego too, to make his best friend who was always so confident and cocky watching how the most beautiful girl ever crumbled beneath him.

He liked the idea of it.

Of watching you come undone between the two of them, overwhelmed, overstimulated, broken down to nothing. He wanted to see your mouth stuffed with K’s cock while you sobbed on his fingers. Wanted to hear you beg one of them to stop while the other kept going. Wanted to see your sweet little brain go blank, ruined completely, used until you didn’t even know which one of them was making you cum anymore.

And god, the aftermath.

He could already picture you, messy, leaking, limp and fucked-out on the sheets while they cleaned you up. You, teary-eyed and dazed, whispering, “thank you.” So grateful, so good.

He didn’t say anything yet, not out loud.

You weren’t ready, he wanted you to squirm a little more.

He wanted to watch you get desperate.

But he was planning.

It was late evening when you unlocked the front door and stepped inside, heels clicking against the hardwood. The apartment was dimly lit, the only real light coming from the glare of the TV screen and the soft blue LEDs lining the shelves. You were tired, hungry, and sleepy, it was a really long day at work, you hated that you had to work on weekends.

Then you heard it.

Laughter and the unmistakable sound of button-mashing filled the air. Manly voices so loud and so familiar. You dropped your bag by the door, sighing as you kicked off your shoes, already half-expecting what you’d see when you rounded the corner into the living room.

There they were.

Heeseung and K sat cross-legged on the floor, controllers in hand, faces lit by the rapid flashes of the screen. The two of them were in the middle of an intense round of something, they didn’t even glance up when you entered. Both of them in comfy clothes, messy hairs, the smell of their perfumes in the air.

You swallowed.

“Told you I’m better,” Heeseung grinned, tapping buttons at lightning speed.

“Only because you cheat,” K fired back, focused, leaning forward as his tongue peeked out in concentration.

“You’re just bad at this,” Heeseung smirked, elbowing him. The two burst into laughter, casual and at ease, just two best friends caught up in a game they’d probably played a hundred times before.

You stood there for a second, watching them, Heeseung’s soft, worn tee hanging off his frame, K in a sleeveless hoodie that showed off his toned arms. It was domestic. Comfortable. Too comfortable.

“I’m home,” you called out finally, stepping into view, a little smile on your lips, while you loosened your ponytail and walked towards them.

Heeseung’s head turned first, his smile wide, his eyes sparkly like they always were when he looked at you.

“Hey, baby,” he said easily, not even pausing the game. “How was work?”

You groaned dramatically, flopping onto the couch behind them.

“Hell,” you muttered, already peeling off your jacket. They didn’t respond, too focused on the game, and you rolled your eyes playfully. Boys. “I’m taking a shower. You boys have fun.”

Then K glanced over his shoulder with a grin. “Welcome back, by the way.”

You winked and disappeared down the hall, feeling K’s eyes on you the entire way.

A little while later, the bathroom light flicked off and the soft pat of your bare feet padded into the living room again. You wore a silky little pajama set, tiny shorts barely covering the curve of your ass, and a matching cami with thin straps that did nothing to hide the way the cool air had your nipples poking through.

Heeseung looked up first. His gaze swept over you with familiarity, appreciation, and something playful. His lips curled up in a lazy smile as he leaned back on one hand, watching you make your way around the couch and settle down between them.

But K?

He hesitated—only for a second—but it was enough.

You saw it.

The way K’s jaw clenched. The quick flick of his eyes over your legs, your chest, your exposed skin. The way he tried to focus back on the screen, but his grip on the controller tightened just a little. His mouth opened slightly, like he was going to say something, then thought better of it.

You could feel the heat rolling off him.

Heeseung chuckled quietly. He didn’t say a word, didn’t call him out. Instead, he shifted closer to you on the floor, letting his hand rest on your bare thigh, thumb stroking lazily, like it was second nature.

It was soft. Innocent. But it wasn’t.

You saw the way K’s eyes flicked down to where Heeseung’s fingers moved, lingering. You could feel the tension in the air change, just a little.

Heeseung’s gaze stayed fixed on the screen, like nothing was happening. Like he wasn’t fully aware of the little game he’d just started.

He leaned closer to you, pressing a kiss just below your ear, murmuring a teasing “Missed you, pretty girl,” while his fingers traced the edge of your thigh, just high enough to make a statement.

K didn’t speak, but his knuckles were white around the controller. His gaze was fixed forward, but his breathing had shifted, just a bit.

Heeseung smirked.

He wasn’t mad. Not jealous. Not even remotely.

He was amused.

And from the way his eyes glinted under the low light, you could tell, he was planning something.

Something big.

You had long since disappeared into the bedroom, the door clicking shut behind you with a soft finality, leaving the boys alone under the low light of the TV glow. The air was still warm with your presence, vanilla and something sweeter, something uniquely you lingering in the space.

Heeseung had gone quiet, his controller abandoned somewhere near the coffee table. K sat beside him, back against the couch, arms resting lazily over his knees as he stared at the flickering screen without really watching it.

They’d been talking for hours now, about everything, work, family, sports, and you, of course. Heeseung always yapped about how perfect you were and that he wanted to marry you. K was used to that, he always smiled and said “Don’t make me an uncle yet.” Not jealous, but supporting, like a good friend. But still, when Heeseung talked to him about you in bed, he saw how his breathing changed just a bit, not of awkwardness. Something else.

“You like her, huh?” Heeseung asked suddenly, voice casual, too casual.

K turned his head slowly, caught off guard. His eyes widened, brows frowned as if he couldn’t believe what he just asked.

“What?”

Heeseung smirked. He didn’t look at him right away, just reached over to grab his drink from the side table, took a slow sip, then met his best friend’s eyes.

“Y/N.”

K blinked, his face a mask of disbelief. He reached for his drink too, the air suddenly feeling so heavy.

“She’s your girlfriend.”

“I didn’t ask who she was,” Heeseung said, leaning back against the couch, stretching his legs out. “I asked if you like her.”

K scoffed and looked away, running a hand through his hair, then he scratched his neck.

“Bro.”

Heeseung just hummed, watching him now, really watching. The way K shifted in place, the way his jaw clenched ever so slightly. The way his eyes had flicked, too quickly, down the hall where your bedroom door was closed.

“You think I don’t see it?” Heeseung asked quietly, his tone lower now, edged with amusement. “You think I haven’t noticed the way you look at her when you think I’m not paying attention?”

K didn’t respond.

“She came out in that little pajama set,” Heeseung continued, like he was telling a story, slow and deliberate, “and your eyes were all over her. You didn’t even try to hide it.”

K shifted again, sitting a little straighter, jaw tight.

“You’re tripping.”

“Am I?” Heeseung grinned, all teeth now, a lazy kind of danger curling at the edges of his lips. He was having so much fun with this. “It’s okay. I’m not mad.”

That made K glance over, he tilted his head slightly.

“You’re not?”

Heeseung laughed softly. “Why would I be mad?” His voice dropped, gaze dark. “It’s kind of hot, actually.”

K blinked.

“You’re insane.”

“And you’re not denying it.” Heeseung leaned closer, elbows resting on his knees, voice hushed now, like it was something private. “I’ve seen the way she reacts to you. She gets all soft and shy around you. Different than with me.”

K’s throat bobbed as he swallowed. He didn’t deny that either. Heeseung kept going, his tone turning sly.

“She likes you. Even if she doesn’t say it. Even if she tries to hide it. I see it. And I think you see it too.”

K let out a long breath, raking a hand down his face.

“This is fucking dangerous.”

Heeseung chuckled darkly.

“Yeah. That’s the point.”

There was a long pause. K was quiet now, no longer trying to argue, just sitting there, staring at the blank screen, like his mind had slipped somewhere darker. Somewhere more curious.

“And you’re seriously okay with that?” he asked after a moment. “You want me to—what—fuck around with your girlfriend?”

Heeseung leaned back again, arms spread along the couch, completely relaxed, like he’d thought about this a lot.

“I want to see what happens when we both push her. I want to see how far she’ll let it go. How far we can take it.”

K looked at him, really looked at him, like he was trying to read the real intention behind the words. Lips parted, in shock.

“And if she breaks?” he asked, voice quiet.

“She won’t,” Heeseung said confidently. “Not in a bad way, anyway.” He tilted his head, eyes gleaming. “She’ll love it.”

Another pause.

K was breathing a little heavier now, not quite realizing it. His leg bounced once, the tension showing in small cracks, in the way he kept licking his lips.

Heeseung’s voice dipped lower, velvet-smooth.

“You want to see her like that, don’t you? All cock drunk and needy. Caught between us. Letting us touch her. Use her. Ruin her a little.”

K inhaled sharply, muttering under his breath, “Jesus, man…”

But there was no fight left in his voice.

Heeseung leaned forward again, eyes locked on him.

“Her birthday. We take her out. Tease her. You dance with her first, I’ll come in after. We push. We press. And we see what she does.”

K was quiet, processing. His fingers flexed where they rested on his knees. This was such a bad idea, it could ruin this friendship and your relationship forever.

But he thought about it, he imagined it. How you’d look between them, all broken and crying, how you’d look beneath him.

Then, slowly, like the idea had finally sunk into his skin, he gave a low laugh, shaking his head.

“You’re fucking twisted.”

“And you’re into it.”

K didn’t deny it this time.

The club was alive with the beat of the music, thumping through your chest, the lights flashing in dizzying patterns as you stepped out of the car. Your heels clicked against the pavement, each step carrying you into the night. The air was thick with the scent of perfume and cologne, and all eyes seemed to be on you as you made your entrance.

It was your birthday, your night, and you had every intention of owning it. You’d slipped into a sleek, form-fitting black dress that hugged your curves perfectly, just the right amount of daring without being too much. Your hair cascaded in waves, and your makeup was soft but sultry, just enough to make you look irresistible without trying too hard. You were the center of attention, and you loved it.

As you stepped into the club, the pulse of the music surrounded you. People were already gathered around the bar, laughing, chatting, their drinks sloshing in the air as the DJ spun tracks. Your friends crowded around you, congratulating you, complimenting your outfit, but your eyes were scanning the room.

Heeseung should be there anytime.

And you couldn’t help but feel a flutter of excitement in your chest when you thought about him. Your boyfriend—the perfect, warm, loving boyfriend who had made sure tonight would be exactly how you wanted it. But even as your mind lingered on him, there was that edge of anticipation. That thought, that craving, for someone else.

K.

It was impossible not to think about him. You had tried to push the thoughts away, tried to focus on your boyfriend, on what you had, but something about K always pulled you in. The way he moved, the way he grinned at you, like he knew exactly what you were thinking, what you wanted. Like he wasn’t just watching from the sidelines, but waiting for you to make the first move.

Your thoughts scattered when you caught sight of them, Heeseung and K, walking through the entrance together, side by side like two halves of the same whole. They were a striking pair. Heeseung in his tailored jacket, casually confident, dark hair falling just right as his gaze swept over the room. And K, a little more laid-back, in a tight shirt that did nothing to hide the muscles in his chest, his smirk cocky as hell as he looked around.

The moment their eyes met yours, you felt a rush of heat flood your body. Heeseung’s smile was soft, full of warmth as he made his way toward you. But K’s gaze? It was different. It was knowing. His eyes dropped down to your dress—just for a second—and then back to your face, where a small, almost teasing smirk danced on his lips.

Heeseung pulled you into a hug, his lips brushing your ear as he whispered something sweet.

“Happy birthday, baby,” he murmured, his hands resting on your hips. You melted into his embrace, your heart swelling at the love he poured into his touch. He was perfect. He always was.

But K? K was something else entirely.

He stepped forward, his body pressing just a little too close when he kissed your cheek. The moment his lips touched your skin, your breath hitched, a shiver running through your body at the heat of his proximity.

“Happy birthday, princess,” K said, his voice low and rich, sending a thrill straight to your core.

You fought the blush creeping up your neck, trying to focus on Heeseung, on him, the boyfriend who had given you everything. But K’s presence lingered like a slow burn, undeniable, exciting. You could feel his eyes on you, even as Heeseung pulled back and started talking to some of your friends.

K didn’t go far. He hovered around you, leaning against the bar, not too far from where you stood. Every so often, his eyes would flick to yours, like he was studying you. Like he was waiting for something.

The tension between the three of you was thick, and you could feel it in your bones.

But you were supposed to be enjoying your night. You’d been waiting for this, for months, and now, it was finally here. So you threw yourself into the party, laughing, dancing, drinking. But even as you swirled your cocktail, your attention kept drifting. It was almost magnetic, this pull between you and Heeseung, between you and K. And no matter how much you tried to ignore it, it was impossible.

The club pulsed with energy as you and your friends slipped further into the night. The drinks kept flowing, shots and cocktails passed around like water, and with every drink, your body felt lighter, more free. Laughter filled the air, mingling with the thumping beat of the music as the crowd swayed and danced under the neon lights.

Your friends were all in high spirits, each of them offering birthday wishes, compliments, and teasing comments about how you were the life of the party. The atmosphere was electric, and for the first time in what felt like forever, you let go of the constant buzzing in your head, the one that made you question the simmering tension between you, Heeseung, and K. Tonight was about you.

But, of course, they were still there.

You caught K’s eyes across the room. He was leaning casually against the bar, a drink in his hand, watching you with that signature smirk. The one that always seemed to make your heart race a little faster.

You shook your head, trying to focus, but your thoughts kept drifting back to him. And then, as if on cue, Heeseung wrapped his arms around your waist from behind, his lips brushing your ear.

“I’m tired from training, baby,” he murmured, his voice warm and familiar. “You go ahead, dance with your friends.”

You couldn’t help but pout, turning in his arms to face him.

“But I wanted to dance with you,” you whined, eyes sparkling with a playful challenge.

Heeseung smiled, but it was that teasing, knowing grin.

“I’m too tired, babe,” he repeated, his thumb brushing against your hip. “Go have fun. You know I don’t mind.”

You raised an eyebrow, the tip of your tongue brushing over your lips. “You sure you don’t mind?”

“I don’t mind,” Heeseung said with that same smile, but there was something in his eyes, something darker, almost predatory. “K can go dance with you.”

Your stomach flipped. You’d been thinking about K for most of the night, the heat in your veins already ignited by his presence, and now Heeseung was throwing him into the mix. But even more so, he was asking you to do it.

“Come on, I’m not gonna dance with him,” you said, your voice teasing, but your body responding to the thought anyway. “We’ll have to make it fun later.”

Heeseung chuckled softly, his hands still on your waist as he leaned in close, his lips brushing your neck for just a moment. His breath was hot against your skin.

“We will, baby. But for now—go have some fun. K’s waiting.”

So you sighed, already preparing yourself mentally. You turned to K, who was still leaning against the bar, his eyes never leaving you. There was that damn smirk again, and you knew exactly what was on his mind.

With a slight hesitation, you walked over to K. He grinned as you approached, taking your hand in his.

“Well, I guess you do need a dance partner,” he said, his voice low, the heat behind his words unmistakable. He pulled you onto the dance floor with him, and you fell into the rhythm of the music, the bass vibrating through your chest.

He was shy at first, a gentleman. Just dacing in front of you without really touching anything he shouldn’t. He chuckled as he saw you dancing, raising an eyebrow when one of your friends shoved a shot down your mouth.

K’s hands were on your hips, and you could feel his body heat radiating against yours. His movements were fluid, effortless, as he pulled you closer, guiding you as you danced together. The music was loud, the lights flashing in a rhythm that matched the pulse of your heart.

You tried to push down the thoughts swirling in your head, tried to enjoy the moment, but your body responded instinctively to K’s closeness. The way his touch lingered just a little too long, how his lips brushed against your ear when he leaned down to say something too soft to hear.

You were drunk. Or at least tipsy enough that your body wasn’t listening to your mind anymore.

The club was alive, the bass pumping in your veins, but all you could feel was the weight of the bodies around you.

You and K moved together, the chemistry undeniable. He guided you effortlessly, his grip on your waist firm as you swayed to the beat. Your movements were instinctive, body pushing against his as the music grew more intense. The alcohol buzzed in your bloodstream, making you feel light-headed, the world around you hazy, but it was K’s touch that kept you grounded, his fingers brushing along your sides with every sway.

And then, you felt it.

Heeseung’s presence behind you.

It was subtle at first, just the sensation of his warmth, his body just inches away from yours. But then, there was the undeniable press of his chest against your back, his hands slipping around your waist with his usual possessive confidence. His lips were by your ear, his breath hot against your skin.

“You look so fucking good tonight,” Heeseung whispered, voice a soft growl that made your body shudder in response. His words were like fuel to the fire building inside you.

You were dancing with K, but Heeseung was there too, his hands pulling you closer as you felt the steady press of his hardening body against your back. It was almost like a game now. The three of you, caught in this mix of heat and need. K’s hands moved lower, gripping your hips, guiding you closer to him, and then you felt it, beneath his jeans, his hard cock brushing against you with every movement. And then Heeseung’s hands, those strong, steady hands, gripped you tighter, forcing you back into him.

You couldn’t tell who was doing what anymore, their bodies pressing into yours from both sides. The movement was primal now, fluid, as you rolled your hips between them, your body grinding, twisting in time with the music, desperate for more. Your breath came faster, chest rising and falling, the tension building to a point where you weren’t sure how much longer you could take it. You were sweating, like really sweating, strands of your hair sticking to your face as you lifted your arms and let the music and the heat guide you.

K was grinning now, that cocky, almost wicked smirk on his lips as his hands roamed lower on your body. His touch was demanding, not gentle, the way his fingers dug into your thighs, spreading them just enough so he could press closer. He didn’t say anything, but the way his eyes flicked to Heeseung told you everything. He wasn’t going to hold back either.

“God, you’re so fucking hot,” K murmured in your ear, his words sending another shiver down your spine. You were lost in the feeling of their bodies surrounding you, hot, heavy, and insistent. There was no escape from the heat of them, no way to ignore the way they were practically grinding on you. Every part of you was on fire. Every part of you was aching.

Heeseung chuckled low behind you, his lips brushing against your neck as his hands gripped your hips with more force.

“She’s a little eager, isn’t she?”

K’s response was a quiet laugh, his hands now fully on your hips, his fingers digging into your skin as he slid his body closer to yours. You felt the pressure of both of their bodies, their hard chests, their toned muscles, pressed up against you. It was all you could do to hold yourself together as you moved between them, the rhythm of the music driving you, driving them.

You could feel K’s hardness pressing against your stomach, his breath hot on your ear as he kept you locked against him. But Heeseung? He was the one making you lose control. His hands were everywhere now, on your thighs, your waist, your chest. He was pulling you back into him, his body molding against yours as he whispered,

“You like this, don’t you?” Heeseung murmured, now dragging his lips down the side of your neck. “Having both of us pressed up on you. Feeling our hands. Our cocks.”

Your knees went weak.

It was a game now. A dangerous, intoxicating game of power, of control, and you were the pawn caught in between them, unable to escape. The way K moved against you was like fire, hot and reckless, every inch of him demanding more, but it was Heeseung who had you completely under his spell. His hands never stopped moving, sliding up your back, pushing you closer to K, making you press harder against him.

You didn’t know when it happened, but suddenly your body was on the edge, and you couldn’t think. Couldn’t focus on anything other than the sensation of their bodies on yours, K’s rough grip, Heeseung’s possessive hands, and the growing need inside you. The music pounded in your ears, but it was their bodies, their heat, that consumed you. You felt it, you were already soaked between your legs, your clothed core pulsing in need.

K’s lips brushed against your ear again, his voice a husky whisper. “You’re mine tonight,” he said, and there was something dark in his tone, something that made your heart race. “You know that, right?”

And just when you thought you couldn’t handle any more, Heeseung pulled you even closer, his lips now trailing down your neck as his hands roamed lower, squeezing your ass, pulling you harder into him. His breath was hot in your ear. “Don’t worry,” he murmured, low and steady. “You’re going to get everything you need. From both of us.”

Your body was on fire. Every inch of you was alive, and you couldn’t decide which touch you wanted more. The way K’s hands moved on your body, the way Heeseung’s lips whispered against your skin, it was too much. You couldn’t think. You couldn’t breathe.

But one thing was certain: you were going to lose yourself in them tonight. And you didn’t care. You didn’t care who was in control, who was leading, who was following. All you cared about was feeling them, letting them have every inch of you.

The ride home was a blur of city lights and lingering touches.

You were nestled in the backseat between them, legs draped over K’s lap, your head resting on Heeseung’s shoulder. The alcohol had warmed your skin and softened your edges, but your mind was still clear. You were aware, of everything. Every glance. Every shift in tone. Every innocent touch that wasn’t really innocent.

By the time they got you inside, your heels were dangling from your fingers and your laugh was lazy and low. You were still tipsy, still happy about your party, but your mind was somewhere still on the dance floor, with the two men that were now walking behind you.

“C’mon, birthday girl,” Heeseung murmured, brushing his hand down your spine as he guided you toward the bedroom. “Let’s get you out of this tight little dress.”

You didn’t protest. Not even a little. You just let him walk you back, K trailing quietly behind with a small smirk on his face like he was already in on the plan. But you were a little gone to even care, you thought maybe he was just gonna say goodbye and leave.

But then, inside of the bedroom, he closed the door behind him.

Your knees weakened, and you glanced at Heeseung, but he just smiled, like telling you, trust me.

So you flopped onto the bed, dress riding up dangerously high on your thighs. Heeseung stood at the edge of the mattress, tilting his head down at you with that look, the one that always made your stomach drop.

“You comfy, baby?” he asked, voice smooth.

You hummed. “Mmm, kinda.”

Heeseung smiled, eyes flicking to K for a second, like they were on the same page of something you were unaware of, and you swallowed, confused for a second not really knowing what the hell was going on.

Heeseung’s voice slid you out of your thought.

“You look a little hot,” he said, fingers playing with the hem of your dress. “Tight clothes. Warm skin. Too many drinks.” He crouched beside the bed, brushing your hair back with practiced ease. “Let’s help you relax.”

You nodded, not really knowing what he meant. But you trusted him, so you bit your lip as he straigthened in front of you. Then his gaze met with K’s again. He grabbed your hand and made you stand up, your legs trembled — already — but he just chuckled, low, deep.

“Help her,” he said simply, voice thick with something unspoken.

You blinked, slowly turning your head toward K, who stepped forward, slow, measured, like he was approaching something fragile. His eyes met yours, and you couldn’t look away, couldn’t move, barely remembered how to breathe.

“Is this ok?” He asked, like already knowing the answer.

You tried to talk, but you were unable to find your voice, so you just nodded, slowly. His hands reached for you, careful and steady, fingers grazing your shoulders as they slid under the straps of your dress.

You shivered at the first touch.

Your skin was on fire.

The pads of his thumbs were warm as they brushed your collarbones, dragging the straps down, inch by agonizing inch. You watched his hands move like you were outside your body, like this couldn’t possibly be happening. K, your boyfriend’s best friend, undressing you with your boyfriend’s permission, with his blessing.

The straps slipped down your arms and your dress followed, slowly peeled from your skin like a secret being unraveled. It pooled at your waist first, then slipped over your hips as K knelt in front of you, hands steady, eyes flicking up every few seconds to check if you were still okay.

You were.

You were buzzing.

The dress fell to the floor, soft fabric brushing your ankles, and you were left in your tiny black lace set, barely-there panties and a matching bra, delicate and sheer. The air felt different on your skin now, cold in contrast to the heat rolling off your body.

You were so exposed. And they were still fully dressed.

But you didn’t want to cover up.

K’s eyes dropped lower, trailing down your body. His breath caught slightly when his gaze hit your thighs, then your chest. Deep, lustful, sparkly eyes making you squirm, that gaze you knew so well now completely wrecked. His hands hovered, still close but not touching.

“So pretty.”

You flushed, teeth sinking into your lip.

Heeseung stood behind you now, hands massaging your shoulders gently.

“She likes hearing that,” he said, his voice dropping lower. “Tell her again.”

K leaned down slightly, one hand resting on the mattress beside your thigh.

“You’re so pretty, Y/N,” he repeated, eyes flicking up to yours. “I always thought so.”

Your breath hitched. You were so aware of your body now, of the way your skin buzzed under their eyes, of how seen you felt.

Heeseung’s fingers threaded through your hair from behind, tilting your head so he could murmur against your jaw.

“She’s been thinking about this for a long time. Haven’t you, baby?”

You whimpered, nodding. There was no way to hide it now, there was no reason to do so, you were shaking, hot, for them. For both of them. K’s hands had settled on your thighs now, thumbs stroking circles into the soft flesh as he leaned in just a little closer, breathing in your scent, feeling the heat coming off your body in waves.

“Tell him,” Heeseung whispered. “Tell him how long you’ve wanted him to touch you like this.”

Your face burned. You opened your mouth, but nothing came out at first. It took you a second—longer than it should’ve—but when you finally spoke, your voice was small and breathy and real.

“I… I think about it a lot,” you confessed. “More than I should.”

K exhaled, almost like he’d been holding his breath. His grip on your thighs tightened just slightly. He smirked as if he’d known this answer for so long, his fingers felt burning against your sensitive skin, anticipation clouding your mind.

“And you don’t have to think anymore,” Heeseung said, dragging his lips along your neck. “You’re getting everything you want tonight.”

Your hands reached out on instinct, one tangling in Heeseung’s shirt behind you, the other curling around K’s wrist in front. You didn’t know who to touch, who to hold onto. It didn’t matter. They were both here, and they weren’t going anywhere.

K leaned forward slowly, his hands gliding up your sides to rest just under your bra. He looked up at you again, one last time, asking permission without a word.

You nodded, biting your lip.

And he peeled it off of you, slow, steady, every inch of exposed skin kissed by the cool air, your nipples tightening the moment they hit the air.

Heeseung hummed behind you, one hand reaching around to cup your breast, thumb brushing over your sensitive skin while his other hand slid down your stomach. Your head was spinning, not from the alcohol, not anymore, but from the heat building between your legs, the tension coiling tight in your gut, the weight of two pairs of eyes worshiping you like you were something sacred.

You felt your body lean forward without thinking, reaching for K’s shoulder to steady yourself, just so you could feel something, anchor yourself. His hand immediately came to rest on your thigh, solid, grounding, dangerous.

Heeseung’s hands slipped lower, brushing your sides, curving in around your waist.

“You’re shaking,” he murmured against your skin. “You like this?”

You nodded slowly.

“I can’t believe this is real,” you breathed, eyes flicking between both of them.

Heeseung kissed your shoulder.

“It is.”

K’s thumb brushed the inside of your thigh, just a whisper of a touch, but it made you jolt.

“You’re real,” K said softly, voice lower now. “And you’re perfect.”

Your chest rose and fell with shallow breaths, your thighs twitching where his hand rested. You were already overwhelmed, heart pounding heart against your chest, hands shaky and clumsy because you didn’t know what to do.

Heeseung laughed, low and quiet.

“She doesn’t even know what to do with herself.”

“I think she’s just waiting for us to show her,” K murmured, not taking his eyes off you.

You whimpered.

“Lay back for us, baby,” Heeseung murmured.

Your legs felt like jelly, but you obeyed, your body already trained to respond to his voice. You sank slowly into the mattress, your skin prickling against the cool sheets. The room felt too warm and too cold at once, and you were still wearing your soaked panties while the rest of you lay bare, chest rising and falling as their eyes ate you alive.

K stayed at the foot of the bed, just watching, while Heeseung leaned over you, one knee pressing into the mattress beside your hip, his fingers brushing hair out of your face like he wasn’t seconds from ruining you.

“You’re so quiet, sweetheart,” he said with a teasing pout. “Nothing to say?”

You opened your mouth, but nothing came out. Just a whimper.

“Yeah,” K muttered, arms crossed now, head tilting. “She’s gone already, huh? We haven’t even touched her properly yet.”

Heeseung chuckled, and his hand slid down your stomach, pausing just above the waistband of your panties.

“We don’t even have to. She’s already ruined.”

You squirmed under their gaze, hips shifting, thighs pressing together to ease the aching pulse there. But Heeseung tsked, pressing your legs gently apart with one knee.

“Don’t be shy now,” he said. “You were all over us at the club. Remember that?”

“Grinding like a little slut,” K added. “Like she wanted both of us to take her right there on the floor.”

You whimpered, covering your face with your hands. Your skin felt like it was on fire. A wave of shame covered you, too aware, too conscious.

Heeseung clicked his tongue.

“None of that. Hands down.”

You obeyed instantly, blinking up at him with wide, glossy eyes. Your whole face was red, your vision hazy, your lips parted as you tried to look for the air that had left your lungs minutes ago.

“Good girl,” he cooed. Then, he glanced at K. “Come here. Help me with these.”

K stepped forward without hesitation, hooking his fingers into your panties at your hips and pulling them down agonizingly slow. Heeseung leaned back to give him room, watching your expression the whole time. You tried not to squirm. Tried not to breathe too loudly. But when the damp lace peeled away from your core, you couldn’t help the shaky little gasp that escaped your lips.

Your bare pussy was in full display in front of them, and you felt it, soaked, glistening, needy. Their eyes settled between your legs and you almost moaned, they looked like they wanted to devour you.

“Look at that,” K said softly, his voice almost reverent now. “She’s fucking dripping.”

“Messy girl,” Heeseung murmured. “Is that for me, baby? Or him?”

You didn’t know. You couldn’t think. Couldn’t answer. They were looking at you like you were edible, like they were deciding who would bite first. And you had to look away for a second, biting your lip, it was just too much.

“She doesn’t even know,” K smirked, dragging a knuckle slowly up the inside of your thigh, so close. “That’s adorable.”

You cried out, tiny and frustrated, hips bucking just slightly, but they didn’t give in. K’s hand pulled away again. Heeseung leaned down, pressing an open-mouthed kiss to your stomach, then higher, then higher, until he was just under your breast, still not giving you enough.

Your skin felt electric. Too tight. Every nerve was screaming. You could feel the throb between your legs with every beat of your heart, hot, swollen, soaked. Your hands gripped the sheets, trying to ground yourself, but there was no relief. Only them.

“You want something, sweetheart?” Heeseung asked, feigning innocence.

You nodded desperately, biting your lip. You couldn’t think, couldn’t breathe. All you could do was feel, the aching void where their touch should be.

“Use your words,” K said from between your knees. “Come on. You were so brave before. You gonna go all shy on us now?”

You swallowed hard, chest heaving. You weren’t shy. You were ruined.

“I—I want…”

“What?” Heeseung purred, kissing the side of your breast now, his hand sliding lazily across your ribs, not even pretending to be in a hurry. “You want me to touch you? Or him?”

“Both,” you whispered, the word shaky and soaked with desperation. It was the only thing you could say. The only thing your brain could form. You needed them. Both of them. Everywhere.

They both stilled for a moment. Then smiled.

“Oh, baby,” Heeseung said, voice like a promise, “we’ll give you both. Just not yet.”

You wanted to scream. Your thighs clenched uselessly, trying to ease the ache, but it only made it worse. The air felt thick, heavy with sex and tension, and your body felt weightless, like you were floating just above yourself, trapped in a haze of arousal so sharp it hurt.

K leaned in again, lips brushing the inside of your thigh this time—just once—before pulling away. You sobbed out a breath, half a plea. A single kiss. His breath was hot, his mouth barely there, and then he was gone again.

“She’s so sensitive,” K muttered. “Bet one little lick would break her.”

“I know,” Heeseung grinned. “That’s why we’re not giving it to her yet.”

You whimpered, arching up, thighs shaking. Your whole body twitched. You couldn’t take much more of this. Your heart was racing, skin damp with sweat, muscles shaking. You were so close to something, but they kept you teetering, toes curled over the edge with no way to fall. You moned again, hips lifting off the bed in a futile attempt to chase K’s mouth, Heeseung’s hands, anything.

And Heeseung kissed your mouth, slow and deep, just to shut you up. Slow. Deep. Dominant. His tongue slid against yours, catching the little, broken moans slipping from your lips. He swallowed your sounds like they were his favorite thing. He kissed you like he owned you. And in that moment, you were his. Theirs.

Your thoughts had melted into static. Your whole body was shaking with need.

Then K’s fingers inched just a little closer, brushing over your folds, barely, and your back arched involuntarily.

“She’s leaking,” K murmured, sounding way too calm about it. “It’s fucking hot.”

Heeseung smiled, looking down at you like you were the most delicious thing he’d ever seen.

“You like his hands on you, baby?”

You couldn’t answer. Not with words. Just a desperate nod, lips parted, hips twitching.

K’s hand dragged lower again, this time letting his knuckles brush directly over your slit. Just one slow pass. The contact was still light, barely-there—but it had your whole body jolting like he’d shocked you.

“Shit,” K breathed, licking his lips. “She’s so wet.”

“She’s always this wet,” Heeseung said proudly, dipping his head to finally take your nipple into his mouth, hot and wet, his tongue flicking slow. You gasped, arching into his mouth, and that movement ground your hips up into K’s palm again.

He pressed down just a little this time. Just enough pressure to have your legs shaking.

“Such a good little toy, huh?” Heeseung mumbled around your nipple, his teeth scraping softly. “She just lays here and takes it.”

“She loves it,” K agreed, dragging two fingers up your slit now, slow and intentional, but still not pushing in, still not giving you what you were aching for. “So fucking needy.”

You whimpered, your fingers clutching at the sheets, legs falling further open like your body had given up on pretending it had any shame left. There was none. Not anymore.

K leaned down, breath ghosting against your core now, and his fingers dragged back up, this time pausing to roll over your clit once.

You cried out.

But instead of doing it again, he just smirked.

“Sensitive.”

“Baby’s close and we haven’t even fucked her yet,” Heeseung said, switching to your other breast, leaving the first one wet and flushed. “Think we should make her come like this?”

K hummed.

“No. Not yet.”

“Cruel,” Heeseung chuckled.

“She likes it,” K said, eyes on you again. “Don’t you, sweetheart?”

You nodded desperately, tears pricking at your lashes now.

“I—I do.”

“Good girl.”

Heeseung lifted his head and kissed you again, hard, tongue exploring into your mouth, catching the tiny moans you couldn’t stop anymore. While he kissed you, K dipped two fingers down again, slowly sliding between your folds, parting you, but still not going inside. Just stroking the slickness, rubbing over your clit in lazy, cruel circles that made your thighs twitch and your hips jerk helplessly up into his hand.

He pulled away again just when you felt the edge rushing up, again.

“No,” you gasped. “Please—”

Your body wasn’t yours anymore. It was theirs. Your thighs pulled open, lips parted, mind fogged over so thickly you couldn’t remember your own name, just the way their hands moved, the heat of their mouths, their voices curling around you like silk and static.

“Look at her,” K said, somewhere between amused and amazed. “Fucking wrecked.”

Heeseung was sitting beside you now, a slow smirk tugging at his lips as he watched K kneel between your legs again, his fingers glistening with your arousal. They kept doing it. Kept breaking you.

“Touch her again,” Heeseung said softly. “Just like before.”

K obeyed, two fingers sliding up your folds with maddening slowness, stopping right before your entrance. He rubbed your clit in small, steady circles, too slow to satisfy, too perfect to ignore. It was excruciating. It was everything. You sobbed, the tension twisting tighter in your belly, so sharp it almost hurt. Every brush of his fingers felt like electricity, dancing through your nerves, tightening your muscles, building, building, and still—still—not enough.

“There it is,” Heeseung murmured, brushing the hair from your face, his thumb catching the tear that slipped down your cheek. “Poor baby. Thought we’d let you come already?”

You nodded desperately, lips trembling, throat too tight for words. A broken whine slipped out instead, pitiful and raw.

K leaned closer, breath fanning over your drenched heat.

“You’re so close, aren’t you?” His voice was low and sinful, thick with amusement. “I can feel it.”

Your hips jerked up, chasing his mouth with desperation you couldn’t control. You needed more. Needed anything.

He chuckled.

Then he stopped.

You screamed, not from pain, not even from surprise, but from the soul-crushing frustration. It felt like your orgasm had been ripped from your body with both hands. Your back arched, hands clutching the sheets like lifelines, trying to force something to stay, to hold on, to push through. But it was gone. Again.

Heeseung caught your jaw gently, turning your face to his. “Shh, baby. Don’t cry. We’ll give it to you.”

“But you have to earn it,” K added from between your legs, his voice calm, unhurried, dark. “Beg.”

“I am—” you hiccupped, your breath stuttering. Your eyes were glassy, lashes sticky with tears. “I am begging.”

Heeseung tilted his head, lips brushing your cheek.

“Not properly.”

You whimpered, completely undone.

“Please, please let me come—I’ll do anything—please, I need it so bad, I c-can’t—”

You didn’t care how pathetic you sounded. Your voice cracked, thick with tears and lust and surrender. You weren’t playing anymore. You needed them. You were soaked, ruined, trembling, your core throbbing with every heartbeat, clenching around nothing. Your thoughts were gone, lost to the ache.

K pressed his fingers back to your clit, just for a second. You gasped, your whole body jolting like you’d been shocked. The edge slammed back into you so fast it made your head spin. But then—again—he pulled away.

You sobbed, body shaking harder now, mouth open and panting, chest rising in shallow breaths.

“Please,” you cried, voice barely above a whisper. “I’m yours—yours—just make me come, please—”

Heeseung groaned softly, and you could see the heat in his eyes. He loved this. Every broken syllable, every whimper, every drop of need you spilled for them.

“That’s more like it,” he murmured, thumb brushing another tear from your cheek.

“She’s so fucking cute like this,” K said, dragging his nails lightly along your thigh. “Wrecked and begging.”

You couldn’t stop trembling. Your thighs were slick, trembling open and exposed. Your lips were swollen, aching. Your chest heaved with every breath, and there wasn’t a single thought left in your head. Only sensation. Only need.

“You think she’s ready?” K asked, dragging his fingers slowly down your stomach again, stopping just above where you were soaking the sheets.

Heeseung leaned in, kissed your jaw, your cheek, then finally your mouth, soft and filthy, tongue sliding against yours.

“She’s more than ready,” he whispered. “She’s dying for it.”

You nodded frantically, tears still clinging to your lashes. “Please—just let me—please—”

They watched you. Not touching. Letting you feel it, that raw, trembling need.

“You hear that, man?” K said, his tone full of that same wicked playfulness. “She’s begging.”

Heeseung smiled darkly. Then finally—finally—he lowered his hand and pressed his fingers to your clit, hard and fast and perfect.

You gasped, the pressure making you twitch, your hips jerking uncontrollably.

Then K’s tongue dragged a long, slow stroke up your entrance, licking up every drop you’d soaked the sheets with. You screamed, thighs closing around his head, hands clawing at the sheets as the pressure snapped back into place, coiling so tight in your belly you thought you’d explode. Heeseung’s fingers rubbed in tight, relentless circles, precise and brutal, every stroke sparking across your nerves like lightning. K’s tongue flattened against your entrance, licking into you deep and slow, before flicking up to swirl around your clit, fast, wet, hot.

And your body—your ruined, aching, hypersensitive body—couldn’t take it.

You broke.

The orgasm slammed into you without warning. Not a wave. Not a build. It was a detonation, a sudden, violent unraveling that ripped through every muscle, every nerve, every thought you had left. You screamed, loud, wrecked, raw, as your back arched clean off the bed, legs locking around K’s shoulders. Your vision blurred, went white at the edges, stars exploding behind your eyes as the climax consumed you completely. Every inch of your skin burned with it, your thighs shaking, your fingers digging into the sheets, your mouth open and gasping as sobs mixed with moans.

It didn’t stop.

Heeseung’s fingers kept working you through it, dragging it out until it hurt, until your body was twitching helplessly, until the pleasure spiraled so high it blurred into pain and back again. K moaned against you, tongue still tasting everything you gave him, still stroking the softest parts of you until your entire body felt like it was buzzing.

“Fuck,” Heeseung breathed, watching you come apart. “That’s it, baby. That’s what I wanted.”

“She’s so loud,” K muttered, voice muffled between your thighs. “She came so fucking hard…”

You whimpered, eyes fluttering, body still convulsing in tiny aftershocks as your orgasm slowly, so slowly, began to fade.

Heeseung leaned over you again, brushing his lips against your cheek, your ear.

“You did so good for us, sweetheart,” he whispered, kissing the corner of your mouth. “Took it so well.”

K finally pulled back, and your legs dropped open limply. You were soaked, trembling, boneless, your skin damp with sweat, your throat sore from crying out. You felt like you were floating, detached from your body, your chest rising and falling in rapid little gasps.

You were still trembling when they moved. Your body, spent from that first orgasm, had sunk halfway into the mattress, slick and flushed and utterly wrecked. And yet, somewhere in that dizzy, floating haze, you were still aching for more.

Your thighs twitched weakly. Your breath came in short, shallow bursts. Your eyes, half-lidded and glassy, blinked slowly as you watched Heeseung stand up at the edge of the bed.

He peeled off his shirt first, slowly, deliberately, dragging the fabric up his torso, exposing inch after inch of taut, golden skin. Defined lines of muscle rippled with the motion, his abs tightening as the shirt passed over them. His chest rose and fell evenly, a light sheen of sweat catching the soft glow of the bedside lamp.

You didn’t even realize your mouth had parted.

Then K stood too, pulling off his own shirt in a single motion, and you swore your lungs stopped working.

He was just as cut. Broad chest, sharp waist, shoulders so wide they made your throat dry. His skin was smooth and pale in the low light, collarbones carved, veins just starting to raise on his arms. And the way he looked at you, those sharp eyes dragging over your limp, naked body like he owned you, it made something inside you twist painfully.

“Oh, she’s drooling,” Heeseung said with a slow, cruel smirk. He reached down and cupped your chin with two fingers, tilting your face up to him. “You like what you see, baby?”

You tried to answer, but your lips were dry, trembling. A soft, pathetic sound left you instead, half a whimper, half a moan.

“She can’t even talk,” K laughed darkly. “Already so gone, and we haven’t even started.”

Heeseung let go of your chin and reached for the waistband of his jeans, dragging them down over his hips, revealing thick thighs and the obvious bulge straining in his briefs. He stepped out of them slowly, giving you time to look, to take in every inch of him. When he got rid of his boxers, you lost it even though you’d seen him so many times before. He was so thick, so hard, so perfect. His cock was veiny, red tip glistening in precum. Your mouth watered, it had been days since you last tasted him, and you wanted him now.

You couldn’t tear your eyes away.

And when K followed suit, tugging his own pants down, you made a sound, soft and broken. You felt it in your core, in your throat, in the very center of your chest. Like you couldn’t hold it in. He was even more perfect than you’d imagined. His cock was just a little thicker than Heeseung’s, but so close in size, and so hard too, he stroked himself a few times and you clenched your thighs together again.

Their bodies were unreal, built, hard, warm, male in every way that made your thighs clench and your mouth go dry. Every shift of their muscles made you twitch, every shadow dipping into the contours of their torsos made your breath catch.

“Fuck,” you whispered, eyes wide, voice hoarse.

“She’s shaking,” Heeseung said, clearly enjoying every second of your unraveling. “And we haven’t even touched her again.”

K moved closer to the bed, dragging two fingers up your shin, slow and light.

“You ever seen anything like this before, sweetheart?” he asked, voice syrup-smooth and low. Same cockiness as always, but you didn’t care, he was so hot being confident.

You couldn’t answer. Your mind had gone static, short-circuited by the way their skin looked, by the sheer presence of them standing there, cocks hard and heavy, muscles carved like statues and eyes glued to you like prey.

Heeseung sat beside you again, this time fully naked, and cupped one of your breasts in his hand, thumb brushing over the pebbled nipple.

“You’re drooling,” he murmured again, more gently this time. “So fucking cute. You wanna touch us?”

You nodded, barely able to keep your head upright.

K leaned in, brushing a strand of hair from your face. “Then you’re gonna let us take you. Again. And again. Until that pretty little head of yours forgets everything but us.”

Heeseung leaned close too, his hand still teasing your chest, his lips brushing your jaw. You closed your eyes, leaning at his touch.

“You’re going to be good with K, baby?” He asked as K crawled in the bed and kneeled in front of you, until his thick length was just a few inches away from your flushed face.

You swallowed, and he winked an eye at you, that same smirk in his lips. So you nodded, glancing at Heeseung, who now was grabbing your thighs, spreading you open again, face lowering between your legs and you trembled as his breath crashed with you skin because you were still so sensitive.

Heeseung talked against your skin again, hands brushing your thighs, and you squirmed.

“Suck his dick, baby. Just as good as you do with mine.”

You nodded again, slowly this time, eyes flicking from K’s face down to where he knelt in front of you, his expression unreadable but hungry. You could feel his gaze settle over every inch of you, heavy and hot, like he already knew what was about to happen and was savoring it.

Heeseung’s hands gripped your thighs more firmly, holding you open, holding you still. His breath ghosted over your skin and you twitched, still hypersensitive, still trembling from the last time they’d brought you to pieces.

Then, with shaky hands, you wrapped them around K’s length. You stroked him slowly, mostly because you weren’t in your state of mind right now, and he hissed between his teeth, you looked up at him, eyes watering, before stretching your neck just a bit, until your lips met with the tip of his cock. And you liked, slow, wet, dragging your tongue along his member, tasting him, and you almost moaned because — finally—, you’d been thinking about this for such a long time. One of his hands landed in your head, but he didn’t push, yet. You opened your mouth, wrapping your swollen lips around his tip, and you sucked, just a couple of times, salty precum on your tongue. Finally, you relaxed your jaw, he was thick, very thick, so it was hard for you to adjust, but you did anyways, taking him deep until he touched your throat, but you gagged around him, and breathless chuckle let his lips.

Between your legs, Heeseung raised an eyebrow, his fingers brushing your inner thighs, skin soaked because of your recent orgasm, and you twitched, sighing through your nose.

“C’mon, baby, that’s the best you can do? I’m sure you don’t want to disappoint him, mh? Take him deeper, cmon, choke around him.”

You pulled back, chest heaving as you caught your breath, glanced up at K and he was smirking, he raised his chin like telling you, commanding you, to take him deeper. So you sighed again, opening your mouth wide and he grabbed your hair tight before thrusting his hips forward, sliding inside of your mouth with one hard hit, cock all the way down your throat, and you suppressed a gag, tears falling down your cheeks.

“Fuck.” he hissed, not waiting anymore before starting to rock his hips, his thick cock bumping inside of your mouth, the hot flesh on your tongue, saliva falling from the corner of your lips “Such a warm, perfect litte mouth.”

Your throat burned, eyes watering as you adjusted to the rhythm he gave you, rough and unrelenting, like he’d waited forever for this moment. K’s grip in your hair was firm, keeping you steady as he moved, muttering curses under his breath that made your skin prickle with heat.

Your hands dug into the sheets, trying to ground yourself, but there was no escape from the sensation, his pace, his voice, the way Heeseung was still between your legs, watching. Always watching. But he didn’t stay still, no, with a mischievious smirk, he spat, right onto your pulsing core, and you flinched, gagging around K’s cock. You didn’t have time to protest, it was just too much, you were still sensitive, but he didn’t care, he licked long, slow, along your soaked folds, moaning against your pussy, nose brushing your swollen clit, and hands gripping your thighs to keep you spread for him. You whined around K’s length, shutting your eyes feeling your legs tremble.

“Look at her,” K groaned, tilting your face just slightly so Heeseung could see the tears on your cheeks, the dazed shine in your eyes. “She’s taking it so well. Choking on my dick like the dirty bitch she is.”

Heeseung made a sound low in his throat, fingers stroking your pussy, as he moved his tongue in messy circles, his warm tongue making you arch your back,

“That’s my good girl,” he murmured, and your stomach flipped at the praise. He lifted his head, face all a mess of your fluids and his spit, and you rocked your hips looking for more pleasure, for more of his tongue against your pulsing pussy. Whining, mouth still full of his best friend’s cock “So sensitive.” Heeseung murmured, voice thick with something close to awe. “She can barely take it.”

“She’s doing fine,” K muttered, his tone rough. “She likes it. Don’t you, baby?”

You tried to nod, but even that felt too much, your body taut like a wire, nerves overstretched and begging for relief. You felt like you were floating, not entirely present, held there only by the heat of their voices and the ache curling low in your belly.

K then started to thrust his hips faster, rougher, deeper, and you moaned around him as your fingers reached for his thighs for balance, because it was just too much, you couldn’t think straigh, not when he was face fucking you this good, not when Heeseung was eating you out like an starved man. Every touch felt like lightning under your skin. You were trembling again, toes curling against the sheets, eyes glassy and unfocused. Your body was heavy with the weight of everything they’d given you—and everything they still held back.

“Fuck, that’s it. Cry around me like the little filthy slut you are.” K’s voice was rough, deep, bathed in lust, his jaw was clenched, his hand gripped tight in your hair, a vein popping from his neck, sweat falling along his forehead, his eyes dark, fixated on you, on your mouth, how you sucked him sloppy and messy.

“She loves her mouth full of a thick cock.” Heeseung chuckled — actually chuckled— against your pussy, wet sounds of his mouth eating you, and then he shoved two fingers between your folds, you cried out, pulling back from K’s cock as you sniffed.

“P-Please— Too much” you thighs were shaking, every beat of your racing heart matching the pulsings of your soaked pussy in Heeseung’s mouth, and he just ignored your pleas, curling his fingers inside of you as his tongue worked messy over your clit.

“You can take it, c’mon. You wanted it so bad before.”

You whimpered, and K grabbed your hair again and shoved himself inside of your mouth once again, you choked, more tears falling from your eyes as you took him so deep the head of his cock was crashing against the back of your throat. He groaned, letting his head fall backwards as his hips rolled onto your face, faster, rougher.

“You like being used, don’t you? You like when we make you feel small.” He thrusted into your mouth erratically, and you moaned again when Heeseung shook his head and eat you out so good, the knot in your lower belly already building again, and you squirmed, overwhelmed, your whole body aching.

“You’re gonna let him ruin your pretty face, baby? Let him cover you, c’mon, do it K, don’t let her waste a single drop.” Heeseung spat right on your clit and you actually tried to scream around K’s cock.

He didn’t wait anymore. His orgasm came with so much force, hips hitting your face tight as he groaned guttural, his cock twitching and throbbing inside of your mouth. He took it out, warm drops of creamy strands falling on your cheeks, your forehead, your mouth. And you took it, like the good girl you were, because you wanted him to know how much you loved his taste.

“You took me so well, you were born for this baby.” K whispered.

But Heeseung kept working on your pussy, mouth full of your fluids and licking fast and messily around your clit as his fingers thrusted in and out of you. So good, so skilled, so deep. And when he gently reached your g-spot, your body couldn’t take it anymore.

The tension snapped, and the world fell out from under you.

Your back arched off the bed, a cry torn from your lips, sharp and helpless. Everything burned—white-hot and blinding—like your body had forgotten how to exist outside of the pleasure. The wave crashed over you, pulling you under, and all you could do was hold on. Wet strands of fluids soaking the sheets, soaking Heeseung’s face, his hair, his arms, it was a mess and you were shaking and gasping for air.

Your heart pounded, your limbs shook, tears clung to your lashes, and through the haze, you felt Heeseung’s hands holding you down, anchoring you. Kissing your hips like you were something holy. Whispering things you couldn’t understand.

“Fuuuuck. That’s so fucking hot.” K’s chest moved up and down as his orgasm still pulsed in his body, and Heeseung circled your clit slow, like wanting to prolong yours, but it was too much, you were aching, overstimulated.

“You came so much for us baby, you soaked me.” He kissed your inner thighs, and you whined.

“T-Too much, it’s too much—”.

“Poor thing can’t tell if she’s begging us to stop or keep going.” K’s hand caressed your hair, and you closed your eyes. You felt Heeseung moving again, but your body was already failing you, unable to move.

You wanted them to keep going, you wanted them to use you until you couldn’t take it anymore. But your body felt already so weak, you couldn’t ever raise your head, your face still covered in K’s cum.

But then you felt him, Heeseung grabbed your waist, manhandling you without any problem because your body felt so light, and you didn’t protest, you let him flip you over, ass lifted as your knees threatened to break, but you just buried your face in the pillows, arching your back creating that curve you knew he loved so much.

“You said you could take it, didn’t you? You begged for it. What happened, sweetheart?” His tone was sweet, but you could almost hear the smirk in his face.

K just laid by your side, back against the head of the bed, you felt his warm fingers on your body, on your back, on your breasts, on your ass, and you glanced up to meet with his hard cock again, he was stroking himself as Heeseung knelt on the bed behind you, hands gripped tight to your hips, helping you keep balance because you were still trembling.

“Why don’t we show K how much fun do we have, mh? Can you take it, baby? You’re already so fucked, but i know you can. Let’s show him who this pussy belongs to.”

You couldn’t talk, you had already forgot every word in your brain, so you just hummed, weak, low, broken. Because even overstimulated, trembling, body already wrecked, you felt how you pussy clenched needy when Heeseung’s cock brushed your folds, and unconsciously rocked your hips towards him.

“There it is, my greedy little whore.”

And then he slammed into you, with one hard, deep thrust, and you screamed, feeling his thick length stretch your sensitive walls, your pussy aching but clenching around him so good.

Every inch of your body was drawn tight with heat, nerves frayed, mind hollowed out by everything they’d done to you. What they kept doing to you, Heeseung’s familiar and perfect cock inside of you, K’s fingers were slow, deliberate, dragging along your sides like he was memorizing the shape of you, while his other hand still moved lazily over his throbbing cock. He was watching you so closely. Watching the way you buckled, the way your breath hitched each time Heeseung moved behind you and crashed his hips with your ass.

And Heeseung, he was nothing but steady hands and low growls, fingers digging into your hips, holding you like he knew you’d fall apart without him. Like he wanted you to. You whimpered when you felt him press against you again, the heat of him thick and unforgiving. Your knees wobbled, the overstimulation building sharp in your spine. Everything was too much, and not enough.

“She’s gone,” K muttered, amused, dragging his thumb across your cheek. “Completely fucked out.”

“Still moving though,” Heeseung answered, voice low against your back. “Still chasing it. Greedy little thing. She’s clenching me so tight.”

Your breath hitched as Heeseung’s hands slid up your waist, grounding you just enough to keep you from floating away. You didn’t know how you were still upright, your arms had long since given out, and your thighs trembled beneath you, overstimulated and slick with heat. Every part of you was humming, nerves exposed like open wires.

And then Heeseung moved, rougher, fully fucking you now. Just enough to make you jolt forward with a gasp, the motion sparking through your spine like electricity, wet sounds of your skins crashing, loud moans leaving your lips and more tears falling down your face.

“F-Fuck!”

You clung to the sheets, chest heaving. K was still in front of you, stroking himself slow and lazy, gaze fixed on your face, your trembling lips, the dazed, glassy look in your eyes.

“She’s barely hanging on,” he muttered, almost to himself, voice thick with something close to awe.

Heeseung laughed under his breath behind you, fingers curling tighter into your hips.

“She loves it like this. Don’t you, baby?” His voice dipped, almost tender. “All dumb and dripping and so, so full.”

You couldn’t respond, not with words. Just a soft, broken whimper as your body arched back into his grip, your skin flushed and oversensitive. You felt like you were vibrating, like the whole world narrowed down to the slow drag of fingertips across your thighs, the press of heat behind you, the thick cock slamming into your g-spot over and over, the low rasp of their voices echoing through the haze. And then Heeseung’s fingers found your clit again, and you sobbed.

“You feel it?” Heeseung murmured, leaning over you, his chest against your back, lips brushing your shoulder. “How close you are again?”

You nodded, tears clinging to your lashes, and he hummed in approval.

“That’s it, princess,” K said from in front of you, thumb brushing your bottom lip. “Don’t think. Just feel.”

And you did.

You let go. Let the pleasure crash over you like a wave, your body shuddering, breath catching, as you tipped over the edge again. Overwhelmed. Overworked. Completely undone in their hands. Your pussy clenched so tight around him and he started rocking his hips erratically, the sound so obscene, the image of K stroking himself in front of your face.

Heeseung didn’t hold back, he fucked into you one last time and came with a long, loud groan, the veins of his neck popping, his head thrown back, his fingers gripped so tight in your hips that it burned. He spilled inside of you, warm, familiar, so good. His cum filled your insides, and you whimpered when he pulled out just to see how it leaked between your folds.

Your body felt weightless, boneless. You collapsed against the sheets, chest pressed to the mattress, cheek turned to the side as your breath came in shallow, ragged bursts. You could still feel every pulse of your release echoing through you, your skin sensitive to even the faintest touch.

Heeseung leaned down, his lips ghosting over your ear as he smoothed a hand along your spine.

“You did so good for me, baby.” He kissed your temple, slow and sweet, like he hadn’t just completely ruined you.

You felt the mattress shift as he moved, making space. You tried to lift your head, to figure out what was happening, but you didn’t have to wait long.

K was there, his presence a wall of heat behind you, hands already settling on your hips. You trembled, overwhelmed and desperate all over again.

“She’s shaking,” he said softly, thumbs brushing circles into your skin. “She’s so warm.”

“She’ll take it,” Heeseung replied from beside you, fingers tangling in your hair again. “She always does. Won’t you, sweetheart?”

You didn’t trust your voice, so you just nodded. Slowly. Willingly.

K leaned over you, one hand bracing beside your head, the other still stroking along your thigh. His mouth hovered near your ear, his breath making your skin pebble.

“Tell me if it’s too much”.

His voice was different now, low and rough, but gentler. And somehow, that made the anticipation even more unbearable. You felt everything, his touch, the shift of his weight behind you, the slow drag of his fingers down your spine, the tension in your stomach coiling tighter and tighter with every passing second. You were already buzzing, already teetering on the edge again, and he hadn’t even done anything yet.

He flipped you over with so much ease too, as your body was literally floating at this point, and you saw his face, his beautiful face covered in sweat, his hair sticked to his forehead. You just smiled, but so softly, because even that movement was just too much for you. Then K grabbed your thighs, gently, but still tight, pushing them against your chest, spreading you open. You felt your sensitive and overstimulated pussy pulsing again, still leaking Heeseung’s seed. He watched it too, and just smirked.

“So fucking ruined.”

K looked down at you like you were something fragile and filthy all at once, something he wanted to break and treasure at the same time. His chest rose and fell, sheen of sweat catching the low light, and when he leaned forward, your breath caught.

He kissed you, his kiss was different from Heeseung’s. It was dirtier, more primal, needier, messier. Tongue and theeth and spit, and you took it all, moving your lips against his messily because you didn’t even know what your were doing. But his taste was so sweet, his lips so plush, and your pussy clenched again, needy, still.

Your legs were folded high, thighs trembling against your own chest, held there by his strong grip. You felt exposed—utterly undone, and yet so warm beneath his gaze. You could barely meet his eyes when he pulled back.

K’s hands were so big on your legs. Firm. Confident. But he wasn’t rushing. No, he was watching, taking in every inch of you, every tremor, every ragged breath.

“She’s a mess,” Heeseung said from the side, his voice filled with that same smug affection, his fingers tracing circles over your knee. “And she loves it.”

You couldn’t argue. You didn’t want to.

K leaned down, close enough that his breath fanned across your cheek.

“You ready?” he asked softly. “You want more?”

It was ridiculous to nod, your body was already undone, used, spent. But you did. Slowly. Desperately.

He shifted forward, and you braced yourself, your breath catching, hands curling into the sheets, your body thrumming with too much sensation, too much emotion. Every nerve was alive. Every thought was him. Every muscle in your body anticipated the next wave of heat, of pressure, of overwhelming pleasure.

And then he slid inside of you, and you grabbed his arms and digged your nails in his skin, because he was a little thicker than Heeseung, but it felt so good, he stretched your already used walls, and you moaned again, broken, weak. He let out a long groan, shutting his eyes and clenching his jaw, you could feel every vein inside of you.

“So fucking tight and perfect.” His voice was broken too, and he grabbed your hips before thrusting with a strong pace, his cock disappearing inside of your dripping walls, your fluids and Heeseung’s making it so sloppy, but so good.

“She’s that tight even after i used her. She’s fucking perfect.” Heeseung was laying besides you, hands caressing your head like telling you, i’m here.

K’s pace was relentless, but not cruel, just deep, steady, intentional. You couldn’t stop the noise that left you, somewhere between a sob and a moan, as your body rocked with every thrust. You felt so full, every inch of him dragging against your walls, already raw and overstimulated, and yet somehow still aching for more.

Your nails stayed dug into his arms, not even consciously, just gripping, clinging. Your body was fire and static, too much and not enough all at once.

K’s head dropped for a second, forehead pressing into yours as he groaned through gritted teeth.

“God, you feel unreal,” he muttered, his breath mixing with yours. “So warm. So fucking good.”

Your eyes fluttered, your vision blurring, not from tears, not really, just from being so far gone. It was all too much, but you didn’t want it to stop.

You felt Heeseung’s hand still in your hair, soft, grounding, thumb stroking your cheek. His voice was lower now, close to your ear.

“That’s it, baby. Let him feel what I get every night.”

You whimpered, a broken sound, your hips twitching helplessly beneath K’s hands. It was like your body didn’t know how to stop responding, your walls clenching around him like a desperate plea.

K growled low in his throat, hips stuttering for a second.

“She’s pulling me in, Heeseung,” he muttered, almost in disbelief. “She’s so—fuck—she’s milking me.”

You could barely process what they were saying. Everything blurred into heat and pressure and the stretch of him, the way he filled you like he belonged there.

Heeseung tilted your face toward him, kissing your cheek, then your mouth, gentle and filthy at the same time.

“You’re taking him so well. So fucking good for us.”

You tried to say thank you, or more, or maybe just please, but all that came out was a whimper as your body began to shake again, that unbearable, electric pull winding low in your stomach.

K’s pace shifted, growing rougher, not cruel, but urgent, like he was chasing something just as desperately as you were. Your thighs trembled against your chest, the angle making everything feel sharper, deeper. Every time he sank into you, it felt like the air was being stolen from your lungs.

You could feel your body giving out under the pleasure, legs shaking, hands slipping from his arms to the sheets beneath you as your strength began to fail, overwhelmed. Your voice cracked on a moan, high-pitched and broken, because it was too much. Heeseung’s hands came to hold yours, threading your fingers together like he knew. Like he needed to anchor you there, in the middle of it all.

K was watching your face now, eyes low and dark.

“She’s so gone,” he muttered, chest rising and falling fast. “Look at her. Just letting me use her.”

You couldn’t speak, couldn’t think, your mind was white noise, your skin buzzing. It was dizzying, this kind of pleasure, and it kept climbing and climbing.

Heeseung turned your face to his again, pressing another kiss to your mouth, slow and deep.

“You gonna come again, baby?” he whispered, voice like syrup. “Gonna let him make you fall apart for us?”

You whimpered, nodded, whimpered again. Your body was tightening, curling into itself with every thrust, every brush of K’s skin on yours. The pressure building was unbearable, like something divine pressing down on your spine, on your lungs, curling through your stomach like heat and static and hunger.

Then, without warning, it snapped.

Your body seized, a scream tearing from your throat as the climax ripped through you, stealing your breath and blinding your vision. Your walls clenched down around K hard enough to make him gasp, his grip on your thighs tightening like a vice.

You heard them both, soft groans, curses, something between awe and desperation, and then K followed, hips jerking once, twice, and then he groaned long and low as he lost control inside you. His seed filling you up, mixing with Heeseung’s, and you sobbed again, so full, so warm.

Your body stayed arched for a moment before collapsing completely, trembling and limp. Heeseung caught you, K cradled your legs, and you just breathed, fast and shallow, lips parted, every nerve still buzzing like it didn’t know how to stop.

They were quiet now, warm hands running across your skin like they were putting you back together.

Your body was still trembling faintly, every muscle loose with exhaustion, your skin sticky with sweat and everything else. The room had gone quiet now, no more panting breaths or choked cries, just the soft hum of the air conditioning and the faint rustling of sheets.

You felt like you were floating.

Not in that hot, frantic way from before, but in something softer. Slower. Your mind wasn’t spinning anymore, just drifting in the warmth of their touch.

Heeseung moved first. You didn’t even realize he’d slipped out of bed until you felt the edge of the mattress rise slightly. A moment later, the soft weight of a warm towel pressed gently between your legs. You winced a little, flinching from the sensitivity, but then you heard his voice, low, apologetic.

“Sorry, baby. I know you’re sensitive… I’ll be gentle.”

And he was. Every motion was careful, slow. Not clinical, not rushed. Just loving. He didn’t speak much as he cleaned you up, but his eyes never left your face, and his free hand kept stroking your thigh in slow, grounding circles. You realized he was watching you for signs, if you were okay, if you needed anything, if he needed to stop.

K shifted beside you, still catching his breath, but then he was pulling the comforter up around your shoulders, tucking it in gently, like you were something breakable. His hand brushed sweaty strands of hair off your face.

“You ok?” he murmured, voice softer than you’d ever heard it.

You blinked slowly, and nodded.

They moved around you like gravity didn’t quite apply, touching you gently, reverently. Hands stroking your arms, your hips, your face. Heeseung kissed your shoulder. K pressed a soft kiss to the back of your hand.

“You did so good,” Heeseung whispered, climbing into bed beside you again. “So perfect.”

Your throat tightened at that, not from lust, but from something gentler. Something heavier. The praise hit differently now. After everything. You weren’t crying, but your chest ached in that familiar, post-release way. Too many emotions tangled up with the afterglow: love, trust, vulnerability, relief.

You didn’t know what to say, so you didn’t say anything at all. Just reached out, weak fingers curling into Heeseung’s chest, anchoring yourself to him. He was warm. Solid. Safe.

K settled on your other side, his chest pressing to your back. His arm looped around your waist without hesitation, holding you gently but firmly, like he was making sure you knew you weren’t alone.

“You’re shaking,” he said quietly.

You were. Only a little. Not from fear or discomfort, but from the come-down. From the sheer overwhelmingness of it all.

“I got you,” Heeseung murmured. “We got you.”

The words sank into you like warmth through your bones. You closed your eyes, breathing them in. You’d never felt so wrecked and so cherished at once, your body wrung out, your heart full.

You didn’t remember falling asleep.

One minute, you were listening to their breathing, lulled by the rise and fall of their chests against yours, K warm and steady behind you, Heeseung’s heartbeat beneath your cheek, and the next, the weight of exhaustion pulled you under completely.

Your breathing evened out. Your lashes fluttered closed. You let go.

K noticed first.

He glanced down, the softest smile tugging at the corners of his mouth when he saw your lips slightly parted in sleep, your fingers still curled in Heeseung’s shirt. He smoothed a hand down your back one more time, then looked at Heeseung across you.

“I should go,” he said quietly, barely above a whisper. “She’ll wake up and… I don’t want things to be weird.”

Heeseung met his eyes. His fingers were still drawing lazy shapes on your bare shoulder.

“Don’t be stupid,” he said, just as soft. “She didn’t want you to leave before. She won’t want you to leave now.”

K’s brow furrowed.

“Still, it’s her space—”

Heeseung almost laughed, he just fucked you and now he was overwhelmed by being the third wheel.

“You’re my best friend,” Heeseung interrupted gently. “And she… she cares about you too. Don’t overthink it.”

K hesitated. Then looked down at you again, all soft edges and slow breathing, your body tucked safely between theirs.

“You really think it’s okay?”

“I wouldn’t say it if it wasn’t,” Heeseung said, a faint smirk pulling at the corner of his mouth. “Besides, you look like you’re gonna fall asleep any second.”

K rolled his eyes, but his body relaxed, and he let himself settle again, his arm still resting around your waist. He watched you for a bit longer, watched your lips twitch in sleep, your brows smooth, your chest rise and fall, then exhaled deeply.

“Alright,” he murmured. “Just for tonight.”

Heeseung didn’t answer. He just shifted closer, wrapping both arms around you from the front, brushing a kiss to your forehead. And without thinking much more of it, K pressed one to your temple from behind.

Then the room fell into silence again. Not awkward. Not tense.

Just quiet. Safe.

And somewhere in the middle of the night, your body found its way back into both of theirs—Heeseung’s chest at your front, K’s legs tangled with yours from behind—your heart beating steady between theirs.

The three of you, tucked together in the quietest kind of peace.

Wooof, my first time writing a threesome i hope it’s not too bad :( HOPE y’all love it, i’m so weak for these two men

[valalice]

Hello there!! I really love your work! Could I request some older! gf caitlyn with some subtle and soft dominance? Doesnt need to be nsfw [but won’t complain if it is ;))]

It could just be about how she acts with the reader when in public, at home, etc. [i.e: cooking for reader when they’re busy for exams, putting her hand on reader’s thighs when sitting in public, or big spooning reader when they head to bed.]

That’s all. Please remember to stay hydrated and take frequent breaks! Keep being you and don’t overwork yourself :)).

— 🐢

ꪆৎ HEAVEN, HEAVEN. ft. 𝓬𝓪𝓲𝓽𝓵𝔂𝓷 𝓴𝓲𝓻𝓪𝓶𝓶𝓪𝓷.

ʚɞ summary. subtle ways your older girlfriend caitlyn shows dominance towards you.

warnings. fem!reader. reader is in college. age gap (10 years or more). no use of y/n. modern au! where cait is an office worker. fluff. in one headcanon there's a mention of curly hair (it's all for inclusivity and bias tbh—coming from a girl with curly hair). pet names ie: darling, love, baby, ect. smut nsfw. bottom!reader. dom!cait. hair pulling. mommy kink (reader calling cait mommy & cait calling herself mommy). squirting. cait had a bush. reader is a brat kinda. slight exhibition. fingering (r!receiving). orgasm denial. oral (c! receiving). strap (r!receiving). the strap is referred to as cait's cock. not proofread. wc. roughly 2k to 3k

an. thank you for the request, lovie! and i'm happy that you're enjoying my work ☺️ i decided to take this request and turn it into a headcanon format so i hope that's okay! you are too cute with your kind words and i hope you are taking care of yourself, drinking lots of water and eating yummy meals <3 i also decided to add some nsfw headcanons 🙈 so i hope you guys enjoy them. and for any of these headcanons i am willing to expand on them if you guys are interest :) remember to support your writers by reblogging & commenting !

m.list. | arcane m.list.

࣪ ˖ SAFE FOR WORK.

‣ straight away with caitlyn you notice her dominance. even before the two of you started dating and she was courting you, as she'd say when reminiscing with you or her friends on the early stages of you two, she exuded an air around her that's nothing less than confidence, pride, and dominance. she's already tall at 6 foot, but her posture is always upright, her appearance sleek, and she reveled in maintaining eye contact. and before her you usually didn't find people who were overtly dominant attractive, but when it comes to caitlyn it's completely different, natural. it's the way she carry's herself and it rubs off on you.

‣ the first subtle way of cait's dominance you noticed was her ability to make decisions. she's knows what she wants and how she wants it, and that's something you're relieved about, being too indecisive at times. so being able to let caitlyn reign free on decision making was something that gave you peace of mind. and it wasn't that she was a control freak (she kind of is, but that isn't the point), she helps level out the playing field when you're iffy.

"what would you like to eat for lunch, darling? my treat." she ask, clicking on her keys to unlock her car, taking the bag from off you shoulders to hold it in her hand.

"hm," breaking away from cait to walk around her car to the passenger seat, just before your slide in. "i don't really know." you cringe, you couldn't even count on your fingers how many times you've said this phrase in your relationship so far.

you hear caitlyn hum and the sound of her swinging open the back seat door and the shuffle of her setting your bag in the backseat before you enter your seat. she joins you in the driver's seat, clicking in her seat belt, her gaze settling upon you scrolling away on your phone. "would you like to eat out somewhere or pick up fast food and we can take it back to my place?"

your head darts up to look at your girlfriend, lips twisting up, thinking about your options. "i want something good."

that's earns a chuckle from cait, "i know that silly," her hand coming up to boop you on your noise, which caused you to scrunch it and giggle, swatting her hand away. "but what is exactly good?" she presses.

"well what do you think is good?"

"that wasn't the question."

you grumble, "you're so difficult."

"says you." she teases.

"'m always the one who picks. what would you like." you ask turning in your seat towards her as best as you can.

"i'm fine with whatever you'd like. you know that."

biting your lip you think about the choices she gave you earlier. "i think we should go back to your place."

"that's a start. do you have a taste for anything."

"i already answered that."

"darling." she sing songs in a tone similar to a warning.

she starts the engine, finally, and you immediately connect to the bluetooth.

"y'know we haven't had chinese in awhile." she proses, eyeing your expression from the corner of her eye.

"oh, that sounds really good actually."

cait perks up in the drivers seat, "you're usual?"

"yep!"

"alright," she stretches forward to twist the volume nob lower. "i'm going to call it in and we'll pick it up on the way home."

‣ cait also does the general dominate things; like opening up doors of any kind for you when she can, interlocking your fingers when the two of you walk together, walking slightly in front of you at all times as well as guiding you. you secretly love it though when instead of guiding you through a crowd by being in front of you, you love it when she does it by standing behind you, a hand or both hands securely on your hips as she leads you forward from behind. she's also a firm believer of switching places when walking, on the street and you're near the road? she's switching with you. in the parking lot and your facing the intersections? she's using her hand on your lower back to guide you to be the closest near the parked cars.

‣ she will also never let her girl look out of place, so she fixes anything that is "off" with your appearance. like fixing a certain stand of hair, taking that fallen eyelash off of your cheek and raising her finger with the piece of your fine hair on it in front of your lips so you could wish and blow it away, fixing your jacket so it's straight or the neckline of your shirt or dress, the straps of your bra will never be showing when you're wearing thin strapped items as long as caitlyn's around. holding your little compact mirror while you fix up your makeup or reapply your lipgloss. your necklaces will always be facing the correct way. picking off lint or stray hairs from your clothing. and she somehow always notices when your sneakers are starting to untie before your, pulling you aside so she can get on a knee and pat her propped up knee so you can place your foot there and allow her to tie your shoe, when she's done she pats your foot to let you know and she dust herself off before leaning down to give you a kiss.

‣ when out in public she'll usually always keep one hand on you at all times. in a comforting way for the both of you, especially if the two of you will be around her friends or people her age. she knows you get antsy around them and there's anxiety about being the youngest in a room full of older people. so, there will always be a comforting arm wrapped around your waist or a hand in or lap or on your thigh.

you look around the room, there's people you've met before. caitlyn's friends and a few colleagues, but for the most part a majority of them are new faces. and you can't help but feel like everyone is looking at you.

you've never been insecure about being with caitlyn. yes she's older than you, but it's never stopped you from feeling head over heels for her and that feeling overpowers any doubt or insecurity you could ever have. it's the fact that it seems like you're the youngest in the room, there's nothing inherently bad about that. but everyone here is successful, and you're well. . . a college student working a job that has nothing to do with what you're going to school for.

a warm hand snaps you out of your thoughts. lifting your head, caitlyn's already looking at you with a soft expression. "you're shaking your leg, love."

"oh," looking down at the leg with cait's hand on it, still shaking. you stop it on command, focusing your gaze back on your girlfriend.

"are you okay?" she tilts her head, her eyebrows furrowing and the ponytail her blue hair is in swishes behind her, cute.

you give her a tight smile, nodding your head. "hm." you hope you're convincing enough.

caitlyn takes in a breath, breaking her gaze from you to look around the room. "y'know that woman over there went for the same major as you." she points out.

"really?" observing the woman who's talking with a few of their colleagues before turning your wide gaze back to your girlfriend.

"hm. she doesn't do work with it," she pauses, turning her head back to you with soft eyes. "but, what she does now is something she loves."

her hand smoothing up and your thigh, comforting you. "what i'm trying to say is that don't worry about your path right now being different from others around you." she reassures. reaching out to take a hand from your lap to take it in hers, bringing your hand to her lips and pressing a kiss.

flushing at her gesture, "thank you, cait." your voice small enough for only her to hear in the chatter of the room. your hand stays up near her lips and she presses a few more kisses, causing you to giggle.

"there she is." she muses.

you bring her hand holding yours down down into your lap to clasp her hand in between yours. leaning forward, a few inches from her face.

"kiss?"

caitlyn leans forward to meet your lips, not connecting them just yet. "any thing for my darling." she whispers against your lips.

‣ it was also established pretty early that caitlyn is the big spoon in the relationship. she enjoys and you love it. caitlyn also finds it pretty cute whenever the two of you are laying anywhere whether it's the sofa or in bed that you turn your back to her and keep shifting until she notices your moving form, coming up to wrap herself around your backside. not really big spooning but caitlyn enjoys the feeling and pressure of your laying on top of her, always telling you how it grounds her whenever she pulls you along to the bed and flops you on top of her. but you never complain because you find it comforting too, the side of your head press against her soft chest, focusing on the steady rise and fall of it and the buh dumbs of her heartbeat, you usually fall asleep quickly like this.

‣ older gf!caitlyn knows how draining it is to be in college. you get so focused on your education by sainting grades or completing assignments, not to mention the exams. so, she's always doing her best to help you out and make sure that you keep yourself in check rather that be mentally or physically. during hard times where you have midterms or finals or just back to back exams caitlyn will always tell you to not worry about picking up shifts at your job, she already knows you're overworking yourself by studying and doesn't want you to exhaust yourself further by working long hours. because she knows you and that if you could study then work a shift and study some more afterwards you would, but she knows that isn't healthy for you. so she always reassures you by saying that she'll support you financially for a little bit, transfer sums of money into you bank account for rent, bills, groceries, ect. it gives her peace of mind to know that she able to take a weight off your shoulders and provide for you. cait is also an insanely amazing cook and you always rave about her cooking, so she began taking a day out of her week every week to cook you some premade meals. she always comes stocked and ready on a weekend to your place with her tote full of meals to pile into your fridge. and during exam season it became pretty common for you to send time at hers for a few days. she does it to watch over you to make sure you're not running on fumes, but you like to think of her as a built in study buddy for reviews. during these days cait will come home from work to most likely find you at the dinning table studying, she'll kiss you on your forehead, and she'll head straight to the kitchen to cook dinner. as much as you dread exam season you don't dread spending this time with cait, there's just something so inherently domestic about cait providing for you. coming home and cooking dinner for the both of you, it makes your mind go numb. and it makes her feel successful when at night when she drags you to bed and for her to wake up to begin getting ready for work that you're still in bed soundly sleeping and that you didn't sneak off somewhere to study.

"dinner's ready." caitlyn chims, poking her head into the dinning room where you sit.

you lift your head up from your notes to eye her. sniffing the aroma around you. "chicken alfredo?"

"hm. you said something about craving it last week, so when i went shopping i picked up the ingredients."

"you're so sweet, cait." you hum, watching as she exits back into the kitchen. you prop your elbow up the table to rest your head in your hand, eyes flicking back down to your notes. you needed to understand—no—absorb this material into your brain for your exam coming up in a few days. listing off multiple curses within your head for taking this course and major and your professor for being a difficult teacher.

there's crinkling of sheets of paper around you. cait's suddenly bending across the table to organize the scattered papers in her hands. "c'mon, love. you can study a little more later."

fixing your gaze back up causing your eyebrows to raise, dumbfounded as you watched her. releasing your head from your hand to reach it out for the papers. "but—"

"but?" her tone is questioning and harsh. blue eyes narrowing at you.

"just a few more minutes, please, baby. i almost have this down."

you watching her graceful figure walk to the edge of the table where the rest of your materials lie and she places the stack down. she stands tall, placing a hand on her hips. "you can always study some more afterwards," she begins to walk over towards where you sit. "your notes aren't going to miraculously grow legs and run away, love. they'll be here." she assures. you blink and look back down at the notes in front of you, then back up at caitlyn. and for the first time you notice her attire, her hairs in a messy ponytail, still in her work attire but she's discarded her blouse and is only in her under tank top and slacks, she too has has had a long day.

"okay." you agree.

caitlyn smiles, showing off her toothy grin and her front gap you adore. she takes the material in front of you and places it with the rest.

"we're eating at the island. i have a sneaky feeling your cute bum has been sat on that chair all day." she teases.

you stand, bones cracking. your eyes shoot straight to look at cait, the both of you bursting into laughter. the noise proving her suspicions correct.

she sways back towards you, "come before the food gets cold." she muffles out, taming her laughter.

beelining to the kitchen island you sit back down, but now on a high top chair. lifting yourself up by your hands on the counter to eye the dish of chicken alfredo on the other side of the counter.

"looks s'yummy, cait."

"hope it is."

"always is" you correct.

watching as she stands on the other side, empty plate in hand with tongs in the other, dishing up some pasta and chicken.

"good?"

you eye the plate, "hm" you nod.

she heads behind her to the stove where steamed broccoli lies, piling some onto you plate. opening a drawer next to the stove, grabbing a fork and slamming it shut with her hip. she turns around and walks around the island. the clank of the plate landing on the counter, placing the fork down next to it.

"dig in, darling." pressing a kiss into your hair before going to fix her plate.

‣ she takes care of you in softer domestic ways. such as taking off your makeup for you after a long day or a night out with friends. bathing you and carefully washing over you in the shower. washing your hair, even going as far to learn the type of products you use and buying spares for her place so she's always stocked if you happen to spend days at her place and it's a wash day. she even learns how to care for you hair type if you have curly hair, hearing you complain endlessly about the process of washing and styling it, so she'd take it upon herself to observe you and learn so that way she can help and maybe even completely take over the process to give your poor arms a break. a certain domestic thing she does is call her place home. not just her home but your home too. whenever you're spending the night and the two of you out she'll always say "alright, let's head home, love." at the end of it. and it never fails to make your heart skip a beat that she views her space as your guys's collective space. she makes it knows that she's ready for you to move in whenever you feel most comfortable, and the day that you announce that you're ready to live together she is beaming.

࣪ ˖ NOT SAFE FOR WORK.

‣ a subtle way she asserts dominance is maintaining eye contact with you. she relishes in being able to make you flustered from simple eye contact, watching you get all fidgety and stumble over your words. but it's also her silent cue whenever you're acting out in public. a tilt of her head, dark gaze, heavy lids and a narrowed eyes will usually set you in place.

‣ caitlyn knew a lot about herself before she met you, she kept a list of all things she liked and didn't like, and those things rarely changed. but what she didn't know is that she'd find being called mommy so attractive. she knows she can be assertive and demanding at times, always the one with the plan. she was even deemed the "mom friend" when she was younger, but not once in any of her other relationships had anyone called her mommy. and maybe it's because she's never dated anyone, before you, with a large age gap. but the first time the word escaped between your sweet lips it was when cait had you face down, ass up, drooling into a pillow. fucking you at a particular angle with her cock that caused you to go dumb and roll your eyes to the back of your skull. realization didn't strike you when it muttered out, you were too far gone, but of course caitlyn heard it, she hears everything. her hips stilling. "what was that?" you barely heard her question, only worrying about the fact that she stopped fucking you, pressing your hips back to gain her attention to begin thrusting again. "please—mommy." oh. she liked that.

‣ older gf!caitlyn expects nothing but the best behavior of her sweet darling. she finds it intolerable and disrespectful when you decide to be a brat and act out, and when you take it further and push her past her warnings? she's seething. but two can play that game.

cait lets out a laugh along with her friends. the two of you were where at this restaurant for hours now. you didn't mind your girlfriend's friends, you loved and enjoyed their company. but you didn't expect to be here for this long and it's getting antagonizing having to sit and pretend like your understanding anything any of them are saying, especially when cait looks like that, blue hair flowing down her back, dainty silver jewelry decorating her body, in that black silk dress the one with the modest (you don't think do) slit. you begged her to cancel the moment you saw her, but she persisted, and now you're suffering.

she's even been uptight today, shutting down your sly advances, saying something about acting out and wanting to enjoy a night with her friends in a long time when the two of you took a bathroom break. the bathroom break had backfired too, you prosed the question about going to the bathroom hoping she'd shuffle you into a stall and finger you, but that was a bust.

when you peak down to look at the time on your phone you catch something interesting from the corner of your eye. caitlyn's exposed thigh from the slit, her dress is bunched up a little at her waist so the amount of skin showing is more.

your nimble fingers trace down her thigh, smirking at the feel of goosebumps rising on her skin. settling your hand on her thigh, not too far low and not too high, just yet.

cait turns her head to peer down at the hand on her thigh, your pinky rubbing back and forth on the soft skin. then to your face, you flash her a smile and she does the same, pressing a quick peck to your lips before she turns her attention back to her friends. you feel as though a grey gloomy cloud was cast over you in that moment.

in a burst of inspiration you begin to inch your hand high, little by little until a few of your finger tips are dipping past the slit of that dress towards her clothed cunt.

her head instantly snaps towards you, eyes narrowed.

"what do you think you're doing?"

"i want to play." you shrug.

"and i told you not here."

"but i really want it," your gaze on caitlyn growing dark. "mommy." purring out the name so only the two of your could hear it

caitlyn's eyebrows raise in shock before they settle back down, turning her head to see her friends are still deep in conversation. her hand pulling yours from between her thighs. there isn't a harsh grip around your hand but it is tight, and with that hand she pulls you forward.

"fix your attitude and behave. maybe i'll think about touching you when we get back home."

you sit up straighter a grin forming on your face. nodding your head "m'kay." caitlyn squints her eyes at your sudden sudden change, releasing your hand.

a few moments pass by and you're already thinking of defying cait again. this time your hand finds her shoulder. you're bored so you begin to trace shapes on it, but then that gets boring so you start toying with her dress strap.

"stop that." her voice startles you.

you roll you eyes, confidently, because caitlyn isn't even looking at you.

"'m not even doing anything."

"yet." the pronunciation of the word is precise and harsh.

she turns back to you, "you're thinking of doing something. so i suggest before you do, that you don't."

"cait." you whine.

"what's going on with you, hm?"

"i told you."

"you're never this bad in public." that's true, but you've never had to wait this long for your girlfriend to touch you.

"you don't get it."

she eyes you. "no, i think i do," leaning forward her lips ghost yours. "seems as though i've spoiled you rotten which is causing you to act like a little slut in front of all my friends."

her voice dropped to an octive, enacting a reaction of chills down your body, wetness pooling between your thighs.

"be quiet or you won't cum for a week." she commands, pressing a kiss to your lips and refocusing herself.

"wha—"

suddenly caitlyn's hand dismisses the fabric of your skirt to between your thighs. fingers getting to work by rubbing at your clothes clit. you look up to see that cait now has her drink in her other hand, bringing it up to her lips to take a sip. her peripheral vision catching you and flicking her eyes to you, corking an eyebrow up at you.

as she is finished with her drink and sets it down her fingers push past your panties, spreading your legs a little wider to welcome her large hand. slow lazy circles on you clit was all you got for awhile, but it was enough to simmer your ache.

without warning cait bullies a finger into your sopping heat, causing you to let out a loud gasp. the entire table turning to you.

"are you okay?" one of her friends asks.

"yeah. you feeling alright, love?" her voice is laced in false concern. slipping another finger into your greedy cunt, observing your reaction.

you shuffle, looking around the table, then down at your empty plate. you can see cait's hand flexing as she pumps fingers in and out of you.

"uh— none of us has ordered dessert yet! it's not a dinner without dessert," you prose. "hm, right?"

the table agrees, and someone beckons the waiter over.

while everyone is occupied, caitlyn leans forward to your ear. "quick thinking, little one." she praises, watching as the waiter takes everyone's dessert orders. "order up, love."

"and what would you like?" the waiter asks.

biting down on your lip, hard. "hm, what's good?" there was an infliction on your voice from cait pressing her thumb against your clit as she fingers you.

"the molten lava cake is our most popular—"

you cut them off. "i'll take that!" a muffled moan escaped through your mouth, "hmm, sounds very delicious." hoping that saved yourself.

the waiter writes it down on their pad, turning their attention to caitlyn. "and for you ma'am?"

"oh, her and i will share." she confirms.

as the waiter walks off your head turns to cait, glossy eyes boring into her cold blue eyes. "cait—"

"i know" she shushes, she already knows you're close by the way you're desperate sucking her fingers back in. you're not sure if it's all in your head, but you swear cait fingering you underneath the table is causing the obscene squelches from your messy cunt to reverb and echo through the restaurant. to combat the noise you squeeze your thighs around cait's hand, but she persists.

flinging a hand down to grip at the hand between your thighs, you're so close that you don't even care if her friends caught on. not when her slender fingers that spot so deep within that only cait can reach.

just as you legs begin to shake uncontrollably, caitlyn whips her fingers from you needy cunt and between your thighs. grabbing the cloth napkin to wipe off your juices from her fingers, an icy glare is sent your way as she sets it back down, one that tells you everything.

brats don't get to cum.

‣ going back to spooning with caitlyn, she also loves to place you in her lap while the two of you watch tv. your head in the crook of her shoulder and a hand of hers in your hair, playing with it. until suddenly when she was innocently twirling a piece of your hair you'll feel a tug at it, causing you to gasp unexpectedly. or she'll get straight to it, so a her hand will find its way on the nape of your neck, slim fingers threading themselves through the underside of your hair before she yanks, now this will cause you to moan out, head falling back so she's cradling it in her hand. wet lips finding their way to your exposed neck, kissing and nipping away at the sensitive skin. you'll whine out, only for cait to shh you, "let me have my fun, love."

‣ there's something intoxicating about you being naked while caitlyn is completely clothed. the contrast between your crumbling figure and her composure. she also loves seeing how your sensitive body reacts to the feeling of her clothes on your body. her favorite is to press her clothed chest to your bare one while the two of you are messily making out, your nipples immediately hardening. even the way she can feel your slick soaking through her slack covered thigh, tainting the material. it drives her insane when she makes you squirt, your juices all over her button up making the material darker.

‣ when you're particularly needy and need something to shut you up she'll shove a few fingers in your mouth, watching the way your eyelids drop and you focus on sucking on her fingers. on other occasions she'll order you on your knees, grabbing a cushion for them. and she'll strip slowly and teasingly for you.

you watch her hips sway, raking in her naked body. her blue bush in your face and you feel drool pool into your mouth, gulping. a hand comes to your chin, pushing your head up to look up at her.

"you've been needy," she begins. "but, you've also been good. so i was thinking of putting your neediness to use, i want your mouth."

nodding your head aggressively, eyes dropping back down.

"words."

a hand still on your chin tips your head, peering up with wide doe eyes, cait's expression is cold as she stands over you. "yes, use me mommy, please."

her face relaxes and she smiles down at you, "good girl." your chin is released and her hand smooths over the back of your head, pushing it forward.

taking her clit in your mouth, you moan into her. lapping her up, you free your hands from your lap, placing them on her hips to burry yourself further between her pretty thighs. eyes fluttering shut, savoring the taste of the woman standing above you.

"ah, that's it. s'good." cait's noises of pleasure sounds like music to your ears. opening your eyes to view up her body, she truly is a stallion. her eyes are shut, her shirt long discarded on the floor as she toys with one of her breast, her hand still on your head keeping you pressed up close to her, and her mouth is agape.

your wet muscle working away at her, gliding through her sticky folds. slurping up all her arousal, not wasting a drop.

"so—" she begins. but gasp when you take her clit and suck on it. "shit. so," she gasp again, "so eager to please."

nodding into her, not wanting to let up. releasing a moan into her, causing the grasp in your hair to tighten.

"c'mon, love. make me cum," doe eyes staring back into her drowsy eyes as she lazily talks. "make mommy cum."

caitlyn addressing herself as mommy made you clench your thighs, the ache between your thighs becoming very apparent.

your pushed so far into her that your nose is up against her bush, her scent only enhancing your eagerness.

cait begin to slightly rock back and forth in your mouth maneuvering your head so she's practical long dragging her cunt against your face. your finger nails grip into her hips, adding to her movements. her juices dripping down your chin to dip down your neck.

"fuck!" she yelps, her sweet release washing over her shuttering body and you quickly slurp it up.

the grip in your hair releases. when your satisfied you let up, but quickly you place a kiss upon cait's clit, letting up with a mwah. a shiny sheen covering the bottom half of your face, even the tip of your nose.

cait's hand finds it's way on your face once again, but it cradles you jaw this time, thumb swiping over your plump, slick cover lips.

"my baby always knows how to care of me, doesn't she?" she purs, droopy eyes sparkling down at you with a dazzling smile to match.

‣ whenever cait is strapping you she prefers to be gentle with you. it'll take a lot of begging and or pressing your luck to get her to be really rough with you (like the first time you ever called her mommy). she also just prefers it. she likes taking it slow with you whenever she fucks you with her cock, in missionary so she's able to see your twisted up face from pleasure. she's also just a plain sucker for intimacy, the two of you so close that you're not even sharing space the space you two take up is its own completely new thing. everything of the outside world just washes away, and she gets to focus on you and only you. she loves being able to look you in your eye and dip her head in the crook of your neck to litter kisses and love bites across it and down your collarbones to your tits. and she really loves when you cum, your back arching off the bed your chest pressing further into hers, your head falling back, mouth agape and releasing pretty moans and whines of your climax, even your toes curling and uncurling. she eats it up. she loves it. she loves you.

[quietdeparturesarchive]

Tips On How To Get Your Life Together

make a list of your top priorities: Figure out what actually matters to you right now. This isn’t about what you should care about, but what truly takes up your energy—school, your health, building confidence, relationships, etc. Keep the list short (3–5 things max) so you can focus. ‎

create a morning and night routine: Routines give your brain structure. You don’t need a 10-step ritual—just something consistent. Morning = stretch, drink water, check your planner. Night = wash your face, no phone 30 mins before bed, quick journal. That alone is enough. ‎

check in with yourself and journal frequently: Journaling doesn’t mean writing novels. Just note how you feel, what’s bothering you, what went well, or what’s on your mind. Use prompts if you’re stuck. The point is to stay connected to yourself instead of spiraling in your head. ‎

start saving money: Even a small amount every week matters. Start tracking what you spend. Make a savings goal (emergency fund, a trip, new laptop). Try a rule like “save 10% of what I get” or “no impulse purchases until Sunday.” ‎

learn something new every day: It doesn’t have to be academic. Listen to a podcast, read one article, Google something random. Write down one interesting thing you learned to help you remember it—and to remind yourself that you’re growing. ‎

spend time with the people you love: Text them. Call them. Make plans, even if you’re busy. Shared time matters. It’s easy to get caught up in fixing yourself and forget that love and connection are part of being okay. ‎

keep track of your sleep, hydration, nutrition: Start observing how your body feels. Are you getting 7–8 hours of sleep? Drinking enough water (2L/day)? Eating regularly? You don’t have to go full fitness-tracker, but noticing patterns can help you feel way more in control. ‎

list down your stress triggers: What causes you anxiety, procrastination, or overwhelm? Write them down. Knowing your triggers helps you build systems around them. If social events drain you, plan alone time after. If deadlines stress you, start earlier. ‎

clean your room: Your environment reflects your mental state. Tidy up the space where you spend the most time. It doesn’t need to be perfect—just put things back in place, wipe down surfaces, and open a window. It shifts your mindset. ‎

practice gratitude and/or meditate: You don’t have to be spiritual. Just note what’s good. Try writing 3 small things you’re grateful for, or sitting quietly for 5 minutes. It helps your mind slow down and notice what’s okay, even on rough days. ‎

set boundaries: Say no when you need to. Don’t reply right away if you’re drained. Make rules for yourself about how much you give to others. Boundaries protect your energy—they’re not selfish, they’re necessary. ‎

declutter your phone, laptop, etc: Digital mess counts. Delete apps you don’t use, clear out your camera roll and downloads, organize folders. It helps reduce mental clutter and makes everything feel more intentional. ‎

plan 1 self care act every day: Something small, just for you. A walk, skincare, journaling, no-screen time, reading. Doesn’t have to be fancy or expensive—just consistent and kind to yourself.

xoxo, sally

pic1 | pic2 | pic3

[rodolfoparras]

18+ MINORS DNI 18+

Thinking about helping your frat bro sober up after having gotten black out drunk, something that starts off as a kind gesture - a way to ensure he’ll make it to his classes in the morning but quickly turns into a crude prank when he jokingly says he’ll piss himself if he drinks anymore water.

Suddenly you’re tipping the water bottle to his lips and trying to figure out how much it’ll take til he actually pisses himself, while also trying to remember if your phone is still in your pocket.

Once again he asks you to stop says he’s about to piss himself but you just ignore him while promoting him to drink what’s left in the bottle, continuously reminding him he won’t be able to attend any classes in the morning if he isn’t sober. You say it all with a shit eating grin on your face as your free hand fishes the phone out of your pants and the man can’t do anything else but comply, eyes half lidded cheeks flushed and eagerly downing whatever’s in the bottle like a man parched.

Suddenly though, there’s an urgent look on his face as he tries to push you away, says he needs to go, to move the fuck out of the way, but you just tell him it’s okay to calm down, smile growing bigger while pressing down the most sensitive parts of his stomach.

There’s a noise of protest, something along the line of stop man- going ah going to piss myself rolling off his lips as his hand frantically tries to push you away from him. But he’s still drunk, limbs still weak, cant find the strength to push you away from him.

You just continue to press down on his stomach, watching his bleary eyes turn wide, puffy wet lips trying to utter protests you no longer can make out.

Slowly but surely a steady stream makes its way down his pants, with the sweet thing looking absolutely horrified but unable to do anything to stop himself from pissing his pants.

So pretty you think to yourself as you lean closer, to the other man, eyes trailing over his tear streaked cheeks down to where he practically sits in his own piss, all while eagerly drinking in the sounds of the whimpers and whines escaping his lips.

The phone that was supposed to be recording the prank long forgotten on the bed, practically falling off the edge as you lean even closer, now just an inch or two away from his face and when you go to speak you can’t help but shame him, fuck dude did you actually piss your pants? You say as if you werent the cause of this, and laugh in his face, even going as far at to flick his wet cock through his pants.

Suddenly he tackles you to bed, face countered in anger and threatening to punch you in the face if you don’t stop laughing at him,but all you can focus on is the way his wet crotch is pressing onto your own, and the way his attempts at keeping you pinned to the mattress is causing him to directly grind down on your cock, and soon enough he realizes it himself, his eyes falling onto the damp spot he’s caused on your pants, hips instantly halting their movements.

Instead of mirroring the horrified look on his face you flash him a shit eating grin as you thrust your hips up into him “Go on,” you say eyes flicking down to his half hard cock pressing against his soaked pants “ I know you want it,”

[formulafanfics13]

you don’t break a girl like that and walk away clean - MV1 (LH44) - Part 2

Masterlist || Part 1

Summary: One year after the breakup, Max sees her walk into the paddock with Lewis. He realises what real loss looks like. Warnings: heartbreak, emotional aftermath, exes, subtle jealousy, hurt/comfort (but for her, not him), Max x reader (ex), Lewis x reader (current), slow burn tension

It’s been a year. A full year since Singapore. Since the photo. Since the choice.

Max still remembers the way you looked when you asked him to pick. The silence when he said her name. The way your mouth didn’t even tremble when you nodded and walked away. Not a single tear. You just folded yourself out of his life like you were never part of it.

And now, he sees you again. Barcelona. Saturday. Late afternoon sun baking the pitlane concrete. Max is in Red Bull gear, headphones around his neck, a bottle of lukewarm water in one hand, still salty about FP3 traffic. He’s walking toward the garage, head low, half-scrolling through data screens on his tablet. And then...

He sees you.

You're walking down the paddock path like you own it. Loose white trousers, black backless top, sunglasses perched high, hair swept up. Effortless. Dangerous. He sees it before he lets himself register it. The way your hand brushes against Lewis’s as you talk. Not quite holding hands, but something intimate. Familiar. Rehearsed.

Lewis is walking beside you in full Mercedes kit, black tee hugging his chest, smile relaxed, sunglasses on too. He’s showing you something on his phone and you’re laughing. The kind of laugh Max hasn’t heard in a long time.

The kind of laugh he used to think only he could pull from you.

Max stops walking. Just stands there. Lets the rest of the paddock buzz around him. The sun beats down. His grip on the bottle tightens. Toto appears from the hospitality suite. He doesn’t even glance at Max. He goes straight to you and Lewis. He greets you with a soft smile, then kisses your cheek. You say something back, laughing again, like you belong there. Like you always have.

George follows behind. Calls your name like a brother. You squeal and throw your arms around him. George lifts you off the ground, spins you, and says something that makes you cover your mouth in mock horror. Lewis shakes his head at whatever joke he made, but he’s grinning too.

Max watches all of it like a ghost outside glass. You’re not just visiting. You’re home here.

He sees it in the way Toto puts a hand on your shoulder as you walk into hospitality. Sees it in how George offers you his water bottle and you drink from it without thinking. Sees it in the way Lewis slows down as he enters behind you, lets his hand settle against the small of your back, subtle but there.

You’re not new. You’re not a guest. You’re theirs. And Max feels it like a bruise he didn’t know he still had.

Kelly appears beside him a few seconds later, oblivious. Her sunglasses are oversized, her nails fresh, her smile curated. “Ready to head in?” she asks, already looking at her phone.

Max doesn’t answer.

Because inside Red Bull hospitality, nothing feels like that. Nothing ever felt like that. Not even when he was with you.

There was always a power dynamic. Always PR hovering. Always a camera click in the corner of the room. Christian saying things like, “Maybe sit this one out,” or “She doesn’t need to be in the garage this weekend.”

But here? Mercedes is laughing with you. Lewis is looking at you like he already knows what you’ll say next. And Max suddenly hates himself.

He hates how he gave it up. How he couldn’t sit still with softness. How he got scared of someone who loved him too well.

You sit on the sofa in the Mercedes motorhome now, barefoot, one leg tucked under you. George leans on the armrest behind you. Lewis hands you a protein bar, and you pretend to hate it but eat the whole thing. Toto returns from an engineering meeting. Taps your knee lightly and says, “He’s faster on mediums, but he won’t say it unless you ask.”

You grin and go, “Lewis. Mediums. You’re faster.”

Lewis groans. “Fucking knew you’d side with Toto.”

You wink. “I only date smart men now.”

Toto bursts out laughing. George practically chokes.

Max can’t breathe. Because you weren’t even being cruel. You didn’t even know he could hear. But the truth of it hangs heavy in the heat.

You only date smart men now.

Later, Max watches you from the pit wall. Mercedes are running long stints in FP2. You’re tucked behind the engineers, headphones on, dressed casually but moving like you know the rhythm. You glance down at the screen, say something to one of the strategists, and everyone nods like it makes sense.

Because it does. You were always clever like that. Strategic. Analytical. But Red Bull never let you close to the decisions. Max never let you in on the real stuff. He was too busy shielding you from it. Too caught up in image, in control.

Lewis doesn’t shield you. He brings you in. Max sees it in the way he passes you the notepad, lets you scribble, then shows Bono like it’s gospel.

You’re different now. Or maybe just unleashed.

When Max walks past after the session, he doesn’t mean to look. But he does. Just once. And you see him. It’s quick. But it’s real. Your eyes meet. Not cold. Not cruel. Just unreadable. Like the kind of calm it takes months to build. Like therapy. Like a life without him.

He wants to say something. Anything. But your gaze flicks away before he even opens his mouth. You turn back to Lewis. He’s leaning close. Grinning. You say something and he laughs. Your hand brushes his. He squeezes your thigh.

Max walks faster. Back in the Red Bull garage, Christian tries to give him a quick update. Max doesn’t hear a word. Because in the space of a single day, he’s finally fucking got it.

You’re not broken. You’re not wounded. You’re worshipped. And he’ll never touch you again.

[yoomiwrites]

Silly idiot

Summary: (gn) Reader tends to forget everything – like eating, for example. Lucky for them, they have Marco. Well, and Izo.

Note: Another one of my favorite characters. I just want to hug him and never let go.

✦═════✦═════✦

The sun was brutal, but the sea breeze almost made you forget it. Almost.

You were perched near the ship’s railing, arms lazily draped over the wood, watching the waves roll by. Time tended to slip away like that when you were out at sea — one job leading into another, one task turning into five.

And like always, in your focus, you’d forgotten the basics: breakfast skipped, water untouched, skin bare and soaking up more sun than any human ought to.

"Yoi."

The soft voice came from beside you, and you barely turned before something nudged against your arm — a bottle of water. Marco, as casual as ever, leaning on the rail beside you, eyes half-lidded and distant like the conversation wasn’t even happening.

"You’re gonna dry out before we hit the next island," he mumbled, the faintest curve at the corner of his mouth.

You blinked, a little dazed, but your hand moved automatically, taking the bottle. "Oh. Right. Thanks."

It wasn’t the first time, either.

You’d started noticing it, barely — how sunscreen would randomly appear near your hammock when the sun was merciless, or a plate would quietly end up beside you during lunch rush, even though you’d never asked.

But you never really thought much of it. Just friendly crewmates, looking out for each other. That’s what the Whitebeard Pirates did, right?

It wasn’t until later that day, when you sat in the shade below deck, rubbing aloe onto the burn you should have prevented, that Izo sauntered over. His steps light, his grin sharp as ever.

"You know," he started, folding his arms, "if Marco babies you any harder, people are going to start asking when the wedding is."

You paused mid-rub, blinking at him. "What?"

Izo’s grin grew, clearly enjoying himself. "You think people haven’t noticed? The water, the food, the sunscreen. The ‘oh look, another hat for the sun mysteriously appeared’ routine." He leaned in slightly, lowering his voice. "He’s been hovering over you for weeks, dummy."

Your stomach did a strange little flip, the memory of each ‘coincidence’ clicking into place all at once. The water bottle. The hat. The quiet, unspoken way he always showed up right when you needed something, before you even realized you did.

Izo leaned back, satisfied with your stunned silence. "It’s cute, really," he added, tapping your shoulder with a single, perfectly manicured finger. "Very Marco."

Later, you found yourself back on deck, eyes scanning the ship almost on instinct.

And sure enough, there he was. Leaning against the mast, casual as ever, the late afternoon sun painting gold across his hair, one eye cracked open, like he’d known you’d show up.

No words passed between you at first. Just a long, quiet glance and then, in his usual, quiet way, he lifted his hand and held out a bottle of water.

Your fingers brushed his when you took it this time, lingering a little longer than usual.

"...Thanks," you murmured, a little softer. A little more aware.

His lips tilted up, easy and relaxed but there was something knowing behind his eyes.

"Anytime, yoi."

The next morning...

The sun had barely crept over the horizon, the deck still kissed with that soft, sleepy kind of light. Most of the crew were still knocked out from last night’s drinks or patrols — all except the early risers. And one particular phoenix.

You spotted him leaning against the railing, coffee mug in hand, eyes fixed on the pale sea stretching ahead.

And for once, you weren’t the one running on empty.

You’d been up earlier. On purpose.

Awkwardly filling a small tray in the galley with things you’d usually forget for yourself — water, fruit, some food you vaguely remembered him picking at when he actually ate, and the smallest bottle of aloe (because even a man who burst into flames probably needed something for sun-exposed skin, right?).

You felt like an idiot holding the tray, hovering near him, standing there a good ten seconds before you even managed to speak.

"...Hey."

He turned his head slightly, one brow raising in slow curiosity. "Yoi?"

You cleared your throat, trying not to sound as awkward as you felt.

"You’re always looking out for me," you mumbled, offering the tray out with both hands, eyes darting everywhere but his face. "So... I thought maybe I should return the favor for once. Or at least try."

For a moment, all you heard was the creak of the ship and the soft wash of the waves against the hull. Then you dared a glance up.

His expression wasn’t teasing, or even smug. Just something warm and slow and — unmistakably — fond.

He set his coffee down on the railing, and with a little tilt of his head, took the tray from your hands, fingers brushing against yours with deliberate slowness.

"You noticed, huh?" he murmured, voice low, the hint of a smile curling at the edge of his lips.

"Thanks to Izo," you muttered, cheeks heating, but there was no sharpness behind it — only a quiet flutter, sitting heavy and real in your chest now.

Marco set the tray aside on the railing, but didn’t step away. His hand lifted instead, fingers brushing the line of your hair back — the same easy gesture he always did when your face had gotten a little too much sun. But this time, the touch lingered, his thumb lightly skimming your cheek before pulling away.

"You didn’t have to do all this," he said, voice soft. "But I’m glad you did."

You swallowed, voice barely a whisper. "You didn’t have to look after me either."

"Didn’t feel like I had a choice," he replied, gaze flicking lazily to the sea and then back to you. "Some people just make it too easy to care, yoi."

And just like that, the silence wrapped around you both — the comfortable kind, not the awkward one you’d expected. The kind that settled between two people who finally understood where they stood, without needing to spell it out.

A little later, Izo was lounging nearby, perfectly shaded, manicure pristine, and smirk sharp as ever. You barely had to step onto the deck before his voice called out, sweet and sing-songy:

"Well, if it isn’t Marco’s favorite little project."

You nearly tripped over your own feet.

"I’m not—"

But before you could string together the world’s weakest defense, a familiar shadow stepped into view behind you. Marco. Lazy posture, slow smile, that usual feather-light presence that somehow still managed to make your heart trip over itself faster than your feet ever could.

"Project, huh?" Marco echoed, eyeing Izo casually as he crossed his arms. "That what you’re calling it?"

Izo’s grin only sharpened. "What else am I supposed to call it, dear? You practically wrapped them in bubble wrap the past few weeks. And don’t think I didn’t see that little tray this morning. Adorable, really."

You flushed, throat locking up, unsure whether to defend yourself or pretend you were busy counting seagulls.

But Marco didn’t miss a beat. Didn’t even blink.

"Yeah," he said, voice as smooth and relaxed as if he were talking about the weather. "They’re important to me. I care about them."

Izo blinked. Once. Twice. You could actually see the way the words settled, cutting straight through his playful little jabs and landing somewhere unexpected.

"...Oh," Izo muttered, his perfectly crafted teasing expression faltering just enough for you to catch the rarest sight of all: Izo, genuinely caught off-guard.

Marco tilted his head slightly, eyes cutting toward you now — open, calm, clear.

"I’ve never been shy about what I want," he added, voice low, a hint of affection pulling at the corners of his mouth. "And I want them."

Your mouth went dry, your heart somewhere around your throat.

Izo, now fiddling idly with his earring to cover his own sudden fluster, waved a hand. "Well. I... wasn’t expecting that much honesty before dinner."

Marco only chuckled, easy and warm, before glancing back toward you. His gaze softened, fingers brushing lightly against your arm — steady and sure.

"Now you know, yoi."

And as much as Izo was still trying to recover his usual sharp tongue, the moment had already shifted. It wasn’t a secret. It wasn’t hidden in gestures or teasing anymore.

It was real. Clear. And all yours.

After dinner, the sky was painted dark, scattered with stars, the kind of peaceful night that made the world feel smaller and closer. The sea rocked the ship in a soft, lazy rhythm as you sat at your usual spot by the railing, your mind still looping the words Marco had so effortlessly dropped earlier.

"I want them."

Simple. Blunt. No hesitation. You’d been chewing on it all day, and now the silence was deafening.

You heard his footsteps before you saw him, the slow and steady kind that didn’t rush, didn’t need to. Marco always moved like the world would wait for him.

"Yoi, there you are," he said softly, easing down beside you like it was the most natural thing in the world.

You fiddled with your fingers, heart thudding somewhere between your chest and your throat. He waited — patient as ever — until you finally managed to glance his way.

"So..." you started, barely a whisper, "About what you said earlier..."

One brow arched slightly, a flicker of amusement in his gold-blue eyes. "You mean the part where I told Izo I care about you, or the part where I made it pretty clear you're mine if you want to be?"

Your face burned. He was giving you no room to hide. But your throat didn't lock up this time — not fully.

"I wanted to tell you... I feel the same." Your voice was small but steady, hands awkwardly gripping the railing, trying to anchor yourself against the flutter storm in your chest. "I’m just... not very good at saying it."

A low hum rumbled from him, the kind that felt like velvet and heat all at once.

"You just did, yoi," he said softly. His hand reached over, fingers curling gently under your chin, lifting your face until your eyes met his.

"That’s more than enough."

And then his lips brushed yours, soft at first, slow and warm — not rushed, not demanding — just the kind of kiss that let you feel every quiet thing you hadn’t been able to say out loud.

When he finally pulled back, you stayed close, nose barely a breath from his. You could still feel his hand lingering at your jaw, thumb grazing your cheek.

But before you could fully melt, his voice dropped — lower, smoother, that smug edge returning like it had never left.

"Yoi... You do realize," he murmured, lips ghosting along the shell of your ear, "if you wanted a little more warmth, you only had to ask."

You blinked, heart stuttering at the clear teasing laced in his voice.

"I happen to have endless supply, you know. Phoenix perks."

You swatted at his chest, half laughing, half flustered, and Marco let out a quiet chuckle, leaning back just enough to flash you that cocky, easygoing grin.

"See? Much better when you don’t overthink it."

[nostalgiclittlespace]

My Guide to Chasing away the Sads

(TW: Depression, mentions of SH and ED)

Nest. Moving around takes energy but boredom is not your friend. Gather everything you’re going to want or need, and settle comfortably.

Have a sweet treat. I have a major sweet tooth, and dessert always manages to cheer me up. Indulge yourself!

If you don’t have the energy for anything I else, then it’s perfectly okay to scroll through social media or watch TV. However, if you feel up to engaging with your hobbies, I would recommend them over idle content, as they are more efficient in cheering up.

If you are more inclined to watch something, though, I recommend having a YouTube playlist dedicated to things that make you laugh. Shorts from comedians, animal videos, TikTok compilations, fandom animatics—absolutely anything.

Rewatch comfort shows and movies as well!

Learn something new. It’s so easy to fall into boredom and shame, but learning something new is a great and productive distraction. With YouTube and internet articles, it’s something you can do from bed too. I love researching my hyperfocuses, since they are a sure fire way to get the dopamine flowing again.

Make a vent work, such as fic, art, diary entry, or just an imagined story line. I do this all the time, just as a way to outlet and process my thoughts. There is something so therapeutic about it. To me, there is something incredibly therapeutic about personifying depression, watching a character who embodies myself work through trauma, etc

Talk to friends or family. Whether it’s for a distraction or support; talking to others is really important for mental health.

Just let yourself feel it. It’s okay if your regression is impure; there’s nothing wrong with processing and feeling your emotions. If you need to cry, have a tantrum—whatever. You are a strong and wonderful person, even when having negative emotions.

Just remember to take care of yourself during this time; even if you are feeling at your worst, you deserve love and kindness. Eat properly, drink enough water, sleep, etc.

If you are struggling with SH or an ED which are triggered during this time, it’s especially important to take care of yourself. You don’t deserve to hurt. You are worthy of love. Let that love start with loving yourself and keeping up with the body you’re in.

It’s the most overused line ever; but you aren’t alone. We have such an amazing community here, filled with people who experience a lot of the same things: regression, trauma, depression, anxiety, queerness, and so much more. You are strong and capable, and I’m so proud of you for making it this far. I love you and I’m sending you so many hugs and much encouragement your way. You got this, friend, and I’m here for you!!!

Love, Marty 💗

[amourluvie]

YOOOOOO I LOVED YOUR FIC OF "Twst Housewardens as animals", will there be any part for the vices? :0 If so, I will be faithfully waiting for it to arrive, remember to drink water and don't torment yourself if you don't have ideas, they will arrive on their own :D

-🔮 anon

YES OFC (and OMHAGAGA yayaya I have anxew anon(⁠≧⁠▽⁠≦⁠))

𝘛𝘞𝘚𝘛 𝘝𝘐𝘊𝘌 𝘏𝘖𝘜𝘚𝘌𝘞𝘈𝘙𝘋𝘌𝘕𝘚 𝘈𝘚 𝘈𝘕𝘐𝘔𝘈𝘓𝘚 ᨶᯃྀི✿

𓊆ྀི notes . . . first twst rq yippee! Also so sorry for the very long wait!!:( putting rook first because why not + PLEASE SENT TWST REQUESTS I AM WILLING TO SELL MY SOUL FOR THEM

𓊆ྀི currently listening to . . . You are my music by hi - posi

𓊆ྀི characters . . . Rook hunt , jamil viper , lilia vanrouge , trey clover , ruggie bucchi , jade + Floyd leech ( not adding ortho since idk how to write for him )

ROOK HUNT . . . as a afghan hound

- your dog who's literally fascinated by everything he lays his eyes upon! he truly seeks the beauty in every part of life, but sometimes you need to keep him in control whenever he is interested in something or someone because he won't stop bothering them! However he gets sad whenever you do that so please give him headpats to soothe his poor heart. But the most terrifying incidents that happened which included him is the times you woke up in the dawn of night,thinking someone is watching you when it's really just your furry bestfriend, big eyes staring into your soul.

JAMIL VIPER . . . as a cobra

- your extremely selfless snake who is sometimes hard to read sometimes , hes most of the times calm and reserved in his terrarium, he appreciates affection but not too much, specially on public when he's infront of his golden retriever friend, who goes by the name kalim because he knows kalim will talk his ear off about how sweet and loving his owner is! and whenever he gets the chance to showcase his tricks that you taught him,he will back down and hiss in response which indicates a immediate rejection. you really don't know why your viper acts like this.

LILIA VANROUGE . . . as a fruit bat

- ah yes your cheeky and "friendly" bat who loves to scare you on purpose by either appearing hanging upside down on the most random times to startle you. I mean you can't really blame him can you? It's fun plus seeing your reaction makes it even merrier for him! But he can be a serious bat sometimes, which is shocking to say atleast. He once poured a whole bag of salt inside the soup you were cooking,tarnishing the taste completely. You swear he was grinning when he saw you taste the soup and scrunch up your face in disgust. To him it was the best soup ever! He is the best cook ever known to batkind! Or faekind.

TREY CLOVER . . . as a hamster

- your extremely helpful and laid back hamster who always is there for you whenever you need something, TREY is like jamil in way , always calm and reserved , he also has a strange fixation on making you take care of his dental hygiene at all times and always forces you to take care of yours too! he also always watches you bake and hands you ingredients he thinks the recipe needs to elevate it more , and it really does help.

RUGGIE BUCCHI . . . as a hyena (well no shit)

- your sneaky and clever hyena who is troublesome at times , not letting you eat in peace unless you give him some of your food to him to feast on. Even if you don't give it to him he will just ran up to you as fast as he can and steal it right from your hands ( lovingly ) , he loves getting spoiled with both affection and gifts given by you , happy noises leaving his mouth as you rub his head (in the middle of his ears) , which indicates he's happy ! I mean he's always happy with his owner. ( Well not when your not sharing your snacks with him, he has one sided beef with you now until you feed him something nice. )

JADE LEECH . . . as a moray eel ( who could have guessed ong )

- when you first adopted him alongside with Floyd , he put up a fake persona where he was just a kind and soft eel unlike Floyd who was causing chaos everywhere , and then later you started to find out that he's actually a pretty devious eel , just like his twin brother. whenever you held him he had a tight grip on you , if you tried to pull him out of your hold he would bite lightly , enough for some crimson drops of arterial blood to come out when all Floyd did was just squeeze your hand. But both of them could be helpful and smart at times surprisingly, scaring off any people they find suspicious or people you hate.

[rhadamanthes]

Private show. JeanxreaderxEren

word count : 4,7k

warnings : modern au, arranged marriage but reader still has a boyfriend on the side, jealousy, boys kissing, lots of praises and pet names, handjob, cum eating oral sex fem receiving, fingering, squirting, slight overstimulation, double penetration same hole, nipple play, after care, non protected sex.

author's note : had this fic on my mind for a while now i have a full lore for it, not very detailed here but maybe i'll write more, it's my first time wrting smut in a while so a threesome was not really a smart choice but i'm kind of proud with how it turned out let me know what you think about it and enjoy!

Part 2

There is no place like home you think, as you finally inhale the familiar scent of incense in your apartment.

Not that the honeymoon was bad but you wished it was with someone you actually loved.

"Eren! No airport clothes on the couch, are you crazy ?" you squeak ushering him to stand up

"You know for someone who's not my real wife you sure do nag me like one"

"Very funny just go clean yourself up then you can sprawl all you want, anywhere you want "

His answer is drowned by the ringing of the door bell. Who could that even be when you landed just a few hours ago. Exchanging a look with Eren you plead him to take care of it. As the good husband he is, he makes his way to the entrance mumbling in the process of course what you can only imagine is curse on your name.

The ajar door  reveals the man you wished you were married to, the man you wished  you had spent the last two weeks with... Jean. You heart start beating faster at the sight of him and you rush to the door, trapping him in a tight hug

"Ew just let me get out the way at least" Eren protest but it doesn't matter you are finally reunited with Jean you missed his scent and the way his body feels against yours,

"Hi baby" you smile, giving him a quick peck. He smiles back, hiding his face in your neck, inhaling deeply.

"Jean ! I haven't showered yet!"

"Who cares?" he groans, pressing harder in your skin. You giggle at the muffled sound of his voice.

"Anyways, I got something for you, come on in" you turn making your way to the luggage you left near the couch. You only notice now that Eren left the room, in the distance you can hear the water running good, 

"A gift from your honeymoon just for me ? That is way to kind"

You shake your head not even bothering to look back at him. 

"I brought gifts for everyone. I'm just cool like that, you know ?" 

You tap the floor next to you inviting him to sit and help you find the package in the mess that are your multiple suitcases.

At the same time Eren re enters the living room a towel around his waist as he dries his wet hair with a smaller one.

"Your gift for ponyboy is in my suitcase, remember how you bought so much it wouldn't fit anymore ?" he chuckles sitting on your other side, working down the zip of the said suitcase,

Both of you exchange a look at the first item displayed, one of his shirts is rolled up in a very distinct wine glass shape. 

Upon your first night of the trip you went to a restaurant, finding yourself obsessed with the glasses they used for the drinks : cut in the form of a seashell . Eren went to the staff  asking if you could bring a pair back to the hotel as a newlyweds gift; it didn't work but they agreed on giving you one single piece in exchange for a couple bills. You laugh at the memory and so does he.

From his spot Jean feels nothing but pure jealousy, of course he knows this is not a love marriage. Both your dad's made an agreement for an arranged marriage showing an united front as their companies are going through a crisis. 

But still, seeing you laugh with another man, exchanging knowing looks and private jokes makes his eyebrow knit a bit. There is nothing funny about a shirt in a suitcase. You're wearing another man last name for god's sake. Mrs Yeager-Smith enough to make him barf. On top of that the bastard is shaped like a god.

If anything Jean wishes this wedding could be over in a few months and not a year like your father mentioned. A wave of relief hits Jean as your husband leaves, announcing he'll be napping for the rest of the day. 

You dig a little velvet box from the suitcase, giving it to Jean with a shy smile. The content reveals a gold ring with your initials engraved on the inner part.

"I figured you might as well have one" you laugh, second thinking about the choice of your gift.

Jean's lips crashes into yours in a deep kiss, ushering you closer.

"I love it, thank you" he murmurs after breaking the kiss.

You caress the stubble on his chin, eyes locked with his. "I love you."

A warm sensation spreads through his chest.

ˏ⸉ˋ‿̩͙‿̩̩̥͙̽‿̩͙ ‿̩̥̩‿̩̩̥͙̽‿̩͙ˊ⸊ˎ

A few weeks have passed since you got back from your honeymoon. Your life came back to normal, well almost. You jungle between your public relationship and the private one, it is hard at times, you wish you could hold Jean hand whenever you want, not second guess every one of your actions. Part of your consolation is that you get to see your friends all you want. 

Right now, you are at practice with Annie, the two of you go back to kindergarten. You've been doing ballet with her ever since. Needless to say she's not happy with your current condition, you haven't stretched the whole time you were travelling, you're a bit stiff and it shows.

"I can't believe you had all this free time and didn't even take advantage of it" she exclaims, pushing your leg deeper on the wooden bar.

"It was a honeymoon Annie not a bootcamp" you wince, muscle crying under her assault. 

"Yeah yeah  I know, a very romantic trip"

You're about to snap back at her when you hear your boyfriend's voice coming from the netrane of the room.

"My savior" you dramatically says rushing to meet him in a hug.  "You came at the right time, she was about to kill me."

Annie shakes her head left to right, greeting Jean with a wave of her hand. 

"Just come earlier on monday and tuesday we will stretch together you should come to normal quick."

"Okay boss I'll do that, Bertholdt not here yet ? Want us to drop you off ?" 

"He'll be there in five he made a detour for Reiner"

"What a gentleman picking up his boyfriend and girlfriend" you feel Jean's shoulder shake with laughter next to you and you can't help but follow him. 

Annie is giving you a death stare, you wrap your arm around Jean'susing him as a human shield. "Well we better be on our way see you " blowing kisses her way tou rush to the elevator. 

The ride back to your place goes smoothly, you tell Jean about practice and the gossip Annie filled you in with while you were away. Soon enough you find yourself walking to your doorstep. In the distance you can see Eren sitting on the floor. 

"Forgot your keys again ?" you extend your hand for him to stand up. 

"Yeah we really need to give the concierge a spare." you laugh, the three of you entering the duplex. Eren hand on the small of your back.

You and Jean are in the kitchen, cooking up a meal for tonight he's been quiet ever since you guys got back. 

"You know the honeymoon really got me to know Eren better, I think you two would get along well" 

"Why would I want to befriend your husband ?" His tone is harsh.

"Come on Jean, it'll make everyone's life easier and you're bond to see him anyway"

"What do you propose ? me and him flying out to the Maldives ? "

"Hmmm I was thinking about a threesome actually" 

A beat of silence fills the room.

"You're serious ?"

"Deadly, and don't tell me you didn't think about it. I saw the way you looked at him the other day" his cheeks glow pink at your words: got him. "This could be an icebreaker and then you two go on friendly dates. What do you think" you say tracing his arms through the clothes. "Once we've seen each other naked we won't have a lot of secrets left, but if you're not down for it I'll understand"

You're treading on thin ice. Jean expressed his desire to experience new things some time ago. This seems like the perfect occasion.

"Ok, but you tell him that this is a one time thing I don't want to share you for the rest of my life"

"Roget that" you seal the deal with a kiss. 

After Jean left you went to Eren with your offer, needless to say it didn't take a lot of convincing for him to agree.

ˏ⸉ˋ‿̩͙‿̩̩̥͙̽‿̩͙ ‿̩̥̩‿̩̩̥͙̽‿̩͙ˊ⸊ˎ

The day has come, Jean is sitting on the edge of the bed farther away from you and Eren. He wants this you know it, he must be uncomfortable that's all, so you take matters in your hands. Approaching him, from up close you can see a faint pink glow on his cheeks. 

 Ever the embarrassed boy.

 The thought makes you smile.

"Looks like someone here needs to relax," you whisper, running your lips horizontally on his ear. 

He's been your boyfriend for as long as you remember, you know everything about him, weak spot included.

"Come on baby don't you want to loosen up so we can have fun ?" As you speak Eren's hand starts to feel Jean hips slowly unbuckling his belt.

"Y-yeah i'll do that "  he answer lifting his hips slightly so his pant can come completely off 

"Good" Eren mumbles, as he explores Jean's penis through his boxer. You take it as a cue to intensifie the torture, sucking his lobe into your mouth.

The strained moan he lets out tell you everything you need to know. 

Jean feels like he's levitating, Eren's hands are not as delicate as yours but the roughness adds something to the  up and down motion applied on his cock. Combined to the way you're feasting on his ear he can't help but-

"God that feels good" he feels your lips curl in a smile against his skin you must enjoy that too.

"I understand why she likes torturing you so much now, you are pretty when you squirm" Eren's words add to the fuel.

"Shut up" not very convincing, his cheeks are burning now

"Gladly, I do not want to miss a pretty moan out of you Jean "

Fuck is it so obvious that he runs on praises ? All this attention gets to his head. When you first proposed the three-way he wanted the focus to be on you, there is nothing he enjoys more than pleasing you, being at your service, but he can't deny that this feels pretty good . His head falls back, closing his eyes with a deep groan. You move from his ear to his neck sucking and biting while one of your hands rolls his nipple between soft fingers. The two of you are going to kill him.

His hips start to move on their own, thrusting into Eren's hand as his release approaches. With every stroke the sensitivity increases and makes his mind go blank a little bit more. The tingling sensation rises from his balls and through the cock. 

"That's right Jean, let it all out"  And he does, spilling his seed all over Eren's hand as your saccharine voice guides him through the edge. 

Feeling Eren's hand unwrapping from his dick, Jean opens his eyes again and straightens his head. On the right time he might add, You're licking the semen off Eren's skin while staring at the long haired boy in his eyes. Eren is staring right back at you with a devilish smirk on his lips.

"Dirty girl" you snicker at his remark reducing the space between your bodies, you kiss him languorously, you want him to taste Jean, after this night is all about sharing. He's hesitant at first but soon enough his hand locks you in place by your hair, tongue invading your mouth licking all over. Spit is drooling at your chin. The whole deal feels dirty but it feels good.

The kiss is needy and full of frustrations.  It is a long awaited relief. You two never had physical contact with each other over the four months you lived under the same roof. Apart from the public apparition of course but this is nothing like the fake affection you show the tabloids.  You break the kiss scared to get lost in the way it makes you feel.

"Alright my turn" you say excitedly sitting on the edge of the bed you kick your panty off quickly, the cold air of the room hitting your cunt makes you realise how excited you already are. Eren waste no time spreading your knees to be able to sit between your legs on the floor. You turn to Jean, who looks like he is still coming down from his high, 

"Get to work" You nudge him with your foot.

"Yes ma'am" 

The two men are now on their knees between your legs. On the left Eren's head is resting on your thigh, biting softly while your flesh as he observes absently minded your pussy. Jean lifts your right leg to rest it on his shoulder, kissing it tenderly. 

"What a sight" you exclaim. "Come on, don't be shy guys, I'm all ready for you."

As the reactive dog he is, Eren dive face first in your cunt lapping at your clitoris. Jean scoffs at his behaviour.the reaction makes you laugh." What ? you're going to let him steal your food ?" the words come out strained  due to Eren's ministrations, he sure knows how to use his tongue. And fuck, he's skilled with his fingers too. They are not as long as Jean's but he is curling them at the perfect angle . Not trusting your body to hold you anymore you lean back on your forearm appreciating the spectacle from afar.

Jean has entered the dance, getting into Eren's rhythm so that your bundle of nerves is never left unattended. their eyes are boring into yours, feasting on  your every reaction. You can't take it anymore, laying completely flat on the mattress you let out a breathy moan, eyes shut in pleasure. This is what heaven must feel like. 

The new position gives them more access to your body, the slenders fingers of your boyfriend travel down to the rim of your anus. his index circling slowly the puffy flesh.

"Please" you hum, arching your back of the bed, gentle perspiration starts forming on your lower back "Please my love"

"You want it inside, doll ?" you nod your head hoping he'll get the message."There you go" he purrs against your skin. Entering your tight rim prodding at your spongy walls. As he resumes his assault on your clit.

Jean and you never went as far as anal penetration but from time to time you enjoy his finger wandering there. 

You barely control the moans you let out anymore, it all feels too good, your brain is getting mushy from all the pleasure you feel, you know your orgasm is approaching. You take a fistul of whoever hair you can ,grinding your hips against their faces.

"Guys, i'm gonna cum"  you feel beads of sweat on your forehead.

They hum against your wet cunt, the soft  vibration it gives is too much for you to handle. Electricity courses your  clitoris, spreads  through your whole body, down to your toes and fingertips in sweet, sweet relief. 

Kisses are left on your slit, fingers retriving from your holes. A lazy smile creeps on your face. The bed dips on your left a large hand pet on your forehead and the crown of your hair. "You've done good" it's Jean's voice. You open your eyes to kiss him and you realise, it's the first time you feel his lips against yours since the beginning of the night.  

Slowly, your thighs close on themselves sore to have been spread so wide for both of them to fit in between. Eren is still sitting on the ground, he places your legs over his shoulders before suctioning his lips to your clitoris. Still sensitive from your orgasm, you jolt straightening up.

"Eren!"

"Just a bit more i want her all to myself" 

You don't have enough energy to fight him so you let him do as he pleases, back colliding with the mattress. Lewd noise comes from his spot, he wasn't lying when he said he wanted it all for him, when he was sharing with Jean their tongues were flat against your mound, he is now full on slurping on it pointy tongue flicking over it. The rapid motion makes you twitch,  hips lifting off the mattress. Your nerves are on fire and you already know that you won't last long this time.

"God Eren" you moan gripping Jean's forearm for support. 

Jean's lips trace your jaw up to your temple.

"Come on princess on more so we can fuck you properly yeah ? "he croons searching for your eyes, you nod your head absent mindly. You need to be stuffed soon or you'll go crazy The thought of having their cocks inside of you makes you whine out loud. "You're making me hard again baby"

"I am? "Taking your right hand Jean makes you feel his erected cock. "Jean I need it" your eyes start to tear up in frustration.

"I know love, just a bit more i'm ready for you" he englobe your hand, making you squeeze his penis lightly. 

The sweet talk makes you want to grant his wish, he's been sex deprived for a while now, between the honeymoon and your new life, you two haven't had the time to see each other as much as you usually do. You call his name, feeling a new orgasm approaching. 

Eren must feel it too, encasing his face deeper in your cunt. Your eyes close shut and the familiar sensation runs through your veins. the knot in your belly snaps once more tonight, legs thrashing around your tormentor's head. The saccade moans coming out of your mouth makes you sound like a broken record. 

"Good job baby, good girl" Jean praises, as you feel eren collecting the arousal that has been leaking down your inner thigh the loud slurping noise coming from him gives you no doubt on what he did with it. 

"I think she's ready now" you can hear the smile in his voice, you open your eyes, drowsy from your second orgasm of the night. Eren is standing on his feet licking at the remnant of your cum on his digits. You kick him playfully, what an arrogant bastard he is. Eyes roaming down his figure, you notice the tent in his pants, god, it must be painful for him, you and Jean came at least once but not him, you feel bad. 

"Come here Eren" you straighten back up tapping the empty side of the mattress, he obliges.

Fishing down his pant you start to stroke his cock slowly but he grabs your wrist

" I want to cum inside of you not in my pants like a teeanger"  taking his word in action he positions himself in the middle of the bed, head resting on your silk pillow. A sigh of relief escaping his lips. "Mind if I take the spot from under Jean ? I want to see your girlfriend tits bounce in my face"

"Suit yourself, I can have this view all I want"  you scoff at their childish bickering. Turning around, you extend your arm in front of you to stretch your back in a cat like manner before crawling to straddle Eren's legs. 

"I hope you're not only about barking, I'm very needy tonight" you taunt getting rid of his pants, his cock spring free taping against his lower abs. 

"Is it to your liking my pretty wife ?" He takes it in his hand, rubbing it along your belly. At the same time you feel Jean positioning himself behind you, his warmth seeping into your skin.

"Hm not bad " you say, running a finger on his already wet tip "What do you think Jean ?" 

"I've seen better" you giggle, grabbing his chin to steal a quick kiss. Jean pushes your back slowly, until you're flat against Eren's chest. "Now let's have some fun."

Jean rubs his cock against your entrance, you put your hands on Eren's shoulder in anticipation. You feel the familiar stretch of Jean's dick inside your pussy and  let a relieved sigh.

"Lift your hips for me baby hm ?" you do as you're told knowing what is about to come..

Jean grabs Eren cock by the base, running it down your slit until he finds his own cock, pushing against it. Your jaw goes slack at the pressure you feel, nails digging in eren's skin.

"Look at me, baby you can take it" Eren pets your hair to get your attention, locking your eyes with his, you nod, digging deeper in his shoulders. 

 You feel every inch of his dick filling you up and gasp once it is fully inside of you.

"Good girl" he plants a kiss on your forehead 

"You're feeling alright ? " Jean asks hugging your mid section to get you closer to him again 

"Hmm I don't remember ever been this stretched before but... it kind of feel nice" you giggle 

"Coming from a ballerina I'm flattered," Eren laughs, caressing your thigh in a soothing manner.

Both you and Jean huff at his remark. The moment you have waited all night is here you start to rock your hips back and forth in search of an easing feeling. Soon enough you find your pace, and pleasure in the process as wetness produces salacious squelching sounds against their skin. Eren hands are clenched around your hips now, calling your name in soft moan. Jean is slowly thrusting into you, seating himself deeper and deeper inside of you.

Leaning down on your husband you bite his jaw.

"Come on Eren fuck me, I'm asking " you beg in the most sultry voice you can muster kissing his lips softly. You want, no you need to feel them ramming inside of you at the same time. 

He opens his mouth and closes it, deciding he'll show you instead of talking.You balance your weight on your knees giving him enough space to move his hips. The grip on your hips intensifies as he starts fucking his cock inside your cunt.

"Like that ?" you nod, biting your lips. The sensation is unmatched. while Eren is pumping in, Jean stops remaining inside, stretching you wide. You feel yourself losing control, hips going still. as your head falls back on Jean's shoulder, moaning out loud you leave it to them to make you feel good.  "Do you like how her pussy feels, Eren ?" he can only grunt in response, brow tight on his face."Come here" confusion can be read on his face but he nevertheless obliges.  Jean grabs the back of his head, locking him in a heated kiss. 

Fuck that's so hot, out of them two you wouldn't think that Jean would be the one to iniciate the kiss but it makes you smile. He's really getting into it, you whine being left out. Eren breaks the kiss, redirecting his attention to your neck biting and mumbling all sorts of praises, while Jean pinches your nipple. All of this care makes you feel like your brain is melting.

They start to go back and forth, Two different temperatures, two different sizes, two different rhythms sometimes simultaneously pumping.  It is the first time you acquire this feeling of fullness. 

You're a squealing mess at this point, letting them use you as they see fit. Their penises heads are grinding up against your g spot you're close to cumming but there is something else. You feel  like you need to pee.  

"W-wait I feel weird" you don't have the courage to say it out loud.

"Fuck, I knew it from when I was eating that pussy, you're gonna make a mess baby?" you hide your face in the crook of Eren's neck too ashamed to answer. "Come on doll, all over me make me yours" he starts to thrust faster, almost pistoning inside of you.

From behind Jean calls your name, hands travelling south to your clitoris applying circular motion on the abused bud "You heard him ? we'll cum with you, just make the call" his motion intensifies building up even more tension in your body then you thought was possible. Another wave of heat crashes over you. 

You cum till I'm numb like a rag doll, your warm juices squirting everywhere between your bodies, even on the mattress. The force of your orgasm makes you collapse on top of Eren, bodies crashing on the bed.

"That's my girl, I'm so proud of you" he chants peppering kisses on your lips "We're gonna come inside of you yeah I don't want you to waste a drop baby" you can only nod, feeling sleep taking you away. 

True to his word a few seconds later the two men empty themselves, coating your walls with their semen. Their breaths are heavy, Jean hovers on top of you kissing and rubbing at your sweaty back. Inches by inches Jean pulls out, laying next to your nested bodies. 

"Took it so well darling, you're the best"  a weak smile crawls on your face,  Jean lifst your body from Eren's positioning you on his lap as he covers your face in kisses.

You wish you could feel this state of bliss all the time, loved warm and totally fucked out but the sweat drying out on your body makes you feel a bit gross.

"Hm, can we go shower ?" you ask, locking your arms behind his neck. As an answer he clamps your thigh around his waist making his way to the bathroom.

"You weren't so bad yourself Jean" you hear Eren's voice trailing behind him then give Jean's bare ass a spank. Your chest shakes with laughter as Jean grumble curses in your hair.

The hot water dripping on your sore body feels like a resurrection, the three of you are standing under the ceiling faucet  taking a moment to appreciate the relaxing sound. Your trio starts to clean themselves and each other.

"Can you wash my hair ?" Eren inquiries, you nod smiling at his tired voice.

"Well you two braid each other's hair I'm going to change the sheets" Jean steals a kiss from you. He visibly hesitates to kiss Eren but he hands up slapping the back of his head. A faint groan leaves his lips.

"My poor baby come here" you giggle, starting to massage the soapy liquid on his scalp. 

Once cleaned and dried, Eren carries you back to the bedroom. Your body hit the soft mattress and the scent of lavender floods your nose, you hum in bliss. 

"Here" Jean says, offering one of his t-shirts for you to sleep in. He throws one at Eren too and you climb under the sheets, eager to fall asleep squeezed between your husband and your boyfriend. 

The room is dark and you bid them goodnight when an idea crosses your mind.

"Wait guys there is one last thing i want to try" Eren flick the light on giving you a curious look. 

"Anal ?" you roll your eyes hitting his shoulder. You lift your shirt revealing your breasts.

"Come on each of you got one" Jean laughs, happily sucking a nipple into his warm mouth, following suit, Eren does the same. You close your eyes feeling them hardening in their mouth. The tugging sensation relaxing you deeper in the mattress You could easily fall asleep like that. You really do have it all tonight.

[alastorss]

a/n: hihi @bri22222 !! tumblr for some reason ate your ask in my inbox but here is the cat demon!reader taking care of sick alastor request you sent <3 i hope you like it!

⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆

You had taken it upon yourself to become Alastor's own personal nurse when he got sick, despite his outspoken displeasure in being babied.

He was an Overlord, for god's sake, and one of the most feared at that. There was a certain irritation in him when you would show up to his room (which didn't even have a bed in it until he fell ill and you decided to push one in yourself, much to his dismay).

You'd sport all kinds of goods; warm jambalaya, his own mother's recipe, that he would deny even though he was itching to eat it. Some cough drops that tasted horribly of sickly sweet honey and lemon. Fresh boxes of tissues since he was going through them faster than you could imagine.

The worst of them all was when you would show up at the foot of his bed with little rodents, eyes wide and expectant for praise that would never come. Then you'd settle in his bed, curled up in his lap like you owned the place, and fall asleep.

While the warmth was nice, which he would never admit, and he liked the feeling of his hand smoothing down the hair between your set of drooping feline ears, he's not sure how much more of this he can take.

"You know," he starts one day when you sit at the edge of his bed, straightening out the duvet as you do. "I do wish you would stop fretting over me."

"You're sick," you deadpan. "And you took care of me when I was sick. At least let me return the favour."

He grimaces, remembering how miserable you looked when you caught a nasty flu a few months ago. Who knew cats were so pitiful when sick?

"Really, dear, it's fine! I was just helping a friend."

You frown, unconvinced. "And I'm just helping you back! Come on, you can barely go downstairs to get food by yourself."

"I'm perfectly fine!" He mutters between his grit teeth, smiling bordering on baring his fangs at you. Unfortunately, he doesn't do a very good job at intimidating you. Not after you've already seen his soft side of clinging to you like you're his personal heater.

Of course, his cursed demon body decides to betray him at that exact moment and he falls into a coughing fit, sputtering as he rakes in sharp breaths of air.

You're quick to climb over the bed to him, straddling his lap and forcing him to drink from his glass of water. He glares at you but drinks without refusal.

Alastor is the Radio Demon. Owner of souls. Entertainer extraordinaire. Yet here he is, taken down by a pathetic fever and being coddled by his favourite feline.

He carefully pinches your tail to get you to pull away from him, yelping in the process. "I'm fine," he hisses. "I don't need your help. I don't need to be taken care of!"

Your ears flatten against your head at his tone and you scramble off of his lap, cowering like a wounded animal.

For a moment he feels a flash of remorse, or whatever feeling has replaced what would be guilt in that black heart of his. He even considers opening his mouth to say something more reassuring. But then you scurry out of the room and slam the door behind you. His ears ring from the echo of it, then deathly silence follows.

Alastor reaches over to drink from his water glass on his own, only to realize it was knocked over in the commotion.

⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆

He counts the days that pass, subconsciously or not, and feels his smile shrinking by each daylight.

Sure, he was quick to temper, but he had never lashed out at you before. It's an awful feeling that sinks into his stomach, making him dread what's to come when he fully recovers.

Worst of all, he was wrong. He does need your help.

It was peaceful at first and he enjoyed the silence that came without your company. However, he hadn't realized how accustomed he had grown to your ambient presence.

How had he never realized you were so loud when you made your entrances, or that you purred ever so slightly when he scratched just behind your ears? And was he really so weak that he was thinking of apologizing? He can't stand the idea that he may have frightened or hurt you.

It used to be so easy for him to sit with his own thoughts. Nowadays it's hard without getting to hear about your day or getting to fluster you with his incessant teasing.

He's cold, too. He would gladly let you fetch him a hundred rodents if it meant getting to hold onto you in his sick state.

On the fifth day, he decides he's had enough. The demon doesn't even bother knocking, instead opting to materialize from the shadows and jumpscare you from behind.

"I'm..." he seethes through his teeth, eyes thin and twitching.

You tilt your head at him curiously, prickled hairs flattening back down as confusion replaces your adrenaline. "You... what?"

"I'm sorry," he finally manages to get out, though it comes strained and awkward. Still, he swallows his pride and avoids your eyes while he continues. "I was wrong."

You stare at him blankly for a few seconds, intrigued by the sight of such a powerful Overlord trying to do something as uncharacteristic as apologize. In the end, you can't contain your laughter.

He glowers at you as you topple over in your bed in a fit of giggles, wiping away the tears in your eyes.

"Oh, you sap. Come here!" You sit up and open your arms wide, a big, cheeky (and smug) grin spreading across your face.

Grumbling, Alastor shuffles into your bed and collapses into you, effectively crushing you under him. You don't seem to care, arms tugging him closer and tail brushing over his body.

"You missed me that much?"

"One more word out of you and I am leaving."

"Aww, so that's a yes?"

The Radio Demon only sighs, heavy eyes drifting shut in your warmth.

"Don't get it twisted, dearest. I will not be thanking you for putting rats in my sheets every morning."

~

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