#<- what a cool string of words

[afriendofblahaj]

The first few words of this video are sick as fuck, and literally the very sentence is better than the last. What a video

Some screenshots:

And then he goes “the electronics hidden inside the tv were adversely affected by the plasma channel” like hmm could it perhaps be related to the fireball coming out the top???

[workplacecomedian]

[tma/tmagp] Hmm. I was clicking around wikipedia and this page feels, um. Horribly familiar. Quoted:

Knowledge Ark

"A knowledge ark (also known as a doomsday ark or doomsday vault) is a collection of knowledge preserved in such a way that future generations would have access to said knowledge if all other copies of it were lost.

Scenarios where access to information (such as the Internet) would become otherwise impossible could be described as existential risks or extinction-level events.

...A knowledge ark would have to be resistant to the effects of natural or man-made disasters in order to be viable. Such an ark should include, but would not be limited to, information or material relevant to the survival and prosperity of human civilization."

And arguably less related but just as concerning:

"If a species was sequenced before extinction, its genome would still remain available for study."

So...if a living chronicle of terror found itself separated from the world it carried its knowledge for...knowledge that is relevant to the survival of fear itself...hm.

When would an Archive become an Ark?

[mrehkka]

Dib meets one of the tallest in person and uh... is actually rather awed. He kinda gets it now. Zim is like "see?! the tallest are great!"

The story that goes with this is that Dib becomes ill, but oddly, with a somewhat rare Irken disease (stemming from a long term complication from when Zim's PAK attached to him way back when, it messed with something internally in Dib's body). So Zim takes Dib along with him to meet Red, to get Dib some Irken medicine/cure. Red has a huge crush on Zim so he tends to give him whatever he asks for (or gives him SOMETHING anyway, if he can't give him what he wants), and Zim knows this, although maybe a little in denial about the actual crush part.

aka: the "Dib gets to visit Irk and experience a bunch of Irken Culture" fic :D

[starpros-sunshine]

I think the reason I'm so uncomfortable in conversation with cis men is because in my life the image I've grown up with is that from the American movies and while there's so much to be said about how women in those are basically objects or exclusively love interests or just Really Really forgettable I feel like there's also something to be mentioned about how most of these men are all the same pseudo-tough-guy character that's cool and suave and sexy and the only emotion he's capable of is nonchalant banter (it feels worth mentioning that the American movies I'm referring to are all from the last century I have no idea if that's changed in these last years but a gut feeling tells me no) and I also barely talk to the guys from my grade so the result of kind of growing up with that is that I just genuinely can not imagine real cis men with a complex inner emotional landscape. Maybe this is also an empathy thing but I genuinely can not imagine most cishet guys doing normal people things in their free time that aren't gaming or going to the gym or...idk. making music too I suppose. It's quite comical really but I just can not imagine cishet men with interests or doing stuff like having crushes and it's so strange because I know for a fact I am generally speaking not a sexist person but this little tidbit of apparently just not being able to view cishet men as normal people? Can't get that to go away even if I logically know it's silly. There's a point in this post about how toxic masculinity is a huge issue and affects even those not affected by it and runs really really deep or whatever but I'm too tired to coherently put it together. On the positive side now I get really happy when I see men online talk about how much they love their wives and all that because it's like "wow! Crazy you really are just a normal dude and not some James Bond knock-off like I thought every cishet man was supposed to be! Thank god!"

[omaldosecul0]

things that make me love this world

[quarterlifekitty]

cw: dubcon, manipulation, babytrapping?

You ask Alpha!Gaz to spend your heat with you because he’s so chill. He’s always treated you just like one of the guys— since day one. Never once mentioned your designation, because he doesn’t care about that kind of thing, right? So when you ask him why his teeth are at your throat he smiles and laughs like you’re being silly, and says “I’ve been courting you for as long as I’ve known you, love.”

You ask Alpha!Soap to spend your heat with you because he’s so promiscuous. He’s slept with everyone on base, no strings attached, no broken hearts— obviously he’s a man who knows how to keep it casual, right? But when you’re pressed against him, stuck on his knot, he’s rubbing your stomach and asking “How many pups ye want, bonnie? Ah was thinkin’ we’d have a proper big family.”

You ask Alpha!Ghost to spend your heat with you because he doesn’t really seem to like anyone. Not the type to form attachments. Won’t give any part of himself to anyone, right? But he keeps you prone and pinned with his massive body, oriented so he can watch the door, grunting “You’re mine now, understand? Anyone who tries to get between me and my mate s’gonna end up torn apart.”

You ask Alpha!Price to spend your heat with you because he’s your commanding officer. He’s always been calm, cool, and completely professional with you. He wouldn’t compromise the structure of the team over some biological event, right? But he’s panting, tongue soothing over the fresh mark in your neck, telling you he’ll have a talk with your landlord once your heat is over about breaking your lease. “Gotta get you moved in with me, darl’. Pups’ll need more space to run around. What color do y’want the nursery?”

You ask Alpha!Nikolai to spend your heat with you because you trust him, but you don’t exactly have a relationship. You work with him some of the time, and he’s a good man, but he lives across the globe. He wouldn’t disrupt his globetrotting lifestyle to settle down with some omega he barely knows, right? But he’s cooing honeyed words in your ear that you can’t understand, one hand pawing at your abdomen while the other is at your throat, rubbing your gland and bringing the blood to the surface in preparation for his bite. “Imagine the look on John’s face— when he sees I’ve poached his prettiest little sergeant for myself…”

[ripcupid]

━━━ ★ something special . . . !

୨୧ literally just sevika fucking u in silco’s office, what’s the something special? SHIMMER STRAP OFC

୨୧ word count: 2.2k

( I’m ovulating so don’t mind 2 fics in 1 day)

୨୧ shimmer strap fanart if you’ve never seen it

“Just such a pretty girl, aren’t ya?” Sevika praises softly, making you nod as you rest your head on her muscular thigh, looking up at her with your pretty eyes as her mechanical hand comes down to gently stroking your hair. “Yeah, you were such a good girl tonight, didn’t complain not once. I think you deserve something special, don’t ya think?”

“Yes, please, Sevika,” you whine, lifting your head as you eagerly anticipate her “something special”. Sevika smirks at your eagerness as she reaches down, slowly unzipping her pants to let her shimmer strap string out. Your eyes go big at the sight of the glowing purple toy, chewing on your bottom lip as you stare at the size of it.

“This what you wanted, baby?” She asks, wrapping her hand around the base, already knowing the answer by the way you never take your eyes off it as it stands proudly between her legs. She lifts your chin, tearing your eyes away from the toy to make eye contact. “I asked you a question.”

“I want it so bad, Sevika, been waiting all night,” you whine with furrowed brows, your voice filled with desperation and need, whimpering when she squishes your cheeks together.

“You know what you gotta do first though,” Sevika chuckles lightly, guiding your awaiting lips closer to her cock, “give it a kiss, baby.” You comply eagerly, pressing a sweet soft kiss to the tip of her cock, looking up at Sevika with pleading eyes.

You kiss down the length of her cock, your tongue peeking out to trace the ridges. Sevika's grip tightens in your hair as you continue to worship her cock, a low laugh escaping her lips. "You like my cock, don't you?" she teases, spreading her legs wider as you eagerly nod in response.

"It's so pretty," you murmur, sitting back to trace along ridges, feeling how the shimmer gives the toy a slight buzz under your fingertips. You lick up the bit of shimmer that drips down the tip before taking it into your mouth. Sevika brushes back your hair from your face, balling it up into her fist, a smug smile playing on her lips as she guides you down her cock.

"Look at you, baby," she purrs, her hips bucking slightly just to hear you gag around her length. Your eyes water as you struggle to take her all in, but Sevika encourages you with a soft moan as if she could actually feel you. "You're okay, keep going," she whispers, gently pushing your head further down.

You feel a surge of arousal at her words, closing your eyes to focus on pleasing the woman above you. As you settle at the base of her cock, Sevika holds you there for a moment before slowly pulling you off with a soft tug on your hair.

She admires the flushed look on your face and the strings of saliva connecting your lips to her length, a satisfied smile playing on her lips as you pant softly. She strokes your cheeks, brushing her mechanical thumb across your lips making you kiss the cold metal finger. "C'mon," she says, moving back to give you room, "Get up here," Sevika commands, patting the desk in front of her.

You quickly scramble to your feet, sitting down in front of her as she leans back in her chair, a mischievous glint in her eyes. You can't help but press your thighs together as she stares at you, shying away as she scots closer, her hands resting on your knees.

"Gimme a kiss," she whispers. You lean down, closing the short gap between you as you meet her lips in a sweet kiss. She holds your hips as you hold her face, your lips moving in sync with hers. Her hands find their way to your shirt, pushing it over your chest to reveal your bare tits.

Her hands caress your bare back, sending shivers down your body as she traces your spine with her cool metal fingers. You moan against her lips as her hands find their way to your tits, kneading them gently as she deepens the kiss.

"Lean back for me," she whispers against your lips. You obey, leaning back on your elbows as she spreads your legs apart. You shiver as the cool metal of her hand holds your thighs open, exposing your damp panties to her hungry gaze.

"Fuck, baby, you're this wet already?" she chuckles, "just from sucking my cock and a few kisses?" You bite your lip, your face burning up with embarrassment as her human hand flips up your skirt. Your breath hitches as Sevika presses her thumb against your clothed clit, feeling the bud twitch under her touch.

"I can't help it, Sev," you gasp as she starts to slowly rubs circles around your clit through your panties, "You just make me so fucking wet."

"I can tell, baby," she smirks, dragging her thumb over your folds, feeling your wetness seep through the fabric. You can't help but whine softly as Sevika removes her hand from between your legs, pouting when she leaves you aching and desperate. "Calm down," she chuckles, pulling you to the edge of the desk.

You squirm against the desk as Sevika's tongue suddenly presses against your aching core, sending shivers down your spine as she soaks your panties. You let out a choked moan as she pulls back slightly to blow cool air against your wetness, making you gasp and your hips buck towards her face.

Sevika places soft kisses to the ruined fabric clinging to your cunt before pulling them down your legs, spreading your legs wider to get a better look at your drooling cunt. "You got such a pretty pussy," she murmurs, spreading your folds with her human fingers before licking a wide stripe from your entrance to your clit, causing you to moan loudly and arch your back off the desk in pleasure.

"Tastes so sweet too," Sevika adds before easily slipping two fingers inside you, curling them just right to hit your g-spot and make you cry out. "That easy, huh?" she teases, removing her finger before popping them in her mouth, savoring your taste before leaning in to suck your clit into her mouth, holding you in place with a firm grip around your thighs to stop you from trying to get away.

You fall back on the desk, your hands instinctively reaching for her hair, tangling your fingers in the short dark locs as you use her face for your own pleasure. As you fuck yourself on her tongue and grip her hair, Sevika moans in response, the vibrations against your clit making your thighs tremble and close around her head.

You feel the familiar tension starting to build in your belly, the feeling dissipates as soon as Sevika pulls back with an obscene pop. "No, no please, Sevy," you whine, sitting back up on your elbows as she smirks up at you, teasingly licking her lips before standing from her seat. "Shh, no whining, baby," she says, pushing your legs up to your chest, "Just tell me what you want… with your words."

"I wanna cum, please, Sevy," you beg, the desperation evident in your voice as you look up at her with pleading eyes. Sevika grins, leaning down to press a soft kiss to your pouty lips, "Where though, my fingers?" she teases, dragging her fingers down your stomach, "or my tongue, or I know, how about my cock?"

You nod eagerly, your cunt aching just at the thought, "Your cock, please," you whimper. Sevika chuckles, a mischievous glint in her eyes as she pulls your ass flush against her, "Good choice, baby," she grins, positioning herself between your legs, comparing the size of her cock to your body. "You think you can take it?" You nod eagerly again, reaching down to try and guide her inside you.

She chuckles softly, pushing aside your hands and teasingly tracing the tip of her cock along your slick folds, making you gasp with anticipation. Sevika watches the bit of shimmer that dribbles out of her cock with a smirk, enjoying the way it glistens against your cunt.

"If my girl thinks she can handle it, who am I to argue?" Sevika shrugs, holding your legs wide open as she slowly pushes into you. You moan loudly in response to the delicious stretch and fullness as she fills you completely.

"Wait, wait," you pant as Sevika settles all the way inside you, reaching for her hips to try and stop her as she pulls out, "I need a moment, please."

Sevika grins down at you, stopping her movements, "I thought you could take it?"

"I can, I swear," you assure her, "It's just so big and you're so deep." Sevika chuckles softly, leaning down to kiss you softly. You can feel her smirk against your lips as you wrap your legs and arms around her, kissing her back with equal fervor. "Don't worry," she whispers, "I'll be gentle with you, baby." Sevika stands back up, holding your hips firmly, "Ya ready?"

You nod eagerly, a long moan leaving your lips as Sevika slowly begins to move again, easing in and out of you with a steady rhythm. You grip onto her forearms, your nails digging into her skin and metal as she stretches you out on her cock. "Oh god, Sevika," you gasp, your jaw dropping as she picks up the pace, feeling each ridge and bump of her cock inside you with every thrust.

"I know, baby," Sevika grunts, her own breath becoming ragged as the harness presses against her neglected clit, sending jolts of pleasure straight to her cunt. "You feel me here?" she taunts, pressing down on your stomach as she continues to slowly thrust into you.

You cry out when she does, placing your hand on top of hers, "Yes, oh you're so deep," you moan, grabbing onto her hand. Sevika places your legs on her shoulders, her thrusts now deeper and hitting that sweet spot inside you that makes your eyes roll back. Silco's former office fills with the sound of skin slapping against skin and your moans mixing with hers, creating a sight that would leave anyone who walked in speechless.

Sevika leans down, folding her body over yours, pressing her forehead against yours as she grunts, "Love this pussy so fucking much, she takes my cock so well," she grips your cheeks in her human hand, catching your lips in a searing kiss before she pulls back slightly, locking eyes with you as she groans, "You feel so good, baby, swear I can feel you 'round me."

You cling onto Sevika, feeling the tension building once again in your core as she continues to fuck you with an pace that leaves you breathless.You stare into her eyes, holding her face in your hand as you whimper, "You feel so good, Sevy, please don't stop," your voice trembling with desire.

Sevika feels herself getting close to coming in her pants from the pressure of the harness against her aching and throbbing clit and your breathless pleas, dropping her head against yours again. She whispers, "I won't, baby, need you to come for me," her breath hot against your skin.

Her head nuzzles in your neck to plant soft kisses on your heated skin, her hand groping your tits as she continues to thrust into you with a relentless pace, driving you both closer to the edge. You arch your back, your clit bumping against Sevika's abs with every movement. Sevika leans in to capture your lips in a passionate kiss, swallowing your moans as you teetering on the edge.

"I'm gonna cum," you whisper breathlessly, your eyes fluttering shut as you clinging onto Sevika. With one final deep thrust, Sevika sends you over the edge, your legs shaking by her head with every thrust as you ride out your high.

Once you start to come down, Sevika slowly pulls out, watching the shimmer drip out from your quivering cunt as she slides off the harness. She pulls you to sit up, pressing gentle kisses along your neck and face as you catch your breath.

"You wanna make cum now, baby?" Sevika whispers in your ear, holding you close as you nod, a dazed smile spreading across your face. Your hands find their way between Sevika's legs, feeling her how she bucks towards you once you start to circle her neglected clit.

"Oh fuck, that's perfect, baby, " Sevika moans, her lips finding yours in a passionate kiss as she guides your fingers with a tight grip on your wrist. You grin as she twitches and shakes against you, your own desire growing with each curse word and moan that escapes her lips.

As she quickly reaches her peak, you feel a surge of satisfaction knowing you were able to return the pleasure she had given you. With a final gasp, Sevika collapses against you, her body still trembling from her release. You wrap your arms around her neck as she holds your hips.

"We should probably clean up," Sevika pants, pulling away from you slightly. "But that was so good, baby," she adds with a smile, planting a soft kiss on your lips before grabbing discrated clothes

"Thanks, Sevy," you smile as she hands you your shirt before she fixes herself.

-send request if you have any ��

[urmum-lovesme]

Dad!Rafe is so 'Juno' coded . . .

The sun was high in the sky, casting golden rays over sea where Rafe and his friends had decided to spend the day. The yacht was floating just off the shore, a cooler full of drinks tucked beneath the shade of the canopy, and the soft sounds of music played from a speaker nearby. Y/N was lounging on one of the sun beds, sunglasses perched on her nose, pretending to read the book in her lap when in reality, her eyes kept drifting back to him.

Rafe was standing by the railing, talking to Topper and Kelce, but all Y/N could focus on were the stupidly perfect blue swim trunks hanging low on his hips, the way the sun hit his tanned skin, and the way his toned arms flexed every time he gestured while talking, the way his fingers curled so perfectly around his can of beer, the silver chain glistening around his neck-

God he looked so good

She wasn’t sure if it was the sun, the heat, or the fact that she knew she was ovulating- but she wanted him. Desperately. She swallowed, pressing her thighs together before looking down at the words on the page, but the damage was already done. The thought was in her head, and there was no shaking it now.

She needed to be closer to him.

A few minutes later, the group decided to head inside to grab more drinks, leaving Y/N and Rafe alone under the sun. As soon as the others disappeared, she was moving pushing herself off of her lounger and slipping onto his lap, straddling his thighs as he sat back on his own chair. Rafe barely had time to react before she was kissing him, her lips warm and needy against his. His hands instinctively found her waist, fingers brushing along her sun-kissed skin as he steadied her against him.

"Mmmh," he hummed against her mouth, a smirk forming as he pulled back just slightly.

"What’s the occasion baby?"

Y/N ignored his question, pressing a kiss to his jaw, then another, trailing her lips down his neck. She murmured between kisses, her voice low and sweet, like she wasn’t currently dying to have him right there and then.

"No reason"

Rafe chuckled, pulling back just enough to take a good look at her. His blue eyes flickered over her face, his smirk deepening as his fingers dug into her waist, eyes flickering over the baby pink bikini she had on.

"Don't lie to me"

He teased, his voice playful but knowing. Y/N bit her lip, trying to keep her cool, but the way he was looking at her made it impossible.

"Just feeling a little… needy"

She admitted, her fingers trailing lightly over his bare shoulders, before her hand rested on his bicep, which flexed slightly under her touch. Rafe groaned softly, tipping his head back as he laughed.

"Baby you trying to kill me or what?"

"Can't help myself... hormones are high"

She just grinned, brushing her lips against his again as she whispered. His hands tightened around her hips, his grip firm and teasing, and his voice was husky now, dark with amusement and something else. 

"Yeah?"

Y/N shifted her hands, sliding them down abs letting her fingers absentmindedly toy with the strings of Rafe’s blue swim shorts, her touch light, almost hesitant. She could feel the warmth of his skin, the steady rise and fall of his breath beneath her, but it did little to settle the nervous flutter in her stomach. She was embarrassed- not because she didn’t want this, but because of how needy she felt.

How badly she wanted him right now.

And then, as her eyes lingered on him- on his tanned golden skin, the way his muscles tensed beneath her touch- she remembered. The conversation they’d had a few weeks ago. That night, driving home from her cousin’s house, the sun setting in the rearview mirror. The way she had bit her lip, lost in thought, until Rafe had reached over and squeezed her thigh. She hadn’t been able to stop thinking about it since. His hands were on her thighs now, thumbs rubbing slow, soft strokes against her skin.

"Remember what we talked about last week?"

She murmured, voice quieter than she intended. Rafe definitely knew what she was talking about but he wasn’t going to make it easy for her.

"Hmm…" He tilted his head, smirking.

"Remind me?"

Y/N huffed out a breath, giving him a knowing look before taking his hand, guiding it up her body- past the soft skin of her upper thighs- until his palm was resting low on her stomach. His fingers twitched momentarily and his expression shifted. She glanced up at him, a small, shy smile tugging at her lips

"One of me is cute… but two though?"

That shit-eating grin was back on his face instantly as soon as the words passed her lips. His voice was lower now, rougher. He sat up a little, leaning in until their lips brushed.

"So that's what this is about, hmm?"

Y/N felt her breath hitch. Rafe smoothed his hand over her stomach, then dragged it to rub up and down her waist, his hold possessive. His lips hovered just above hers as he murmured,

"You want me to put a baby in you?"

Her eyes flickered between his lips and his eyes, slowly clasping her hand around his neck her heart pounding. Then, barely above a whisper—

"I'm so fucking horny"

Rafe froze for a second before he let out a low groan, his grip on her tightening, fingers digging into her skin as his face dropped to the crook of her neck breathing her in.

"Jesus"

He muttered, his voice rough, strained. His hands slid to her hips, pulling her down against him as her head tilted back slightly, eyes fluttering shut as he pressed his lips against her neck, tongue gently slipping over the skin. He found it hard to restrain himself because when he looked back at her, her expression was nothing short of desperate.

"Give it to me baby" he spoke out with a satisfied grin, "tell me what you want..."

She shyly bit her lip, her voice was shaky, breath uneven as she spoke,

"Mark your territory..."

That was all he needed.

Because the next thing she knew, Rafe was gripping her thighs and flipping them over, a small gasp escaping her lips as his body caged hers against the towel beneath them, his lips crashing down onto hers with a need that matched her own.

They're soooo Juno coded 💋

[k3n-dyll]

Warnings...18+, wlw, not proofread, dom!Sevika, dom!Ambessa, rough sex, porn with zero plot, oral (r!receving), strap usage, strap sucking/face fucking, spit, squirting, spit roasting Word Count: 898

Notes ☆ this is just a sleepy, disgustingly horny, rant, man. Like, more so than usual.

Sevika practically holds you down with her body, mech arm caught tight around your torso as her flesh palm paws and squeezes at your tits, her lips pressing hot, open-mouthed kisses to your neck and shoulder. She's enjoying the view more than she'd ever admit out loud, silver eyes fixated on the other woman that's had her head snug between your legs for what at this point feels like fucking hours. Neither of you can seem to take your eyes off of the way Ambessa's scarred back and broad shoulders move as she forces you to keep still for her, the same large hands that so gently caress your face and hold you close any other time now locked in a vice grip against your thighs, sure to leave bruises against the soft skin.

The noises coming from her sucking and lapping at your cunt are bordering on obnoxious, the amount of time you've been pushed over the edge with her mouth alone having landed you sitting in a wet spot of a collection of your own squirt and her saliva. The overstimulation has reduced you into a babbling, trembling little mess, and yet neither of them have had their fill yet.

"I c-can't, I can't..." You slur, both women letting out amused huffs of laughter at your pathetic attempt to speak. Dumbly, you think that Ambessa pulling away and Sevika's grip on your body loosening means that you finally get a little bit of a break, your sigh of relief getting cut short by Sevika's voice as she whispers into your ear.

"You're not done, doll. Hands and knees." Her coaxing is gentle, her hands keeping you steady as you switch positions with the elegance of a newborn calf. It'd be humiliating if your brain hadn't been rendered so useless, eyes half-lidded as you watch Ambessa's tear-blurred form tower over you, a hand coming to grip your chin.

"Such a pretty thing you are. You've got a little more in you, don't you angel?" Ambessa's sultry tone fills your ears, a dopey grin crossing your features at the praise as you give an equally lazy nod. Gently, she presses the red silicone hanging from her hips against your mouth, seeking permission for entrance. "Good, girl. Open that pretty mouth for me"

Your jaw slacks almost immediately, a low hum of approval escaping the woman in front of you, her murmured praises and the feeling of her hand gently palming the back of your head distracting you from the girth stuffing your jaws. Distracting you from what's happening behind you as well.

You get little warning - the bed slightly sinking in from behind and the cool touch of a metal hand against the plush of your hip before you start to feel Sevika pushing her own strap inside of you. A choked yelp of surprise escaping you at the feeling, your body tensing up.

"Uh-uh, relax... that's it, just breathe baby.." Sevika purrs, leaning down and peppering wet kisses along the arch of your back to ease your tension, though she doesnt stop her advances, each shallow pump of her hips stretching you further.

They give you grace, letting you adjust, kissing and marking you as you settle around them but the gentle front doesn't last long. Sevika can't stop herself from slamming into you from behind, admiring the way your ass jiggles with each hard thrust, her own pussy dripping against the harness at the sight of the white ring forming at the base of her cock.

Each thrust from behind forces Ambessa's strap down your throat, every gag forced from you sending strings of saliva pooling from behind your lips and onto your chin, your neck, the bed...

"You're such a fucking mess, look at that.." Ambessa chuckles as she watches you struggle to take her in your mouth, enjoying how eager you are to please, even if it turns you into well...this. She rewards your eagerness by pulling out of your mouth, barely letting you get down a few much-needed gulps of air before she's shifted the harness down off of her hips, instead shoving your face flush between her thighs, letting you taste her.

Your breathlessness doesn't stop you from lapping at her like a woman starved, fingers curling into the sheets as you do your best to focus on the task at hand without succumbing to the intensity of Sevika's sloppy pounding from behind. Their grunts and overlapping praises drown out all thought, your body covered in a thin layer of sweat, shaking and twitching as you're split between the two. The only warning you're able to give before your climax ultimately rips through your body is a couple of muffled, loud whines.

Your head falls from Ambessa's grip, the woman letting you breathe as you cum, Sevika's hips just barely slowing as you finally let go, too enthralled in the way you squirt around her, the liquid wetting both your and her lower halves.

"Gonna have so much to clean up when we're finished with this one - fuck" Sevika boasts, letting her human palm land on your ass with a thwack. Ambessa just chuckles, her palm lightly patting the side of your face to keep you grounded in reality.

"You'll get to rest that pretty head in a little while, angel..." She coos. "But we're not quite done yet..."

Donations 4 Palestine - Arcane Masterlist

Taglist: @archangeldyke-all, @delinthecut, @half-of-a-gay, @porcelainmystery, @glass-apothecary, @cobraisveryhorny - Wanna be tagged?

We're gonna pretend I tagged the correct ppl the first time, 'kay? <3

[ilovolderman]

Operation Mugshot

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x reader

Summary: Sam tries to set a trap to catch your secret relationship with Bucky.

Word Count: 1.7k

Warnings: humor, fluff, secret dating, drones and oranges

A/N: this can be read as a standalone even though it's part of a series called "You Said What". it doesn't necessarily follow a specific order, but if you want to check out the other parts, here they are: part 1, part 2, part 3, part 4, part 5, part 6, part 7. thanks for reading, i hope you like it :)

Sam Wilson had a plan.

He’d spent the better part of two weeks compiling evidence, cross-referencing time logs, analyzing coffee consumption patterns, and creating a red-string bulletin board that would’ve made any conspiracy theorist proud.

Today, all that paranoia was finally going to pay off.

He sipped his decaf—yes, decaf, because he needed to stay sharp—and watched the living room like a hawk disguised as a houseplant. Or maybe the other way around.

The trap was simple.

Step 1: Hide in the pantry with snacks, a thermal imaging tablet, and a drone disguised as a spice rack. Step 2: Wait. Step 3: Catch you two being adorably romantic in high-definition.

Easy.

Sam sipped his decaf, checked his drone feed, and muttered into his earpiece—connected to absolutely no one. “Wilson to base. Operation Mugshot is live. Targets are expected in T-minus one minute.”

Five minutes in, Sam was regretting the plan.

Ten minutes in, he was beginning to lose feeling in one leg.

Fifteen minutes in, the door creaked open.

He tensed. It was happening. Showtime.

But it wasn’t Bucky.

It wasn’t even you.

It was a Roomba. Rolling casually into the kitchen, bumping into a cabinet, and then zooming away like it had places to be.

Sam exhaled, annoyed. “False alarm.”

Twenty minutes in, the door opened again. Finally.

A creak. Footsteps.

Bingo.

You shuffled in wrapped in a burrito blanket, yawning with your whole body. Your socks were mismatched. You still had a pillow crease on your face. You looked, in Sam’s words, “suspiciously domestic.”

A beat later, Bucky wandered in.

Barefoot. Wearing a t-shirt that just so happened to look a lot like one you “lost” last week. He blinked at the pantry.

Bucky tilted his head ever so slightly toward the pantry. The door was open a fraction too wide. There was a faint hum—Sam’s drone, probably watching like a nosy Roomba.

He mouthed, Trap.

You mouthed back, I know.

So, naturally, you played it cool.

“Morning,” you said casually, reaching for a mug. “Nice weather for emotional espionage.”

“Sure is,” Bucky replied, pouring himself coffee like a man who hadn’t just spotted a super-spy hiding behind the cereal boxes.

You both stood in suspicious silence for a moment.

Then Bucky dropped the act, leaned over, and whispered, “We should absolutely mess with him.”

You grinned. “What do you have in mind?”

Cut to ten minutes later: you and Bucky sat on opposite ends of the couch, the most awkward six feet of exaggerated distance between you. No eye contact. Arms folded. The tension so forced it might as well have been acting school improv.

Sam, crouched in the pantry, stared at the screen. His drone hovered silently, recording the scene.

“Huh,” he mumbled. “No touching. No shared glances. No whispering. That’s… not what I expected.”

The footage was useless. You both looked like coworkers waiting for a Zoom call to start.

Then—movement.

Sam tensed.

You got up. Walked toward Bucky. Bucky looked up.

Sam’s heart nearly exploded with victory.

You said, “Do you have… the thing?”

“The thing?” Bucky echoed.

“The thing for… that work thing?”

“Ah,” Bucky said, “the… report?”

“Yes,” you said stiffly. “That report.”

Sam’s mouth dropped open. They were talking code. He scrambled to write it down. THE REPORT = PROBABLY CODE FOR SECRET RELATIONSHIP.

Sam was vibrating.

“They’re debriefing,” he whispered. “This is it. This is the heart of the operation.”

Then he shifted too hard and knocked over a box of granola bars.

The pantry door creaked.

The drone wobbled and dropped like a bug with stage fright.

You stood calmly and opened the door.

There was Sam Wilson. Looking like a kid caught stealing cookies—except the cookies were a pile of tech gadgets, caffeine charts, and about four different colored highlighters.

You blinked. “You okay in there?”

He looked down at his tablet. “I was… conducting surveillance.”

“For breakfast?”

“DON’T PLAY DUMB,” Sam snapped, pointing dramatically.

Bucky offered a hand to help him up. “Are you good, man?”

Sam slapped it away. “I’m fine. I’m always fine. I just got ambushed by—by deception and romantic subterfuge.” He gestured wildly.

“Coincidence,” Bucky said, way too smoothly.

Sam narrowed his eyes. “You will slip up one day. You think I didn’t notice how you both hum ‘Ain’t No Mountain High Enough’ while making toast?”

“That was once,” you said defensively.

“ON THREE DIFFERENT OCCASIONS.”

“Okay, twice.”

“Also,” Sam added, “you share coffee stirrers.”

Bucky blinked. “We don’t even use stirrers.”

“You do!” Sam yelled, unhinged. “YOU DO. I HAVE SCREENSHOTS.”

There was a beat of silence.

You turned to Bucky. “We should be concerned, right?”

Bucky nodded solemnly. “Very.”

Sam’s drone bumped into the wall and fell with a soft whirr.

“…Friday,” Sam said, defeated, “run the footage back. Look for emotional cues.”

Then Friday chimed in: “Sir, your footage today is 97% couch silence and 3% you chewing a granola bar while whispering ‘enhance’ at a static screen.”

Sam’s eye twitched.

“I’ve failed,” he said.

You walked over and gently patted his shoulder. “You tried.”

“I hate both of you.”

“You love us,” Bucky said, smiling softly.

Sam pointed at him. “I will find the truth. Someday. I’ll be ready.”

“Sure you will,” you said sweetly.

Sam stormed out. Then stormed back in. Grabbed his granola bar. Then stormed out again.  He grumbled under his breath “This isn’t over. I’ll crack the case eventually.”

FRIDAY chimed softly from above. “Sir, your blood pressure is once again elevated.”

Sam glared at the ceiling. “FRIDAY, remind me to install lie detectors in every room.”

“Noted.”

Once Sam had disappeared, you leaned into Bucky’s side, chuckling softly.

“That was beautiful,” you said, still snickering. “I almost feel bad for him.”

Bucky grinned, kissing the top of your head. “Nah. He’s probably already planning his next move. But at least we know one thing for sure.”

You raised an eyebrow. “What’s that?”

He kissed your forehead again, eyes twinkling with mischief. “We’re definitely not getting caught.”

And as long as Sam kept chasing wild theories, you knew the two of you had the perfect cover.

For now.

From the hallway, Sam peeked back in, only to see you both on opposite ends of the couch again, scrolling your phones.

He narrowed his eyes.

“…One day,” he muttered. “One. Day.”

Later that morning you sat on the blanket Bucky laid out—curled up in one of his hoodies that was at least two sizes too big, sleeves draping over your hands like paws, the collar loose enough that it slipped off your shoulder every time you shifted.

The rooftop garden was quiet except for the lazy hum of bees somewhere off near the lavender.

Above, cottony clouds drifted across a soft blue sky like they were in no rush to be anywhere else.

Bucky sat beside you, legs stretched out, peeling an orange with the slow, careful ease of someone with nowhere else to be. He offered you the first slice with a crooked little smile—the kind he only ever gave you. The kind that made your heart skip like a stone across still water.

You took the orange slice, your fingers brushing his. His fingers lingered.

Another slice. For you.

One for him.

One he tucked into the front pocket of your hoodie with exaggerated seriousness, like it was official mission protocol.

“For later,” he said, his voice low, amused.

You chuckled, letting your head fall lightly against his shoulder. His hoodie smelled like him—cedar, warmth, a little like whatever laundry detergent he pretended not to care about but always remembered to buy.

He leaned into your weight, resting his cheek against your hair, and for a few minutes, the two of you simply were—content, warm, quiet.

“This is nice,” you murmured.

Bucky hummed. “Even if Sam installs spy pigeons next?”

“He already tried. They were drones.”

He tilted his head just enough to give you a look. “You’re kidding.”

“Swear. I caught one trying to blend in with the doves last week.”

“…Did it coo?”

“Worse. It beeped.”

You both burst out laughing, your voice muffled against his arm. Bucky’s chuckle rumbled deep in his chest, and you could feel it under your cheek like a heartbeat made of joy.

“You know he’s never going to stop,” you said, lifting your gaze slightly to meet his eyes.

“I hope he never does,” Bucky said, soft and sure. “Gives us an excuse to keep playing these little games.”

You smiled, fingertips absently tugging at the cuff of his sleeve.

“I like our games.”

“I like you.”

He said it like a secret. Like something holy. Like the sun had come out just to eavesdrop on the moment.

Then he tilted his head and kissed you, slow and soft, a kiss that tasted like orange and quiet and safety. The kind of kiss that wasn’t asking for anything, just giving everything.

You smiled against his lips. He kissed that smile, too.

Then, a soft whirrrr in the distance.

You both looked up.

A drone hovered nearby, clearly struggling against the wind.

Bucky leaned close, whispered in your ear, “Five bucks says he crashes it into the tomatoes again.”

You grinned. “You’re on.”

Moments later, the drone dipped, wobbled—

Thunk.

Right into the tomato trellis.

Bucky held out his hand. “Pay up.”

You laughed and kissed his lips.

 “Acceptable payment,” he said solemnly.

Meanwhile in somewhere in the compound Sam was scribbling in his notebook again.

CASE #111: They ARE Dating.

Surveillance Compromised Drone Casualties: 1 (Tomato-related incident) Emotional Evidence: Off the charts Investigator Notes: “They’re definitely dating. I feel it in my spleen. But also… maybe they deserve to be happy. Maybe… I’m the problem.” Status: Unofficially Admitted, Still Officially Denied

And then, in desperate, scrawled print:

“WHY IS IT SO HARD TO CATCH PEOPLE BEING IN LOVE?!”

Underlined three times.

“They’re too innocent. It’s a setup. It’s reverse psychology. They want me to think they’re not dating so I give up—BUT I WON’T.” he muttered

Then, he paused.

Stared into the middle distance.

“…Wait. What if I’m the one being surveilled?”

Friday, ever patient, replied from the speakers: “Sir, please go outside.”

next part

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[moonriizing]

urs | p.sh (18+)

You weren't supposed to want more, but you did. What started as a casual fling became more complicated when you found yourself caught between your desire and the reality that Park Sunghoon's heart belonged to someone else.

Genre: college au, situationship, smut Pairing: Park Sunghoon x afab!reader Warnings: mature themes, explicit sexual content (18+), NOT PROOFREAD. I'll come back to do that when I can lol. Notes: 10k words. Listening to urs by NIKI. My first Sunghoon fic and it's written on a whim! lol. I wrote this instead of working on my overdue wip lol. I hope you like it! Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. I do not know them personally nor claim they would ever behave in real life like they were portrayed in this story. ALSO, if you see a similar story from a different blog for a different idol, that is me. xoxo, cal.

Enjoy~

You first met Park Sunghoon at a frat party you had no real interest in attending. It was the first night of the semester, the music was good, the drinks were flowing, and the energy was exactly what you needed. It was the kind of night that made you feel young and invincible, where bad decisions were just part of the fun. And tonight, you were on a mission: hook up with a hot guy.

It was a promiscuous mission, you knew that. And you would be lying if you said you weren’t that kind of girl because you were! But you weren’t the reckless, messy type. No, you were the smart kind of promiscuous. The kind who could have fun without losing control. You were practical about it—always sober enough to make sound decisions, always keeping your boundaries clear. Simply put, you were the best type of promiscuous.

As a college girl with ambitions, you couldn’t afford to get tangled in romance and all that commitment nonsense. Too much work. But you had needs, and fulfilling them meant nights like this—scanning the crowd for a guy who could tickle your fancy, no strings attached.

That was how you spotted him.

Tall, handsome, but oddly out of place. While the rest of the party thrived on the chaos, he stood by himself in a corner. He had a cup in his hand, but it wasn’t like he was enjoying it. He looked like he’d rather be anywhere else—his posture slouched just enough to suggest he wasn’t a part of this. He had that bored, almost irritable look on his face, the kind that made you wonder if he was only here because someone dragged him along.

You were not the type to hesitate, so you didn’t. You’d done this enough times to know exactly what you were after, and right now? You were after him.

“Is this your first frat party, or are you just too cool for it?” you asked, leaning in just enough to get his attention.

He glanced at you, his eyes flicking over your face for a second before landing on your lips, then back up to your eyes. Up close, he was even more good-looking—long lashes, sharp features, lips that curled just slightly at the corners like he was already amused by you, and a couple of beauty marks on his face that made him even more striking.

He was definitely your type.

“You look like you’d rather be anywhere else,” you added, taking a sip of your drink, not breaking eye contact.

“That obvious?” he asked, his voice low, almost melodic.

You smirked, liking the way his voice was as perfect as his looks. “You look miserable,” you pointed out, still grinning.

He chuckled lightly, amused but not exactly thrilled. “What about you? Having fun?”

You shrugged. “I wasn’t. But right now, I think I might be…” You let your gaze wander, deliberately slow, from his face to the exposed skin of his chest where a few buttons were undone.

Sunghoon smirked, his gaze trailing over you in a way that was appreciative without being too obvious. “Well, that makes two of us,” he replied suggestively.

He flirted right back!

“I’m Sunghoon,” he said, offering his hand for a shake. You took it and gave him your name.

Your eyes locked with his—now more curious, sizing him up. For a few seconds, it was just the two of you staring each other down, trying to gauge each other’s thoughts with your hands still joined. Then you saw a flicker in his eyes that made you come to an agreement with your own intuition.

You tilted your head, eyes still locked with his. “Do you wanna have sex with me?”

His eyes widened slightly, his brows lifting in surprise—visibly caught off guard by your suggestion. His grip on your hand loosened, though he didn’t let go completely. You kept your gaze steady, showing no hesitation and letting him know you were serious. A few seconds of silence passed where you almost thought he’d say no, but then he exhaled a soft laugh.

“Are you always this forward?” he asked, amused now.

You shrugged nonchalantly. “Only when I see someone I like.”

He tilted his head slightly, a faint smile tugging at the corner of his lips. “And you like me?”

“I wouldn’t be asking if I didn’t.”

With that, his smirk widened, and before you could second-guess yourself, he set his cup down. “My place or yours?”

And just like that, you were out of the party and heading to whatever the hell came next. No strings, no pressure. Just the way you liked it.

You didn’t know it then, but that was when the tsunami that would come crashing in began to take shape.

You didn’t mean for it to happen again. It was supposed to be a one-time thing—fun, uncomplicated. But he was phenomenal, so it happened a second time. And a third. And eventually, you just lost count.

Maybe it was because, other than the fact that he was really good at it, he was also easy to be around. He wasn’t like the others—the ones who got clingy after a night or acted like they were doing you a favor by sleeping with you. Sunghoon was different. He never overstayed his welcome, never asked for more than you were willing to give, but he wasn’t distant either. If anything, he was… nice.

Not in a fake, trying-too-hard way. Just nice. Made you feel comfortable, always made sure you finished before he did, and never left without saying something witty that made you roll your eyes. He had this way of being detached but not cold, like he had mastered the art of keeping things casual without being an asshole.

“You know,” you mused, sprawled across his bed, still catching your breath, “my first impression of you was that you were boring and miserable. Turns out you know how to make a girl have fun.”

Standing by his closet, Sunghoon threw you an amused glance as he pulled a sweatshirt over his head. “Yeah? I aim to please.”

You smirked. “That sounds like something a guy who thinks he’s good in bed would say.”

He let out a soft laugh, running a hand through his hair before turning to you, looking almost too put-together for someone who had just spent an hour between your legs. “And? Am I not?”

You propped yourself up on your elbows, pretending to consider it. “Hmm. You’re alright.”

He scoffed, tossing a pillow at you, which you barely dodged. “You’re a bad liar.”

You grinned, stretching lazily. “Well, I can’t have you getting a big head, can I?”

Sunghoon shook his head, his lips curling into that infuriatingly charming smirk. “Too late for that.”

It was easy. Too easy. Maybe that’s why you let it keep happening.

Behind closed doors, there was no restraint. It didn’t matter if it was your place or his—once the door was closed, your hands were on his neck, his lips found your skin, and clothes barely made it past the foyer before being discarded.

Sunghoon was incredible in bed. He was controlled, precise, yet somehow still desperate when he kissed you, when he pressed you against the mattress, when he groaned your name like it was the only thing keeping him from spiraling. And you? You had mastered the art of making him unravel.

You knew exactly what made him weak, how to turn his composure into incoherence, how to make him grip your waist a little harder or breathe your name in a way that made your stomach flip. It was exhilarating, effortless—two people who just fit perfectly when it came to this.

But outside? You were mere acquaintances.

A nod in the hallway. A fleeting smile across the quad. If you happened to pass each other at a party, he’d tip his cup in your direction, and you’d lift a brow in acknowledgment. No one knew. No one suspected a thing. And you liked it better that way. You were both civil and could control your urges.

Except for when you couldn’t.

Like now.

You were leaving class when Sunghoon caught your wrist, pulling you into an empty lecture hall.

“What—”

He kissed you before you could finish, his hands already gripping your hips, pressing you against the nearest desk. The kiss was hot, urgent, like he had been holding back all day.

“Wow, I think you missed me a little,” you teased when he finally pulled away, breathless.

Sunghoon scoffed, but his fingers traced the sleeve of your dress like he wasn’t done with you yet. “You should wear this more often.”

You smirked. “What? Hoon, you did not pull me in here just because I’m wearing a dress.”

“It’s a really nice dress,” he grinned, leaning in to kiss you again.

You kissed him back, snaking your arms around his neck. His hand slipped under your dress, squeezing your thighs firmly. When the familiar warmth started creeping up your chest, you held his hand to stop him.

“This is not a good idea,” you told him, smiling at the puppy-like look on his face.

He exhaled sharply, shaking his head like he regretted his own impulse. But he didn’t let go. Instead, he leaned in again, his lips brushing yours like he couldn’t help himself.

And then you heard the sound of voices just outside the door.

In an instant, Sunghoon stepped back, running a hand through his hair like nothing had happened. You casually adjusted your dress. When the door creaked open, and a couple of students poked their heads in, you and Sunghoon were already on opposite sides of the room.

“Is this Professor Smith’s class?” one of them asked just as you spotted the same name written on the board in front.

“It is,” you said smoothly, slinging your bag over your shoulder as you strode past Sunghoon without so much as a glance.

Outside, in the open air, you felt his presence behind you, his steps easy and unhurried. As you reached the main path to the quad, he finally passed you, his shoulder brushing yours just slightly.

“See you around,” he murmured, low enough that only you could hear.

You smirked, not looking back. “See you around.”

But even with all of that, you could tell he was drawing a line between you. He didn’t have to say it. You could see it in the way he never texted first, the way he kissed you like he meant it but pulled away too quickly after. The way he made you laugh but never let the moment linger too long.

And maybe you should have done the same.

You didn’t mean to fall for him. You really didn’t. But it was hard not to when, in between the sneaking around and the mind-blowing sex, Sunghoon was just... Sunghoon. Nice and thoughtful in a way that made it almost impossible to keep things casual.

Like when the lightbulb in your room went out, and he arrived at your place with a new one, climbed on a chair, and replaced it himself.

“I was gonna do that, you know,” you said, arms crossed as you leaned against the wall, watching him screw the new bulb into place. “I’m just a little busy these days.”

He climbed down, dusting his hands off. “Yeah, but can you even reach that high?”

You rolled your eyes, but when he patted your head like you were some kid, you didn’t swat his hand away. Instead, you found yourself watching him as he moved around your space so easily.

Or the way he always refilled your bedside tumbler before he left your place. You didn’t even notice it at first, but one morning, you woke up, throat dry, and reached for it instinctively—only to realize it was full. Ice-cold. Like he had just topped it off before slipping out.

And then there was the night you were cramming for an exam, drowning in highlighter ink and frustration, when your door swung open, and Sunghoon walked in like he owned the place.

“I’m about to become your favorite person in the world,” he announced, dropping a thick stack of papers on your desk.

You blinked up at him. “What is this?”

“My old notes,” he said, ruffling your hair before plopping onto your bed like he had all the time in the world. “They’re neat. Better than whatever middle school doodles you have going on.”

You flipped through them, and he wasn’t lying—his notes were immaculate. Organized, highlighted, complete with diagrams. You stared at them, then at him, sprawled out on your bed like he had no idea what he’d just done.

“You didn’t strike me as a guy who took his studies seriously,” you teased, although you didn’t really think that way about him.

Sunghoon smirked, turning his head to look at you. “Why? Did you think the only thing I knew how to do was make your legs shake?”

You rolled your eyes, but it didn’t stop the warmth creeping up your chest. “Be real, Hoon. You’re not that good.”

“Liar liar, pants on fire,” he lilted, his eyes shifting back to his phone.

You fell for him because hookups weren’t supposed to be this thoughtful. Hookups weren’t supposed to linger after sex to fix your lightbulb or make sure you stayed hydrated. They weren’t supposed to look after you in ways so small, so casual, that you almost missed them.

You caught yourself wondering. Did he care about you more than just a hookup? Or worse—did you want him to?

You were at a café with your friends when his name came up. 

It started casually enough—half-listening to the conversation while stirring the melting ice in your drink, until one of them, Lily, suddenly said, “Oh, by the way, I saw Sunghoon at your apartment complex the other day. Didn’t know you guys were neighbors.”

Your hand stilled, heartbeat picking up pace at the sudden mention of his name. You blinked once, twice, before mustering up an easy shrug. “Huh. Neither did I.”

Lily laughed, oblivious. “Right? He was coming out of your building. I was gonna say hi, but he looked like he was in a hurry.”

Across the table, Tammy tilted her head. “Maybe he was visiting someone? From what I know, he lives with Jake in a different neighborhood.”

“Maybe,” Lily mused, sipping her drink. Then, as if the thought just occurred to her, she added, “Oh! You and Jenna are neighbors, right?”

You shrugged. “I don’t know any Jenna.”

“Jenna! The girl who won the poll for prettiest student last year!” she explained, her expression turning conspiratorial. “She’s Sunghoon’s ex.”

Your heart sank to the pit of your stomach.

Lily went on, oblivious. “Guess he’s still hoping she’ll take him back.”

The words landed like a slap. You almost asked her to repeat herself, but the way Tammy nodded in understanding told you that you heard right.

“Yeah,” Tammy said. “They were together for two years. I heard he was really sad when they broke up.”

Lily clicked her tongue. “Honestly, I wouldn’t be surprised if they did get back together. They were that couple, you know?”

That couple. The ones who belonged together. The ones who had history, real history—not just stolen moments behind closed doors.

You swallowed, forcing a small smirk. “Didn’t know you guys were keeping up with Sunghoon’s love life like this.”

Lily nodded. “Jenna and I used to hang out when I was still in the council.”

Then she started rambling about their history, how Jenna broke Sunghoon’s heart, how he never really moved on. You nodded along, pretending to listen, but your mind was stuck on every moment you spent with him. The way he pulled you closer in his sleep, how he never let you walk home alone, the way he looked at you sometimes—like maybe you were something more special to him.

But you weren’t. You weren’t the one he wanted. You never were. And just like that, the guessing game was over.

He didn’t want you like you wanted him. You were genuinely just a fling.

Still, you smiled, made some joke that had your friends laughing, and sipped your drink like nothing was wrong. Like your stomach hadn’t just dropped to the floor.

Later, when you saw Sunghoon again—when he let himself into your apartment with that lazy smirk, hands already reaching for you—you didn’t hesitate. You let him touch you, let him kiss you like nothing had changed.

Because for him, nothing had.

And if he didn’t know the difference or couldn’t see the shift, then you sure as hell weren’t going to show him.

Does it make sense to want your ex back and exclusively sleep with someone else? NO.

It was stupid. Sunghoon was stupid. That was what you told yourself every time the thought crossed your mind—every time you caught yourself comparing.

You never voiced it out loud, though. Not to your friends, because Sunghoon was popular, and they’d pry if they knew you were sleeping with him. Not to him, for obvious reasons. And mainly because you had pride. You were the one who said you wouldn’t get attached—the one who laughed at girls who caught feelings for a fling.

But knowing better didn’t stop the thoughts from creeping in.

His ex was his senior, a fine arts major. Pretty. Smart. Talented. One of those girls who just had it. The kind people didn’t get over easily. You told yourself it didn’t matter. If he wanted her back, that was his problem, not yours. It wasn’t like you and Sunghoon were anything.

And so the days with him continued to be easy and light.

You spent more time together, and the more you did, the more you noticed his quirks—his own brand of annoying charm. Like how he always picked up your keys instead of his whenever he left your apartment, or how he liked to roll his sleeves and ruffle his hair absentmindedly.

One evening, lying side by side on your bed, you scrolled through your texts, absentmindedly opening your chat with him. A dozen images filled the screen, almost all of them mirror selfies. Some in elevators, some in his room, one even in a convenience store.

“You like yourself a little too much, don’t you?” you mused, tilting your phone so he could see.

Sunghoon barely glanced at it. “What?”

“These,” you said, scrolling through. “Almost every picture you send me is just you.”

He smirked, resting his head on his arm. “What, you don’t like them?”

You huffed. “You’re hot and you know it, is that it?”

He let out a breathy laugh, rolling onto his side to face you. The glint in his eyes was naughty and suggestive. His next words, even more so: “Would you rather I send you something else?”

He was looking at you like he knew exactly what he was doing, but you weren’t about to let him have the upper hand.

“Maybe,” you said, feigning deep thought. “Like a cat picture. Or, I don’t know, an interesting rock.”

Sunghoon snorted. “An interesting rock?”

“I like rocks.”

“You’re weird.”

“And you’re a narcissist.”

He only grinned, as if he didn’t mind the label. You shook your head, rolling onto your stomach, but your lips twitched when your phone vibrated a second later.

A picture. Of a rock.

You bit back a smile, and Sunghoon, watching you, caught it anyway.

“What?” he asked, amused.

“Nothing,” you said, tossing your phone aside.

You had never once felt insecure about what you had with Sunghoon, but after what you heard from your friends, you started to notice the little things. It almost seemed like outside the four walls of your apartments, you were nothing to each other.

You used to think he was just a lazy texter. His replies were always short, sometimes delayed, sometimes just emojis. But knowing what you knew now, you wondered if he just wasn’t interested enough.

The thought crept under your skin, making you overthink the things you once brushed off.

Before, when you texted him to come over and he said he couldn’t, you didn’t think much of it. But now? Now, you wondered if he was with her when he wasn’t with you. If he looked at his phone, saw your message, and made a choice.

Yet, you kept crawling back for more.

You were an intelligent woman. You knew this was foolish. You knew how it made you look. But it was fine, because no one else knew how you felt—not your friends, not even Sunghoon himself. It was fine because you were foolish only in your own eyes. There was no need for anyone else to know.

Despite the foolishness of it all, you were happy. You were content enough to be able to spend time with him, to be touched and worshipped by him, to know you had the power to tease out a part of him that not everyone had the privilege to see.

“Sunghoon,” you sighed, fingers pressed against your temple as you looked out of the car window. “We’ve been circling this block for ten minutes.”

You had tagged along with Sunghoon on a quick trip to pick up some pieces for his department’s upcoming art exhibit. It was unplanned. You were outside the campus after class when he spotted you and asked if you wanted to join him. Since you didn’t have anything planned for the day (and because you could never say no to a chance to hang out with him), you got into his car and let him drive without even asking where you were going.

But Sunghoon, as it turned out, had a terrible sense of direction.

“I swear it was supposed to be around here,” he muttered, one hand on the wheel, the other tapping aimlessly at his phone.

“You said that twenty minutes ago.”

He shot you a glance, sheepish. “Well, I meant it twenty minutes ago.”

You rolled your eyes and leaned back in your seat, stretching your legs. The map app on his dashboard kept recalculating, rerouting him to roads that either didn’t exist or led straight to nowhere. And when he finally admitted defeat, pulling over to rethink his next move, you both stepped out and realized something.

The ocean was right there.

Waves lapped lazily at the shore, the sky was clear, and the sun was warm but not overbearing—the kind of day that practically begged to be wasted at the beach.

“…Screw the errand?” you offered.

Sunghoon stared at the water for a moment before shrugging. “Screw the errand.”

And just like that, the detour became the destination.

The day unfolded spontaneously. You bought overpriced street food from a vendor by the shore, eating as you walked, laughing when Sunghoon scrunched his nose at the spicy kick of the sauce. He had an annoyingly specific taste in food and the smell, but he still let you shove a piece of yours into his mouth.

You found a little souvenir stand and tried on ridiculous sunglasses, taking pictures of each other in frames shaped like hearts and palm trees. Sunghoon snapped candid shots of you when you weren’t looking, and though you pretended to be annoyed, you never asked him to stop.

At some point, the tide crept in, and you played a round of rock, paper, scissors and dared the loser to get into the water. You weren’t even surprised when you lost. You sucked at this game.

“I can’t believe you’re making me do this,” you grumbled, kicking your sandals off. “By myself, no less.”

“Hey, it’s a game. We both agreed to this,” he retorted, stepping back. “And I can’t go in there. I’m wearing jeans.”

“And I’m wearing a skirt,” you countered, already wading in, your hem darkening as the waves reached you.

Sunghoon exhaled through his nose, probably wondering if you were actually sulking over a punishment you’d happily agreed to before you lost the game. Of course, you weren’t, but it was fun to tease him and see what he’d do.

“You’re unbelievable,” he said after the scowl never left your face. In a moment of impulsive surrender, he walked straight in after you, the water soaking up his pants. You’re actually unbelievable,” he added, shaking his head as the chill hit him.

You grinned triumphantly, making him brush his hair back in playful exasperation. Then, shaking his head in defeat, he said, “I knew it. It was a farce. You knew I was gonna give in!”

“You fell for it,” you scoffed, rolling your eyes playfully. “Don’t blame me,” you added, flicking water at him.

Sunghoon blinked at you, unimpressed, before flicking some back with just the tips of his fingers.

“Oh, come on,” you taunted. “Is that the best you can do?”

His eyes narrowed slightly—just enough of a warning before he sent a full splash your way, drenching your arms. You gasped, stumbling back with a laugh.

“Oh? So that’s how it’s gonna be?” you shot back, scooping up water with both hands and throwing it right at his chest.

He retaliated, sending another wave toward you, and suddenly it was war. One splash turned into another, then another, until you were both breathless, clothes sticking to your skin, hair a mess.

Sunghoon pushed his dripping bangs back with a huff. “This is your fault,” he said, smiling his usual warm and blinding smile—the smile that made his eyes crinkle, the smile that revealed dimples carving deep into his cheeks, the smile that could make anyone think Sunghoon had never forced a grin in his life.

He was beautiful, and you could feel yourself falling deeper and deeper, with no way out. You were falling so deep that it made your heart ache a little—the way you liked him, the way you wanted him to be yours, the way you wished today could last forever.

As the sky started to turn amber, you collapsed onto the sand, watching the sun lower itself into the horizon.

The waves rolled in, steady and endless, curling at the shore. The air smelled of salt, and the golden glow of the sunset painted the world majestically. You sat side by side, talking and laughing about random things, content to share the warmth of a single jacket.

Then, somewhere between the soothing sound of the waves and the silly jokes, the conversation drifted deeper.

You talked about things you never had before—about college, about dreams and ambitions, about the way people always say you’ll just know when something is right.

“How do you know for sure that that’s what you wanted to pursue?” he asked while you were tracing idle patterns in the sand. “What if you think you know, but when you get to the end of it, you realize it was the wrong choice?”

You looked out into the ocean, tilting your head slightly, considering. “I didn’t really know it was the right choice. I don’t think anyone ever really knows,” you admitted. “Not in the moment, at least. Maybe you just choose something, and later, that choice becomes the right one.”

You turned to look at him only to find out he already had his eyes on you. The admiration in his gaze was subtle, but it was there. Seeing that made your heart trip over itself, it made you forget, for just a second, that this wasn’t real.

And when he leaned in, when his eyes flickered to your lips and your breath caught, you stopped thinking. You knew what was coming. You knew he was about to kiss you, but somehow, for some reason, this time felt different. Like this kiss was gonna determine a major point in your relationship.

But before anything could happen, Sunghoon’s phone rang, jolting you both out of the trance. You both looked away in embarrassment, clearing your throat like you’d caught yourself doing something you shouldn’t. Which was ridiculous because you’d done nothing but kiss him in the past few months.

Sunghoon cleared his throat as he picked up his phone on the sand then answered the call with a quiet, “Yeah?”

It was the committee for the exhibit and you watched him talk on the phone for the next few minutes, explaining what had happened and why he couldn’t finish the errand. By the time he hung up, the sky had darkened completely, and the air had turned crisp.

“It’s late,” he said, brushing sand off his hands. “You okay with crashing at my place?”

You blinked. “Your place?”

“Our old family house. It’s not far from here.”

You hesitated for a moment, but then shrugged. “Sure.”

The car ride was quiet, thick with the tension that had been ignited by the near-kiss at the beach. Neither of you spoke, but your gazes met every now and then—quick glances, fleeting and heated, before darting away like you hadn’t been caught.

Sunghoon was the first to break. His hand drifted from the wheel, finding your thigh in the dim glow of the dashboard, fingers pressing just enough to make your breath hitch. He squeezed, testing, and when you didn’t stop him, he grew bolder, pushing the hem of your dress up just enough to feel the warmth of your skin. His fingers traced your skin with slow, deliberate strokes, inching higher into your inner thighs and lightly brushing your sex.

The heat of his touch burned through you. While you sat there feeling hotter as your heartbeat hammered wildly in your chest, he remained composed and quiet, his face unreadable save for the occasional twitch of his jaw. He kept his eyes on the road, but the way the car gradually picked up speed as he stepped harder on the gas told you everything you needed to know.

The tension coiled tighter and tighter until the car rolled to a stop in their driveway. He exhaled sharply, as if regaining control of himself before stepping out and opening the door for you like nothing was out of the ordinary. 

The lock to their house’s main entrance clicked, the door creaked open, and the second you stepped inside, all restraints snapped.

You barely had a moment to take in the house before his hands were on you, pulling you in, mouths crashing in a kiss that was desperate, needy, and greedy. He backed you into the foyer, hands mapping the curve of your waist, and the shape of your hips.

Your fingers tangled in his shirt, pulling, tugging, holding on for dear life as the heat of his touch woke something primal in you. He barely broke the kiss as he guided you further inside, not caring where you ended up as long as you got there together. You went past the foyer and the living room, but all you felt was the press of his body, the way he kissed you with the kind of hunger that made your head spin.

He pushed a door open, urging you inside but you hesitated, pulse hammering.

“Sunghoon,” you breathed between kisses, fingers clutching at his shoulders. “Your parents—”

“They’re not home.” His voice was low, steady, but his eyes burned through yours.

You barely had a second to process before he kissed you again, silencing every last doubt as he pushed you inside the door he had just opened. When he clicked the lights on, the glow of a bathroom light flickered on, reflecting off the tiles and the mirror above the sink.

“Figured you’d hate the taste of the sea on my skin,” he murmured, grinning as his fingers grazed your hip. You were suddenly reminded of the saltwater clinging to your skin, and the sand on your legs, remnants of the day you’d spent together.

You swallowed, nodding. But the moment he lifted the hem of his shirt, pulling it over his head in one swift motion, you knew washing up wasn’t gonna be the only thing happening in here. 

You shamelessly ogled him—his bare skin, damp from sweat and seawater, and his lean build with well-defined muscles that you’d seen several times before but still found alluring. He caught you staring and smirked, stepping closer, close enough that his fingers found the buttons of your top.

“Did you know I’m good with buttons?” he asked softly, making you giggle.

“Yeah. I’ve seen your skills,” you said, watching him.

His fingers were deft, undoing your buttons slowly, teasingly. When he was done, he gently tugged it off, letting it fall on the floor. His hands didn’t leave you, though. They skimmed down your arms, and your waist, examining every curve like he had it memorized and wanted to see if anything was different.

The next thing you knew, warm water was cascading over your bodies, steam enveloping you in the small space. The spray soaked your hair, trailing down your spine, but you barely noticed because Sunghoon was there—his hands smoothing over your skin, his lips brushing against your shoulder, your jaw, his canines grazing your skin ever so slightly.

“We’re supposed to be washing up,” you teased, though your voice was breathless.

“We are,” he murmured, his fingers sliding down your stomach, inching lower. “Just making sure we’re doing it thoroughly.”

You let out a quiet laugh, but it faded into a sigh when he pressed you back against the cool tiles, his mouth finding yours again. He didn’t stay for long, lips trailing down your jaw to your neck, all the way to your chest where his kisses turned a little more intense. He sucked and squeezed, sending a pleasant ripple through your body that made you arch forward for more. The water drowned out the sound of your quiet moans, the warmth of his mouth making every touch feel more heady, more intoxicating.

When did he take off his pants? You didn’t even notice until he pressed his body against yours and you felt his manhood pulsating against your torso, hot and raging. He kissed your lips again, shoving his tongue inside as his breathing turned rougher.

“Turn around,” he rasped in your ear, and you obliged, finding yourself face-to-face with your own reflection.

You pressed your hands against the glass, your entire body tingling with anticipation as he positioned himself behind you. He wrapped an arm around your shoulder, kissing the side of your neck as you felt his tip prodding your pussy.

“Look at you,” he whispered, biting your ear. “Do you have any idea how you drive me crazy all the damn time?”

You were about to respond when he pushed himself inside you, making you let out a throaty gasp instead. Sunghoon stayed still, shushing you gently and kissing your shoulder.

“It’s alright. We’ve done this before,” he chimed and you could see him smirking in your reflection. 

“You’re used to this, right?” he asked, moving delicately so you could properly adjust to his length and girth. “Right, baby?” he asked again, and the lilt in his voice made you close your eyes and nod.

“That’s right. You said you love it, didn’t you?” 

You could only let out a deep sigh, tilting your head back. “Yes, Hoon. I love it,” you whispered back.

“Good. I know you do,” he chimed, gently bending you forward. “I know you’ll love this too,” he added before his hands settled on your waist and he started thrusting into you.

His pace was urgent, with enough force to make your knees weak each time he slammed into you. You didn’t even bother to stifle your moans anymore, letting them out completely, not caring if there were neighbors nearby who might hear you. You were lightheaded with lust, spiraling into the titillating euphoria that Sunghoon never once failed to deliver. Your entire being came alive and you were so caught up in it that you didn’t even notice your knees buckling underneath your weight.

Sunghoon’s grip tightened as he helped keep you up, pulling out to give you a quick break and to turn you face-to-face with him again. His grin was unmistakable, pleased to see your fucked-out expression. “So so beautiful,” he said, sweeping your hair out of your face.

He pressed you against the cool tiles, his lips crashing onto yours, urgency overtaking everything else. You gasped when his hands gripped your thighs, lifting you against him. The water poured over his shoulders, down your back, as he moved with reckless need, his breath ragged against your ear. 

“More, Hoon. Please, more,” you pleaded, as if he wasn’t already ramming mercilessly into you making every nerve in your body dance in pleasure.

“You’re so horny for me,” he murmured against your lips, his fingers gripping your thighs as he lifted you against him. “Can’t even wait till we got to the bed, huh?”

Your breath hitched as he pressed into you, the heat of the shower only amplifying the sensation. “This was your idea,” you whispered, but it came out shaky, wrecked.

He chuckled, low and deep. “I know. But you want this too, don’t you?” he said, voice smooth as his lips traced down your throat. “You want me so bad. You’re begging me for more, isn’t that right?”

You didn’t answer—not in words, at least. But when you tightened your grip around his shoulders, nails pressing into his skin, he took it as confirmation.

“That’s it,” he groaned, rolling his hips into yours. “Come on, baby. Let me hear you.”

You whimpered when he hit a delicious spot, holding onto him tighter. “Hoon, you fuck so good.”

He grunted, spurred on by your admission. He was fast, desperate—like he couldn’t get enough, like he had to claim every inch of you right then and there. When he finally tipped over the edge, dragging you down with him, he held you through it, his lips pressing on your temple as your body trembled in his arms.

The moment was fleeting, but the desire didn’t leave just yet. You could still feel it in his touch even as he set you back on your feet. The moment you stepped out of the shower, Sunghoon grabbed a towel, barely bothering to dry you properly before he lifted you off your feet, carrying you out of the bathroom, down the hallway, and into what you only assumed was his bedroom.

This time, there was no rush.

He laid you down, his hands smoothing over your skin, his touch softer now, more reverent. “Look at you,” he murmured, eyes tracing over every inch of you, dark with something more than just lust. “So pretty. So perfect for me.”

Your breath came uneven as he leaned down, pressing slow, lingering kisses along your collarbone, down your chest, lower—each one dragging a gasp from your lips.

“Tell me what you need,” he whispered against your skin.

“You,” you admitted, voice barely above a whisper.

A knowing smile tugged at his lips. “Yeah?” He kissed the corner of your mouth, teasing. “Then take me,” he added, just before he filled you up again.

It wasn’t rushed, wasn’t urgent, or desperate. It was slow, deep, and overwhelming in the most delightful way. He kept his forehead pressed to yours, breath warm against your face, whispering in between kisses.

“That’s it… just like that, baby,” he murmured, moving languidly. “You feel so good. You’re taking me so well.”

Every whispered praise sent shivers down your spine, made you cling to him even tighter, and made the pleasure build until it was unbearable.

The night was young and it was not gonna end just yet. And so the hours blurred into moments of euphoric highs, fleeting clarity, and intense need to ravage and be ravaged. His name was the only thing you could say—over and over—until you were both left breathless, tangled together in the sheets, completely undone.

In the morning, you probably wouldn’t remember every detail of tonight, but you’d remember this—remember the way his hands felt on your skin, the way he whispered your name like a prayer. In the dim glow of Sunghoon’s bedroom, your fingers tangled in his damp hair, lips swollen from too many kisses, you let yourself forget. Forget the rules. Forget that this was never supposed to feel like more. Just for tonight, he was yours, and you were his.

The morning light streamed in through the sheer curtains, hurting your eyes a little. You blinked awake, momentarily disoriented, until the scent of Sunghoon’s shampoo on your skin and the warmth of the bed beneath you reminded you where you were.

You turned over to find him already awake, his arm tucked behind his head as he looked at you with a lazy smile. “Morning,” he murmured.

“Morning,” you murmured, voice thick with sleep.

His fingers skimmed down your arm. “You’re cute when you sleep.”

A slow blink. Then, a scoff. “Liar.”

“It’s true.” He tucked a strand of hair behind your ear, his touch lingering as his gaze flickered down to your lips. “You drool a little, though.”

You smacked his arm. “I do not.”

His laughter was low and teasing, as he caught your wrist then tugged you closer. His body was warm against yours, and his breath was even warmer as he kissed the curve of your neck.

“We should get up,” you said, but neither of you moved.

“Yeah,” he murmured, his soft kisses trailing down to your shoulder. “In a bit,” he added before reaching to cup your cheek and kiss your lips.

One thing led to another and suddenly, you were underneath him again, his body pressing into yours like he couldn’t bear to be apart.

The morning air was cool, but his hands were warm as they skimmed down your waist, his touch slow, and smooth. 

“You’re insatiable,” he murmured against your lips, smiling when you shivered under him.

“So are you,” you whispered back, running your fingers through his hair.

He hummed, nipping at your bottom lip before soothing it with his tongue. “Guess we’re even, then.”

His hands slid over your bare skin, his touch reverent. He kissed you deeply, guiding you through the lazy tangle of limbs and soft gasps, dragging it out like he had all the time in the world.

By the time you finally got out of bed, Sunghoon had already dug through his closet, tossing you an old hoodie and some sweatpants. You pulled them on and followed him down the quiet hallway.

The house felt still—too still. Only then did you notice the dust gathering on the bookshelves, the faint scent of time in the air.

“This place has been empty for a while now,” Sunghoon said casually from behind you when he noticed you looking around. “My family moved a few months ago to take care of my grandparents.”

Your brows lifted. “So no one lives here?”

He shook his head. “Not really. I come by sometimes. I technically still live here, I'm just not here often.”

That made sense. There was something about the house—it felt untouched, frozen in time, like stepping into a memory. You walked further into the hall, your fingers grazing along the walls and stopping at the framed photographs hanging there.

You studied them, tilting your head. Sunghoon as a kid, bright-eyed and grinning, a missing tooth on full display. A younger version of him on a skating rink, mid-game, frozen in motion. Another picture—him and his family, arms slung over each other’s shoulders, and several of him in a skating rink, different poses, taken in the middle of a routine.

“You skate?”

Sunghoon smiled, standing beside you and looking up at the photos. “Used to. I was in the national team for a while.”

“Why did you stop?” you asked glancing up at him and seeing the reminiscent look on his face.

He simply shrugged. “I had to be realistic. I enjoyed the sport but I couldn’t see myself doing it for a long time.”

You bit back a smile. “You were kind of adorable.”

Sunghoon scoffed, stepping up behind you. “I still am.”

“Debatable.”

He tugged at your hoodie—his hoodie—pulling the hood over your head before nodding toward the door. “Come on. Let’s go get something to eat.”

The drive back to the city was uneventful, the radio playing softly in the background. Sunghoon’s hand rested on the wheel, his other lazily draped over your thigh, tracing absentminded patterns through the fabric of his sweatpants that you were still wearing. You were talking, laughing, stealing quick glances at him between songs on the stereo.

At some point, he cleared his throat. “So… what are you doing later?”

“I have a group project.” You groaned, leaning back against the seat. “I’m meeting up with my classmates later.”

“Right. Group project.” He nodded slowly, drumming his fingers against the steering wheel. “Sounds boring.”

“It is,” you huffed. “Why’d you ask?”

“No reason.” His eyes stayed fixed on the road, but you caught the way his grip on the wheel tightened just slightly. A second passed before he spoke again, this time even more nonchalant. “What about tomorrow?”

You tilted your head. “Tomorrow? I’m not sure. Just classes, I think.” You turned to him, raising a brow. “Why?”

“Do you wanna grab lunch with me tomorrow?”

You stared at him for a moment, then grinned teasingly. “Are you asking me out on a date, Park Sunghoon?”

His ears turned the faintest shade of pink, but he scoffed like the idea was ridiculous. “I’m just saying we should get lunch.”

“Mmm.” You pretended to think. “Sounds like a date to me.”

“It’s not a date.”

You scoffed in playful exasperation. “Dude, I was naked on top of you last night and a couple of other nights before. Surely we’re way past shy invitations for lunch dates?”

“I’m asking you to eat.” He paused, then added with a tilt of his head, “But if you wanna call it a date, that’s fine too. Labels are overrated.”

You hummed, pretending to think about it. “Hm. I guess I’ll allow it.”

Sunghoon chuckled, shaking his head. “Good. It’s settled then,” he said, stopping at a red light.

He leaned over to kiss you, catching you off guard but only for a moment. You kissed him back, albeit a little confused. When he pulled away, he was wearing a proud smirk on his face and you couldn’t help but laugh.

“Stop that.”

“Stop what?” he asked, shifting the gear as the light turned green again. He reached for your hand, intertwining your fingers and bringing it to his lips.

One hour later, you reached your apartment complex, but had to you stay a few more minutes in his car because he couldn’t seem to get enough of you, kissing and touching right there in the parking lot. You had to forcefully push him away and remind him that you had classes and important stuff to attend to. Even then, he was reluctant to let you go.

After a dramatic goodbye that had him pouting as he drove away, you climbed up the building with a sickening grin on your face. You unlocked your door, stepping inside with a lightness in your chest, breathing in the familiar smell of your home. 

The past few days had been a rollercoaster for you, with all the guessing and expectations and disappointments. But now, you were feeling much lighter, much happier. The good days with Sunghoon were all you could think of, playing back in flashes—the sound of his laugh in your space, the weight of his arm over your waist in the morning, the smell of his skin at night, the way he always left the bathroom mirror fogged up because he took ridiculously hot showers.

Tossing your bag onto the couch, you leaned against the door for a moment, smiling to yourself. Sunghoon was nice, but he always drew an invisible line. Not this time. You could tell by the way he held you this morning, the way he was reluctant to part from you, and how he’d asked to hang out with you for lunch—outside, in public. It felt like, for once, you both wanted the same thing. No second-guessing, no mixed signals—you were finally moving the same direction.

Your gaze drifted to the hoodie he’d left draped over the chair, his specs on your nightstand, and the half-empty tumbler beside it—subtle proofs that he’d started leaving pieces of himself behind. You wondered if he even realized it.

And more than that, you wondered where this would go next.

The next morning, you woke up too early. Way too early.

You groaned into your pillow, rolling onto your back as you stared at the ceiling. It was ridiculous. You’d seen Sunghoon plenty of times before—hung out, spent nights together, and shared more than just passing glances. But the idea of today, of a proper lunch date, had you wide awake before the sun was even fully up. Maybe it was because, for once, you weren’t just meeting up in the comfort of your apartment or his. It would be something different. Something real.

You giggled at the thought, covering your face with your blanket and then flailing your arms and legs. 

Admitting that to yourself felt embarrassing, so you dragged yourself out of bed and decided to be productive. If you were going to be up this early, you might as well make the most of it.

A jog around the neighborhood. A quick stop at the store. And before you knew it, you were back in your apartment, unpacking groceries and deciding, on a whim, to actually cook breakfast. When was the last time you did that? You couldn’t even remember.

By the time you arrived on campus, you were still riding the high of a morning well-spent. Your good mood didn’t go unnoticed—your friends picked up on it immediately, teasing you about the extra bounce in your step. You brushed them off with the excuse of getting enough sleep, but they weren’t wrong. Everything just felt lighter today.

Even classes didn’t seem so unbearable. You participated. You took notes. You weren’t counting down the minutes to leave—well, not exactly. But the closer lunchtime got, the more restless you became, checking your phone every so often even though you knew you were the only one keeping track of time this obsessively.

Then, just as you were leaving your last morning class, your phone buzzed.

Sunghoon: Hey pretty. Something came up. I can’t do lunch today. I’m sorry. Sunghoon: I’ll make it up to you later tonight, okay?

Your steps slowed, but you kept moving, staring at the text longer than necessary.

Bummed. That was the best way to describe it. You weren’t mad—plans get canceled all the time, and at least he let you know ahead of time—but disappointment still settled in the pit of your stomach. You took a breath, shook it off, and responded with a simple, It’s fine. See you later.

Lunch with your friends helped a little. You laughed, caught up on random gossip, and even let them drag you to a café afterward. You weren’t dwelling on it. Really, you weren’t.

Until you stepped out of the café and saw him. Sunghoon, standing outside the campus gates. And he wasn’t alone. 

Jenna was with him.

You stopped in your tracks, heart lurching in a way you hadn’t felt before. It wasn’t just that he was there, but the way he was standing close to her, the way she was talking, nudging his arm like she had every right to be in his space.

Sunghoon must have felt someone staring at him because he glanced your way and saw you. His eyes brightened in recognition, and he greeted you casually, like nothing was out of the ordinary. But you didn’t even know how to react. Your body moved before your brain could catch up. You walked past him, barely sparing a glance, pretending as if you weren’t close. As if he was just someone you barely knew.

Your friends who saw that were confused, following behind you after quick greetings to both Sunghoon and Jenna. 

Tammy caught up to you, nudged your arm, and asked, “Where are you running off to after ignoring Sunghoon like that?”

“I wasn’t ignoring anyone,” you muttered.

“You totally were,” Lily chimed in, linking arms with you as she leaned to speak in a quieter voice. “That’s so fishy. What’s going on?”

You didn’t respond, your mind too muddled to even try and come up with a good answer. As you rounded the corner, your phone buzzed a second later.

Sunghoon: Hey. What was that?

You ignored it, as well as the other messages that followed. 

The rest of the afternoon slipped through your fingers in a haze of self-pity. You curled up on the couch, aimlessly flipping through movies, but nothing got your attention. The voices blurred together, scenes passed without meaning. You weren’t devastated. You weren’t heartbroken. You were just... mad. Annoyed that after everything, after how good things had been, this was what it came down to. But getting worked up wouldn’t do anything. So, you forced yourself to let it go. 

Or at least, you tried. It was impossible when he kept creeping into your thoughts—his voice, his touch, the way he looked at you just yesterday—like he wanted this as much as you did.

You didn’t even realize you had dozed off until the sound of your phone ringing jolted you awake.

You blinked against the glow of the screen. Sunghoon.

For a moment, you stared at his name, your heartbeat loud in the quiet of your apartment. You could ignore it. You could let it ring out and pretend you were still asleep. You could put an end to this charade, to tell him you were done and sick of it. But you didn’t.

You answered. His voice was gentle, cautious. “Can I come over?”

You should say no. You should end this here and now. Enough is enough. But… “Yeah. Of course,” you said, trying your best to sound normal.

Half an hour later, he was in your apartment, hands on you, lips on yours, familiar and desperate. And, as always, you let him in—physically, emotionally, despite knowing better. You let yourself believe that maybe, for just a little longer, this could be enough.

Afterward, you slipped out of bed, padding into the bathroom to wash up. By the time you returned, the room was dark, the only source of light was coming from Sunghoon’s phone on the nightstand. He was already asleep, his breathing even, his body sprawled across your sheets like he belonged there.

You reached for the blanket to pull it over him when his phone buzzed, the screen glowing against the dim light. Your gaze flickered to it, drawn by instinct.

Jenna calling...

Your chest tightened at the name. For a moment, you just stood there, watching the name flash across the screen before it faded into darkness. You could answer it. You could see what she wanted, hear her voice, and confirm everything you had been trying so hard to ignore.

But you didn’t.

Instead, you climbed into bed, curling up beside Sunghoon, feeling the warmth of his body against yours. You knew what you had to do. Knew that when he woke up, this had to end for good.

But not yet.

For now, while he was still yours—warm, close, familiar—you let yourself have this one last moment. You closed your eyes and pretended everything was okay, even though you knew exactly what tomorrow would bring.

The next morning, you woke up to an empty bed. The space beside you was cold. 

It was over.

The realization hit you like a punch to the gut. You had spent the night convincing yourself that you were ready for this, ready to end things, but the second you woke up to find him gone, the ache in your chest became unbearable.

Tears welled up before you could stop them. You curled into yourself, pressing your face against the pillow, sobbing into the fabric as if that could somehow muffle the sound. This wasn’t supposed to hurt. You weren’t supposed to grieve something that was never really yours. But you did.

You let yourself fall apart, mourning what could have been, whispering prayers into the silence that it didn’t have to end this way.

And then the door creaked open. You gasped, jolting up, eyes red and blurry as Sunghoon stepped into the room, holding your tumbler in his hand. 

His brows furrowed at the sight of you, eyes widening in alarm. “What’s wrong?” he asked, rushing to your side, setting the tumbler down before cupping your face and wiping the tears off your cheeks. “Hey—why are you crying?”

You shook your head, unable to form words. He pulled you into his chest, his arms wrapping tightly around you as you sobbed against him. He didn’t ask any more questions. He just held you, rubbing your back, shushing you gently even though he didn’t understand what had you so upset.

After a long moment, you finally managed to choke out, “I thought you were gone.”

Sunghoon pulled back slightly, blinking at you in confusion. Then, to your utter annoyance, he started laughing.

“What do you mean, gone?” he chuckled, shaking his head. “I literally just went to shower and get you some water.”

You smacked his arm, your face burning. “Don’t laugh at me, you jerk!”

“I’m not laughing at you,” he said, though he was definitely still laughing.

Something about his amusement made you snap. Maybe it was the pent-up emotions, or maybe it was the fact that you had nothing left to lose—but suddenly, everything came spilling out.

You confessed it all.

How you weren’t supposed to catch feelings, but you did. How you tried to push them down, to ignore them, but they never really went away. How you had spent so long pretending to be fine with this casual arrangement, knowing deep down that you weren’t. How much it crushed you to think that he was trying to win Jenna back, how much it hurt when he canceled on you, and how stupid you felt for letting yourself get so attached.

Sunghoon stared at you, utterly dumbfounded.

You sniffled, swallowing back the last of your tears. “Well? Say something.”

And then, to your horror, he started laughing again.

Your stomach twisted. “Are you kidding me right now?”

But before you could shove him away, he grabbed your face and kissed you. Hard.

Your breath hitched, but you melted into it, gripping his shirt as he kissed you like he had been waiting for this moment all along. When he finally pulled away, he rested his forehead against yours, his voice quieter now. “I like you,” he admitted. “A lot.”

You opened your mouth, but he kept going. “You’re fun, you don’t take my shit, and you get me in a way that most people don’t. I’m always looking forward to seeing you. To hearing whatever sarcastic thing you were gonna say next. To just… being with you.”

“Then why—”

“I wasn’t with Jenna because of what you think.” His hands slid down to hold yours, his thumbs brushing over your knuckles. “There was an accident with the exhibit setup, and I had to be there. She just happened to walk out with me.”

Your eyes narrowed. “And the part where you’re trying to get back with her?”

Sunghoon made a face. “Where did you even hear that?”

You hesitated before mumbling, “A mutual friend.”

He huffed. “Why didn’t you just ask me?”

“I don’t know!” You did, but you weren’t about to admit that you didn’t want to seem like you were expecting too much from him—like you were demanding something that was never part of your deal.

Sunghoon sighed, squeezing your hands. “I don’t know where you got that idea, but I only have eyes for you.” His lips quirked. “Yeah, maybe I didn’t realize how much I liked you at first, but ever since we started this, I haven’t thought about anyone else.”

Your heart stuttered.

Then he smirked. “I thought we had an understanding. Did we really need a label for it?”

You scoffed, rolling your eyes. “Right. Labels are overrated.”

Sunghoon kissed you deeply, and this time, you returned it with the same amount of sweet abandon. Then he pulled back just enough to rest his forehead against yours, his breath warm against your lips.

“I’m all yours, baby,” he murmured. “And right now, I’m wondering if you’d wanna be mine too.”

You let out a sharp breath, your chest tightening at his words. For a second, you just stared at him—his dark eyes searching yours, his expression completely open, completely vulnerable.

Then you scoffed, shaking your head with an exasperated laugh.

“For fuck's sake, Sunghoon.” You squeezed his hands, tugging him just a little closer. “I’m already yours.”

His lips crashed into yours before you could say anything else, stealing the last of your breath, and this time, you didn’t hold anything back.

[fin]

[tsuyalovebot]

watch you entertain.

pairing: xia yi zhou / caleb x reader (love and deepspace)

synopsis: caleb comes to a few conclusions when you give him a blowjob for the first time.

cw: NSFW and explicit sexual content, mdni. established relationship. mentions of intercourse. oral sex (blowjob). mentions of reader receiving oral sex. hair pulling. imaginative violence (not to reader). petnames (pretty, pipsqueak). mention of oral sex (receiving). he slaps his dick on your face (not sorry). mention of spanking and watching porn. caleb-typical warnings.

wc: 1.7k (drabble....ish????)

author's note: i can't defend myself since 90% of this is word vomit. i'm working on another caleb piece right now, but i needed to get this out of my system. think of it as a precursor piece, like an hors d'oeuvres. also, please disregard any typos. (— - —)|||

The first time Caleb felt your lips on his was magical. The second, third, fourth, and succeeding times were all but surreal.

He had all but convinced himself that your mouth, pressed to his in a flurry of tender touches or desirous cravings, was something he conjured up in the blurry moments of his delusions. You always manage to kiss them away, though.

Later on, you admitted that he was your first kiss.

"When I visited you after you moved out," you said. Hands wrung, your gaze averted downward as you were perched on his lap one evening.

He knows what you're talking about. Remembers its vividness with a startling clarity that would have embarrassed him otherwise, if you didn't share the same sentiments.

By now, you've already kissed and made out in the intimacy of his place beyond finite counting. Had sex with him on whatever surface the two of you could get your hands on. You've long since spoiled him with your presence, both physical and mental. There's a key tucked away in his headspace with your name engraved into the metal. Magnetic and the signification of a special place for you in his heart.

He spoiled you, and now, you spoil him. Neither of you complain about this mutually beneficial arrangement. Why would you?

Though, he can't say he's exactly pleased at the current moment.

"That's it, mmm. You're being so sweet today."

He's watching you, as he always is. You're on your knees before him—you insisted, said it added to the atmosphere despite his crows of indignance at the possibility of them bruising—and your mouth impossibly full of his cock.

You're bare before him, towel discarded on the coffee table with your body damp and he's barely presentable in his uniform. Disheveled and pants undone, he wasn't sure if he was exactly living up to the honorable nature of the clothes he donned. He tried to undress, but you'd been pawing at him the second he walked through the doorstep in nothing but one of the towels he bought you, so his resistance was doomed from the start.

His arms spread on the top of the couch, he tilts his head back and sighs slowly. Hot breath escapes him in time with his Adam's apple bobbing, swallowing a heavy moan that threatens to break free. It takes him a few moments before he peers at your kneeling form once more.

One of his hands cups your cheek, the cool leather swiping over your cheekbone and pushing some of your hair back. Rapt attention on you, whispering soft words of, "that's how you do it" and "a biiit wider, pipsqueak— yeah, like that" with so much appreciation in his tone. Because that's what he feels toward you right now; so much appreciation in his heart belongs to you.

Your tongue was doing sinful licks along the underside of his cock's curve, the girth hefty in your two hands, and your eyes stayed closed in a quiet pleasure. It's expertly done, and the creation of human response as you wrap those pretty pink lips around the tip of him and suckle on it, strings of your saliva leaving sticky wefts along the shaft.

Alternating between peppering his length in kisses and taking a couple inches into your mouth, he's fighting for his fucking life trying to not bust a nut. He's sort of ashamed to have dreamt of this moment for years. You would never let him live it down.

As if the deities couldn't get enough of his suffering, his mind had made the fatal mistake of noting the visible difference of the size of him and your hands and your mouth. It gets him going, that stark contrast and how gently you were treating him.

It's a sight reserved for his eyes alone. Something he wants to pocket and immortalize because it's his and only his. That's the only reason for the powerful plethora of emotions boiling over in his gut. Truly, the only reason.

That's what he tells himself as he observes you with a progressively darkening, clinical, dead-eyed stare that you weren't aware of. A little voice in him nagging at his conscience, spitting words of venom that feeds into the slowly, slowly expanding green-eyed monster rising onto its feet.

"I got a question for you, pretty," he says calmly, deceptively so. Making sure to sound as casual as possible, his gloved hand coming to stroke over your damp, silky hair. You really just couldn't wait to please him, immediately pawing at him when he arrived home and you were fresh out the bath.

You murmur something in reply, lips suctioned to his shaft. Those gorgeous eyes, ones that beheld him with such reverence and adoration in round shape flicker up to his. The vibrations and sight hit him like a freight train and he groans, low and deep. He lets the pleasure settle into his bones.

"You have to answer honestly, 'kay?" He croons down at you, assuring. His facial expression had finally relaxed from its initial, contemplative one. You're happy with this, he notes as you eagerly bob your head, careful to remain quiet.

Good. It'll make hearing your voice all the more worth it. When you said he was your first kiss, he was beyond ecstatic.

Hopefully, you can echo the same thing now.

With an easygoing air betraying that of his positively threatening smile, he asks, "Where'd you learn how to do this?"

There's a sick sense of pleasure in watching you process his words a second too lats. Because you're such an open book with him, aren't you? The way your eyes widen and your lips halt, as if your heart stopped even beating. Even if makes his own blackened heart speed up, its thudding resembling a rabbit's stomping.

Your blinks were a linguistic of their own, and he was the expert in unraveling the lexicology of your existence.

You don't answer fast enough. Or, you don't answer at all. Because now, you're staring him like a child chastised for having their hand in a candy jar—where they weren't supposed to be.

Unfortunately for you, that was more than telling for him.

Caleb doesn't speak. The air is several degrees colder now, like the air circulation was suddenlt cut off, and he drinks in the way anticipation tenses your muscles and your uneven breaths smooth over his skin when you pop your lips off his cock. Those sinful lips that he stole away as his were now glistening in a mix of your spittle and his pre-cum.

He could almost forgive you right now. But, you make the crucial mistake of looking away from him.

"Oh?" It's inquisitive—his tone, yet it has the power of a knife being drawn.

The hand on your head loses its comforting, encouraging air and instead becomes a weight.

A threat.

The visual that's formulating in his head isn't a pleasant one. An image of stained glass shards, blurry yet clear in the vision of you on your knees for another guy. The scattered light capturing your mouth wrapped around the faceless stranger, servicing him the same way you're handling Caleb, seeking that same, sickly sweet tang of validation.

Could it have been that Xavier guy he sees on your phone notifications from time to time? Or is it someone closer to you, from your Association? There's a chance someone else from your childhood reached out to you, maybe after his disappearance. Did they hold you in ways he's been craving to hold you for years?

That's not fair, now, is it? He's worn your hairtie around his wrist for years, disregarded countless scribbled love letters from bystanders, based his little trinkets around those apples you love so much, and spoiled you countless times in his misplaced desire for playing the role of your protector. It simply isn't fair that you sought gratification from a source that wasn't him—because for him, it was always you.

Is it too selfish of him to want your everything?

You don't say anything even as your mouth opens and closes. You're either searching for an excuse, weighing the costs of lying to him at the moment, or you're genuinely floundering for words at the sudden blankness in your head.

He hums again, and it's lower than before. Full of thought and contemplation as his amethyst eyes bore holes into your speechless state. It's full of disappointment and he sees the worry creep into your eyes like a leaking faucet.

Threading his gloved fingers into the tresses of your hair, its smooth leather massaging your scalp, his face softens.

"I guess I did say you should be honest, not fast," he murmurs, laughing to himself quietly.

His lips tilt into a boyish sort of grin, and it's so full of mirth and entertainment that it's easy to process as him diffusing the situation. It works like so, and you're soon tilting your head into his palm and seeking his touch.

In the distance, the kettle in the kitchen screeches like an alarm of what's to come.

Disconcertingly relaxed, his smile seems absolutely sarcastic. A bit sharp at the edges.

"I should make it easier to understand. Let me rephrase it, then."

He pulls your hair. It's one harsh motion and it jerks your head up. A gasp torn from your lips as they fall open, the slight sting shooting through your body with an charged breeze.

"Who did you learn this from?"

He's so used to tasting you before fucking; your sex and his tongue are practically best friends in his eyes. It never once occurred to him to have you suck him off.

He should've been suspicious the second you offered to begin with.

The blood drains from your face some more and he relishes the blank yet alert state your eyes reflect. He's sure your mind is in disarray right now. The feeling is mutual, though you're aware of that too, most likely.

"I have a right to know. I always said that you could come to me if you needed help with anything, right?" It's a rhetorical question. You both know that. You're doomed either way.

You make another breathless noise, and he wants to explore your vocality. Now, how would you sound gagging on him?

"Caleb—"

He shushes you softly and you quiet down in an instant.

"I don't need an answer that isn't related to my question, don't you agree?"

Another rhetorical question as he cocks his head, the gesture mocking.

"You're always tellin' me to be honest and share my thoughts with you. I'm bein' honest now. Everything should be mutual, so, answer my question. I might even go easy on you."

You're totally panicking now, aren't you?

His other hand wraps around the base of his cock and he slaps the shaft onto your cheek, then smearing his leaking tip over your glistening lips, a thoughtful smile playing on his own as if he were offering you candy.

"And depending on how you answer, I'm either taking you over my knee while you spell their name out, or you'll be showing me exactly what pornos you've been watching without my knowledge. So, what's it gonna be?"

[socialobligation]

tell my mom we're in love | h. sero

fake dating wasn't on your holiday to-do list—until sero invited you home for tamales and chaos (3525 words)

you regretted this the moment you stepped out of the dormitory and into the sharp chill of mid-december air, a duffel bag hanging off one shoulder and your dignity already teetering on the edge. trailing beside you was hanta sero, practically vibrating with the smug energy of a man who had just talked his best friend into making the worst decision of her academic career.

and technically, he had.

somewhere between his mother's increasingly invasive matchmaking attempts and his inability to say the word "no" like a normal person, he'd decided the solution was to invent a girlfriend. and of course, of course, he'd chosen you.

"come on," he said now, as a cab idled at the curb, white exhaust curling into the crisp air like smoke from a slow-burning disaster. "tell me this won't be fun. just a little bit."

"i think i'm too emotionally aware to find this fun," you muttered, hoisting your bag into the trunk as he leaned beside you with his usual careless grace.

sero grinned—that unbothered, insufferably pretty grin that always made it harder to stay annoyed with him for long. "emotionally aware, huh? sounds like you're already getting into character."

you leveled him with a look. "if i'm your girlfriend, you're going to need to stop flirting like a golden retriever with a god complex."

"babe," he said, slipping into the backseat beside you with the kind of unearned confidence that should have come with a warning label, "flirting is literally how i survive in social settings. don't take this from me."

you stared out the window, hoping the freezing glass would cool the creeping warmth crawling up your neck. "we're not actually dating, hanta."

"right," he said, and he sounded amused, not wounded. "but we could be really good at it."

you didn't answer. he didn't press.

the cab pulled away from the dorms, and for a moment the silence between you was companionable, like it always had been. you'd known sero for years now—long enough to understand that his laid-back demeanor was as real as it was performative. he was the kind of person who made a room feel lighter just by being in it, but who also knew the weight of silence better than most people ever would.

he didn't make you feel like you had to be anyone but yourself. and that, unfortunately, was the root of the problem.

somewhere along the road from "we're just friends" to "please pretend to be my girlfriend so my mom stops trying to marry me off," things had started to shift.

not all at once. not obviously.

but they shifted.

now he was dozing beside you, his head tilted toward your shoulder, and every bump in the road made him inch closer. you should have nudged him off. you should have drawn the line.

but you didn't.

instead, you studied the soft lines of his face—the relaxed set of his mouth, the faint crease between his brows like his dreams were just a little too fast for his thoughts to catch—and you wondered what the hell you'd gotten yourself into.

by the time the cab slowed, the sun had dipped low, casting golden light over a neighborhood that looked far too idyllic to be real. sero's house was two stories of warmth and welcome: string lights curled along the porch railing, a wreath hung slightly crooked on the front door, and smoke drifted lazily from a chimney that promised something warm inside.

standing at the threshold was a woman with sharp eyes, a kind smile, and the unmistakable aura of someone who could both bake you cookies and emotionally destroy you in the same breath.

sero's mother.

you froze.

he didn't.

without hesitation, sero leaned in, brushing your hair behind your ear like it was the most natural thing in the world. his voice dipped just low enough for only you to hear. "smile like you love me."

then he reached for your hand.

his fingers, long and warm, laced effortlessly through yours.

you didn't pull away.

and that was the moment—standing at the edge of his childhood, your fingers locked in his, heart skipping in the kind of rhythm you weren't prepared for—that you realized you were in far more danger than you thought.

because part of you didn't want to let go.

the cab hadn't even rolled to a full stop before sero's mom was standing in front of it, arms crossed, eyes already locked onto her target like a seasoned general. you had seen pictures, sure—sero had shown you a few over lunch one day, swiping through images of his mom with an almost reverent fondness—but none of them did her justice.

she was radiant. that was the first word that came to mind. not in some soft, dreamy way, but in the sharp, unmistakable warmth of someone who had mastered the art of existing unapologetically. she had a scarf looped carelessly around her neck, dark hair pinned up with wisps escaping, and that immediate, unnerving energy unique to mothers who know everything before you say a word.

"hanta," she said brightly as you approached. "you took forever, mijo. i was about to call."

and then her eyes slid to you.

her whole face changed.

"qué linda," she said, stepping down toward you without hesitation. "you're even prettier than the pictures."

you opened your mouth to answer—say something polite, maybe even charming—but instead you were pulled into a hug so warm and familiar you forgot how to speak altogether.

she smelled like cinnamon and butter, like café and home. her arms wrapped around you without hesitation, solid and reassuring, and you blinked twice before realizing she wasn't letting go just yet.

she pulled back, hands on your shoulders, eyes scanning your face with curiosity. "how old are you, mija?"

"seventeen," you managed. "ua student. same class as hanta."

"top twenty," sero chimed from behind you, proud and useless.

his mom smiled wider. "good. you'll need that to keep up with him. he talks too much."

"i'm right here," sero said, offended.

"and what's your quirk, sweetheart?" she asked, guiding you inside like she owned every molecule of the house—which she probably did.

"just a luck quirk," you replied. "it's not anything big or flashy."

"flashy's overrated," she said. "flashy gets you on magazine covers, but smart keeps you alive. hanta could use some of that balance."

sero made a wounded noise. "i'm right here."

you stepped into the house and tried not to gape. it was warm and lived-in, with mismatched furniture and soft lights, and framed photos in every direction. you passed at least three different versions of baby sero—one with cake on his face, one dressed as a shark, and one in a tiny suit looking like he'd lost a bet.

you were immediately ushered to the couch, where sero flopped down beside you like he'd done this a thousand times. his arm stretched along the back of the cushions behind you, easy and casual, but you felt the heat of it like a brand against your neck.

his mom sat in the armchair across from you, one leg crossed, hands folded, expression deceptively pleasant.

"so," she said. "how long have you two been together?"

"six months," you and sero answered in unison.

your eyes met. you both smiled.

it was practiced, but god—it didn't feel like a lie.

"how'd you meet?" she asked next.

sero leaned forward like he was telling a secret. "training. she beat up kaminari. i've never recovered."

you tried not to laugh. "he followed me around for a week."

"i was courting you."

"you were loitering near vending machines."

"i was being persistent," he corrected. "it worked, didn't it?"

his mom watched you both, eyes narrowed just enough to make you sweat.

"and what do you like about my son?" she asked you, suddenly.

your mouth went dry.

sero glanced sideways, surprised.

but the answer came easy.

"he's reliable. and funny. and he listens—really listens. like you're the only person in the room."

you could feel sero's eyes on you, and the room felt warmer than it had a second ago.

"he's easy to be around," you said, a little softer now. "i feel like i can breathe near him."

a long silence stretched across the room.

then sero bumped your shoulder with his own, voice low. "you're not supposed to make me blush in front of my mom."

his mom smiled, pleased. "i like you."

you smiled back, because how could you not. "thank you."

"i made tamales," she said, rising to her feet. "sit tight. i'll get you a plate."

"do you need help—?" you started, half-standing.

"no, no. you're a guest. you sit and let yourself be adored."

she vanished into the kitchen with surprising speed.

the moment she was out of earshot, you collapsed sideways onto the couch.

"i blacked out," you whispered. "what did i even say?"

"that i'm amazing and you love being around me," sero said smugly.

you shot him a look.

he leaned a little closer, voice dropping. "also, you were adorable. you didn't have to go that hard. i almost forgot it was fake."

you didn't answer.

⊹ ࣪ ˖

dinner came after a comfortable lull in the afternoon—just enough time for you to grow used to the house's warmth, the quiet hum of kitchen sounds, and the sound of sero humming to himself as he helped his mom plate tamales. there was something undeniably domestic about it—watching him lean over the counter, sleeves pushed up, swiping a bit of masa from the corner of a dish with a grin when he thought no one was watching.

you caught yourself watching.

a little too long.

and when he turned around and caught your eye, offering you a wink that made your stomach stutter—you looked away, pretending to study the wall like it had secrets.

the house filled slowly with more noise, more feet, more voices. by the time dinner was ready, the table was surrounded by people—his siblings, all younger, all chaos incarnate. there were five in total, ranging from what looked like barely ten to maybe sixteen. all of them clearly adored sero, and all of them clearly had a thousand questions about you.

"are you really his girlfriend?" one of the younger girls asked, blinking up at you from her seat at the far end of the table.

sero, already sitting beside you, reached for your hand under the table without hesitation. "of course she is," he said easily. "she puts up with me. that's gotta mean something."

you glanced sideways, surprised by the way his thumb started tracing circles into your palm. his fingers were warm, his grip relaxed, like this was a habit and not a performance. your first instinct was to pull away—but you didn't. you let him hold on.

"do you like him?" one of the boys asked bluntly, somewhere between a dare and a test.

you looked over at sero, who was already looking at you.

and the smile that spread across his face wasn't teasing. it wasn't even smug.

it was soft.

"i do," you said honestly. "he's easy to like."

one of his sisters actually swooned.

their mother returned from the kitchen, a stack of warm plates balanced in her arms. "aye, look at you two," she said fondly, setting down the food. "you look like you've been married five years already."

sero snorted. "that's because she already tells me what to do."

"someone has to," you said, nudging his leg under the table.

his knee pressed into yours and didn't move.

the meal began in full, voices rising over each other, stories flying back and forth like birds across the table. tamales were unwrapped, passed down, devoured. rice and beans steamed in bowls at the center. someone spilled horchata and got teased for it for fifteen minutes straight.

sero kept his hand under the table the entire time.

sometimes on your knee. sometimes brushing your fingers. once, briefly, resting on your thigh with a touch so casual and confident you forgot how to breathe for a second.

"so how did you know?" his mom asked halfway through the meal, raising an eyebrow. "that you liked each other, i mean."

you blinked. "um."

sero didn't miss a beat.

"she made this face at me once," he said, totally serious. "during training. right after i got my ass handed to me. and i thought—yeah. i'd let her ruin my life."

you choked on a sip of water. "that's not what happened."

"you raised your eyebrow," he insisted, "like i was both impressive and pathetic. it was very motivating."

"you were bleeding."

"romance is about timing."

the table erupted in laughter.

"you're ridiculous," you muttered, but there was no bite to it. you felt lightheaded from smiling too much.

his younger sister leaned over the table toward you. "you make him less annoying," she said seriously. "he's, like, way less weird with you here."

"he's still weird," someone else muttered.

"hey," sero said, deeply offended. "i'm the glue of this household."

"you're the glitter glue," one of the boys shot back. "unnecessary and all over everything."

the conversation swirled, but it was warm. easy. you felt like you'd slipped into a rhythm you hadn't known you were missing. sero's family didn't make you feel like an outsider. if anything, they treated you like a permanent fixture—like they already liked you, just because he did.

and sero—he kept looking at you.

in the quiet moments between bites. when you laughed at something his brother said. when you wiped your fingers on your napkin and he passed you your drink like he'd already anticipated you'd reach for it.

"you're really good at this," you whispered during a lull, leaning in.

"at what?" he asked, voice low, chin tilted toward you.

"this," you said. "pretending."

his eyes flicked down to your mouth, just for a second.

"what can i say," he said quietly. "i'm something of an actor."

you snickered.

and then his mom called your name from across the table.

"you like dessert, mija?" she asked, already bringing out the plates.

you blinked twice before answering, forcing a smile. "of course. thank you."

sero didn't look away from you for a long time.

dinner had long ended. the noise had faded. sero's house, once pulsing with overlapping voices and clattering plates, now thrummed with a different kind of energy—low, contented, quiet.

his siblings had scattered, full-bellied and sugar-sticky, off to bedrooms and couches and wherever else they disappeared to in the evening. someone had turned on a dusty old playlist in the den, and the soft hum of vintage boleros curled through the walls like warmth that refused to die.

you stood in the hallway between the dining room and the back door, hovering in the in-between of things: of conversations and thoughts, of what was real and what had only started out that way.

you weren't sure what to do with your hands.

or your heart.

sero appeared beside you like he always did—quiet-footed and comfortably close, smelling faintly of soap and masa and something sweet from dessert you hadn't caught the name of. his sleeves were still pushed up, revealing his forearms, and you hated that you were looking at them. not because they weren't worth looking at—they were—but because it meant your guard was down. again.

"come on," he said softly. "balcony?"

you didn't answer. you just nodded and followed.

the air outside was sharp and clean. the kind of cold that wakes you up without being cruel. you wrapped your arms around yourself more out of instinct than discomfort. the balcony was small, with a windchime shaped like a lizard hanging from the overhang, and a view of soft suburban rooftops and yellow windows scattered like lanterns across the horizon.

you leaned against the wooden railing. he did the same.

neither of you spoke.

you were too full of the evening. of tamales and laughter. of too much touch under the table. of words you'd said with a smile that weren't lies—but weren't supposed to be true either.

the problem wasn't pretending.

the problem was that pretending didn't feel like pretending anymore.

you didn't know when it had changed. maybe it was gradual—each time he laced his fingers through yours without asking, or rested his hand on your thigh mid-story, or offered you a grin across the table that was so familiar, so soft, you forgot why you were here in the first place.

but it hit you now, standing beside him in the chill—this unshakable, irreversible knowledge:

you were in love with him.

god, you were in love with hanta sero.

not just in a surface-level, crush-colored way. not just in the i-like-how-he-makes-me-laugh way. it was deeper than that. older. something that had snuck in when you weren't looking and taken root so quietly you hadn't noticed until it was everywhere.

you were in love with the way he held space. with the way he listened without trying to fix you. with the way he let the world land on him lightly, and still carried it in both hands when it mattered.

you were in love with someone who didn't even know you weren't faking anymore.

you exhaled.

"you're quiet," he said, not looking at you. "regretting it already?"

you shook your head. "no. it's just... weird how easy it was. with your family."

he hummed. "they like you."

"they liked that i made you less annoying."

"that is the highest compliment in my house."

you smiled, faint. "they're sweet. loud, but sweet."

"you kept up fine."

"i think i blacked out for half of it."

"you were golden," he said, softer now. "you always are."

you turned toward him slowly.

the lights from the kitchen spilled faintly through the curtains behind you, catching just enough of his face for you to see how relaxed he looked. how present. how close.

you swallowed.

"hanta?"

he looked over at you, brows raised. "yeah?"

there was a beat of silence.

"i don't know how to lie to you," you said.

he blinked once.

then again, slower.

"what?"

"i mean," you continued, hands curling around the edge of the railing. "i've been trying. all day. and i thought i could. i thought i could pull it off—play the part, pretend—but then we got here, and your mom hugged me, and you touched my hand under the table, and i just... i don't know when it stopped being a bit."

his eyes searched your face like he was looking for something he'd already lost.

"hanta," you said again. "i'm in love with you."

his face froze.

the air between you seemed to still. the windchime didn't move. the whole world narrowed into this one pinpoint moment, bright and fragile and terrifying.

he stepped back—just barely.

"you don't have to keep pretending," he said. carefully. cautiously. "no one's watching anymore. you can drop it."

you stared at him.

"i'm not pretending," you said.

another beat. a sharp exhale.

his lips parted slightly. his brows furrowed, not in confusion, but in disbelief. in the kind of fear that came from wanting something too much and being afraid to reach for it.

"you're serious."

"i've never been more serious about anything in my life."

sero let out a long, shaky laugh. it cracked halfway through.

"say it again," he whispered.

"i'm in love with you."

and this time, you reached for him.

your fingers curled into the fabric of his hoodie, and you felt the moment he melted—slow and overwhelmed, the way something melts that's been cold for too long.

"you've got to be kidding me," he muttered, leaning into your touch. "i thought—god, i thought i was the only one losing my mind over this."

you smiled, eyes stinging.

"you weren't."

"i've been in love with you since second year," he admitted, voice breaking a little. "you kissed my cheek that one time after i carried your books back from the nurse's office, and i nearly died. like, actual cardiac arrest."

"that was a year ago."

"welcome to my long, slow descent into insanity."

you laughed, quiet and ridiculous.

and then he kissed you.

it wasn't rushed. wasn't showy. it wasn't a fireworks-and-credits-roll kiss.

it was the kind that happened in doorways, in hallways, in quiet rooms where hearts beat too loud. the kind that changed nothing and everything all at once.

he kissed you like he meant it.

you kissed him like you'd been waiting your whole life to.

when you finally pulled apart, his forehead rested against yours.

"you're real?" you whispered, breath catching.

"i better be," he said. "otherwise you've just confessed to a figment of your imagination."

you swallowed a grin.

his thumb traced your cheek.

"i thought this would end in disaster," he said quietly. "that pretending would ruin everything."

"and?"

"and now i don't want it to end at all."

you leaned in, bumping your nose against his.

"then it doesn't have to."

he smiled, and kissed you again.

not like he was pretending.

like he was home.

[rafecameronssl4t]

Deal or deal? || Rafe Cameron x fem!reader

gif by @rafeyscurtainbangs

Summary: inspired by this scene in ep 4 but with my own twist and it’s dad!rafe x reader w/ Mabel 😍

Warnings: nothing rlly!

Word count: 1,075

A/n: hey so um I caved in couldn't resist writing at least one fic w the new season during my break...

MASTERLIST (dad!Rafe au masterlist)

divider by @h-aewo

You walk into the ensuite bathroom as you adjust Mabel on your hip. Her little hands curl around your shoulder, her head nestling against your neck. The soft scent of baby powder clings to her skin, and despite the busyness of the morning, there’s always something calming about her presence. Rafe stands by the counter, packing the beach bag with towels, sunscreen, and toys, his movements relaxed yet purposeful.

He looks up as you approach, his sharp blue eyes softening. “You’re just in time,” he says, zipping the bag with a quick motion and setting it aside. You smile back, setting Mabel in her bouncer next to him. "Thought I’d let you handle the sunscreen part," you tease, brushing your fingers gently over Mabel's soft curls. Rafe chuckles and kneels beside her, his large hands dwarfing the bottle of sunscreen as he carefully squirts a bit onto his fingers.

"Alright, princess, we don’t want you burning up, do we?” he murmurs, gently applying the cream to her chubby cheeks. His touch is so soft, filled with care, as Mabel giggles, her tiny hands reaching for his face. You smile, pressing a kiss to the top of Mabel’s head. She gurgles happily, her tiny feet kicking as she looks around, wide-eyed and curious. You turn away, heading toward the closet where your bikini is draped over a chair. The fabric feels cool in your hands as you slip it on, the rich colour contrasting with your skin.

“So,” you begin, your voice casual but carrying a note of seriousness, “I was thinking… about that business opportunity that came up last week.” You glance over your shoulder as Rafe’s eyes flick up from Mabel, curiosity piqued. “The investment thing?” “Yeah,” you say, fumbling a little as you try to tie the back of your bikini. “I really think you should go for it." He stands, moving closer, his eyes shifting between your face and your chest as you adjust it.

"Turn around," he mutters, his hands brushing against your back as he pulls the strings into a neat knot. His fingers linger for a moment longer than necessary, and when you glance at the mirror, you catch the way his eyes roam over you—an intensity in his gaze that sends a slight shiver through you. "You really think it’s that good of a deal?" he asks, his voice low, his hands hovering at your waist. You meet his gaze through the mirror, feeling the heat of his hands lingering at the small of your back.

"Yeah, don't you?" You adjust the bikini strap on your shoulder. His hands drop to rest lightly on your hips, and for a second, he doesn't' respond. Lightly biting your lip as you wait for a response, he meets your gaze in the mirror, a slight smirk playing on his lips. His eyes stay locked on you, a mix of thoughtfulness and something more. "I think you should go for it." Rafe’s eyes darken with thought, but his smirk doesn’t fade. He pulls you a little closer, his grip firm but gentle, his chest pressing against your back.

“God, this is just landing right in my lap, isn’t it?” His tone is a mixture of amusement and consideration. You give him a playful look over your shoulder. “That’s what I’ve been saying. You’d be stupid not to take it.” He chuckles, his breath warm against the side of your neck as his lips brush against your skin, slowly at first. “You always know how to push me in the right direction,” he murmurs, the teasing lilt in his voice sending a warmth down your spine.

His hands glide up from your hips to your waist, pulling you just a little closer. You let out a soft breath, your heart quickening as his kisses trail lower. "You could make so much freakin’ money, Rafe,” you say, your voice a little breathless. Rafe grins against your skin, “Could I, now?” His voice is a teasing drawl as his lips move along your skin, causing a ripple of warmth to spread through you. You laugh softly, leaning back against him. “I’m serious!"

“So am I,” he whispers, his kisses slow and deliberate. His hands tighten slightly on your waist, his touch firm but tender. But just as you start to sink into the moment, Mabel lets out a whine, breaking through the intimate bubble. You both pause, exchanging a look before bursting into quiet laughter. Rafe pulls away first, shaking his head as he glances at Mabel. “Perfect timing, huh?” he says, his smirk playful but affectionate.

You walk over to Mabel, scooping her into your arms as she quiets down instantly, snuggling into your chest. “Guess we’re not the only ones who need attention,” you joke, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. Rafe grins, his eyes following you. “She’s just jealous,” he says, tossing a towel into the beach bag. Rafe smirks, watching the two of you, his earlier intensity replaced with something softer. You laugh, bouncing Mabel lightly in your arms as she grabs onto your bikini strap with her tiny hand.

“Can you blame her? You spoil me,” you tease, glancing up at him. Rafe leans against the counter, his eyes never leaving you. “I’ll think about that deal,” he says, his voice a little more serious now. “Sounds like it could be good… for all of us.” You nod, bouncing Mabel lightly in your arms. “You’ll figure it out. You always do.” You say, brushing Mabel's hair. Rafe steps closer, wrapping one arm around your waist, pulling both you and Mabel into his chest as he presses a soft kiss to your head.

“Yeah,” he says quietly, his eyes meeting yours with a knowing look. “We’ll see.” You can tell, though, from the determined glint in his eyes that he already knows what he’s going to do.

[sleepyjuice]

toxic!rafe will blow your phone up the second you post something on instagram that he’s ‘iffy’ about.

you posted a photo dump which consisted of some random photos of the beach, some of your friends, one of you and rafe of course, but the one that had rafe seeing red was the last slide, which was you in a bikini. he texted you several times at first, and while you were literally typing your response, he called you. your fingers were typing so fast to respond to him that you accidentally declined the call, and he did not like that. you immediately went to call him back, but another text from rafe rolled in, saying ‘fuck you don’t talk to me we’re done’ you sighed loudly, knowing damn well he was talking out of his ass right now, so you sat back and waited for the inevitable next string of texts to roll in. which they did, only seconds later.

rafe <3: do you get off on making me mad or something

rafe <3: like i’m racking my brain trying to understand why you do the things you do and that’s all i can come up with

rafe <3: and i see at least 4 guys have already liked your post like that’s crazy to me?? thought i told you to block all the guys that followed you?? of course you didn’t

rafe <3: also who even took that pic of you??? bc i know damn well it wasn’t me so who the fuck you posing for with your fucking ass and tits out? WHAT THE FUCK

rafe <3: DO NOT PUT YOUR SHIT ON DO NOT DISTURB answer me rn.

rafe <3: nah it’s cool actually i’m gonna go hit up my other gfs so you have a good night.

you rolled your eyes at that last text, deciding to fully turn your phone off. you knew he would likely try to text or call you again very soon but you didn’t want to deal with it right now. this wasn’t your first rodeo, you knew nothing you could say to him right now would calm him down, so letting him freak out on his own was the best method to his madness.

three hours had passed since you turned your phone off. you had caught up on some reading and turned on your current favorite show, but found yourself interrupted by a knock at your front door. you expected it to be rafe, but instead it was a large bouquet of your favorite flowers and a gift bag. you glanced around to see if rafe was lurking around, but saw nothing. when he freaked out over text and was able to reread his actions, he usually waited a bit longer to show his face as opposed to a verbal argument.

you brought the flowers inside and set them on the counter before grabbing the card attached to the side of the bouquet.

sorry we argued. you are so beautiful and i love you so much. got you a little gift and sent you some money for food and i set your appointment with your nail girl for tomorrow at 10. love you forever baby -rafe

you couldn’t help but smile just a little. the flowers were beautiful and the note was pretty sweet, so you chose to ignore the part where he said ‘we argued.’ you didn’t get a word in, but you let it slide. especially after you opened the gift bag to see the new dior bag you had been wanting.

you hurried to turn on your phone, immediately seeing a $500 apple payment from rafe as well as a new text from a few minutes ago.

rafe <3: hope you like the flowers and bag baby. love you! :)

you: i love them. thanks rafe, love you too

rafe <3: good to hear. lmk what you end up getting for dinner and i’ll pick you up tomorrow to take you to your nail apt. can’t wait to see you baby

you would order yourself dinner that was obviously way less than $500, but you would send rafe a picture and thank him again. you’d facetime him before bed and conversation flowed like nothing had even happened just hours before. he’d ask you what color nails you were getting, tell you funny stories about the old men at the country club and excitedly plan what you two were going to do the next day. the cycle seemed like it would never end, but you often forgot about the bad when he was talking so sweetly to you and all you could think about was how excited you were to see him tomorrow.

[carnalcrows]

EX MARKS THE SPOT — THANOS

pairing: plug!thanos x male!reader

synopsis: After a messy breakup, you turn to Thanos, a dangerously smooth dealer in a suit, for more than just supplies—and somehow end up making your ex jealous while questioning your life choices (and his cologne).

content warnings: 18+, bottom male reader, drug usage, mentions of alcohol, myung-gi is reader's ex, marijuana, drunk sex, riding, shot-gunning, breeding, creampie, myung-gi is an asshole.

word count: 2.2k

A/N: this is hands down the funniest thing i've ever written lol. enjoy!!

Texting your ex always felt like poking a bear—pointless, frustrating, and dangerous. Yet, here you were, staring at a string of messages from Myung-gi, your recently demoted ex-boyfriend, as he passive-aggressively reminded you of all the things you’d “lost” when he left.

“Good luck finding anyone who’ll put up with you. Or supply you. 😊”

The nerve. You could practically hear his smug tone through the screen, and it made you want to chuck your phone into the nearest body of water. This man had cheated on you, lied about it, and somehow still had the audacity to act like you were the problem.

You rolled your eyes so hard you swore you saw the back of your skull. Myung-gi might’ve taken his flashy car, his designer cologne, and—worst of all—his “supplier,” but there was no way you’d let him hold your good times hostage.

Still, it was hard not to get irritated. Myung-gi always had a way of making your blood boil while somehow convincing you it was your fault. He was like an evil mastermind but dumber, pettier, and with terrible taste in socks. (Who wears neon argyle with loafers? Seriously.)

You shoved those thoughts aside and scrolled through your contacts. A friend had slipped you a number a few days ago, prefaced with, “This guy’s the best in town. Professional. Discreet. Just… don’t piss him off.” You hadn’t planned on using it, but desperate times called for desperate measures.

You took a deep breath and typed out a message:

You: “Hey. Got your number from a friend. Need to talk.”

The reply came almost instantly, which was mildly unsettling.

Unknown Number: “Come to 10th & Main. 9 PM. Cash only.”

Straight to the point. No pleasantries. Not even a "Hello."

You hesitated for a moment before typing back:

You: “Cool. What’s your name?”

Unknown Number: “Thanos.”

You stared at your screen, blinking slowly. Thanos? Thanos? Like the purple guy from the Avengers? What kind of name was that?  Was this some kind of joke? You half-expected his next message to be something like, “Bring me the Infinity Stones,” or, “I hope you enjoy dust.”

A dozen questions raced through your mind. Should you be scared? Impressed? Concerned he might snap his fingers and wipe out half your neighborhood? You weren’t sure if you were meeting a dealer or the final boss of a video game.

After a long moment of contemplation—and a quick Google search to make sure “Thanos” wasn’t slang for something illegal—you decided to go for it. Worst-case scenario, you’d die in an alley, and Myung-gi would probably gloat at your funeral. Best-case scenario? You’d have a cool story to tell.

With a sigh, you texted back:

You: “Alright. See you then.”

Unknown Number: “Wear something cute.”

Your jaw dropped. Was he… flirting? With you? Oh, this was going to be interesting.

When you showed up at the alley, you immediately regretted your decision. Thanos was leaning against the wall, his lean frame illuminated by the dim, flickering streetlight. His head gleamed like a polished amethyst, and his piercing gaze locked onto you the moment you stepped into view.

“So,” he said, his deep voice rolling over you like a summer storm. “You’re the newbie.”

You swallowed hard, clutching the cash in your pocket. “Uh, yeah. I guess.”

He pushed off the wall, his towering presence somehow even more overwhelming up close. His suit, far too nice for a back-alley transaction, clung to his broad shoulders like it was tailor-made.

“You guess?” he repeated, tilting his head with an amused smirk. “Pretty boy doesn’t know what he wants?”

Your brain short-circuited for a moment. “I’m here for… you know… the stuff.”

His grin widened, and he handed you a small bag of green nuggets. “Relax, sweetheart. I’m not gonna bite. Unless you want me to.”

Your face flushed, but you tried to play it cool. “Thanks,” you muttered, already turning to leave.

“Hold up,” Thanos called out, stopping you in your tracks. “Do you even know what to do with it?”

You hesitated, clutching the bag like it was a live grenade. “Uh… yeah?”

He raised an eyebrow, clearly unconvinced. “Don’t lie to me, pretty boy. Come on.” He gestured for you to follow him, and before you could protest, he was walking toward a nearby bench under the dim streetlight.

You trailed after him, curiosity outweighing your embarrassment. He sat down, pulling out a rolling tray, papers, and a grinder like he was some kind of cannabis sommelier.

“Watch and learn,” he said, his hands moving with surprising finesse as he broke down the green nuggets and ground them up. He sprinkled the freshly ground product into the paper, rolled it up with precision, and sealed it with a quick lick.

“There,” he said, holding up the perfect joint like it was a masterpiece. “Now you try.”

“I—uh—I don’t know if I can…”

“You can,” he said firmly, pushing the supplies toward you. His large hands hovered near yours as you awkwardly tried to mimic his movements. Your fingers fumbled with the paper, and you could feel his amused gaze on you the whole time.

“Here,” he said, reaching over to guide your hands. His touch was warm, steadying. “Like this. Don’t roll it too tight. You want it to burn evenly.”

You felt your pulse quicken as his fingers brushed against yours. By the time you managed to produce something vaguely resembling a joint, you were red-faced and flustered.

“Not bad for a first-timer,” he said with a chuckle, lighting your creation and taking a slow, deliberate drag before handing it to you. “See? Not so hard.”

You took a hesitant puff, coughing immediately, which earned a laugh from Thanos. “Easy there, sweetheart. No need to impress me.”

As you recovered, he leaned back against the bench, his eyes twinkling with amusement. “You’re cute when you’re trying too hard, you know that?”

You didn’t know how to respond to that, so you just focused on not coughing up a lung.

Thanos grinned, watching you with that same predatory confidence. “Don’t be a stranger, pretty boy. You’re fun.”

A few days later, you found yourself at a house party you didn’t even want to attend. The music was loud, the drinks were cheap, and the pool in the backyard looked way more inviting than the sweaty chaos inside. You’d planted yourself there, floating in the shallow end with a Bacardi in hand, silently regretting your decision to show up.

And then, of course, he appeared. Myung-gi . Your ex was lounging by the pool with his new girlfriend—a painfully perfect, Instagram-model type who looked like she’d never experienced a bad hair day. He was laughing loudly, probably for your benefit, his arm slung around her like he wanted to rub it in your face.

You downed the rest of your drink in one go and muttered to yourself, “Great. Just great.”

“Trouble in paradise?”

You turned at the sound of the deep, familiar voice, and your jaw almost hit the water. There, standing at the edge of the pool, was Thanos. He looked unfairly good—white button-down shirt with the sleeves rolled up, dark slacks that hugged his thighs in all the right ways, and that same smirk that made you question all your life choices.

“What are you doing here?” you asked, your voice coming out more surprised than accusatory.

He crouched down, his golden watch glinting in the moonlight. “Got invited. Seems I’m more popular than I thought. But seeing you here? That’s a bonus.”

Your face heated, and you quickly looked away. “Well, enjoy the party.”

“Not until you stop sulking.” His gaze flicked to Myung-gi and back to you. “Ah. That explains it.”

“Explains what?”

“You’re sitting here like a kicked puppy because of him.” He gestured toward your ex with a tilt of his head. “Pathetic, honestly.”

You bristled. “I am not sulking.”

“Sure you’re not.” Thanos chuckled, then slid off his shoes and rolled up his pants, stepping into the pool like he owned the place. The water rippled as he waded closer, stopping just a foot away. “Wanna make him jealous?”

You blinked. “What?”

“You heard me.” He leaned in slightly, his smirk downright devilish. “We could give him a little show. Something to really stew over.”

Your heart raced. “You’re kidding.”

“Do I look like I’m kidding?” He cocked an eyebrow, his eyes gleaming with mischief.

You glanced over at Myung-gi . He wasn’t looking now, but the idea of wiping that smug grin off his face was very appealing. You turned back to Thanos, who was watching you with an expectant look, and something in his confidence made you throw caution to the wind.

“Fine,” you said, your voice steady despite the flutter in your chest. “Let’s do it.”

His grin widened. “Atta boy.”

Before you could second-guess yourself, Thanos closed the distance between you, one hand cupping the back of your neck as his lips met yours. The kiss was anything but subtle—his mouth moved against yours with a ferocity that left you breathless, his other hand gripping your waist as if to anchor you to him.

The water lapped around you, the sounds of the party fading into the background as you lost yourself in the moment. His lips were soft but commanding, his teeth grazing your bottom lip just enough to make you gasp.

You vaguely heard the sound of spluttering from the side of the pool, and when you opened your eyes, you saw Myung-gi standing there, his face a mixture of shock and rage.

Thanos pulled back just enough to speak, his lips brushing against yours as he murmured, “Think he’s mad yet?”

You glanced at Myung-gi , who looked like he was about to explode, and couldn’t help but laugh. “Oh, he’s pissed.”

“Good.” Thanos grinned, pressing another kiss to your lips, this one slower, almost teasing. “Serves him right.”

By the time you finally broke apart, Myung-gi had stormed off, dragging his bewildered girlfriend behind him like a kid throwing a tantrum in a grocery store. You barely noticed, too caught up in the heat of the moment and the rush of adrenaline coursing through you.

Thanos leaned in close, his breath warm against your ear as he murmured, “You’re welcome.”

“For what?” you managed to ask, your voice a little shaky as you tried to play it cool.

“For reminding him that he downgraded,” Thanos replied with a smirk, his thumb brushing a stray drop of water from your jaw.

You let out a breathy laugh, shaking your head. “You’re so full of yourself.”

He tilted his head, his piercing gaze making your pulse quicken. “And yet, you’re still here.”

Before you could come up with a witty retort, he reached out and took your hand, pulling you out of the pool with an effortless strength that left you momentarily flustered.

“Come on,” he said, his voice dropping an octave, rich and enticing. “Let’s find somewhere quieter.”

You hesitated for half a second before nodding, letting him lead you away from the crowd and the noise of the party. Your heart pounded as he guided you down a dimly lit hallway, past closed doors and muffled laughter, until he pushed one open and gestured for you to step inside.

The room was cozy and dim, the faint scent of lavender lingering in the air. As the door clicked shut behind you, the weight of the moment settled over you, thick and electric. Thanos leaned back against the door, his smirk softening into something more genuine.

“You good?” he asked, his deep voice cutting through the silence.

You nodded, your breath hitching slightly. “Yeah.”

He stepped closer, his presence overwhelming in the best way possible, and as his lips found yours again, all thoughts of Myung-gi —or anyone else—faded away.

You didn’t know how you ended up in this position. Or maybe you wanted it to happen. The booze and the weed had certainly gotten to your head.

Thanos was puffing on a blunt while you rode him, bouncing up and down on his cock with fervour.

“That’s it my boy…Taking it like a champ,” he mutters, the praise going straight down to your dick.

The hand that wasn’t holding the blunt was wrapped around your waist, guiding your hips on his length. He slowly took in a slow drag of his blunt while locking eyes with you, his dark orbs stained with red from all the substance. It certainly was a sight to see.

He pressed his mouth to yours, shot-gunning the smoke straight to your throat as you inhaled. You had gotten slightly better with the weed by now, so thankfully, you didn’t start coughing all over the place.

Your pace on his dick slowly sped up, you were at the brink of an orgasm. “Fuck… cum for me baby,” Thanos groans as his grip on your waist tightens. He takes another long drag of his blunt, before handing it to you.

You feel the scent of the herb hitting the back of your throat, and with that, you climax all over the purple-haired man’s stomach with your eyes rolling to the back of your head. Thanos releases soon after, painting your insides white.

You bask in the after-glow of mind blowing sex, lazily leaning forward on Thanos’ shoulder. The click of the doorknob alerts the man, who looks at a fuming Myung-gi and his still-confused girlfriend (the poor thing).

“Rise and shine my boy, I think we have an audience~”

© carnalcrows on tumblr. Please do not steal my works as I spend time and I take genuine effort to do them.