#I MUTED SO FAST AFTER THAT | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

pyraomen · 10 days ago

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゛ᢉ𐭩 ⸝⸝⋆ 𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐏𝐘 𝑭𝐀𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐑’𝐒 𝐃𝐀𝐘 , elias moore.

𝑺𝐘𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐒𝐈𝐒 ─── it’s stack’s first real father’s day and he’s been waiting to spend it with you and his lil man. just like old times. he told you a week ago his momma was throwin a cookout back home in mississippi, a special day for all the fathers in his family. he even cleaned up his act a lil bit, tryna show he still that man you fell for. instead of showing up with just his son, you bring your new nigga…on his day. you knew better, and now he gotta remind you. remind both y’all.

꒰ babydaddy elias “stack” moore x black!fem reader. established relationship, second chance. strong use of profanity, lots of n-word usage, drama, jealous!stack, toxic arguments, emotional tension, hurt feelings, possessive!stack, threats made, violence, reminiscence, sexual content, sexual tension, angry sex, degradation, rough sex, dirty talk, oral sex, creampie, light breeding kink, overstimulation and lots of other things so scroll now if you don’t want to read about people fucking. ꒱

the ride from atlanta to mississippi was long, too long for how quiet the car had gotten. even with the air conditioner running, the air felt heavy. your baby boy was asleep in the backseat, pacifier slack in his mouth, and his black curls stuck to his forehead from the heat. you had one hand on the steering wheel, fingers tapping in a rhythm to calm your nerves.

the road stretched on forever in front of you, with the GPS voice muted after the fifth "continue straight". your man, dominique sat in the passenger seat mindlessly scrolling through his phone, thumb moving fast like he was tryna distract himself. he had been feeling a type of way since you told him about today’s plans. you caught the look he gave you ten minutes ago, fake mean mugging you with his whole face turned up. full of questions he ain’t bold enough to ask outright.

the tension was cut when he asked, “why couldn’t we just stay in atlanta?” voice laced with too much attitude. “could’ve saved us this whole damn trip.” you sighed, you knew this was coming and could feel yourself getting irritated because he already knew the answer. “because his momma throwing a father’s day cookout. it’s his first one and it’s good for my baby to be round family.”

dominque rolled his eyes while shaking his head. “family? tuh. ain’t none of them came around since he was born, but now they wanna go all out. throwin cookouts ‘n shit.” he tried to mutter under his breath, but you still heard him.

you gripped the steering wheel tighter, eyes still focusing on the rode. “this ain’t about you dominque. i told you that before we even left.” out of your peripheral vision you could see him put the phone down and turn his body in the seat to focus in on you. “you right, it’s not about me.” his voice raised, “but let’s keep it a buck cause its damn sure ain’t just about your son either. you could’ve dropped him off and turned around.” you shot him a look, because now he was doing too much. “don’t start.”

his voice came out sharp, bitter. feeling like he could finally get everything off his chest, like your son wasn’t sleep, but he didn’t care. the words had been sittin on his tongue too long, and now they were spillin whether you liked it or not. “i’m not starting shit”, he snapped. “i’m just saying, look how you dressed. that thin ass sundress, hair done up, wearing jewelry i fasho ain’t get you.” his lip curled as he looked you up and down, voice dropping low, more insult than question now. “this all for me or him?”

his fingers tapped against his fake amiri jeans, eyes still on you, waiting for an answer he assumed he knew. you cut your eyes at him. the way he was acting? like he ain’t realize who he was talking to. like he forgot you had a whole baby in the backseat. “stop raising your voice like you ain’t got no sense”, you snapped. “my son is sleep, and i’m not about to keep going back and forth with you over bullshit.”

he tried to open his mouth, to defend himself, but you kept going. “i’m the mother of elias’ child. i’m gon show up put together regardless. you expect me to pull up lookin like some bag lady in front of his entire family?” the silence was evident after that. you heard him huffing and puffing clearly bothered by what you said.

then came his bitter laugh. he shook his head, staring out the window like he couldn’t believe what he was hearin, “you still call that nigga elias.” he was quiet for good after that, but the disrespect was loud. voice full of resentment and something else y’all both didn’t want to admit to.

this was one of those times you were lucky your baby couldn’t talk yet. if he did, he would of been running to his daddy about what dominique said and you were trying to get them to have a cordial relationship. unfortunately it wasn’t working.

the silence felt suffocating and pushed against your temple like a headache. with dominque’s resentment weighing heavily on you, each mile seemed to go on forever. you decided to pull over when you noticed a faded green symbol for a gas station up ahead. you flicked the turn signal, “i’m pulling over.” your voice was low, you hated arguing because it always drained you mentally. “tank low and i need a minute.” dominque didn’t say nothing, giving you the silent treatment.

you shifted into park, pulled up next to the pump, and released a breath you weren't even aware you were holding. the long drive caused your sundress to stick slightly to the back of your thighs as you climbed out slowly. you went to the rear of your car, swiped your card, and began filling up the tank.

the voice in the back of your head criticized dominque for not getting out to pump your gas. “elias would of did it, argument or not”, you thought. you shook them thoughts away because it was nothing you could do, ya’ll weren’t together anymore. you peaked into the back seat, as the gas nozzle stayed where it was at. inside the car, your son was still sleeping peacefully. completely unbothered by the mess unfolding around him. which he got from his daddy, they both could sleep through anything.

you glanced at your reflection in the car window — lips still glossy, no smudge in your makeup, hoops glinting, and your ass looked fat in this sundress. you fixed the placement of some of the bracelets around your wrist, the ones elias got you, by the way. you looked good and that’s what had him pressed.

from the passenger seat, dominique finally stepped out. stretching like the whole ride wore him out and he wasn’t behind the drivers seat once. he leaned against the car, arms folded across his chest, watching you. “you always gotta make shit harder than it gotta be, don’t you?” he mumbled. you didn’t even glance at him.

“and you always got somethin to say when you feel like you ain’t bein prioritized. ain’t nobody tryin to make you feel small, dominque. but today ain’t about you.” he sucked his teeth, pushed off the car and came stalking towards you. “nah it’s never about me. it’s always elias this, elias that. like he somebody for real. whole time he couldn’t even keep his family together.”

“you got it dominique.” and it was left at that. you weren’t gonna argue in public with a man who couldn’t handle you doin right by your child. you just needed to hurry up and get this over with. drop of your son, play cordial, make you a few plates, and leave before elias reminded you why he was the hardest man to walk away from in the first place.

─────────

after another thirty minutes, you finally made it to elias’ momma house. it took you a minute to find parking since cars was packed in the front of the house and the neighbors. you eased your car into a tight spot across the street from them. “come on”, you muttered hopping out the car.

the air smelt like smoke ribs, burnt ends, and sweet bbq sauce — a classic mississippi summer. your baby started to stir as you lifted him gently from his car seat, resting him against your hip. you didn’t pay dominque any mind, as you made your way to the back of the house. the moore house was vibrant — music loudly playing, uncles loud off liquor while playing spades, elijah was on the grill, kids ran through the grass barefoot with melting popsicles. elias’ momma was setting out foil pans on a fold-up table with her hands on her hips.

as you walked closer, your feet became slightly heavier. every step felt loud and all eyes on you, like everybody at the damn cookout paused just to see who the hell you brought with you. relatives of stack approached you, saying their hellos and cooed at your son. all you could do was give them half smiles in return.

because your attention was focused on him, your babydaddy. he hadn’t noticed you yet, which was a relief at the moment. lazily leaned back in a folding chair with his legs spread wide and elbows rested on his knees. he looked good, too good. stack had his go-to black durag tied tight around his head, white tank clinging to his muscles, gold chain glinting in the sun, and his grills lightly shined when he smirked at something his cousin said. he was having a good time, sipping on his favorite drink — hennessy in a red cup.

all that shifted when one of his messy ass aunties pointed you out in the crowd. “there go your baby mama, eli,” she said, smirkin over her plate of ribs. “ain’t that her right there in that lil pink dress?” he glanced up and just like that, all the playfulness dropped clean off his face.

his shoulders squared up and the relax lean he had in the chair turned into a full sit-up. flexed jaw. eyes narrowed. mean mugging. the moment he clocked the man next to you, his smile vanished, and the gold on his tooth stopped flashing. his eyes moved very slowly, taking you all in, from the bouncing curls on your shoulder to your glossy lips to his little man on your hip.

and the lame ass nigga next to you.

elias’ lips parted just slightly, but he ain’t say nothing. not yet. he just stared.

you felt it, that familiar look he gave you. the one he gave you back when you used to test his patience just to see how far he’d go. heat began to crawl up your neck, not from embarrassment, but knowing you fucked up. he was trying to keep it cute in front of his people, but stack wasn’t a level headed nigga. no, that was smoke. smoke was the calmer twin, the one you could reason with. and when he looked over at his brother across the yard and gave him that sharp nod. saying all the words he needed with his eyes —“if something pop off, be ready”. you already knew what it meant. you and dominique was beyond saving.

you gripped your son tighter, adjusting him on your hip and forced a smile towards elias’ momma who pulled you into a one-armed hug. “hey baby”, she greeted. “look at my grand baby, ain’t he getting big?” you nodded, voice light. “yes ma’am. growing too fast for my liking.”

she gave dominique a simple “hi”, but didn’t say his name. just looked him up and down real quick, then turned her attention back to the food table like she was tryna keep the peace.

peace was thrown out the window when you showed up with another man. stack was looking at you like you personally betrayed him. he rose slowly, as though tension tightened every bone in his body. the red cup hung loose in his fingers, but his whole frame said anything but relaxed.

one of his cousins who already peeped game, leaned over to try and stop him. “aye stack, chill.” but he wasn’t hearing none of that. nobody understood how he was feeling, that was his babymomma at the end of the day.

not just some random bitch he used to mess with. you were his, his headache, his soft spot, his unfinished business. and he would do anything to get his family back. he was already walking toward y’all, straight through the crowd, eyes locked on you. nothing about his body language gave soft or calm.

he made his way across the yard, cutting through chairs and coolers like the crowd wasn’t even there. like his whole family wasn’t lowkey staring, forks frozen mid-air, watching how this was about to play out.

dominque was right next to you, standing tall like he had something to prove. arms crossed over his chest, chin up like he was ready for whatever. stack’s eyes didn’t leave yours once. not even when he got close enough for you to smell the henny and versace cologne on him.

when he finally spoke, it was low and grumbled, like he was trying real hard not to raise his voice “this what we on now?” you didn’t answer right away. you couldn’t. because in reality, this was a terrible idea. there was a familiar sting in the back of your throat. the one you got whenever stack looked at you like this, like he knew you better than you knew yourself. as if he was waiting on you to say something dumb so he could call your bluff.

you shifted your son on your hip and shaked your head. "let’s not do this here, elias." he licked his bottom lip, head tilted slightly. still looking at you, taking you in like you owed him something. “nah we gon do this right here, in front of everybody.” he turned slightly towards dominique, just enough to size him up. “you the new nigga?”, stack asked straight up, grill flashing just a little — a crazed smile forming on his face.

dominque puffed his chest out, “yeah i’m with her. problem?” stack laughed, a serious laugh like what he said was funny to him. “you with her. that’s cute.” and like a switch he turned back towards you, looking dead in your face, expression wiped of every bit of playfulness. “you really brought this clown to my mama house? on father's day? with my son?"

your heart sank, because now whatever jealousy you were trying to get him to feel was biting you in the ass. “elias please—”, he snapped cutting you off. “you knew what you was doing. came all this way looking good and smelling sweet. ‘n had the nerve this bring this lame ass nigga, like i wasn’t gon say something.”

dominque stepped forward a little, trying to come to your defense. “she not doing shit. you mad emotional because she chose me, nigga get over it.” and had the nerve to laugh in his face. it was silent for a moment, stack had to process the straight bullshit he fixed him mouth to say. he stale faced him, voice oddly calm. “nah, she settlin. you the in-between. the lil nigga holding her bag while she waitin for me to remind her who the fuck she belong to.”

you bit your lip hard, head turned away as you gently patted your baby’s back — trying to soothe him, and yourself. you unfortunately knew what was coming next. dominique stepped towards stack, clearly not used to somebody pushing back. “man, i’m not scared of you. you just mad she don’t want your toxic ass no more-”. before he could finish his sentence, stack’s fist came up fast, clean, and cracked him dead in the mouth.

dominique stumbled back hard, hand flying to his lip that was already pouring blood in his hand. stack ain’t even flinch. just stood over him, eyes dark, jaw clenched, chest rising slow. “talk that shit again nigga,” he growled. “i dare you.” you stepped between them fast, voice loud. “alright that’s enough! both of yall need to stop.”

stack’s eyes flickered towards yours, and his gaze softened. he looked at your son, now whimpering soft against your shoulder and his whole face shifted. the anger inside him subsided at that moment. for a second, it was just you, him, and the baby.

and then, of course dominque had to ruin it. “you really gon let him disrespect me like that? you gon stand there and let this nigga think he can put hands on me?” you turned your head slowly. looked at him with nothing but exhaustion in your face. “you shouldn’t’ve said shit,” you muttered.

then you looked at stack again. he was still breathing heavy, still tense, but his eyes were on you now. not dominique. just you. “you comin with me,” he said, voice low, thick in a way that made your knees feel weak. “wait—” he stepped in close, barely touching you but still taking up all your space. “let me word it differently for you, bring yo ass inside.”

you looked back at dominque. his lip was busted. and he was scared to even look stack’s way. you couldn’t even feel bad. not really. you gently handed your baby over to stack’s mama, and she just took him with a sigh and shake of her head.

with your son safely out your hands, he reached and grabbed your wrist. and you let him, didn’t even fight it. he pulled you into his momma house like he paid mortgage himself. the screen door slammed behind y’all, and the second y’all hit the hallway, his hand was on your ass, gripping hard.

“you out your fuckin mind”, he snarled against your neck, lips dragging over your skin. “comin here looking pretty as fuck, smelling good. knowing i ain’t touched you in months.” you gasped, moaning softly when he bit your shoulder, rough teeth dragging over the dip of it before he licked the sting away. the grip he had on your hip got even tighter. you could feel how mad he was. his dick was pressed up against your ass, already hard and heavy through his jeans.

he tugged your sundress up, hand palming your panty covered ass like it was his again. “take yo ass up stairs.” he didn’t have to tell you twice, you practically ran up the stairs, flip flops almost sliding off your feet. you hit the top stair and turned to the first room on the left, his old room — your back hit the edge of the bed right as he stepped through the door.

he slammed the door shut with one hand, not bothering to lock it. stack pounced on you, gripping your throat slightly, just enough to make your breath hitch. he kissed you like he was punishing you for making him wait. tongue in your mouth, lips rough, teeth nipping at yours. his golds cold against your lips, his hands greedy, yanking at your dress like he didn’t care if it ripped. and he didn’t, he’ll buy you a new one.

he slowly peeled the straps of your dress down. you were already bare underneath, no bra, your breasts spilling out and brown nipples already hard. stack’s lips never left yours as he pushed the dress to your waist, palms rough against your back, until he finally pulled away to look.

“god damn”, he muttered, biting the corner of his lip as his thumb brushed across one peaked nipple. “i ain’t seen these titties since you was pregnant. they still mine?” you nodded too fast, chest rising with every breath. his hand came up and slapped your tittie once, not hard, just enough to sting and make your knees buckle a little.

“i said talk, not nod.” “yes—yes, they yours,” you breathed, mouth parted. “always been.” he let out a low chuckle, “i know.” his lips wrapped around one nipple and sucked hard, before doing the same to the other one. now both coated in saliva, he took his two thumbs to brush over your nipples. rolling and tugging on them, just to feel you squirm, to hear the way your moan cracked when it got to be too much.

“fuck i missed the way you sound”, he said while inching toward your neck leaving soft kisses. “you ain’t moan like this for that other nigga huh?”, his voice tickled your ear while one hand was still on your nipples.

“no, fuck no,” you gasped, thighs already rubbing together for friction. “bet he ain’t even know how to suck on these right.” he latched on again, sucking until your back arched, your body begging.

he slid down to his knees, “lay back”, he muttered. “legs up.” you followed quickly. he planted soft kisses on the inside of your thighs. “look at you”, knuckles grazing over your panties. “i can already tell this pussy wet.” you let out a low whine, wishing we would do something, “stack please.”

“i know, i know baby.” he let out a low, knowing grin. his fingers hooked into the sides of your panties, yanking them down your trembling thighs with no patience. slow enough to watch the strings of slick cling to them, but fast enough to remind you he wasn’t in the mood to be soft.

“fuck, look at this pussy”, he murmured, eyes locked between your legs like he was witnessing something sacred. “all this mess? you that fuckin wet for me, huh?” your thighs trembled as the cool air hit your soaked folds, and he held the ruined panties up with a smirk, index finger running through the sticky wetness clinging to the lace. “so sticky, baby. you must’ve missed me real bad.”

you whined when his fingers spread you open. clit on full display and wetness spilling out of your slit. the moment he slid his tongue between your folds, you cried. tongue flat, wide, dragging through your folds with no mercy. he sucked on your clit like he was mad at it. you jerked forward, but he grabbed your hips and pulled you back, eating like a man starved, nose buried, tongue fucking you.

“mmm,” he groaned into your pussy, beard soaked. “you missed this nasty shit, huh?” you could only let out a nod, hands gripping the sheets while your thighs trembled. “missed me suckin on this clit, fuckin you open with my tongue…makin you cum without even puttin dick in you.” “f-fuck, elias—oh my god,” you cried out, back arching.

that tongue was still disrespectful. sloppy, greedy, licking from clit to slit and back again like he missed the taste. he pulled you forward, buried his face deeper, eating like he was trying to drown in it. “i’m about to cum”, you screamed.

he smirked against your pussy, spit and slick dripping down his chin. “there she go.” your orgasm hit hard, too hard, and he didn’t even stop, not while you twitched and cried and begged. when he finally pulled back, you were soaked, thighs sticky, your pussy fluttering around nothing, empty and aching.

he stood, unbuckling his belt with quick hands, pulling his jeans and boxers in one swift motion to free his dick. that familiar fat dick slapped against his stomach, veins thick, tip angry red and leaking. you moaned at the sight. “gimme that dick,” you begged finally, your voice gone, eyes glossy. “elias—baby, please, fuck me.”

“now you remember how to act.” you looked down to see him stroking his dick slow, watching you squirm. “look at you. laid out like a slut. that nigga ever make you beg like this?” you shook your head no. “didn’t fuckin think so.”

“turn around”, he said voice hoarse. you did, planting your palms on the bed, back arched just the way he liked it. he stood behind you, taking a second just to admire. “she so pretty,” he muttered under his breath, rough knuckles brushing over the swell of your ass. “don’t make no sense…”you gasped when you felt him drag his tip through your folds, slow and steady, coating himself with your slick.

the low grunt he let out told you just how good it felt. his tip circled your entrance, teasing. “this my pussy?” he asked, voice a low rasp that scraped down your spine. you nodded your head, trying to push back into him, but he held your hips in place. “nah i need you to say it.” a frustrated, needy whine slipped from your lips. your voice trembled, breath catching in your throat. “yes, eli—”

you couldn’t even finish. he slammed into you with no warning, deep and rough, knocking the air straight out your lungs. your mouth dropped open but no sound came out for a second, just the echo of skin slapping skin and the high-pitched moan that followed once you caught your breath.

“say it again,” he gritted out through clenched teeth, dragging his hips back only to slam forward again. “tell me who this pussy belong to.” ��y-you!” you cried out, eyes rolling back as he hit your sweet spot over and over again. “it’s yours elias, it’s yours. i promise.”

your knees were already starting to buckle, the way he gripped the fat of your waist, the stretch of him, it was all too much. your hand reached back instinctively, pushing weakly at his stomach. “eli—slow down,” you whimpered, voice barely a breath. “it’s too much.”

he wasn’t hearing none of that. he caught your wrists and twisted them roughly behind your back, pinning them in one strong hand. “you gon take whatever the fuck i give you.” without breaking rhythm, he lifted one leg up, planting his foot on the edge of the bed. the shift in angle had your spine arching, eyes flying open as the next thrust punched a cry straight from your chest.

he was deeper now, way deeper. dick punching at your g-spot. your face dropped to the mattress, fingers clawing at the sheets. you could barely breathe, and he didn’t let up. just kept digging deeper, rough and steady, the grip he had on your hips making sure you stayed right where he needed you.

“yeah,” he rasped, sweat dripping down his temple. “keep runnin that mouth, now look at you. can’t even talk.” broken moans spilled from you uncontrollably. you was sounding like you were possessed by the dick. repeating his name like a broken record. “sound real obedient now, huh?” his voice turned low, mocking, the gold on his tooth flashing with each groan behind you. “lil mouthy ass always actin like you don’t remember who you belong to.”

he leaned forward then, chest pressing into your back, lips right by your ear. “you do now, though, don’t you?” you nodded desperately, voice gone, body limp except for the way your thighs trembled from being split open and stuffed full.

you started shaking, vision blurry, drool slipping from the corner of your mouth. heat bloomed from your core, spreading through your belly and straight up your spine. your mouth fell open, a soft string of moans tumbling out, breath hitching every time his hips slammed into yours.

your pussy clenched around him on instinct, thighs trembling as you tried to hold yourself up. but you were so close, you could feel it coming. his grip tightened on your waist, pulling you back harder into him. “you about to cum, baby?” he rasped, breath hot on your spine.

you barely managed a nod, a broken, desperate “yes” escaped your throat as he drove into you deeper. “that’s it. cream on my dick”, he growled. “i feel you mama.” your legs gave out completely, collapsing at the weight of your release. the orgasm that hit you was blinding, hips jerking, thighs twitching, body rocking with wave after wave of pleasure as your cries filled the room. you were sure anyone that came into the house would here you, but you didn’t care.

he kept going, fucking you through the aftershocks, letting you ride it all out. “damn, you soaking my shit.” he then flipped you onto your back like you weighed nothing. your legs fell open, lower half completely soaked and mind in the clouds. his body hovered over yours, his face twisted in that look he always got when he was about to nut, jaw clenched and eyes wild.

he lined up again, quick and calculated. one deep thrust and he was buried inside you, both hands sliding beneath your knees, pushing your legs up to your chest. “look at me,” he grunted. “eyes on me while i cum in this pussy.” you could barely breathe, let alone think, but you did, eyes locked on him, lips parted, whispering his name.

“take it”, he snarled. “take all this nut. i’m about to put another baby in you. you want that mama?” you nodded your head fast. “i wanna be a momma again,” you sobbed out, voice breathy and broken, thighs trembling where they clung around his waist. “gimme another baby, elias.” your nails clawed at his back, desperate to hold on to something, anything, while your body shook beneath his. “make me yours again,” you whispered against his lips, eyes glossy, lips swollen. “put one in me so i never forget.”

his strokes got meaner, like he wanted to carve himself into you. like he needed you to feel him even when he wasn’t around. his mouth dropped open, head tilted back, gold glinting as he groaned through his teeth, “okay, mama. i got you.”

his rhythm turned ragged, hips stuttering as he buried himself deep one last time. you felt the pulse of him inside you, warm, thick ropes filling you up, spilling out around his dick. you felt the weight of him collapse onto you, chest pressed to yours, his breath ragged and warm against your collarbone. he whispered low, sweet praise into your ear, words only meant for you. he then eased off you slow, dragging himself out like he hated to leave, his body already missing yours.

he didn’t go far though. just to the other side of the bed, where he leaned against the headboard, chest rising and falling to catch his breath, and dick still standing at attention. his chain rested crooked on his collarbone, catching the light as he reached over on the nightstand to grab one of his pre-rolled blunts, lighting it with a flick of his lighter.

you were curled into the bed, trying to catch your breath. trembling from overstimulation, thighs slick and warm, breath coming in uneven puffs. but when your eyes met his — dark and hooded, full of lust and love, you felt your heart skip a beat. "cmere," he murmured, voice dragging low and thick, smoke slipping between his lips as he stared you down. “we not done girl, come ride this dick.”

you blinked, eyes widened, lips parted in disbelief, and body already reacting before your brain could catch up. his legs were spread, one hand resting lazily on his thigh while the other held his pre-roll near his lips. that smug smirk crept up slow as he mockingly patted his thigh, like it was your permanent seat. “i’m nuttin all in that pussy. ain’t stopping till im shooting blanks”

his dick jumped with the promise of more, still thick and hard, despite busting a nut, slick from both of yall juices. he was making it hard to say no. and you didn’t have the energy to resist him.

A/N: omg who wrote this?!?);&:& anyways this was my FIRST time writing smut so tell me how i did😏. moral of the story don’t bring your new nigga around your baby daddy, unless you wanna get put through the mattress! i proofread this a few times, but if you see any mistakes ignore or you’re anti black LMFAOOOO. i hope yall enjoyed, feedback is welcome <3!!!! (im definitely dropping more bd!stack)

stack having a son inspo

LAYOUT INSPO: @dollerin

TAGS: @zomqiez @n3atjok3r246 , idk why it’s not letting me tag the rest sigh.

small confession … im a smoke girly so next up is smoke fics! what yall want next modern!plug smoke orrrr 30s!smoke.

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cathnospam · 2 months ago

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(When Bakugo speaks and it’s italics it means he’s speaking in English and when you speak in italics it means you’re speaking Japanese.)

Everybody keeps wanting more of Bakugo and his Foreign GF with their language barrier so here:

When Bakugo first met you all those years ago it didn’t click immediately you couldn’t speak Japanese, all you did was understand a few phrases.

You both were doing Hero work in America and you never really spoke, just giving everybody smiles, waves, and nods, and so he thought you were mute for a moment.

“Do you speak or something? Why don’t you talk?”

When you gave him a confused look he kept yelling until you covered his mouth and typed: “I barely speak Japanese. Sorry.”

Being so naive if you knew him you wouldn’t have dared put your hand to his mouth, but surprisingly enough he didn’t mind it, he did grab your wrist after though. Which is why he took your phone and stored his number in there stating if you want to speak to him (Because of course you would he’s Bakugo the future #5 hero in Japan) then text him.

Weird. Very weird guy.

Eventually he started to approach you more, forgetting you can’t speak his language so he either points or texts you.

He was only in the States for a few more days, but he managed to make some progress getting to know you even with the difficulties behind it.

He did however managed to learn a couple new words for you.

“Hungry.”

“What?”

He smacks his face and points across the street to a restaurant, “Food.”

“Oh!” You giggle at his accent, “Yes we can go to the restaurant.”

“Rest…taurant…tcht…..stupid.”

Bakugo became a decent learner, English was hard as hell to work on so most of it was broken, but when he got back to Japan you both had study lessons together through FaceTime and the few times a year when you visit.

He taught you Japanese and you taught him English.

Years later when you finally came to visit is when he decided to ask you out.

“Girlfriend….my girlfriend….or date —- I sound so fucking stupid trying to ask you out—whatever.”

“Are you …asking me out?”

The blondie was impressed by how fast you learned, seeing that you still struggled with verbs. Which he definitely clowned you for, but you didn’t have a clue about it.

He scoffs and nods reluctantly , somewhat jealous you don’t have too many complications with Japanese as much as he thought anymore.

“Date….later.”

You felt your cheeks get warm, it’s not like you didn’t expect it, considering how much touchier he’s gotten towards you since you got there and even during texting he throws in a few flirts and compliments, he wasn’t a bad guy what so ever so often course you say yes.

“How about 7pm tonight after class?”

“That’s my job to say the time!”

“Yeaaaahhh I still don’t understand what you said, but Immma assume from context you’re upset.”

He just blinks at you with a frustrated look, and his mouth in a straight line, only hearing the words, “Upset” and “What you said” being translated in his brain, when you speak english you sound like a sim.

His words by the way.

The thing about you not understanding Japanese completely is that there were so many times through out the date he would compliment you and say some of the most sweetest things that he knew you wouldn’t understand.

“You look stunning in that dress.”

“What?”

“Nothing.”

“Your smile is gorgeous.”

“All I understood was smile. You want me to smile more?”

“No!”

He managed to get away with a lot. And so did you.

The first date you both had went more than perfect, it was cute because there was still moments where you and him managed to practice different words to each other. He spoke in broken English to show you how to eat Pho and you spoke Japanese to order your own food.

He was a bit proud to say the least.

When the date had to come to its sad close he walked you back to your hotel, you wanted to invite him back, seeing as you clearly felt a connection from him not just as a friend, but maybe more however you didn’t want him to think you were easy.

Not that he would’ve thought so anyways he was hoping you would invite him back.

Bakugo looked at you expectantly when you unlocked your door, almost as if he was waiting to hear something he probably wouldn’t even comprehend. Instead though you give him something better first when you place your lips on his, “That is what you call a kiss.”

“Kiss.” He repeats, accent still thick and raspy, his hand rubbing your waist, your body being ever pled by his natural warmth, “Kiss…me…more.”

Giggling you do so, which did indeed lead to you inviting him back to your room for learning more about these kisses he loves so damn much now.

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p1girlfriend · 7 days ago

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your kid treats them like their dad – f1 grid reactions ── .✦

lando norris ── .✦

he was nervous at first — “what if your kid hates me?” kind of nervous but they warm up to him fast, especially after he teaches them how to use a camera the first time they call him “dad” by accident he FREEZES mid-sentence you’re like 😳 but he just kneels down and goes

“hey, is that okay with you? ‘cause that’s really okay with me.” tears up in the car later. won't admit it.

oscar piastri ── .✦

treats your kid with so much quiet respect not overbearing, never forces anything just shows up. every time. one day, the kid runs up to him at the park like

“dad, look!” he stares, stunned, softest smile ever “…that’s me?” he doesn’t say a word after — just holds their hand tighter walking back to the car

charles leclerc ── .✦

he’s such a natural with them it almost hurts does little voices. fake races in the hallway. bedtime stories in French your kid makes a Father’s Day card and gives it to him — no hesitation he sees “to Charles (my second favorite Ferrari)” on it laughs. then absolutely sobs later that night

“i didn’t think i’d be someone’s papa so soon… but i love this.”

lewis hamilton ── .✦

he’s so soft and gentle with your child it makes everyone cry always down on their level when he talks to them makes them playlists and lets them sit in the front seat during errands the first time they fall asleep on his chest, he’s just… quiet

“they trust me. that means everything.” frames a photo of the three of you for the living room without saying a word

carlos sainz ── .✦

acts super casual but is secretly OBSESSED with being called dad your kid asks him to come to a school event and he says yes instantly draws a picture of “me and daddy carlos” and gives it to him he keeps it in his wallet teaches them Spanish and pretends to be strict but lets them braid his hair and call him “papi” like it’s nothing

daniel ricciardo ── .✦

IMMEDIATELY turns into fun stepdad of the year makes weird songs for brushing teeth teaches them dumb Aussie slang like “budgie smuggler” they call him “dad” during a game of Uno and he pauses

“you mean… ME?” acts like it’s casual but buys matching shirts the next day tells people “these are my people” with the proudest grin ever

gabriel bortoleto ── .✦

treats your kid like royalty reads every bedtime story with voices the first time the kid draws a crayon family of three, he almost loses it

“sou eu? tipo... de verdade?” (that's me? like... really?) takes them out for Saturday bakery runs and calls it “our little tradition” you find him asleep on the couch with the kid on his chest every other Sunday

franco colapinto ── .✦

awkward at first but tries so hard the first time they hold his hand on their own, he nearly cries starts drawing cartoons for them, custom little stories they shout “papa look!” during a video call he literally MUTES HIMSELF and has a breakdown of joy

“they called me papa. i didn’t even ask for that. that’s insane.”

max verstappen ── .✦

very lowkey, very protective acts like it’s no big deal until your kid gets hurt at the park and yells

“I want Max!!” max RUNS. drops everything. from then on, it’s over — he’s fully in calls them “kiddo,” teaches them to play video games lets them nap on him during F1 races and whispers “you’re safe. always.”

©p1girlfriend | requested | requests open!

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dannyriccsystem · 23 days ago

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UP ALL NIGHT THINKIN’ OF YOU!

FORMULA ONE DRIVERS X READER

SUMMARY: Boyfriends reacting to you being unable to sleep :)

WORD COUNT: 3.1K

WARNINGS: Fluff! That’s it

FEATURING: MV1, DR3, LN4, KA12, CL16, AA23, LH44, CS55, GR63, OP81, OB87

NOTE: Hi guys!! Just a few more days and I am free from online school yay :) Updates will quicken soon. Sorry ☺️

MAX VERSTAPPEN - MV1

You could hear Max quietly playing out on the sim as you tossed and turned in bed. This is how it was almost every night, and it never bothered you. Which is why you knew something was off about tonight. Many of times you had fallen asleep to the occasional sound of cursing, and the distant sound of an engine. It became relaxing after awhile.

But tonight you just couldn’t seem to sleep. No matter how hard you tried. You rolled over onto your side, staring out at the taunting moon that seemed to laugh in your face. You grumbled, flipping over to bury your head in the pillow. This was a cruel joke— You had things to do tomorrow!

You finally heard the house go silent, and a few moments later your bedroom door creaked open. You turned your head and Max, who suddenly realized he didn’t need to be quiet anymore, straightened up like he had been caught red handed. He looked at the digital clock on your side of the bed, the bright neon red numbers teasingly showing off.

“What are you doing awake?” He asked as he climbed into bed beside you, kissing your forehead tenderly. “It’s nearly two— Did I keep you up?” He pulled at a blanket, letting himself settle in beside you. You wasted no time shuffling over, resting your head on his chest. Max combed his fingers over your scalp, his eyelids droopy. So unfair.

“No,” You replied softly. You shut your eyes, breathing in his scent. He smelt faintly like RedBull, which… Admittedly was becoming a comfort for you, embarrassing as that is. “I just can’t seem to sleep.” As you relaxed against him, you felt yourself start to feel lighter. Your brows relaxed, and your arms went limp.

“Falling asleep already?” He teased, shutting his eyes with you. You nodded weakly, and Max laughed. “Looks like you just needed some love…”

—

DANIEL RICCIARDO - DR3

Daniel was sleeping on the couch.

You guys had a petty little argument, and he decided to sleep on the couch just to let things pass on their own. Plus, he had to get up early, so it seemed fair anyway. The problem? You couldn’t sleep without him. This happened every-time he went away, which is why— and this is bad to admit— you were somewhat glad he retired so you wouldn’t have anymore sleepless nights.

So, with your pride long forgotten, you grabbed a small blanket and carefully scurried out into the living room. You could see Danny, fast asleep on the couch, lit up by the tv screen, which was on mute as it played some old-fashioned game show. Must have come on after whatever he was initially watching.

You carefully sat yourself on the edge, staring at his soft face. So peaceful compared to the anger he had expressed early. You felt ridiculous now— such a petty argument. Danny stirred, and you flinched when his eyes slowly opened. He gazed at you groggily, his lips forming a sleepy pout.

“What are you doing?” He whispered quietly, one hand on your waist. You couldn’t get a word out before he pulled you down, holding you close to his chest. “Couldn’t sleep, pretty?”

“No…” You buried your face in his bare chest, your arms encircling his waist. Danny yawned before nuzzling a cheek against your scalp. “I’m sorry for earlier, Danny. I just can’t sleep without you.”

His lips lazily kissed your scalp, and you giggled when he unintentionally kissed you right on the eyelid. “Sorry,” He murmured, chuckling with you. “We can talk about it,” Another yawn. “In the morning.”

And with that, you both fell asleep right there on the sofa, much more comfortable together.

—

LANDO NORRIS - LN4

Tonight was yet another sleepless night. There wasn’t any particular reason for it, either. It just happened to be that every now and then there were times when you simply couldn’t bring yourself to drift off into dreamland. For now you slowly clambered out of your comforting mattress, wandering your way into the kitchen.

Lando continued snoring peacefully when you pried out of his arms. You replaced your own body with a large pillow, which he seemed to cozy up to just fine. You kept mental note of that just in case you needed blackmail in the future.

You opened the fridge, the dim light illuminating the kitchen. You rubbed your groggy eyes, grabbing a cup from one of the nearby cabinets to fill with cold water. You grumbled at the annoyingly loud noise of ice clinking against the class. You held your breath, listening for any movement. When you heard nothing, you decided you were in the clear and continued to fill it with water.

Except, a moment later you shrieked, nearly dropping your cup, when you felt arms wrap around your waist. You relaxed when you heard a soft laugh from Lando, who squeezed you close. You heaved a sigh, shaking your head and setting the glass down on the counter. “You scared me.”

“Sorry,” He murmured. “Why’d you get up?”

“Can’t sleep…”

“Wanna watch a movie and make out?” He teased, kissing your jawline. You giggled, lightly pushing him away.

“Yeah, sure. But we all know you’re gonna fall asleep immediately.”

“Alright, fine. We can save the kissing for later.”

—

KIMI ANTONELLI - KA12

Kimi was out racing again. All while you were stuck at home, unable to sleep. It was about 3am by now and you were only becoming more and more frustrated as time went on. You finally gave up when you rolled over to grab your phone, selecting the facetime option on your boyfriend’s contact.

He answered within two rings, his delighted face lighting up your screen. You squinted, turning the brightness down immediately. “Y/N, why are you awake? Isn’t it like 5am over there?” You giggle and shake your head. You’re barely visible to him, buried in a room of darkness with your face pressed against pillows and blankets.

“No…” You look at the clock on your phone and frown. “It’s 3am.” He audibly gasped, a hand on his heart. “I know, I know. I just can’t sleep…”

“Do you want me to sing you a lullaby?” Kimi smiled wide, finding himself so funny. You closed your eyes, feeling the weight of sleep start to drift over you.

“Tell me about your day,” You decided that would be good enough.

He lit up, and began to ramble. With every word, you fell deeper and deeper into slumber. Kimi realized when you eventually dropped the phone, and he could distantly hear snoring on the other end. He laughed, deciding to hang up and let you get your well deserved rest.

—

CHARLES LECLERC - CL16

You had been unable to sleep all night, and it was incredibly frustrating. It was about 1am when you felt Charles get up beside you, trudging his way out of the bedroom with heavy steps. You watched carefully, and then relaxed against the mattress. He was probably going to the bathroom or getting water— That’s what you told yourself to believe. But about five minutes later you could hear the soft melody of the piano, and you perked up.

After another moment or two, you slowly climbed out of bed and made your way to the living room where a large grand piano sat. He had his back to you, so you watched your boyfriend flinch when you sat yourself beside him. He smiled softly, his eyes heavy with sleep. “Did I wake you?” He asked, his heavy accent carrying his voice into the moonlit night.

You shook your head, resting it against his shoulder. “No, I just haven’t been able to sleep.” You closed your eyes, and Charles regarded you with a smile for a few more seconds. “Will you keep playing?”

The music was soothing. His fingers danced diligently across the keys, the soft tune lifting off into your ears, slowly filling the night air with a beautiful sound. You hummed along under your breath until eventually your voice faded off altogether. Charles felt his smile widen when your body slumped against his.

He continued playing until he was certain you were fast asleep. He then carefully scooped you up, carrying you back to bed in your newfound dream-like state. He kept a mental note for the future that the piano helped you sleep.

—

ALEX ALBON - AA23

Alex was used to your sleepless nights. He liked to stay awake with you so that you wouldn’t feel alone in such dire times— Like tonight, he had kept you cuddled up to him for the entirety. He was waiting to hear your soft snores, but unlike most nights, you seemed eternally restless.

“Still can’t sleep?” He whispered, sighing when you shook your head. Alex seemed to pause to think for a moment, and then eventually suggested, “Do you want to go for a drive?”

This idea was new. You guys had never tried such a thing before, and it seemed like a pretty straightforward plan. You thought on it for a moment, and then eventually responded by climbing out of bed to grab a sweatshirt, and slip your shoes on.

The two of you, still clad in pajama sets and fuzzy hoodies, hopped into Alex’s car. You reclined your seat back pretty far, staring through the sunroof at the starry night sky as he drove along the highway. It was practically empty with a few lights from passing cars— the city was still lit up, a few bustling crowds enjoying their final moments out together.

The radio was playing very quietly. The same songs you had been hearing again and again for the past month now were somewhat comforting in your state of uncertainty. Your eyes shut slowly, and the humming engine along with a slow tune on the radio worked in unison to rock you back to sleep. You hummed, trying to yawn to keep yourself awake, but it ultimately failed.

Alex took a little peek at you, chuckling when he realized you were asleep. He pulled into some random parking lot to turn around, driving the two of you back home. Your boyfriends carried you inside so you could both sleep peacefully in each other’s hold, safe from the qualms of a late night.

—

LEWIS HAMILTON - LH44

Lewis was the master of helping you sleep. He had all the tricks up his sleeve from nightly routines to making you drink warm milk until you were full. The guy was a genius in body health, and it showed. Needless to say, the two of you were well aware of your relationship with sleep.

Tonight he had to stay up to finish up an advertisement graphic for his business. He was on a zoom call with a few people, quietly discussing in the safety of the dining room, far away from any sleeping ears. However, after giving up on sleep, you sat in the living room unnoticed, listening in on the boring conversations.

Eventually you stood up to poke your head in. Lewis froze before he smiled at you, beckoning for you to come closer. He switched his camera off, making up some excuse about the laptop being old and the camera needing a replacement, despite the fact it had never experienced issues in the past. You shuffled yourself into his lap, resting your face in his neck. He smelt heavenly, like pine mixed with a bit of musk. A pleasant musk.

He held you around the waist, rubbing your back with a few kisses to your neck. You giggled at the ticklish sensation, squirming around on his lap. Lewis seemed delighted with your joyful response and continued, until it was time for him to speak again. You pressed your ear to his chest to hear the rumble of his voice in a low whisper. You eventually fell asleep there, satisfied with your care.

He felt bad for disturbing you, so despite how uncomfortable the chair was, Lewis allowed you to stay there the entire night.

—

CARLOS SAINZ - CS55

“Y/N?” A groggy voice called out from beside you. You flinched, giving your boyfriend a sheepish expression. He raised a brow, leaning over to pull the cord on the lamp, lighting up the room. Carlos had a head of messy bed-hair, and his eyes were droopy from sleep. The man propped himself up on one elbow, running a hand through his soft locks. “Why are you awake?”

It appeared as if you had woken him up from his slumber by restlessly tossing and turning. You cleared your throat, shrugging your shoulders lighting as you sat up. He glanced up at you, lips drawn into a gentle frown that made your heart ache. Even over trivial matters as such, Carlos was always looking out for you.

“I just can’t sleep,” You finally responded with a softspoken tone. Carlos shifted up, his back pressed against the headboard. He gestured to his lap, which you carefully lowered your head to. He traced soft circles along your shoulder and the hairline on the side of your face, making you giggle at the ticklish sensation. “Tell me about your day,” You insisted.

He hummed in thought. Not a lot happened, but he’s scrape the bottom of the barrel for anything interesting. “I saw a cute old couple at the store.” When he finally started to speak, you relaxed. You shut your eyes, lips twisting into a smile. “Really old, but still healthy and in shape. He held the door for her, grabbed things off the top shelf. Chivalry isn’t dead.” He looked down at you, laughing under his breath when he saw you fast asleep. It didn’t take much, apparently. He twirled a section of your baby hairs right beside your ear, a fond expression in his eyes. “I hope that can be us, mi cariño.”

—

GEORGE RUSSELL - GR63

This was day four of your sleepless nights. George had quietly been taking note of your uncharacteristic behavior, and turned to the internet for the answers to this problem. He spent a good amount of time researching ways to help sleep at night, paying special attention to some of the traits you had been displaying yourself. So tonight, he was ready to try out some solutions.

You were surprised when he insisted you both put your phones down at around 7:30 PM. You didn’t mind obliging, despite the fact he lacked a proper explanation. Instead, you played a game of UNO at your dining room table. A game that lasted well past your scheduled bedtime— And by well I mean thirty minutes, which was a lot for a timely guy such as George.

Despite the fact that your game went on for longer than expected, George hopped into a warm shower with you. The two of you enjoyed a relaxing atmosphere, intimately washing each other’s hair and basking in the hot water before finally stepping out to dry off and dress in a fresh set of pajamas he bought for you. It was here that you were starting to catch on to his antics— And you were appreciative.

He lit your favorite candle, setting it on your nightstand as he turned the lights off. The sound of quiet rain played from a sound machine, creating an environment you found comfortable. You curled up next to him, and you immediately felt your eyelids grow heavy. George grinned, softly rubbing your back as you listened to his steady heartbeat.

“Thank you,” You murmured knowingly before drifting off. Nice and early, no restless turning needed. He’d be getting the best boyfriend award.

—

OSCAR PIASTRI - OP81

To say Oscar was annoyed wouldn’t be true. He rarely got annoyed with you, and when he did he always talked it out. However, there was some frustration with the current situation. You were having trouble sleeping, and it was in turn keeping him up too. However, he felt more frustrated for you than towards you.

“Still can’t sleep?” He grumbled groggily. You froze, completely unaware that he was even awake to begin with. You nodded sheepishly, and Oscar sighed before sitting up. “Roll onto your stomach.”

“Huh?” You raised a brow at him, and then your cheeks flushed with warmth. “Oscar, I don’t-”

“No! Not that,” He assured quickly. “I was gonna massage your back.” He frowned, and you couldn’t help but giggle before rolling over onto your stomach. Your boyfriend straddled your back, his hands kneading your shoulders first. You grunted, relaxing your head against the pillow as he worked out a knot.

“Where’d you learn to give massages?” He worked his hands down, feeling around for tension in your muscles and then carefully pushing it away. He seemed to know what he was doing- Every move calculated and precise.

“I looked it up on google about ten minutes ago.” You opened one eye and glanced back at him, rolling your eyes at the sight of his cheeky little smile. “I’m joking… Sort of.”

“Well,” You huffed with satisfaction. “It feels good.”

“Good.”

He continued, occasionally helping you pop your back. By the end of it, you felt far more relaxed. With Oscar’s help, you eventually were able to fall asleep, happily curled up next to him with a grin to match. He kissed your nose affectionately, whispering a soft ‘Goodnight.’

—

OLIVER BEARMAN - OB87

“What is this nonsense you’re reading, that doesn’t even make any sense-”

“Ollie just read the book,” You whined. He offered to help with your lack of sleep problem, especially since he didn’t have anywhere to be in the morning anyway. Unfortunately, you did. The solution was for him to read your favorite book— It worked for children with bedtime stories, so maybe it would work for you. However, he seemed to be in a rather chatty mood.

“Okay… But just saying, it’s kinda…” You gave him a pointed look, and he cleared his throat quickly to continue reading. You stared off through the window, your cheek pressed to his chest whilst you focused on the words from his lips. This book was a comfort to you; you had read it many times, and now you could probably recite every line, even as Ollie was occasionally misreading a few words to you.

You shifted around to get more comfortable, tugging at your light blanket as the night breeze threatened to capsize you. When the morning came, you’d start to feel the intense heat, but at the moment your hair was standing on edge, skin coated in goosebumps. Ollie squeezed you tighter with his free arm— the other was holding the book in question.

Ollie peered down at you when a shocking scene came up, his jaw dropped. He was just double checking he heard that right, only to find the heart warming sight of you sleeping soundly against him. He gently shut the book and shimmied down to rest beside you, burying his face in the warmth of your neck. So much for that.

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autumnmatt · 9 months ago

Text

𝘨𝘰 𝘣𝘢𝘤𝘬 𝘵𝘰 𝘴𝘭𝘦𝘦𝘱 𝘣𝘢𝘣𝘺.

summary: matt is playing fornite with his two brothers and he gets to loud when he keeps losing, causing his girlfriend to wake up from her slumber.

classification: fluff

warnings: kissing, pet names, suggestive language, use of y/n

it was about 3 in the morning and you were fast asleep in yours and matts bed, snuggled up in a blanket with matts stuffed pug mr. wrinkleton tucked under your arm.

matt on the other hand was in the middle of a very intense fornite match with his brothers nick and chris. there were about 10 people left in that match and your boyfriend was very determined to win.

all was going good during the game play until him and his brothers came across this very sweaty team. “on me on me!! these kids are good I need backup quickkk” matt yelled to nick and chris through his headset.

he then faced one of the opposing teammates but of course he lost the battle between them and got knocked. “FUCKKKKK” he screamed out of frustration. nick also got killed a little while after matt did by the same person.

y/n wasn’t that much of a heavy sleeper so when he started to yell out, she shifted in bed a little opening up her eyes to see what the yelling was coming from.

she looked up and saw the bright screen in front of her with fornite being played along with her boyfriend sitting in his gaming chair banging on the desk from just getting killed. she puts the blanket over her head and closes her eyes in an attempt to fall back asleep.

“CHRIS DUDE YOURE SO BAD THOSE KIDS WERE ASS” matt yells, slamming his controller on the desk making a very loud sound that could be heard throughout the room.

y/n tossed and turned once more slowly losing the battle of getting back to sleep. so she got up, yanked the covers off of her body, and started sleepily walking over towards matt, dragging her feet with every step she took.

once she made it over to the chair where he sat she stood there, waiting for matt to realize she was standing here. and once he did he could see the pout forming on her lips, instantly feeling guilt for being so loud so late at night.

“oh baby I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you.” he frowned, muting his mic and taking his headset off then holding his arms out to her and patting his lap, inviting her to come sit down.

she straddled him and rested her head on his shoulder, enjoying the comfort of his warm body and taking in his familiar scent, the scent she loved most.

“go back to sleep baby, I promise I’ll keep it down”. he said and kissed the top of her head, wrapping his arms around her so that he could still have access to the controller also slowly rubbing up and down on her lower back.

“come to bed with me.” she groaned into his shoulder. she was already strarting to fall back asleep.

“of course I will baby.” he smiled taking his hands off the controller putting the headset on one last time to tells his brothers his was going to sleep. he shut of his computer, put his headset and controller up and gently picked her up to bring to the bed.

you wrapped your arms around his neck to prevent yourself from falling out of his arms. your face now buried into his chest.

he set you down on your side of the bed before walking over to his pulling the blanket over the both of you and situating the pillows so they were at a comfortable position under your heads.

you faced him for a few seconds to say your goodnights. you kissed his lips lazily before speaking. “goodnight I love you.” you spoke up, resting your head onto his chest and wrapping your arms around him.

“goodnight I love you too baby”. he said before wrapping his arms around your waist and pulling you into him. he kissed your forehead before you slowly drifted off to sleep in each others arms.

a/n: AHHHH I think this is so cute. my 2nd story on here, thank you so much for the love on my first story and definitely send me some requests. hope you enjoyed this fic, love you all!!!

taglist: @stayingstromboli @conspiracy-ash

respond to this post to be apart of my taglist!

#matt sturniolo #matt sturniolo fluff #matt sturniolo x you #matt sturniolo x reader #matt stuniolo fanfic #sturniolo triplets #matt sturniolo smut #chris sturniolo x reader #sturniolo #chris sturniolo fluff #sturniolo fanfic #matt sturniolo imagine #matt sturniolo icons #cute #fluff #fanfic

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diejager · 2 years ago

Note

Stepdad!König taking a call from your mother while she’s at work - and while he’s brutalizing your sweet pussy in your room, his hand clasped over your mouth to muffle your moans as he speaks to your mother over the phone like normal 😊

Phone cw: p in v, DUB-CON/NON-CON, STEPCEST, smut, rough sex, creampie, exhibitionism?, tell me if I missed any.

Your heart jumped out of you chest when his phone rang, you panicked, but König looked unbothered, reaching over to pick it up as he kept up his pace, driving his hips forward roughly and ruthlessly. He chuckled lowly, showing you the caller: your mother. Your breath hitched, teary eyes widening and mouth agape with drool rolling down the corner of your lips, you struggled against him, begging for him to ignore the call or to stop if he wanted to answer it.

“You can keep quiet, can’t you, Schatz?”

“No no- please-!”

His hand came down on your mouth, muffling your cries and whimpers, pleading for him to adhere to common sense. Despite your cries, he answered the phone, clicking on speaker - to antagonize you - and your mother’s voice rang out in the room. He greeted her with a normal hi, his tone calm even through the strenuous session, rocking into you, his thick girth and throbbing cock milking your cunt of the load he left this morning after she left.

“I’m sorry for calling so suddenly, hun,” she sounded tired, spending the day working until 7pm.

“It’s okay,” König hummed, placing the phone down beside your head, beside your covered mouth and tear-streaked cheeks. “What’s wrong?”

“I’ll be home later than usually,” she sighed, oblivious to your muffled whines. “I’m going to swing by that Italian place, do you want anything?”

Unlike your choked mewls and breathless keens, your stepdad was still, chest puffing up and pressing down on you, shifting your legs over his shoulders as he drove himself deeper. He was rough, thrusts hard and words degrading, cooing in your ear harsh, degrading names. Telling you what a slut you were for you stepdad, how you were a bitch for whoring around him and Horangi in skimpy shorts and baggy shirts, and how your sweet pussy was so wet and loud for him.

“Could you ask (Name) about supper?”

“Give me a second, ja?”

He flashed you a mean grin, putting the call on mute for better acting, playing the scene of him walking towards your room or where ever you were. His hand moved down to your neck, giving you a hard grip and holding you down, folding you in half, knees bent to your shoulders and feet jerking over his head. Seeming satisfied with his manhandling, the wet slaps of his hips hitting your thighs louder and the head of his cock ramming your spongy cervix, he picked up the phone, unmuting it and pressing it to your ear.

“Dear?”

“H-hi mom-” you gasped, the heavy curve of his cock and the bulging veins rubbing your back wall, you spasmed around him, teeth biting down on your lower lip to stop the moan that threatened to slip.

“You remember that Italian place we went last week?”

“Ye-ah-yeah.”

She paused, her silence ringing louder than every slap that made your stomach bulge. You feared that she heard your slip up, the high-pitched mewl and pants you let out; you feared that crooked grin on his scarred lips and that proud and scheming gleam in his eyes. He changed his fast and rough pace for a deep and precise one, repeatedly aiming for that spot that made your eyes roll and back arch, finger thumbing your engorged clit.

“Are you okay?” You hated the worried tone mixed with that exhaustion, it picked at your heart.

“Yes-!” It came out harsher than you intended, pearly tears slipping from your squinted eyes.

König’s manhandling and pointed hits made your walls clench around him, the coil in your navel tightening to a delirious amount, making your head spin and mind dumb.

“Okay… Do you want anything for tonight?”

“Ro-rosé, please.”

“All right, I’ll see you tonight then.”

Any later and she would have heard you scream your mind off, you let moans roll off your tongue without restraint, nails digging into his back and back arched upward. He lowered your legs to his elbows, opening your legs to watch you come, your cunt swallowing him to the base, pumping in and then back out with a white ring around is cock from your shared pleasure. He made a sound of satisfaction, hands wandering down to grip your hips, riding out his pleasure leisurely and yours a fiery white blaze that burned through your body.

“You heard her, ja? Looks like we have more time to play.”

Taglist: @sae1kie @yeoldedumbslut @tallmanlover @distracteddragoness @vxnilla-hxrddrugs @konigsblog @havoc973

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simonrileysfavteacup · 1 year ago

Text

As always, Simon stumbles into your shared apartment, sighing. He drops his gear by the door, stripping himself down to his boxers.

He walks into the living room, where the tv was on mute and a figure slept on your couch. He smiles, heading over to you, a blanket over your sleeping body. Simon stares at you for a moment before picking you up, making you stir awake.

He smiles, “Hi lovie.”

“Si?”

“‘Hats me.”

“You’re home?”

“Yup.”

“I haven’t made dinner…”

“S’ what? Pizza place down the stree’ is open.”

“But you deserve a home cooked-”

“Lovie? Why are you s’ hot?”

You blink. “What?”

“Like burnin’ hot…what’s wrong?”

“Nothing.”

“Your burnin’, lovie.”

“I’m fine,” you lie, thrashing around in his arms. “I needa make dinner!”

“You’re sick?”

You don’t respond.

“Bed. Now.” That was his stern voice. His lieutenant voice. “‘m orderin’ takeout.”

“But-”

“Lovie,” he warns. “Don’t make me tie you t’ the bed. Now, stay there an’ rest.”

He leaves the room to order dinner. When he gets back, you’re fast asleep.

***

You stir awake hours later, the TV in your bedroom on, Simon sitting next to you. He’s munching on a rice bowl. You groan, “My head hurts.”

“Have ya taken any meds?” You shake your head. He holds out a bite of his food to you. You accept it happily. “Got them rice pla’ers you love so much.”

“Thank you. I can never get old of them.”

“You should.”

“I love you so much, but I haven’t gotten old of you.”

He rolls his eyes. “You’re gone take some meds after eatin’, ‘kay?”

You nod. “Love you, Si.”

“Love you too, lovie.”

#simon riley #ghost imagine #ghost x reader #ghost simon riley #ghost cod #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley fluff #simon ghost riley #ghost call of duty #simon riley cod #cod #simon #ghost mw2 #ghost #ghost headcanons #ghost fanfiction #ghost fanfic

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invincibledc · 9 months ago

Note

I got a request for mute twin reader imagine them getting mad at someone in the family and cuz barely anyone is fluent in sign language (except for damian) they just sign the whole time they are mad to make them not understand and damian of course joins their little plan by only talking to the twin in arabic

“Angry Silence”

Batfamily x Mute! Twin reader

Summary: getting angry at a certain first Robin, you started to sign angrily and fast. Losing dick Grayson quickly as he tried to figure out what you are saying. Damian contributes to your anger.

Keys:Green=arabic Italics=signing

“I hate you! I can’t believe you played my favorite tv show without me you dick head!” The twin of Damian Al Ghul-Wayne, you, signed angrily and quickly in the fast of the first ever Robin. Dick Grayson. Dick had played your favorite tv show you wanted to watch later when you came back from school with your beloved twin. The most reason to be angry was that it was live, keyword. Live. So it passed when you came home when dick could’ve saved it to play again.

Dick looked confused and worry as your face was red, angry is what he sensed. But he couldn’t tell what you were saying. Looking over to Damian for help. Damian scoffed, understanding his twin’s anger.

“How evil of you Grayson.” He says in Arabic. You nodded quickly. Now dick was even more confused, frowning as Bruce and the other boys came in.

“Ooooh, I see dickie bird got the double troubles on him.” Jason says with a smug grin.

“Jason shush!” Dick says, looking away from the two ten year olds glaring at him.

“He’s idiotic, isn’t he sibling?” Damian says turning his head at you. Crossing his arms as well.

“Very.” You signed at him

“WHAT ARE YOU GUYS SAYING?!” Dick says, he was going to lose his head if he didn’t know what his siblings were talking about.

Only for the twins to look at each other, smirk and walk off laughing. A time laugh, calculated. Dick felt his ego drop, he wanted to know too!

Chasing after the twins he yelled out for mercy.

“PLEASE I’LL DO ANYTHING, JUST LET ME IN YOUR SECRET.”

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onlygarden · 6 months ago

Text

[not so fast...] - yang jungwon

genre: smut

description: just as you're about to head out to grab a few things from the store, jungwon decides he wants you to stay. established relationship, dom jungwon, rough sex, unprotected sex, hair pulling/yanking, spitting in mouth, slapping, jungwon grips reader hard enough to bruise and draw blood, jungwon cums all over reader, oral sex (male receiving), cumeating, facefucking, degradation (whore, bitch, etc.), bit of power play.

a/n: it's a few days after christmas, but i'm wishing the merriest of christmases and the happiest of new years to everyone : ) it's been a little while since i posted a fic but i've been aching to write this for about a week. this might be the nastiest fic i've ever written but this is the result of jungwon. the inspiration smacked me in the face out of nowhere while i was watching a jungwon edit. jungwon PLEASE LET ME HIT

the muted padding of your feet against the carpeted stairs compelled jungwon’s curiosity, along with his undivided attention. a gentle “where are you going, baby,” sailed gracefully to your ears, and a small smile stretched it’s way across your face.

“just.. headed to the store,” you said casually, as you lept slightly from the last step. your body drifted closer to his, your arms reaching out to wrap snugly around his torso. it was almost instinctual, but you were far too aware of the way you constantly longed for his warmth for any of your actions to be brushed off as involuntary.

his hands slowly roam your back as you hug him, their path descending to lower territory, and quickly ending their journey as they rest a taunting distance from your rear.

“the store?” he echoes, his voice a faint, leisurely murmur against your ear. “but i was just thinking about you, baby…” he starts, his fingers tensing a bit against the small of your back.

“...and… mmmh, you always smell so good, i just wanna…” as the words tumble from his smooth lips, his hands slither down to the flesh of your ass, his fingers digging in with unbridled greed.

a breath escapes your lips, your inclination to shop suddenly fading, the items on your shopping list suddenly becoming less of an urgent need.

“won, i need to…” you start, but the harsh squeeze of his hands as they sink into your plush behind, and the way his body began to show you just how hard of a time he was having quickly began to usher any rational thoughts from your mind.

he leans closer to your face as your weak, unconvincing plea rings throughout the air, and his lips brush against yours with every syllable that his mouth forms.

“need to what, baby? hm?” his hands leave your ass with reluctance, caressing the curved lines of your waist as his fingers tense with the pressure of reining himself in.

he continues, his words just as tormenting as his actions, slowly replacing everything you thought you ‘needed’ to do with an insistent desire that mirrored his own.

“wouldn’t you rather just let me…” your arms now drape delicately around his neck as his hands land upon the waistband of your sweatpants, and his fingers begin to dip beneath the material, tracing along the lace of your thong.

“do what i want?” his lips now glide along your jaw, igniting each inch of skin with a heat that only his lips could bring, though he still wasn’t kissing you.

“god… please, won,” the words jumped from your throat in a breathless sigh before you could even think about denying him.

a soft chuckle floats from jungwon’s lips, causing more heat to burst in your stomach, and the thin material of your thong struggles to accommodate the arousal gushing so plentifully out of you.

jungwon lifts your body with haste, allowing your legs to wrap around him before ascending the stairs impatiently. in this moment, they were nothing more than an inconvenient obstacle further delaying him from drenching his cock with your sweet warmth.

he tosses your body onto the bed, watching as you bounce slightly, completely helpless upon impact. your helplessness only serves to provoke his ache to devour you even further.

he lays down on the bed, resting his head against the pillow, his eyes refusing to leave your form– the way the breath escaped from your plump, parted lips as you regained your bearings, the way your chest heaved slightly and your tank top dipped low enough to provide him with a glimpse of your breasts, the way you looked at him as you patiently waited for a command from him. you were so delicate, so flustered, so pliant, and every bit of you belonged to him. all his, just his to use, to take, to ravage.

“wanna make you choke, come here,” he announced casually, as though the words themselves didn’t weaken every fiber of your body.

he pushes his pants down as you approach him, and you finish pulling them down the course of his legs as his boxers follow in tandem.

god, you could never grow tired of worshipping his cock. jungwon is fucking hung. so hung, you can barely stop yourself from calling him ‘hungwon’ whenever you refer to him. he leaked with the evidence of his desperation, fully sprung from his pure adoration for you.

you spit onto his length, stroking him, lathering him with it, spreading such generous lubrication over every inch of him. as you open your mouth and lower your head onto him, jungwon’s fingers lace into your hair, snatching any false sense of control away from you. he was entirely heedless of any sputters that escaped you as he pushed your head down, forcing his length to the back of your throat.

a breathy grunt tumbles past his lips as he holds your head in place, thrusting upwards at a leisurely pace, thoroughly enjoying the way your saliva sloshed and flowed around his length, surrounding him, engulfing him with deliciously moist heat.

“fuck, such a good fucking girl… mmm… just like that baby, yea…” he cooed, his head tilting back and his eyebrows drawing together as the pleasure began to overwhelm him.

the sweet praises which left his lips stood in such bitter contrast to the way he tortured your throat, tears sliding down the bridge of your nose as short, desperate breaths escaped your nostrils.

with no urgency, he lifts your head from his length, tugging on your hair to encourage you to crawl up his body. as you reach his lips, he forces your face towards his, his fingers remaining stubbornly laced in your hair. his velvety lips meld against yours, and his tongue quickly shoves past your lips to tangle with your own.

you feel his weight pressing you into the mattress, along with his shoulders caging you in, as he rolls on top of you, his cock prodding so demandingly against your lower abdomen.

he draws his lips from yours with difficulty, leaving a final, chaste kiss against your lips before his lips meet your neck, leaving an urgent trail of kisses along your heated skin.

“you’re so beautiful, baby… so damn pretty…” the words hardly leave his lips before he’s yanking your tank top from your body, each piece of your clothing leaving your body with such haste, you barely register the sensations of the material against your skin.

“open your legs,” he demands, and you oblige, without a single thought.

jungwon swiftly discards his shirt, before his hands latch themselves onto the pillowy flesh of your thighs, his nails leaving imprints from the force of his grip.

“fuck, look at you…” he whispers, marveling the sight of your glossy arousal spilling onto the sheets beneath you.

a low moan dances to your ears as he plunges himself inside of you, reaching unimaginable depths, punishing you with the speed and pressure of his thrusts as soon as he enters. his eyes flutter as he relishes the sensation of your silky slick swallowing and sucking his cock in.

“oh, fuuuck, i love this pussy… you’re so fucking good at taking my cock baby, the only thing you’re good for…” he mutters drunkenly, his hand coming up to land a gentle slap across your face as the volume of your moans blares throughout the room. the smack arose from the desire to punish you, unable to control the aggression coursing through his body over how fucking good you were.

your mouth hangs open, slack and pitiful, a series of whines and moans falling from your lips. tears spring helplessly to your eyes, playing along the edge of your eyelashes, and jungwon’s hands bury themselves within the flesh of your thighs, the pressure promising bruises to your skin.

jungwon’s hand clamps onto your jaw harshly, forcing your eyes to meet his gaze. his eyebrows were furrowed, aggression, ecstasy, and effort all working together to create his expression.

“who do you belong to? who’s fucking you dumb, huh?” he demands, his voice low and gruff as the sensation of your pussy surrounds him.

you answer him, a pathetic “you, won!” leaving your lips, laced in with your moans.

“that’s right, baby… good girl…my good little whore…”

his hand clamps harder, squeezing against your cheeks as he instructs you to “open your mouth, baby.”

his spit falls into your open mouth, sliding down your tongue and mingling with your own, before you drink down every warm drop with an eager gulp. jungwon moans lowly as your mouth widens in anticipation for more.

“more? god, you’re such a whore. you’re so fucked up…” with a low hum, jungwon gathers a larger amount of saliva onto his tongue, spitting into your open mouth for the second time. his spit slides down your throat even more deliciously than the first time.

his relentless pounding continues, his long cock stretching you, abusing you, driving himself into you with such violent ferocity that it’s hard to believe he thinks your pussy is precious. mutters of “fucking bitch… nasty fucking bitch” tickle your ear as jungwon hurtles further into a haze of pleasure he’d never even dreamed of before meeting you.

“mmm… baby, you don’t have a choice, do you? you just let me do whatever i want to you, huh?” in an almost taunting jeer, he grasps onto your breast with a firm hand, squeezing until he earns himself a whimper from you. he solidifies his ownership as he jiggles your flesh around, before returning to his bruising grip on your thigh.

the velvety, slippery, warm confines of your pussy began to control his every action, his thrusts quickened to a euphoric speed, his erratic movements coupled with desperate breaths leaving his lips.

your tears stream pathetically down your face, the pleasure coursing through your body only intensifying as jungwon’s desperation and aggression became more evident in each of his movements and noises.

“too much! can’t, won…” you cry in a puddle of pleasure, every fiber of your body working quickly to prepare for your approaching orgasm, jungwon’s thumb working your clit in quick circles, sending you into a spiral of pure ecstasy that you could never be equipped for.

“too much? but you’re gonna cum all over me, aren’t you baby?” he mocks, his ingenuine coos and his comforting tone only serving to tease you as he continues to tear through you relentlessly.

your moans grow stuttered, your volume escalating as your pleasure escalates, your delirious moans of his name leaving your lips impulsively, almost as though he was snatching it from you. you cum on his cock, your trembling legs evolving into writhes of your entire body, jungwon punishing your senses with pure bliss as he pummels you through your orgasm, still shoving his way into you at an unfaltering rhythm.

fuck, you’re gorgeous, he thinks. it’s the most beautifully breathtaking sight his eyes were ever graced with in this life, certainly a sight he’ll never grow weary of. the sight of you, floating in the peak of a pleasure only he can ever bestow onto you.

if he wasn’t close before, he’s close beyond question, now. as he races closer to his high, he lets out a series of low moans near your ear, quickly rambling, “oh, fuuuck, my dumb little whore…” in such depraved measure. he's not sure how he ever manages to hold out this long with you.

he swiftly withdraws himself from your divine pussy, stroking his cock for a brief duration before spilling his lavish cum over your body abundantly, his low moans now entwined with a more gravelly tone, his other hand drawing blood against your thigh as his nails embed themselves into your skin. a soft, feeble whimper falls from your lips at the sensation, and your skin warms from the pool of his cum decorating your torso.

he reaches over to the bedside table, retrieving his phone, before snapping a photo of your vulnerable, beautifully cum-drenched form. with two fingers, he greedily scoops his cum from your body, shoveling each bit into your eager mouth. he feeds you until you’re sucking hungrily on his fingers, yearning for just a bit more.

“that’s all, baby,” he breathes out, chuckling softly before climbing off of the bed to retrieve a warm towel for you.

jungwon returns, gently running the wet towel over your delicate, battered body, sure to soak up the blood he pulled from your skin in his pleasured haze.

he brings the soft cover over your body in a tranquil manner as he lay beside you, dragging your drained body close to his, a whisper of “you did well” caressing your ear. you always do so well, no matter the severity of his treatment, he thinks.

“still need to go shopping, baby?” he teases, another soft chuckle vibrating in his chest as he feels you land a weak slap there, and he pats your bottom with a tender slap in retaliation.

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pohyuck · 10 days ago

Text

shouldn’t, couldn’t, wouldn’t —

⚡︎ .ᐟ boy-next-door!haechan x reader—where they weren't supposed to kiss. or call. or catch feelings. too bad they suck at rules.

⚡︎ .ᐟ inspired by NIKI's "shouldn't, couldn't, wouldn't"—i love her so much plz give the song a listen if you haven't yet!!

⚡︎ .ᐟ suggestive content, and waayyy too many late-night feelings. (11.2k)

· · ─ ─ · · · · ─ ─ · ·

moving day was a disaster waiting to happen, and surprise—it happened. three hours of sleep, zero caffeine, and enough bad decisions packed into one tote bag to make a reality show jealous.

all you had to do was survive moving day without collapsing, crying, or accidentally making eye contact with a neighbor you'd have to avoid forever.

spoiler alert: you would fail at all three.

· · ─ ·✶· ─ · · · · ─ ·✶· ─ · ·

shouldn’t

moving day was already the worst.

you were sleep deprived, under caffeinated, and sweating through your tote bag. you had just barely managed to drag a heavy suitcase to your apartment door before realizing the key was on the very bottom of your backpack. beneath a book, a half-eaten granola bar, and your crippling regret.

he was sitting across from your new apartment, cross-legged on the floor, surrounded by half a bag of cheetos and the loudest facetime call in the world. from what you could hear, his friend was yelling something about a suspicious rash.

he looked up just in time to catch you drop your bag, trip over it, and slam your forehead lightly into your own door.

there was a long pause.

then he muted his call and clapped.

“10 out of 10 entrance,” he said, still chewing.

you stared at him from the floor, holding your dignity in both hands like a fragile egg.

“thanks,” you deadpanned. “been rehearsing that fall for weeks.”

he grinned like this was the highlight of his day.

and to make things worse, he was stupid hot. like—should not be allowed to have a face like that—hot. tousled brown hair, warm skin, golden chain resting against his collarbone. and of course, the stupid frog socks.

“you moving in?” he asked, like that wasn’t obvious from the five boxes labeled ‘sad kitchen stuff’ next to you.

“no,” you said. “i just like loitering in random hallways. adds spice to my week.”

he tilted his head. “you’re funny.”

“you’re nosy.”

“you’re in my way.”

“you’re still staring.”

you blinked. looked away so fast your neck almost cracked. he was still grinning, smug, stupid, and gorgeous.

“i’m haechan,” he offered, finally. “i live across from you. that makes us... hallway buddies.”

“gross,” you muttered. “do not say that ever again.”

he only winked. “you’ll love me in three to five business days.”

later that night, after successfully unpacking approximately one spoon and a broken desk lamp, you found a note slid under your door.

“welcome to the building. hallway buddies 4ever <3 - h”

you told yourself you rolled your eyes. you told yourself it didn’t make you smile.

you shouldn’t.

but the butterflies in your stomach said, good fucking luck with that.

· · ─ ·✶· ─ · ·

your room is still half-boxes and unfamiliar shadows while you were on the phone with seol.

“oh, by the way, my cousin jaem invited me over to this pregame he’s having at his place. want to come with?”

you reply, “i think i’m just gonna stay in tonight, honestly.”

“too late! i’m already outside.”

you blink. then hear her knock.

jaemin’s apartment is loud. that’s the first thing you notice. not just music, but the sharp, overlapping noise of too many voices in a too-small space. you barely step inside when the second thing hits you.

and the thing was slouched on the couch in a leather jacket, head tilted back, laughing at something jeno just said. then he sees you.

his whole expression shifts, like a switch flipped.

“well, well, well,” he calls out with a lazy grin. “if it isn’t my hallway buddy.”

you groan. “don’t call me that in public.”

you slide into the empty seat next to him before your brain has the chance to vote. his knee brushes yours. neither of you mention it.

across the room, jaemin tosses you a drink without looking. “new apartment treating you okay?” he asks.

“yeah,” you say, then glance at haechan. “we actually live across from each other.”

seol’s head whips around. “wait—you two live across the hall?”

you nod slowly. haechan just shrugs, taking a sip like it’s nothing. “guess we’re neighbors and now party pals.”

jaemin points between the two of you. “and this never came up before?”

“didn’t exactly come up in the elevator,” you mutter.

the night spins faster after that. drinks. music. renjun attempting to dj in the kitchen using two phones and a bowl. someone breaks out a deck of cards. there’s a group effort to freestyle over a beat that no one can agree on. laughter bounces off the walls.

you lose track of time—until you somehow end up crammed into a corner during never have i ever. haechan’s shoulder presses into yours, his voice low near your ear.

“small world,” he says. “hallway, party, now, a fun little drink game territory”

you raise your cup. “should’ve stayed home.”

he clinks his drink lightly against yours. “you’d be bored without me.”

you don’t answer.

because he might be right.

“never have i ever hooked up with a neighbor,” jeno said, smirking.

haechan looked at you.

you glared at him.

“i haven’t!” you protested.

“yet,” he said under his breath.

you blinked.

your ears got hot.

you told yourself it was the tequila.

later, in the quiet chaos of 2 a.m., you were helping him find a spare charger in jaemin’s room. mostly because you didn’t trust him not to steal one if left unsupervised.

“you’re fun,” he said suddenly, watching you from the doorway.

“i’m also emotionally unavailable and extremely good at ghosting,” you replied, digging through drawers.

“perfect,” he said, grinning. “my type.”

you stood up. too close. his eyes dropped to your mouth for half a second too long.

i should step back, you thought.

but you didn’t.

he leaned in slightly. just enough to test a theory.

you stared at him.

then laughed—too loud, too fake, too “please don’t let this be real.”

you cleared your throat.

“we should go,” you said quickly.

he hesitated. then stepped back.

“yeah,” he said softly. “we should.”

once it was time to go home, he insisted on driving back to your place. the drive back home was quiet. and once you’ve arrived at the building, none of you chose to speak. you walked, in silence, with your shoulders brushing.

you didn’t say anything when he opened the door to your building for you. you didn’t say anything when he held the elevator.

“you ever think,” he said, not looking at you “that maybe we’re just avoiding something?”

you blinked. “like what?”

his lips twitched. “something we shouldn’t do.”

you didn’t answer.

you didn’t have to.

the silence said enough.

· · ─ ·✶· ─ · ·

the texting started as a joke.

haechan had left a post-it on your door that said:

“you left your dignity in the hallway again. i’m holding it hostage. - h”

you: u have the worst handwriting in the world 😬

DNI!!: shut up >:( that’s not what u said when u saw my handwriting on ur heart

you had no response to that. not a good one anyway.

after that, the texts never really stopped.

· · ─ ·✶· ─ · ·

DNI!!: hey, u up?

you: if this is a booty call, i hope u step on a lego

DNI!!: 💔

DNI!!: u’re no fun

you: ?? i am SO much fun

DNI!!: prove it. come out

you: is this another hallway hang

DNI!!: unless u’re scared.. 😮

you opened your door exactly sixty seconds later.

he was already leaning against his, hoodie up, a box of ice cream sandwiches in one hand and the smirk. the one that said he knew he was your worst idea—and your favorite one.

“ice cream truce,” he said. “for your wounded ego.”

“from what?”

“from not kissing me that night at jaemin’s.”

you blinked. he was too close again.

“what makes you think i wanted to?”

he raised a brow. “didn’t you?”

you looked away. “just give me the ice cream.”

you sat in the hallway. backs against the wall. knees brushing again.

“so,” he said between bites, “what’s your tragic backstory?”

you laughed. “you first.”

he grinned, lazy and warm. “gemini. commitment issues. abandonment issues.”

“wow. the holy trinity.”

“and you?”

you shrugged. “recovering situationship survivor.”

he winced. “yikes.”

“you?”

“commitmentphobe with a god complex.”

you scoffed at him. “wow.. you’re actually self-aware?”

“only after 2 a.m.,” he said. “and only with you.”

you told yourself it was a joke. you told yourself the way he was looking at you didn’t make your heart do something stupid.

“haechan…” you started.

“yeah?”

“we’re not doing this.”

he paused.

“doing what?”

you glared. “this. flirting. late-night ice cream. emotional trauma swap. whatever this is.”

he nodded slowly. then smiled again. “yeah. no. definitely not. hallway buddies only.”

you both laughed.

but the silence after wasn’t light. it was heavy. like something was being buried beneath the joke.

when you got up to leave, he didn’t stop you.

because this—whatever it was—was exactly what you both knew you shouldn’t be starting.

· · ─ ·✶· ─ · ·

you had a face mask on, hair tied, brooklyn nine-nine playing, and had just settled into your comfort burrito blanket cocoon when your phone buzzed.

DNI!!: can’t sleep

DNI!!: door’s open

you stared at the screen. then stared at your reflection. you looked like someone who’d lost a bet.

you told yourself you wouldn’t don’t go.

then grabbed your hoodie and went anyway.

his lights were dimmed, just one lamp glowing in the corner. the tv was playing some terrible reality dating show—a girl was crying because her man of two days chose someone else during a “trust fall challenge.”

“wow,” you said, sitting on the edge of his couch. “art.”

“masterpiece,” he agreed. “shakespeare could never.”

you watched in silence for a bit. you felt him watching you.

“you didn’t knock,” he said softly.

“you said the door was open.”

he nodded, eyes still on you. “just saying. you used to knock.”

“you used to be less cryptic,” you muttered.

he smiled. “i’m still cryptic. you’re just getting better at reading me.”

you laughed nervously. then fell silent again.

on-screen, someone yelled, “he can’t even define the relationship!”

you scoffed. “DTR,” you said. “men fear it.”

“yeah,” haechan muttered. “i’ve always sucked at that part.”

you glanced at him. he was looking at the floor. “why?” you asked, before you could stop yourself.

he shrugged. “because... once you define it, you can’t pretend it’s not real.”

you didn’t know what to say to that. so you didn’t say anything.

the silence stretched. not awkward. just heavy.

he was sitting closer now. when had he moved?

your knees touched. neither of you pulled away.

you looked at him. he looked at you.

and in that one, too-long second—your whole body went still.

he leaned in. just enough. slowly. like he was giving you time to stop it. your heart felt like it was trying to escape your ribcage.

you knew this was the line.

you knew you shouldn’t.

and still—your hand moved on its own, resting lightly on his knee.

that’s when he froze.

“if we do this,” he said, voice low, “everything changes.”

you swallowed. “i know.”

another beat.

“so, are we—”

you exhaled sharply. stood up. paced toward the door.

“we’re not doing this. we can’t”

he stayed on the couch, silent.

you didn’t turn back.

you didn’t see the way his expression crumpled just slightly.

you didn’t see how he watched the door long after it closed.

· · ─ ·✶· ─ · ·

you were just on your way back from seol’s, high on caffeine and gossip, with a paper bag full of banana bread and a playlist queued for the walk upstairs. you didn’t expect to find him standing in front of your apartment door.

hoodie again. hands in pockets. that same boyish look that screamed, “i swear i’m trouble, but you’ll like it.”

“you forget your key?” you asked, unlocking your door.

“no,” he said. “just forgot what it felt like to be around you.”

“what?” you said, laughing awkwardly.

“that sounded better in my head,” he admitted, rubbing the back of his neck.

you tilted your head. “why are you here, haechan?”

he didn’t answer right away.

just looked at you like he was trying to memorize your face before doing something stupid.

“i think i’ve been trying to find excuses to see you,” he said.

you went quiet.

he stepped a little closer.

“i think i’ve been trying to forget you, too,” you whispered.

he stopped.

“and how’s that going?”

“terribly.”

he smiled—not the usual cocky, smug one. this was smaller. sadder. almost hopeful.

“can i come in?” he asked.

you didn’t trust yourself to answer with words.

so you opened the door.

and he followed.

you didn’t even turn the lights on—just tossed your bag on the counter and leaned against it, heart hammering like it knew what was coming.

haechan stood in your kitchen like he’d done it a thousand times.

“you want tea?” you asked, trying to buy yourself time. sanity.

“only if you’re making it shirtless.”

“you’re unbelievable.”

“you say that like it’s new information.”

you rolled your eyes. “you want tea or not?”

“nah,” he said softly, walking up behind you. “right now, i only want… you.”

your breath caught.

you turned around slowly. he was too close. too warm. too everything.

his hand lifted—not to grab or pull or take—just to tuck a stray piece of hair behind your ear.

“if we do this,” you said, barely audible, “we can’t pretend anymore.”

he nodded. “i’m tired of pretending.”

“we said we shouldn’t.”

“we also said we wouldn’t.”

you paused. “but right now?”

“we couldn’t not.”

that was all it took.

your mouths met halfway. desperate. months of lingering glances and almost-kisses finally unraveling like thread. your hands tangled in his hoodie. his fingers dug into your waist like he’d die if he let go.

it wasn’t graceful. it wasn’t planned.

but it was real.

too real.

somewhere between the kisses and the way he whispered your name like it hurt, your brain screamed that this is a mistake.

but your body? your heart?

they didn’t care.

on your couch, beneath the dim kitchen light, you let him see the version of you you’d kept guarded. and in return, he gave you the one he never let anyone else hold.

when it was over—when your breathing slowed and the silence returned—he traced lazy circles on your bare shoulder and murmured,

“i don’t want to go back to pretending.”

you didn’t say anything.

you didn’t need to.

because you were already too far in.

and somewhere in the back of your mind, you knew.

this was the beginning of something you wouldn’t be able to walk away from.

couldn’t

“you couldn’t DTR, wouldn’t it be nice if we could stay friends?”

you woke up to the sound of the kettle whistling.

for a second, you thought you were dreaming. your place was never that quiet in the morning—usually it was just the hum of your phone alarm and the silent screaming of your soul.

but this time?

there was someone in your kitchen.

and he was humming.

you sat up slowly, hair a mess, shirt barely clinging to your shoulder. it smelled like him. which was unfair. because now you couldn’t even wear your own clothes without remembering last night.

you padded out to the kitchen, barefoot and sleepy-eyed, only to find haechan pouring hot water into two mugs.

he turned at the sound of your yawn, grinning.

“morning to you too,” he said, sliding one of the mugs across the counter. “tea. not made shirtless. sorry to disappoint.”

“wow, you made me tea?”

“i did,” he said. “don’t worry, i didn’t poison it. i only do that on the third hookup.”

you snorted, reluctantly smiling. “so this is a hookup?”

he paused.

the room felt too still.

“i mean,” he started, “unless you’d prefer we call it a… spiritual bonding ritual or something.”

you gave him a look.

“kidding,” he said quickly. “honestly? i don’t know. i just… i wanted to make you tea. that’s all.”

you sipped it. still warm. still slightly sweet.

“you’re weird,” you muttered.

he leaned against the counter, watching you.

“and you kissed me back.”

“well, you kissed me first.”

“you moaned.”

“you’re lucky i didn’t bite.”

“..you did bite.”

you choked on your tea.

he laughed.

god, why did he always laugh like that? like it came from somewhere deep in his chest. like he wasn’t scared of anything.

but you were.

scared of this. of him. of how this already felt like something you couldn’t name without ruining it.

“you’re still here,” you said quietly, setting your mug down.

he tilted his head.

“did you think i’d leave?”

you shrugged.

he didn’t say anything. just stepped forward, gently taking your hand in his.

“i meant it,” he said. “last night. i don’t wanna pretend anymore.”

you swallowed hard. “and what exactly are we doing?”

he didn’t answer right away.

instead, he pressed a kiss to the back of your hand.

then your wrist.

then your shoulder.

your breath hitched.

“i don’t know,” he whispered. “but i do know i’m not ready to stop.”

and neither were you.

so when he kissed you again—slow, soft, full of unspoken things—you kissed him back.

not because it was a good idea.

not because it would end well.

but because you couldn’t resist.

· · ─ ·✶· ─ · ·

the second time it happened was thursday.

because, of course, it had to be thursday.

thursday was supposed to be uneventful. boring. uneventful-boring-thursday. but then he showed up at your door again, hoodie down, smile up, eyes bright like he knew you were going to let him in.

you didn’t even ask why. just stepped aside and said, “you know the drill. shoes off.”

he toed them off dramatically and flopped onto your couch like he paid rent.

“you’re lucky you’re cute,” he said.

“you’re lucky i’m lonely.”

he clutched his chest. “ouch. right in the fragile male ego.”

“you have an ego?”

“only when you’re around.”

he had a way of saying things that sounded like jokes but felt like truths. you hated how easily you blushed. how fast your heartbeat got when he looked at you like that.

“i brought chips,” he said, pulling out a bag from his hoodie like it was contraband. “and the ramen you like.”

you narrowed your eyes. “are you trying to seduce me with carbs?”

“is it working?”

“...yes.”

and just like that, thursday was ruined.

or maybe, saved.

because the next thing you knew, he was in your kitchen again—badly boiling noodles and dramatically sneezing from the spice, and you were sitting on the counter, swinging your legs like a teenager with a crush.

you weren’t dating.

but you weren’t just friends.

you were something in-between, something unnamed, something filled with stupid inside jokes and unsaid feelings and late-night cravings that weren’t just about ramen.

after dinner, he sat a little too close. your knees touched. your pinkies brushed. he let his hand rest on your thigh and didn’t move it.

he kissed you again—slow, teasing, like he had all the time in the world.

you didn’t talk much that night.

you didn’t have to.

you both lay there in your bed, barely under the covers, silence pressing between you like a second body.

“do you want to sleep over?” you asked, almost too quietly.

he blinked. “i mean… yeah. if that’s okay?”

you nodded.

and he stayed.

after that, it just became a thing.

he’d show up.

sometimes with food. sometimes with excuses. sometimes with neither.

you stopped asking why.

he’d tease you when you wore his shirt around the apartment, and you’d throw a pillow at him when he called you “cutie with commitment issues.”

“takes one to know one,” you always shot back.

“i’m not one for titles, in other words, terrified. that p*ssy kept my words out the door”

you didn’t talk about what you were doing. you didn’t make rules. but there were rules.

1. no sleepovers unless it “just happened.”

2. no texting first (but replying fast enough so it didn’t look like you cared too much).

3. no kissing in public.

4. no getting caught.

and the most important one: no feelings. ever. not even a little.

but feelings were slippery.

feelings showed up when you watched him fall asleep on your couch, curled up like a cat.

feelings showed up when he brought you cough drops and orange juice the second you said, “i feel kinda off today.”

feelings showed up when he danced with you in your tiny living room to a dumb commercial jingle and said, “see? we’d win ‘so you think you can dance: emotionally unavailable edition.’”

you laughed, but your heart skipped.

because deep down, you knew:

you weren’t emotionally unavailable.

you were just emotionally terrified.

you told yourself this was fine.

you weren’t one for titles, anyway.

but one night—a random wednesday—you caught yourself staring at him for too long.

watching him fold your laundry like it was normal. like he belonged here.

and it hit you.

you’d memorized him.

his dumb jokes.

his bad habits.

the way he’d shut down when he needed you the most.

you knew him better than you were supposed to.

and worse?

you didn’t want anyone else to.

· · ─ ·✶· ─ · ·

one night, while he was getting dressed after—hoodie half on, hair messy, lips still swollen from kissing—he paused in your doorway.

“you ever think about what we’re doing?”

you blinked. “what do you mean?”

he shrugged. “i dunno. like… do you ever wish it was more?”

your chest tightened.

“haechan…”

“i’m not saying we should,” he said quickly, waving his hands. “i’m just saying… wouldn’t it be nice?”

your silence was the only answer he needed.

he left a few minutes later, same as always.

but something had shifted.

something you didn’t have the words for yet.

· · ─ ·✶· ─ · ·

you shouldn’t have gone.

you knew it the second you stepped into the apartment.

because there he was. already wearing that stupid smug smile. already making himself way too comfortable on jaemin’s beanbag like he wasn’t half the reason your knees were still sore.

“look who decided to show up,” haechan said, raising his brows.

you kept your expression neutral. “someone had to make this room attractive.”

“and that someone’s obviously me,” he shot back.

jeno raised a brow. “you two flirting or fighting?”

you both answered at the same time.

“fighting.”

“flirting.”

everyone groaned.

“we get it,” renjun muttered. “sexual tension. unresolved. like literally every drama. can we watch the movie now?”

you sat as far away from him as possible. on the floor. next to seol, who immediately gave you a look.

“you good?” she whispered.

you nodded. liar.

she leaned closer. “you sure you’re not sleeping with him?”

you blinked innocently. “who?”

“don’t ‘who’ me. that look he gave you just now? that was either i’ve seen you naked or i plan to very soon.”

“seol, shut up,” you whispered, face heating.

across the room, haechan was very obviously not watching the movie. his eyes kept flickering to you.

he stretched lazily, arm brushing jeno’s shoulder.

“this movie’s mid,” he announced.

“you were the one who suggested it,” jaemin said.

“yeah, and now i regret it.”

you were trying so hard to focus on the screen. but you could feel him watching you. every glance burned. your fingers twitched.

seol’s eyes narrowed. “girl, your ears are turning red.”

“i’m fine,” you hissed.

haechan got up a few minutes later. “bathroom,” he muttered. but the second he passed behind you, his hand ghosted over your back. quick. featherlight. like he just had to touch you.

your breath caught.

seol glanced between you two.

“…nope. they’re definitely f—”

“back in a sec!” you blurted, hopping up and heading toward the hallway like your life depended on it.

it kind of did.

he was waiting.

not in the bathroom.

but leaning against the wall in the hallway, arms crossed, like he knew you’d follow.

“you know,” he said, voice low. “we could’ve just stayed home.”

“we’re being normal,” you said, avoiding his gaze.

he stepped closer.

“this isn’t normal,” he murmured.

“we’re trying to be.”

“trying isn’t succeeding.”

you were breathing too fast.

he moved again, backing you up against the wall.

“they’re literally in the other room,” you whispered.

“you think i care?” he said, smiling like the devil himself. “you looked at me like you wanted me to care.”

your eyes fluttered shut. “this is a bad idea.”

“so was the first time. and the second. and the fifth. but you keep kissing me anyway.”

you swallowed hard.

“you said we wouldn’t do this again.”

“you said that,” he said, closing the gap between you. “i never agreed.”

and then he kissed you.

like the world didn’t exist outside that hallway.

like every “we shouldn’t” was just foreplay for “we will anyway.”

his hands were under your hoodie. your fingers were tangled in his hair. the sound of the movie barely reached you—the real noise was the one in your chest, that loud, crashing ache of god, i want you, but god, i shouldn’t

his hand brushed against your hip, a deliberate, teasing touch that sent a shiver down your spine. you bit your lip, pulse quickening as you fought the urge to press yourself against him.

the sound of laughter from the living room seemed to fade into the background, drowned out by the pounding of your heart. you knew you were playing with fire, but the risk only added to the allure. you tilted your head, meeting his gaze.

"you know," you said, voice barely above a whisper,

"we're not exactly being subtle."

he smirked, his confidence unwavering.

"who said we need to be?" his fingers traced the edge of your hoodie, his touch light but deliberate. "they’re too busy with their own drama to notice us." his words were a challenge, a dare you couldn't resist.

your resolve wavered as his hand slid up your side, his thumb grazing the sensitive skin just below your ribcage. you leaned into him, body responding to his touch with a mind of its own.

"and if they do?" you teased, voice trembling slightly.

"then they'll see what they've been missing," he replied, his tone daring.

before you could respond, he cupped your jaw, pulling you closer. his lips brushed against yours, a fleeting touch that left you breathless. the kiss was soft, almost tentative, but it ignited a fire within you that you couldn't ignore.

you wrapped your arms around his neck, pressing yourself against him as the kiss deepened. his hands moved to your waist, pulling you tighter until there was no space between you.

the hallway seemed to shrink around you, the world narrowing to just the two of you and the heat of your desire. you moaned softly into his mouth, fingers tangling in his hair as you surrendered to the moment.

his hands moved lower, sliding over your hips and down to your thighs. he lifted you effortlessly, pressing you against the wall as he kissed you with a hunger that left no doubt about his intentions.

you wrapped your legs around his waist, your heart racing as you felt the hardness of his body against yours. the thrill of being so close to getting caught only heightened the sensation, the risk adding an edge to your passion.

then jeno’s voice rang down the hallway. “bro, what’s taking you so long? are you pooping or—”

you broke the kiss, breathing like you’d just run a marathon.

“back in a sec!” he yelled, way too cheerful.

you pulled away from him, fixed your hoodie, hair a mess, face hot, and mouth swollen.

he winked at you. “so… movie?”

you glared. “i hate you.”

he grinned. “you couldn’t.”

and you didn’t deny it.

“i could take more shots or i could take you off your blouse”

the party was already a mistake.

not because it was boring—but because the second you walked in and locked eyes with him from across the room, everything else just turned into background noise.

haechan was already leaning against the kitchen counter, red cup in hand, loose black shirt and smug grin fully deployed.

you hated how he looked at you like he had a secret.

you hated it more because you were the secret.

you didn’t approach him.

you did what any self-respecting person would do.

you mingled, you laughed at renjun’s sarcastic commentary, you complimented someone’s fake fur jacket. and you ignored the way your skin buzzed under his stare.

seol noticed first.

“he hasn’t stopped staring at you,” she muttered over the music, sipping something suspiciously green.

“he’s looking at the chips behind me.”

“right. and i’m looking at the dip.”

you rolled your eyes, but when you turned around, he was gone.

haechan had disappeared.

and somehow, that made it worse.

because now you were aware of him—like heat at your back, like footsteps you couldn’t hear yet. like a ghost you definitely had unfinished business with.

you wandered down the hall, claiming you were looking for the bathroom.

you weren’t.

you knew exactly where you were going.

and there he was.

in one of the empty rooms, door cracked open just enough for you to catch a glimpse of him sitting on the desk, legs swinging, cup still in hand.

he didn’t look surprised.

he just tilted his head.

“looking for something?” he asked.

you stepped in and closed the door behind you. and locked it.

“you left without saying hi.”

“well, you seemed occupied.. pretending not to know me,” he said, voice amused.

you crossed your arms. “we said no hooking up at parties.”

“we also said no feelings,” he replied. “and yet here we are.”

“this is different.”

“is it?” he slid off the desk, walking slowly toward you. “or are we just really bad at rules?”

your breath caught when he reached you.

“don’t look at me like that,” you whispered.

“like what?”

“like you’re gonna do something reckless.”

he leaned in. “define reckless.”

you didn’t answer.

your lips already did.

the kiss was hot and desperate, all the tension from earlier spilling over. his hands were on your waist, yours fisting in his shirt like you needed to anchor yourself.

he lifted you onto the desk like you weighed nothing. like he needed you closer. like he didn’t care who walked in.

“someone could come in,” you mumbled against his mouth.

“door’s locked.”

“people are literally outside.”

he grinned. “guess we’ll be quiet, then.”

your laugh was breathless. “you are never quiet.”

“watch me,” he whispered, and kissed you again.

it was fast. messy. intense. the kind of kiss that made your knees weak and your heart angry with you. because you knew better.

but you didn’t want to do better.

you hadn’t even had a drink.

you didn’t need one.

he was already intoxicating.

“this is so bad,” you moaned,

“the worst,” he agreed. “we’re going to hell.”

“we said we’d stop.”

“we say a lot of things.”

“and what are we gonna say after this?”

he met your eyes.

and for once, he didn’t joke.

“nothing,” he said. “we don’t have to say anything. we never do.”

· · ─ ·✶· ─ · ·

you were at his place.

again.

for “homework.”

because apparently, two people who have the self-control of soggy toast thought they could survive a full hour of proximity without pouncing on each other.

“seriously,” you said, dropping your bag on his bed. “we’re gonna study. like, for real. no distractions.”

haechan raised both hands in fake surrender. “no distractions. i swear.”

you narrowed your eyes.

“no weird comments. no staring. no—”

“sexually suggestive jokes? i would never.”

“haechan.”

he smiled, all teeth. “fine. serious face. hit me with the notes.”

ten minutes in, he was already failing.

you were mid-sentence, reading off your notes, when you noticed it.

he was staring at your lips.

you didn’t look up. “stop it.”

“stop what?” he said, all fake innocence.

“you’re doing that thing where you pretend to listen but you’re actually thinking about making out with me.”

“no i’m not,” he said. “i’m thinking about undressing you with my teeth.”

you dropped your pen. “jesus christ—“

“what?” he laughed, leaning back against the wall. “you said no weird comments, not no honest ones.”

“you’re impossible.”

“and yet, here you are.”

you glared. “this is why we can’t do normal things. like sit. and study. and exist without humping.”

“not my fault you look hot when you’re focused.”

you turned to him, exasperated. “you promised.”

“i promised nothing. you said, ‘let’s study,’ and i nodded while imagining you in nothing but a t-shirt.”

you stood. “i’m going home.”

“no, you’re not.”

“watch me.”

“you say that every time, but then—” he stood too, walking toward you like you were prey and he was seconds from pouncing—“you remember how good we are at not studying.”

“we said we wouldn’t do this again.”

he paused in front of you. close. too close.

you hated that you were already leaning in.

“we shouldn’t do this again,” you corrected.

“yet, we couldn’t not,” he whispered, brushing his fingers down your arm.

you stared at him.

this was supposed to be simple.

but now, he was looking at you like you were the only thing in the world that made sense, and your heart was doing that thing again, that stupid, fluttery, traitorous thing—

you grabbed his face and kissed him.

and he laughed into it, breath hitching, like he’d known you’d give in.

like he’d always know.

· · ─ ·✶· ─ · ·

you woke up tangled in his sheets.

his arm slung over your waist. his face buried in your neck. your phone buzzing somewhere beneath your discarded jeans with three missed calls from seol

seolace: u said “just homework”

seolace: be so serious rn

seolace: r u . still . at his place .

you threw your phone under the pillow and turned to face him.

he was awake.

“hi, baby” he mumbled, voice scratchy.

“we’re not doing this again.” you said—ignoring the tiny somersault your stomach just did

he smirked, eyes still closed. “totally.”

“i’m serious.”

“mhmm.”

you sighed, brushing a strand of hair off his face.

you both knew you were lying.

but for now?

you didn’t care.

· · ─ ·✶· ─ · ·

you were up late, preparing for midterms, when your phone suddenly buzzed next to you.

DNI!!: hey, are u up?

DNI!!: not in a ‘come over’ way

DNI!!: okay. maybe in a ‘can i come over’ way

DNI!!: but also.. i brought food

you: if it’s just fries again i’m blocking u

DNI!!: c’monnn babee it’s fries AND ice cream

DNI!!: pleeaaasseee )): u know u love me

DNI!!: fries* 😊

you opened your door three minutes later in mismatched socks and a shirt that—may or may not—have been his.

he looked at you like you were ridiculous.

you rolled your eyes, tossing him a napkin. he didn’t sit on the floor this time—instead, he plopped onto your bed like he lived there. like it was normal. like this whole setup was normal.

“you look tired,” he said through a mouthful of fries.

“midterms,” you replied.

he frowned. “are you okay?”

you nodded. “just a little burnt out.”

he reached over, brushing his thumb across your cheek like it was nothing. like it was the most natural thing in the world.

“you should rest more,” he said, soft.

you blinked.

haechan wasn’t… sweet. not like this.

he was chaotic. loud. reckless. he made fun of you for having a notes app titled ‘reasons not to text him.’

he wasn't supposed to care.

you cleared your throat. “you’re being weird.. again.”

“no i’m not.” he looks at you confused.

“you’re being like… thoughtful.”

he rolled his eyes, shoving a donut in front of your mouth. “fine. next time i’ll throw fries at your face instead.”

you smiled, biting into the donut. “thank you.”

he shrugged. “don’t mention it.”

but he stayed. longer than he usually did.

you watched a dumb movie. you argued about which side of the blanket was yours. he dozed off halfway through with his head on your shoulder, arm slung across your stomach like it belonged there.

you didn’t move.

you just stared at the ceiling, heartbeat doing laps in your chest.

this wasn’t just casual anymore.

you both knew it.

and when he stirred in the early morning light, blinking up at you with sleep in his eyes and a softness in his voice that made your throat ache—

“do you want me to go?”

you almost said no.

but you smiled instead. like always.

“probably.”

he nodded.

but he didn’t move.

“it’s not anything you said, it’s everything you didn’t”

it was raining.

not the dramatic, movie-style kind—just a steady, quiet drizzle tapping against your window as the afternoon faded into blue.

you hadn’t planned to see him.

he hadn’t planned to show up.

but at some point in the day, you’d both ended up in your bed again, sharing your last bag of popcorn and making sarcastic commentary over a romcom neither of you were really watching.

you were lying on your stomach. he was on his back beside you, fingers lazily scrolling through his phone, feet nudging yours every few minutes like a bored child.

“how is it,” he said suddenly, “that you always smell like vanilla and bad decisions?”

you kicked his leg. “how is it that you always sound like a red flag wrapped in a hoodie?”

“it’s a gift.”

you laughed, eyes fluttering shut.

he was quiet for a moment.

“i like this.”

you peeked at him. “the movie?”

“no. this,” he said, waving vaguely at the space between you. “us. being here. it’s... nice.”

you tried to play it off. “don’t get sappy on me now. i will physically throw you out.”

he smiled, soft and slow. “i mean it.”

you looked away, heart thudding in your chest in a way that was not normal. definitely not casual. it was the kind of thud that reminded you that this whole thing—whatever it was—had gotten far out of hand.

“you’ve been acting unusual lately,” you said.

“you always say that when i’m not trying to get in your pants.”

“because… it freaks me out.”

“good. fear keeps things spicy.”

you scoffed.

then, silence.

not uncomfortable. just… full.

full of things neither of you were ready to say.

finally, you broke it.

“you ever think about how we shouldn’t have started this?”

he didn’t look at you.

but he nodded.

“yeah,” he said. “all the time.”

you turned to face him.

“do you regret it?”

he glanced at you then, eyes unreadable.

“no,” he said. “but sometimes i wish it didn’t feel like this.”

“like what?”

“like… if we keep going, one of us is gonna get hurt.”

you swallowed hard.

you knew he was right.

you also knew you weren’t ready to stop.

you reached over and touched his hand—just barely, just enough—and whispered, “stay. just for a bit.”

he did.

no touching. no kissing. no jokes.

just you, him, and the rain outside.

and all the things you still weren’t saying.

“you go and shut me out, figures, you gemini”

it had been one of those nights—the kind where the weight of the world seemed to settle on your shoulders, and the only remedy was to dull the edges with a bottle and a bad rom-com.

but just as you were about to surrender to sleep, the sharp buzz of the doorbell jolted you back to reality.

you groaned, setting the glass down with a thud. who the hell would be at your door at this hour? you weren’t expecting anyone, and the only person who ever showed up unannounced was him.

and the thought alone made your stomach twist. you hesitated, debating whether to ignore it, but curiosity—or maybe something more stubborn—got the better of you. you dragged yourself to the door, flipping on the hallway light as you went.

there he stood, leaning against the frame with that infuriating smirk plastered across his face. his hair was tousled, like he’d run his hands through it a dozen times, and his shirt was half-tucked, as if he’d thrown it on in a rush.

“forgot my charger,” he said, his voice low and casual, like this was the most normal thing in the world.

you crossed your arms, narrowing your eyes. “at midnight? really?”

he shrugged, that smirk widening. “figured you’d be up. you’re always up this late.”

you wanted to slam the door in his face. but instead, you stepped aside, gesturing for him to come in.

“it’s in the living room. take it and go.”

he didn’t move. just stood there, his gaze locking onto yours, and for a moment, the air between you crackled with something unspoken.

you knew you should’ve pushed him out, should’ve kept your distance, but before you could think, you were closing the gap between you, your lips crashing against his. it was reckless, impulsive, and entirely against your better judgment. but it was also familiar—too familiar.

he didn’t hesitate, his arms wrapping around you like he’d been waiting for this moment all along.

stumbling backward toward the bedroom, the world narrowing to just the two of you. clothes were discarded, excuses and self-control unraveling like cheap thread.

you didn’t want to think about why this was happening again, why you kept letting it happen. you just wanted to feel something—anything—other than the emptiness that had been gnawing at you all night.

“i hate you,” you whispered against his mouth, your breath hot and uneven.

he chuckled, his hands sliding under your shirt, tracing the curve of your waist. “you love me,” he murmured, his tone teasing but his touch anything but.

you didn’t correct him. you didn’t say anything. instead, you let yourself get lost in him again—in the way his lips moved against yours, in the way his hands seemed to know every inch of your body.

it was the kind of kiss that made your head spin, the kind of touch that felt like it was trying to memorize you. the kind of closeness that always made you forget how much this wasn’t supposed to matter.

but then—right in the middle of it, when your heart was pounding and your skin was flushed and your mind was a blur of want—he spoke.

his voice was low, almost a whisper, but it cut through the haze like a knife.

“god, i think i’m in love with you.”

you froze. just for a second. but it was enough.

he didn’t notice. or maybe he did. but he didn’t stop. his lips kept moving against yours, his hands kept roaming, like the words hadn’t just dropped between you like a grenade with the pin pulled.

you let him kiss you again. let him touch you like nothing had happened. like the words hadn’t changed everything.

but they had.

later, when it was quiet and you were lying there in the dark, your back to his chest and his arm around your waist, you whispered, "did you mean what you said?"

he was quiet.

too quiet.

"haechan?"

he let out a soft exhale.

"no," he said. too quickly. too carefully. "i didn’t mean it."

you nodded.

but you didn’t believe him.

he didn’t believe himself either.

but neither of you said anything else.

and in the silence that followed, you both realized something terrifying.

this thing you swore wasn’t real?

it was starting to feel like the only real thing either of you had.

“you wonder why suddenly i’m comin’ off indifferent. what you don’t seem to understand is..”

the next time you saw him, it was as if nothing had happened.

you opened the door, and he was standing there in his stupid hoodie, holding a bag of chips and some sour gummies like that could fix whatever this was.

“snack delivery,” he said, way too cheerful.

you raised an eyebrow. “you don’t even like sour gummies.”

he grinned. “you do, though.”

and just like that, the air shifted.

you stepped aside and let him in.

you sat beside each other on your bed—a little farther apart than usual. the movie played. the snacks sat between you. and the silence was louder than the speakers.

“so,” he said eventually, “you seen that tiktok where—”

“haechan,” you interrupted, voice quiet.

he looked at you.

you didn’t even know what you wanted to say. only that something was caught in your throat and it was killing you not to ask.

but instead of saying “you told me you loved me” or “did you mean it” or “what are we doing,” you just said, “why are you acting this way.”

he blinked. “you’re the one who’s acting.. strange.”

“no, you are.”

“i literally brought you snacks.”

“yeah, you’re being fake nice.”

he frowned, leaning back on his hands. “you’re being fake mean.”

“and you’re being fake fine.”

and there it was.

silence again. thick. awful.

you sighed, “can we not do this?”

“do what?”

“this thing where we pretend we’re mad at each other so we don’t have to talk about last time.”

he bit the inside of his cheek.

you were right.

and you were mad. just not at him. not really.

you were mad at yourself. for letting it get this far. for letting it matter.

but what were you supposed to say? that you heard him say he loved you, and then heard him take it back? that you wanted it to be real, even though it shouldn’t be?

he reached for the bag of gummies and started eating like it would fill the silence.

you let him.

but you didn’t move closer this time.

and he didn’t either.

“it’s not always peachy, look, love ain’t that easy”

you hadn’t seen him in a week.

not because he hadn’t tried.

he had—three calls, four texts, one passive-aggressive meme, and a “u left ur hoodie btw” that you knew was just an excuse.

you didn’t reply.

you couldn’t.

because it wasn’t just about the hookup anymore. it hadn’t been for a while.

you were catching feelings, and he was pretending not to. and the truth was—you couldn’t keep pretending too.

so when he showed up again—hands in his pockets, chewing gum like this wasn’t the first time he’d stood outside your door with something to say and no idea how to say it—you almost didn’t open.

almost.

you cracked the door open.

“i don’t want to do this anymore,” you said.

no hello. no smile. just the truth.

he blinked. “okay. wow.”

you nodded, bracing yourself.

he looked away, jaw tight. “you could’ve at least answered.”

“what was i supposed to say?” your voice was low. “we were hooking up, and then you said you were in love with me—and then you acted like it didn’t matter.”

“you asked if i meant it,” he said. “what was i supposed to do?”

“you could’ve told the truth.”

he was silent.

and that said everything.

you swallowed. “you know what hurt more than hearing you didn’t mean it?”

he looked at you, eyes suddenly soft. guarded.

“what?” he said, barely above a whisper.

“you didn’t even ask how i felt.”

he opened his mouth. closed it again.

and that pause—that silence—said more than anything he could’ve.

you stepped aside. you weren’t sure why. some part of you still hoping, still stupid.

he walked in slowly, looking around like the place had changed. like you had.

you followed him into the living room. it felt smaller with him in it. heavier.

he sat on the edge of the couch but didn’t speak. just looked at you.

you crossed your arms. “don’t say it again.”

his brows knit. “say what?”

“what you said last time.”

he leaned forward, elbows on knees, hands clasped like he didn’t trust them. “why not?”

you shook your head, voice flat. “because it doesn’t change anything. because we both know this—” you gestured between the two of you, the tension, the mess. “this isn’t real.”

he was quiet for a moment. then, with more force than before, he said, “feels pretty real to me.”

you stared at him. hard. “you always make it feel real. you say things like that, and you look at me like this is everything. and i let it get to me. i let myself believe it means something.”

“maybe it does,” he said, standing. “maybe i mean it.”

you searched his face, hoping for something steady, something solid. but there was only more uncertainty. more wanting.

“then why does it still feel like i’m the only one who’ll get hurt?” you asked.

he didn’t answer.

not right away.

and maybe that was the answer.

“you couldn’t define the relationship,” you said, voice low and shaking now. “you couldn’t say what you wanted.”

he took a step forward.

you took one back.

“don’t,” you whispered.

“y/n—”

“we shouldn’t have started this,” you said. “and now i couldn’t stop even if i wanted to.”

his face softened. “then don’t stop.”

you almost laughed. almost.

but instead, you stepped back toward the door.

“you need to go,” you said, quiet but clear.

he didn’t fight you. just nodded slowly.

“fine,” he said. “but we’re not done talking about this.”

you didn’t reply. just opened the door and waited.

he paused for a second. then walked out.

you didn’t slam the door.

you just closed it gently.

finally.

then you leaned against it, your chest tight, your mind loud. you knew you’d made the right decision. you knew it was the only way to protect yourself.

but still, his words lingered in the silence like smoke.

and something in you knew that nothing would be quite the same again.

· · ─ ·✶· ─ · ·

renjun was telling some dumb story about how jaemin got kicked out of a 7/11 for trying to microwave his socks.

the group was cracking up. seol was doubled over. jeno had tears in his eyes. and haechan—haechan was laughing too, but his eyes kept flicking to you.

you didn’t laugh.

you smiled, sure. nodded. even chimed in once or twice. but your body was angled slightly away from him, arms crossed over your chest like a shield.

he noticed.

you noticed him noticing.

and seol definitely noticed both of you.

“what’s wrong with you two?” she asked suddenly, cutting through the noise like a knife.

you and haechan turned at the same time, startled. “what?”

“you’re acting weird,” she said, squinting. “like... not the funny, flirty weird. like actual weird.”

“we’re fine,” you said too quickly.

“yeah,” haechan added, forcing a laugh. “totally fine.”

the silence that followed was awkward enough to kill the entire room’s vibe.

jaemin blinked. “damn. now it’s weird for us, too.”

jeno cleared his throat. “anyone want more chips?”

you stood up. “i’ll help.”

haechan stood up too. “i got it.”

you both reached for the same bowl and your fingers brushed. it was nothing. a second. a spark. but it felt like being burned.

you flinched.

he did too.

and when your eyes met, it was like looking at a stranger wearing the face of someone you used to know too well.

“you good?” he asked quietly.

“mhm,” you lied.

he nodded like he believed you. like you were both pretending this didn’t hurt.

you took the chips and walked back to the others.

he stayed behind.

renjun watched him from the couch.

“not that deep, right?” renjun said casually, like a joke.

but it wasn’t.

and haechan didn’t answer.

because it was deep.

and it was drowning them.

“you don’t pick up when i call, unless i call you mine”

you don’t remember who called first.

it didn’t matter.

and then—quiet knocks. familiar eyes. the kind of silence that meant everything.

he stepped inside like he didn’t know what he was doing.

you let him in like you didn’t either.

no words. not at first.

you were both so tired of pretending. so tired of brushing shoulders in rooms full of people and pretending you didn’t notice how the distance hurt.

you kissed him.

and it wasn’t frantic this time.

it was careful.

like maybe, just maybe, if you kissed him gently enough, it wouldn’t break your heart.

his hands found your waist. yours tangled in his hair. the kind of kiss that tasted like forgiveness, or something dangerously close to it.

“you don’t have to say anything,” you whispered, breaking the kiss to breathe.

he shook his head slowly. “i want to.”

but he didn’t. not yet.

he touched you like it was the last time. like he wanted to remember everything. how your skin felt under his palms. how you sighed when he kissed down your jaw. how you looked at him when your guard finally dropped.

every movement was slow. like a secret unspoken. like you both knew this wasn’t just hooking up anymore, but neither of you wanted to say it out loud.

because saying it would make it real.

because if it was real, it could end.

he kissed every inch of you like he owed you an apology. like he wanted to say sorry for every moment you doubted him. for every night you stared at the ceiling, wondering what the hell you meant to him.

you looked up at him, breath catching. “haechan—”

“i meant it.”

your heart stopped.

“that night,” he said softly, pressing his forehead to yours. “when i said i was in love with you. i meant it.”

you blinked up at him, stunned. raw. silent.

“i just—” he exhaled. “i didn’t want it to be real. because if it was, then this... this thing we had? it couldn’t stay casual anymore.”

you swallowed. “and now?”

his voice cracked. “now it’s too real to ignore.”

you kissed him again. longer this time. deeper.

and when your bodies moved together, it was less about need and more about knowing.

knowing that this was never just lust.

that underneath the sneaking around, the laughs, the tension—there was always something more.

you both just tried so hard not to see it.

but now, in the dark, there was nothing to hide behind.

it wasn’t much, but it was enough. for now, it had to be.

the afternoon light spilled softly through the curtains, wrapping the room in a golden hush. you closed your eyes, breathing him in, letting the stillness wrap around you like a promise.

his heartbeat pulsed steady beneath your ear, a quiet rhythm that told you—he was here. this was real.

and yet, as the sun sank lower and shadows stretched long across the floor, a fragile ache bloomed in your chest. it felt too perfect, too fleeting.

his presence, his warmth, felt like something borrowed—something beautiful the world might decide you weren’t meant to keep. you wanted to ask him to stay. to whisper don’t go. but the words tangled behind your teeth.

so instead, you held him tighter. your fingers curled into the fabric of his shirt like they could root you to him, like you could stop time if you just loved him hard enough.

and he felt it—somehow, he always did. his hand found your cheek, tender and knowing, his thumb tracing soft, grounding circles on your skin.

“baby…” he said softly, the word brushing against your heart more than your ears. he tilted your chin up just enough for your eyes to meet his.

“it’s okay,” he whispered, voice thick with something unspoken. maybe he meant this moment. maybe he meant you. maybe he meant the both of you.

you didn’t know. but with his arms around you and the world held at bay, you wanted to believe it. even just for now.

it was quiet when it ended.

your head on his chest. his hand running slowly down your back. breaths slowly syncing. hearts still racing.

and for the first time, he didn’t leave.

and for the first time, you didn’t ask him to stay.

he just did.

· · ─ ·✶· ─ · ·

the morning light came too fast.

you woke up before he did. you didn’t know what time it was. you didn’t care.

he was still beside you—breathing slow, chest rising and falling like nothing was wrong.

but something was.

something always had been.

you stared at the ceiling for a long time. longer than you meant to.

you wanted to stay like this—in the warmth of the sheets, in the comfort of his arm still lazily thrown across your waist, in the silence that hadn’t turned heavy yet.

but the second he blinked awake and looked at you… it hit you again.

this wasn’t yours.

not really.

he smiled, groggy and soft. “morning.”

you nodded. “hey.”

he leaned in to kiss you. and you let him.

but your hands didn’t reach for him the way they used to.

“you okay?” he asked, voice thick with sleep.

you hesitated. “yeah. just tired.”

you got up. slipped into your shirt. searched the floor for the rest of your clothes.

“you don’t have to rush out,” he said behind you. you paused. “i know.”

he sat up, rubbing his eyes. “did i.. say something wrong?”

you shook your head. “no. that’s the problem.” he frowned.

“you didn’t say anything,” you continued, still not facing him. “you didn’t say what this was. what we were. you didn’t ask what i wanted. or tell me what you wanted.”

“and i kept waiting,” you said softly. “for you to define it. for you to say something. anything. and you never did.”

“i didn’t know how,” he admitted, voice barely above a whisper.

you finally turned around, arms crossed, heart exposed. “i know. and that’s okay. but i can’t keep doing this if we’re just gonna keep pretending it’s not something real.”

he looked at you, eyes searching. “but last night—”

“last night was real,” you said. “this morning... this is real too.”

“we’re not always peachy,” you said, echoing the words you both used to laugh at. “love isn’t that easy. but it also shouldn’t be this hard.”

he didn’t argue. instead, he nodded slowly. “i know.”

you slipped on your jacket. picked up your phone. opened the door.

you hesitated—one foot out the door, heart still inside.

and just like that—the door closed.

this time, for good.

“i drank too much tonight, to not try to call you up. i mean, that’s what our phones are for”

you didn’t mean to pour the second glass. or the third.

but it was quiet in the apartment—too quiet—and the clink of ice in the glass felt like the only sound that wouldn’t make you flinch.

you sat on the kitchen floor, back against the cabinet, knees pulled in, sipping something too strong just to feel something soft. it burned going down. not enough to hurt, just enough to remind you you were still here.

the playlist was still playing. his playlist.

you hadn’t touched it in months. maybe you thought deleting it would be too final, too much like deleting him. so it stayed, buried somewhere in your phone. and tonight, it just… started. autoplay, maybe. or fate.

you weren’t sure which hurt more. you laughed once, sharp and bitter, as the first tear slid down. you didn’t wipe it. what was the point?

because this wasn’t about missing him anymore. this was grief. not over him exactly, but over the version of you who once believed love—real, chaotic, aching love—could fix things.

you were wrong.

and he… was quiet now. no more late-night texts. no more inside jokes. no more “u up?” that really meant i miss you.

and he was wrong too.

haechan sat on the steps, a half-empty bottle dangling from his fingers, the night wind brushing over him like a ghost. he didn’t know what time it was. didn’t care.

he hadn’t called. hadn’t texted.

not because he didn’t think about it—he did. every night. especially tonight.

but because he knew you meant it this time. you were done.

and for once, he didn’t fight that. he let the silence stretch. he let it break him.

he tipped the bottle back and swallowed hard. it didn’t make the ache go away, just blurred it at the edges.

your name sat heavy on his tongue. your laugh echoed somewhere between his ears and his ribs.

he remembered the way you used to pull away after, like you were protecting yourself from wanting too much. but your eyes always lingered. you always looked back.

he closed his eyes. and quietly, like confessing something to the dark, he said, “i’m sorry.”

no one answered. but maybe somewhere, over the hum of that old playlist and the clink of your glass hitting the tile, you heard it anyway.

wouldn’t

“so,” seol said gently, handing you a mug of tea, “you wanna tell me what happened now, or do i have to sit here pretending i haven’t been waiting weeks for you to say something?”

you stared down at the steam. then, slowly, “we ended things.” she didn’t flinch. didn’t gasp. didn’t say finally like most people would’ve. just nodded.

“it wasn’t supposed to happen, you know? like… we weren’t even friends. we were just messing around. and i knew—god, i knew it wasn’t a good idea. i knew we shouldn’t.”

she hummed, sipping her tea. “but?” “but we did,” you whispered, bitterly. “because we couldn’t not.” seol reached over and squeezed your wrist gently.

“and he told me he loved me,” you said, voice barely audible now. “and he took it back. like it was something to be ashamed of.”

“i don’t think he meant to hurt me. i think he’s just scared. i think he’s used to everything being temporary. and i let that be enough for a while. i let it be enough that he stayed.” your laugh was dry. empty.

“but it wasn’t. because i kept waiting for something—anything—to make me feel like i was actually his. and he never gave me that. he never said it. and it’s not even the words i needed, it’s the fact that he didn’t try.”

she looked at you. “what would’ve made you stay?” you smiled, a little sad. “if i had his heart. that’s it. if i really had it, it wouldn’t have been this hard.” she set her tea down and pulled you into a hug. you let yourself fall into it, finally soft, finally tired, finally allowing yourself to feel the weight of it all.

“i loved him, seol,” you whispered into her shoulder. “i really did.”

“i know,” she whispered back. “and i’m proud of you for walking away anyway.” you nodded, blinking up at the ceiling like maybe it’d have answers. it didn’t. but she was right.

you walked away. and that had to count for something.

“you know i was never good at this,” haechan said, toeing the leg of the coffee table with his socked foot.

they were at jaemin’s place, eating stale pizza and drinking flat soda, because of course haechan only decided to talk about it at 1 a.m.

jaemin leaned back against the couch. “so, are you gonna tell me what happened with y/n or am i supposed to guess from your playlist getting weirdly depressing lately?”

haechan looked away, his jaw clenching. “we haven’t talked since… since that morning.” “the morning she walked out?” “yeah.”

jaemin didn’t say anything, letting the silence settle.

haechan sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. “i didn’t know how to tell her i loved her. i know that sounds stupid. i mean—i’ve said it before, to other people. but with her? it was different.”

“different how?”

haechan let out a low laugh. “like if i said it and she said it back, that meant i’d have to stop running from it. like it’d be real. and that scared the shit out of me.”

“but you did love her,” jaemin said. not a question. “yeah,” haechan said, eyes somewhere far. “like, all the little things. the way she acted like she didn’t care but would always bring an extra charger for me just in case. the way she’d make fun of me for being a gemini and still sleep in my shirt.”

jaemin snorted. “you are the most gemini person i’ve ever met.”

“don’t remind me.”

“so what happened?”

haechan leaned forward, elbows on his knees. “i didn’t give her what she needed. i kept making her guess. kept dodging the questions. like, every time she asked what are we, i answered with a joke or a kiss or a let’s not ruin this.”

he shook his head, voice quieter now. “she deserved more than that. she deserved more than… more than someone who couldn’t DTR.”

jaemin’s brows furrowed. “DTR?” “define the relationship.” jaemin blinked. “oh god, you really couldn’t even say it.”

haechan laughed, almost bitterly. “i know. and now she’s gone.” he fell silent again. the tv played something neither of them were watching.

“do you miss her?” jaemin asked after a while. “every day,” haechan said without hesitation. “but it wouldn’t be fair to go back. not if i still don’t know how to be what she needs.”

“so that’s it?” “yeah.” he looked up at jaemin with a soft, crooked smile. jaemin didn’t say anything. just leaned forward and nudged him lightly with his shoulder.

“you know,” jaemin said eventually, “you might not have said the right things. but you felt them. and that counts for something.” haechan swallowed hard. “yeah. just not enough.”

and for once, he didn’t try to joke it off. he just sat with it. with the ache of losing someone who had all of him—even the parts he never figured out how to give.

“wouldn’t it be nice if we could stay friends? but we shouldn’t.”

you were out on a tuesday.

one of those forgettable ones—no rain, no heartbreak, just a coffee run like any other.

until it wasn’t.

he looked the same. maybe a little older. hair longer. hoodie too familiar.

standing in line like he hadn’t once memorized your order.

like he hadn’t once whispered stupid jokes into your neck at 3 a.m.

he didn’t see you at first. too busy scrolling. you could’ve left. you almost did.

but something in you—that soft, reckless part—waited.

and then he looked up.

three people between you. two quiet months apart. his eyes widened, just barely.

fingers froze mid-scroll. and for a second, the silence between you felt louder than it ever had when you were together.

he didn’t smile. didn’t say hi. didn’t step forward. and neither did you.

and now, he just looked at you like a memory that still stung.

you were first to look away.

and when the bell above the coffee shop door chimed behind you, you knew—

you shouldn’t. you couldn’t. and now, you wouldn’t.

──── ☀︎ ──── ☀︎ ──── ☀︎ ────

💌: if you made it all the way here, thank you sooo much for taking the time to read this fic!! 🥹 i seriously can’t believe how much love my little stories have gotten so far—i mostly just write when a random idea smacks me in the face, so seeing people actually enjoy them?? unreal 💞

i wasn’t expecting to finish this one so quickly, but.. i may or may not have been thinking a lot—maybe too much—about a past relationship lately, i guessss that’s why this poured out of me so fast 😬

this is also the longest fic i’ve written yet! honestly, shouldn’t and wouldn’t were meant to be even longer, but guess who didn’t know tumblr has a 1000 text box limit 🫠 had to chop them down a lot ): still, i really really hope you had fun reading!!

p.s. please—don’t you dare settle for someone who won’t define the relationship. you deserve so much better 😤🫶

thanks again for all the support, and feel free to come scream about fic stuff or just say hi anytime 🧸 ‘til next time !! xx

658 notes · View notes

valentinedrifter · 2 days ago

Text

Days with Yuri: Packages

male reader x Jo Yuri

~12k words

A/N: A friend said "yuri fic when" so, here you go I guess? Also a lot of yapping involved, so apologies for that.

Enjoy.

You should’ve expected this to happen.

Jjoyul: Sharing Live Location. HELP NOW ASAP PLS

You blink. You squint.

What the fuck?

You read it again.

What the fuck, that’s not her address.

You: whats going on

Jjoyul: I NEED HELP I SWEAR ILL O U 1

You: with what where are you even are you safe

You sit up from your bed, rubbing a hand on your face in annoyance. Out of all the days, it had to be the day you slept in late for her to fuck about and make you find out instead.

Jjoyul: SAFEST PLACE IN D WORLD RN WILL XPLAIN LATR CAN U PLS COME T_T

You were halfway into typing the word “no” and go back to cuddling your comforter and enjoying some more well deserved sleep until your phone buzzed two more times.

Jjoyul: Image attached. PLSSSSSSS

You groan. Half tempted to throw your phone on the nightstand and forget all about the messages. Half tempted to open the image and hope that you can have an idea on what’s actually going on.

You let the angel on your shoulder win this round and open your phone.

Yuri’s face takes up your screen, sitting down on a couch with an all-familiar pout on her lips, finger pressing her chin, wide innocent eyes, and an adorable little head tilt. You’re pretty sure you’ve seen this type of picture so many times that you feel like she’s recycling old pictures.

You wonder how this brat can be this cute yet so annoying at times because you’re falling for her endearingly irritating tactic of cuteness to get you to help her with whatever it is she needs help with. You were about to press the location text she sent to see where she actually is when she sent one last message.

Jjoyul: ILL EVEN COOK U LUNCH AND DINNER NEXT TIME

Now while free food is nice, Yuri’s cooking is something else. Not that you’d ever tell her that because, well, her ego would skyrocket, but she could cook an egg and you’d think a sous chef made it.

The way to a man’s heart is through his stomach and all that. Your sleep-deprived brain isn’t helping much in that regard to stop it. Besides, it’s free food on call.

What’s the worst that could happen?

You: fine, be there in 30

Jjoyul: U DA BESTTTTTTT IM AT 221 BTW TELL THE LADY THAT UR HERE 4 ME TYTYTY <3

And so began your quick shower, a salmon riceball for brunch, and you’re walking out the door heading to her location. Said place is an apartment complex that looks similar to yours—tall, muted colors, minimalistic design—and you start to wonder what she’s doing in a place so far away from where she lives.

She was surprisingly close to your place too—a good ten minute walk to wake the legs up—and you’re stepping into the lobby to be greeted by the receptionist.

You tell her that you’re here for a “Jo Yuri” and all she does is raise an eyebrow.

“No packages?” Her head tilts in confusion.

“...No?” You respond. “Am I supposed to have one?”

“Oh, no, no!” The lady chuckles. “She’s been getting a lot lately, I thought you would be dropping off some more.”

She points you to where you can get to 221, and after thanking her, your mind stops to think:

What the fuck is she doing here?

You take the stairs, faster that way since she’s just a floor up, and you’re standing in front of apartment 221.

You take a deep breath, curl your fingers, prep yourself to call the cops if you need to, and knock.

Tap-tap-tap.

Silence greets you. You wait. Then try again.

Tap-tap-tap.

Still, no answer. You air out a ‘huh’ and decide to just–

Tap-tap-tap-tap-tap-tap-tap-

“Just a second!” Yuri’s muffled voice comes out of the door, and you hear her padded footsteps rushing.

The lock clicks, the handle turns, and you’re greeted to the sight of a disheveled looking Yuri grinning up to you.

“Hey–” She huffs, grabbing your arm and tugging you inside. Her hand is warm against yours, but it was gone as quickly as it came. “You got here pretty fast.”

“It’s a few blocks away from mine.” You turn around to see her already closing the door before leaning back to it, arms behind her back to face you, giving you a chance to properly look at her.

Hair framing that lovable face, smile that radiates trouble, crescents that screams innocent excitement all wrapped in a baggy shirt hanging off one shoulder and some shorts that hides her figure.

Not that you’d know anything about it, you just…saw it a couple of times. Like when you two attended Minju’s wedding as friends.

Totally not as each other’s wedding date.

You definitely didn’t give her that wide-eyed stare when you picked her up. Or notice how beautiful she looked in the white dress which showed off a bit too much cleavage that definitely didn’t do things to both your heads. Or stand a little too close when one of the groomsmen complimented her on her looks.

And you really didn’t hold her hips when she dragged you to the dance floor because her favorite slow dance started playing. Didn’t like how your hands felt perfect on her. Didn’t feel your heart skip a beat when she gave you that smile when it ended.

You swear it wasn’t awkward the next few weeks after.

Nope. You’re absolutely sure that you and her were totally okay for that period of time.

You focus back on Yuri, who’s gotten close enough to lean into your personal space, face almost touching your chest, shirt swinging low enough for you to see a hint of her generous chest. You can even smell the jasmine radiating off her.

She’s too close.

You blink. She chuckles.

You take a step back. She straightens.

Speaking of personal spaces–“Where are we, exactly?”

“This, exactly, is–” She stretches it out, making drum roll gestures, dancing around you. “–drumroll please–”

She stops, expecting eyes and a beaming set of lips looking up to you.

She wags her eyebrows. You sigh.

“Seriously?” You ask. Her smile widens.

You roll your eyes. She grins.

You make drum roll sounds. She makes drum roll hands as she continues to step backward into the middle of the living room before stretching her arms wide and giving a tiny hop.

“Jo Yuri’s brand new, very own home!” She declares, posing like a little kid who won the lottery. “Ta–da!”

The place was semi-furnished, all the heavier things already out and ready to be used like the couch on one end and the flat screen mounted on the wall. But what’s really getting to you are the amount of boxes in the room.

All the colors you can think of, all the different sizes, labeled, unlabeled, packed, unpacked; They were everywhere, from the floor to the kitchen counter. You don’t even want to know what was inside. God forbid she hands you one of them and it just so happens to be her underwear.

She wouldn’t do that anyway. You trust her enough to know what’s inside all the boxes.

It’s still a mess overall though, and as you’re taking it in, you realize:

You’re here to help her unpack all her shit.

“Pretty nice ain’t it?” Everything about her screams pride of what she’s accomplished—she should be—like the hands on her hips and the way she says it.

“Don’t know about pretty, but it is nice.” You look behind her, eyeing the amount of boxes that were basically mocking you at this point. “How much shit do you even have? And when did you move in here?”

“This is like, eighty percent of it, give or take.” Jesus Christ. “I tried doing it on my own but there’s too many and I didn’t wanna bother the movers because they already helped with all the big appliances and I thought–”

Yuri’s making that thinking pose then a lightbulb gesture like she’s in a sitcom. “–Why do it alone when I can do it with my favorite person in the whole wide world!”

“I thought that was Yena?” You deadpan.

She opens her mouth to answer, then closes it. Her eyes look to the side. Her lips make a thinking face. She looks too damn adorable.

She opens her mouth to answer. “My second! Favorite person in the whole wide world!”

“That’s not how that works, Yuri.” Your head shakes. “Not at all.”

“It is to me.” She giggles, picking up one of the smaller boxes. “Besides, this is a lot more fun than getting this done all alone.”

“Don’t I have a say in this?” She pushes said box to your chest. “This is gonna take us all day.”

“You said yes the moment you agreed to my cooking.” She patters back to the couch, sitting on the small empty space it still has. “No take backs.”

Well, she’s got you there. Her cooking’s worth a day of unpacking all her stuff anywho.

“Can I renegotiate to have that lunch and dinner for two days?” You ask, cross legging down on the floor, opening up the box that contained kitchen utensils.

Fitting, considering the conversation.

“If we manage to get this done before–” She pauses, a box in her lap as she picks up a boxcutter. “Before dinner, I’ll make you food for the next week.”

“Say no more.” You let out a chuckle, the prospect of having Yuri cook for you till the next week already makes you salivate as you stand up to head into the kitchen.

As soon as you see the counter, you freeze.

The kitchen’s chock full of boxes.

Fuck.

—

They seemed never ending, but you two managed to settle into a rhythm. You handled everything that was for the kitchen and the living room, she took care of the bathroom and the bedroom.

She didn’t bother with the labels anymore, just ripped the box open and handed it to you if it was different things for her shelves. You open them with care and precision so as not to make an even bigger mess of the already boxed up fuckery mess that is her apartment.

You can hear her in the bedroom, the rustling of the boxes coming out of the doorway when you came back from putting some of the cartons away and into the front door, so you take the chance to pick out something easy to unpack since you’ve been given all the big ones—definitely didn’t feel like you were setup.

So you pick up one of the smallest boxes you could see, sit down on the couch and lay it down on your lap.

The box itself was small, jet-black and discreet, not unlike all the other bright and colorful ones that preceded it. It was tightly wrapped as well, red tape all over the carton in a criss-crossy pattern.

Nothing the cutter couldn’t handle.

You open it up, thinking that it was another-some-set of something that you feel like you can convince her to sell off because she seriously has too much stuff for one girl so you part the flaps and—

Dick.

Surprisingly detailed, with all the veins and contours and curls shaping it, the smooth head at the top staring back at you. Although the color ruined any form of realism, somewhere between vermillion or coquelicot or sienna—fucking red—that was practically screaming out what it is.

You blink. Two, three, four times.

You close the flaps. Your eyes follow, nose inhaling deep, mouth exhaling slowly, mind counting to ten.

And then you open it again.

Dicks.

Multiple, plural, a lot. Some were small, others looked like a lightstick—that’s a vibrator—and there was even something metallic tucked in the bottom, underneath all the bubble wrap.

You squint, hands frozen on the black carton, not trusting them to touch anything inside and holy shit is that a pair of handcuffs?

You don’t even want to know why she has so many because your mind is already being sidetracked to what she’s doing with them. How often she uses them, which one was her favorite—

“Hey, how’s it going with the rest?” Yuri calls out, casually walking back into the living room.

You’re stuck, heat creeping up your ears, brain short circuiting, doing its damnedest to hot wire it back into thinking, acting, anything as you’re left frozen in time staring into the deep abyss of the box.

“What’s up with you?” Her chin rests on your shoulder, a grin on her features, chest pushing against your back and the smell of citrus invading your nostrils.

It wasn’t until she saw what was in the box that made her lose all emotion, utter the Lord’s name in vain and straight up dive bomb into your arms.

“Gimme that!” She screams, her chest flattening against you sending even more thoughts into your head, her hands already snatching the hellish thing from your grasp, one hand closing the flaps and the other wrapping around the carton.

“You weren’t supposed to see that yet.” She mutters, holding it close to her chest, protecting it from you, or vice versa. It didn’t really matter to you.

What matters was whatever the hell ‘yet’ meant.

“Well, I mean, I can-uh-fuck-” You’re stumbling, sputtering. Because what the fuck do you even say when you find a box full of sextoys that weren’t yours? “I can forget this ever happened?”

“Can you?” She asks, glares really. Raised eyebrow, doubtful eyes, the complete package of disbelief written on her. “Can you really?”

No, you really couldn’t. But you don’t even get the chance to tell her before she stands up.

“Just–don’t bring it up.” She sighs, walking away from you and back into her bedroom.

And it wasn’t. Nobody brought it up for a while, the both of you focusing on unpacking, folding, cleaning. It was all you two did, not even bothering to make conversation. Not without bringing up the box again.

Until she started to do something extremely simple.

Be a mess.

And she’s dragging you into becoming one when she keeps brushing past you even if she didn’t have to. You could be sitting down on the couch and she’d walk past you to get the box that was right next to you instead of the ones that were stacked up right next to her bedroom door.

It wasn’t like there was a lack of them, if anything there were too many. And she kept doing it anyway.

Yuri didn’t even do anything that you’d consider odd or anything and she’s already distracting you. Every pass, brush of your hands, glances that were a bit too long.

You were trying to pretend that you didn’t notice anything and gaslit yourself into thinking it wasn’t intentional. To leave her to do whatever she wants because it is her house but this, this was like scratching an itch.

If an itch were to ask her why she had so many dildos, that is.

You were rinsing up a few of her mugs when she plops down the couch, halfway empty of the cartons that were seated a few hours ago.

It was a mistake glancing because–

“Why do I keep so much stuff.” She moans out, the first words uttered after the box. Her arms stretched upward, her shirt riding up just a bit to show that bellybutton of hers.

You tell yourself you weren’t staring. She’s just casually seducing you with an arm stretch and the temptation to ask her about the damn box grows higher.

“That sounds like a you problem than anything else.” You snap back down, focusing back on the cups. “Why’d you even bother moving out? I thought you shared the old place with Nako.”

“I did, I just…” Yuri goes silent for a moment, before she crosses her legs and gives you these adorable little puppy eyes that make you wanna squish her cheeks. “Promise you won’t tell her? Or anyone else?”

“You don’t need to tell me if it’s too personal, Yuls.” You shake the glass you’re holding. “We can always leave it at that.”

“It’s not really for me, it’s more for her than anything else.” She shakes her head, grabbing a nearby plushie of a bear she left on the couch because she needs one for ‘couch cuddles’. You remember getting that one for her birthday along with a new set of guitar strings.

And she wonders why she keeps so much extra shit like her toys—

“Just please promise me you won’t tell anyone?” She hugs said bear, keeping it close to her chest. “Pretty please?”

“Alright, alright, I promise.” You place the mug down on the dishwasher.

“Swear it.”

“I just said I promised.” You give her a look, as if she’s seriously asking you to double down on an agreement made just seconds ago.

“I need your utmost trust on this.” Yuri glares. It wasn’t scary at all, not with the bear looking at you with a permanent smile on its face. You wonder what that bear’s seen. Or felt.

“Wha-Fine.” You sigh, leaning back onto the counter. “I swear on my need for an eight-hour-sleep that I won’t tell anybody about what you will say.”

She narrows her eyes. “That’s not enough.”

“You know how much I need my eight hours.”

“Everyone needs eight hours, idiot.” She shakes her head, an arm gesturing upwards. She wasn’t exactly wrong. You just thought you needed it more than everyone else because you have the tendency to stay up a lot.

“On my rank in League.” You state. “Happy now?”

That seemed to do the trick when Yuri hums for a moment to think, then nods. She knows how much you play that game to a near unhealthy degree back then before you were convinced—forcefully, you may add—to take a step back from it. Looking back, you’re a bit thankful that happened.

Lord knows what you would be doing if you kept that up.

But it doesn’t mean you stopped though. Maybe a long break or two, but you always come back to playing it like a drug. You were simply volun-told how to take the proper dosages.

“Now, what’s the big deal about you moving out?” You move to sit on the couch, facing Yuri who’s now hiding her face behind the bear.

“Uhm,” She stalls. Eyes darting from you to the bear she’s holding, gripping it tighter. “So you know how Nako’s been seeing Hitomi for a while now?”

“Uh-huh.”

“They may or may not be doing things when theythinkI'msleepingnextdoor.” She rushes, cheeks reddening at the words that came out as she hides further into her bear.

Silence precipitates the room, giving you the chance to soak in whatever Yuri just said.

“Hold on.” You start, lips unconsciously curving upwards. “You moved out because you couldn’t stand them fucking?”

“It’s more than that!” She shouts, slapping you with the bear in such a weak manner it makes you laugh.

“They’ve been wanting to move in together so I thought I’d move out instead.” She explains, grabbing a small yellow box on the table. “They wouldn’t have to worry about looking for another place if I did.”

“Pretty selfless of you.” You comment, leaning back and watching her rip the carton apart. “What made you wanna do that?”

She bites her lip, hesitating, hands stopping from unfurling the bubble wrap covering something.

“Too much?” You ask again, knowing that this wasn’t about her roommate anymore.

“No, I’ve just…” She replies, before she turns to look at you. “I’ve been wanting to move out for a while now, you know? Nako’s been my roomie ever since uni, and before that I shared my room with my sister.”

“Ah. You have that dilemma.” You remember the decision to do it yourself. Your parents were fifty-fifty on it till you had to convince them it was better than hour long commutes to and from work.

“Yeah.” She nods, going back to focus on the wrap. “You must’ve went through that when you moved out.”

“I mean, sure.” Solo living had its perks. Made you appreciate doing chores yourself, you didn’t have to worry about anyone else’s dishes being left in the sink. You could walk around doing whatever with complete privacy, and no one would bat an eye for it.

“It gets lonely at times but you learn to do things for yourself every once in a while.” You add, leaning back to enjoy the soft cushion, watching her open up a box of books.

“And that’s why you got me, dummy.” She teases, picking up one of the books and giving it a once over. You can see a very familiar tie as the book cover and decide to keep that away for safekeeping.

Because a box full of sextoys isn’t enough for her, you guess.

“You do live pretty close by now.” You nod, standing up to pick up another blue container. “We can meet up more if you want.”

“You just like free food.” She bites, stacking up a few books of varying sizes.

“And you like my company.” You bite back, cutting the tape with the boxcutter, the ripping sound following each stroke. You won’t lie and say that you didn’t like the idea of seeing Yuri more often. Maybe even get a peak of what she’d be doing with one of those toys—

You immediately stop that line of thought and glance back at her after and notice one of the stacks she made was close to toppling. “Might want to put the biggest one on the bottom.”

“Shut up.” She looks down, biting her lip to stop the smiling forming on her face as she starts to fix up her makeshift jenga structure. “Anyway, it took me a while to find this apartment, and the movers were a pain in the ass to talk to.”

“What, they didn’t like that you had so much shit for a single person?” You grin, placing the cutter down. “You can always sell these things online.”

“What am I even gonna sell?” She mutters, arms up in the air as she stops re-arranging her novels on the table. She pauses, stares at the books, then looks up to you staring right back at her.

“Don’t say it.” She warns, shaking her head, eyes widening a tiny bit. “I swear to god, don’t you fucking say it.”

All you do is give her a smirk, extremely tempted to say exactly what you were both thinking. Her hands were already moving to hold onto a small novel, and while it may seem idiotic to tempt physical danger, it also sounds very fun to piss her off.

“The bo–” A thump resonates. A pained shout erupts. A groan follows.

“I told you not to say it.” She repeats, hands on her hips.

“Worth it though.” You grumble, hand rubbing your chest where the book hit you. “You’ll get money on the side anyway, what’s the big deal?”

“Getting to know what to sell is a big deal, duh.”

“You’re unpacking. This is like, the best time to.” You place her novel book on top of one of her stacks.

She slouches, looking like she’s considering the idea when she starts glancing around her towers of books and the rest of the taped up boxes. “Promise you’ll help?”

“If you tell me why you have a box full of sextoys, sure.” You smile, sitting down next to her. Externally, you looked cool as a cucumber. Internally, you were dying.

Why the fuck did that come out of your mouth, you wonder. You should’ve just agreed and be done with it but now the awkward silence was eating you alive.

“...Oh my god.” She groans, leaning back onto the couch. “I thought we already went past that!”

“Did we?” You shrug, taking another glance at her stack of books, pretending that you were completely okay with what you just blurted out. “I never agreed to that.”

“I hate you.” She smacks you with her plushie. “I seriously do.”

You laugh, flailing your arms to protect yourself from a bear. “No–you–don’t–”

She hits you a couple more times before she eventually stops—from exhaustion or from being lazy, you don’t know—and glares. Eyes narrowing, lips flattening, mind deliberating. All the while the bear is just staring at you.

The bear’s got a pretty cool hat you have to admit—

“Fine.” She states, lips slowly transforming into a grin. “If we still finish before dinner.”

“Yeah, I still get food though right–wait.” You stop, jaw dropping slowly. “Seriously?”

“Yes, seriously.” She answers, crossing her arms around the bear. “I’ll even give you a live demo if you want.”

“I think I’m good with the story, thanks.” You chuckle bashfully, hands raising in surrender. Not that watching her fuck a dildo wasn’t hot as fuck, it’s simply very bad for your mental and physical health to be given a clear view to that show.

“You sure?” She draws the words out, smirking and teasing. She leans in, her hair falling, getting closer and closer till you can feel her breath on your face. “You don’t wanna see me suck on a strap like it’s your di–”

“Yes I’m fucking sure!” You answer—scream, really—as you stand up, away from any more of her teasing because your hands are starting to get that itch instead of your mouth. You scratch that itch by going back to the mundane job of grabbing boxes.

You don’t notice the grin on Yuri’s face become absolutely feral.

The next few hours were spent unpacking everything else that was still trapped in their boxes, and anything that she thought she could sell she’d leave in the living room. A bunch of books, extra cables, some plushies she has.

You’re sitting down on one of her chairs for a short break when you let your eyes wander the room. Aside from the large cartons that you both decided to leave for later, the place was halfway there to becoming a home.

It inevitably lands back towards her—it always does—where she’s pulling her shirt up to wipe the sweat off her brow. It also lets you have another peek at her waist, the same pair that you held with your own two hands on that wedding.

There’s always that lingering thought in your head on what her bare hips would feel like, caressing them, tracing every inch of skin with your fingers and wondering what her moans would sound like.

Your mind strays, imagining her face when you trail them upwards, moving closer and closer towards her chest, watching her features morph into something filthy. Begging for you to do more. Touch her, kiss her, tame her.

It’s a good thing they’re just thoughts and not actions cause you don’t know if you’d be able to stop yourself from doing all of that given the chance.

Her offer to give a live performance is enough to make your cock twitch. Add your thoughts into the mix and you’re becoming a horny teenager again.

You exhale through your nose, quietly, hiding it through a tilt of your cup and a sip of cold liquid.

“You never answered me earlier.” You let out, getting your mind out of the gutter for once.

It’s been happening too many times today.

“About what?” She peeks over the rim of her glass.

“About when you moved here.” You reiterate, elbows on your knees, placing the cup down on her coffee table. “What’s up with that?”

“Technically I started yesterday.” She scoffs. “But I had this place for a few weeks now when–”

She goes on about how she found out about the apartment through Yena and went with her mother to get an initial view. She got a deal to own it after a few years with a down payment and had the movers prep all her items throughout the weeks and have it all delivered in one go.

“I remember one of the assholes tried peeking down my top when they were moving the couch.” She gripes. “Wasn’t even trying to be subtle about it cause he kept sticking close, the creep.”

“...Do I need to talk to the guy?”

“Mom already handled it.” She answers, standing up to pick up a few leftover cartons, giving you a grin. “But I’ll keep the offer in mind in case I need to move again.”

“Open up one of the big ones while I put these away?” She says, already walking out to her front hall. You could’ve been seeing things but she might’ve been putting a bit more sway in her hips.

“Sure.” Your feet are already moving towards one of them. “Offers always up when you need it!”

And you’re back to the grind. Open, unpack, store.

Except she’s ramped everything up to eleven.

Intentionally bending over in front of you to show off her ass in those short shorts—you’re totally overthinking it when you thought you saw a small indent in her shorts—or giving you another look underneath her top; Her bra’s this dark blue that’s almost black—it’s a bra for fuck’s sake.

The small touches become more apparent. Less boxes, more space, no reason to take the long way and keep walking in front of you for a touch of your forearm instead of anywhere else.

And the looks she’s giving. The winks she’d send your way when she catches you glancing. The bite of her lip when she’s trying to force her way inside a box.

Now this isn’t just mere coincidence anymore.

It’s bothering you a lot; You feel like the air conditioner isn’t cold enough, you’ve been drinking a lot more water in between breaks alongside the snacks that Yuri’s kept feeding you with.

If this wasn’t paranoia, you don’t know what it is.

Then again, you agreed to this the moment she convinced you to help.

You walk back from her bathroom after placing down some medical supplies in one of the cabinets—You really need to have her sell some of her things—where you find her laying down on the floor, now clear of all the rainbow colored cartons save for one last box.

“Want some more water?” You ask, already heading to the kitchen, grabbing two glasses from her cupboard.

“Please.” She lazily throws an arm up towards you.

“Sit up.” You hold out her cup. “Or else I dunk you in it.”

You honestly could. Just shower her in water and soak that baggy shirt of hers, giving you an excuse to ogle her tits–

“Alright, alright.” She gets up to lean onto the sofa seats, grabbing the cup from your hands to take a sip. “Thanks.”

“It’s your house, I’m here to enjoy the free drink.” You sit down on a chair across from her.

“Always food with you.” She smiles underneath the cup. “Too bad you’re getting that story.”

“Speaking of which,” She continues, “Can you get the box from my bedroom? It should be by my desk.”

“Is it that box?” You put the cup down. “It’s that box isn’t it?”

“Are you actually scared of a box?” She giggles. “Yes, you dummy, it’s that box. Now go get it already. It’s important for the tea.”

“Do we really need it?”

“Of course we need it dummy.”

“Just–making sure.” You cough, clearing your throat before doing as she asks, nervous anticipation consuming your thoughts.

You shake your head. You really need to stop with these things.

She wouldn’t actually use them in front of you anyways.

So you distract yourself, focus on getting what you need, and get back to Yuri. It also gave you a chance to look around the place.

Her apartment started to look lived in, her shelves and cupboards full of items, the boxes all folded up and placed near her front door for recycling.

It looked a lot better than it was when you came in, that’s for sure.

You spot it immediately after coming inside her room. It was very her for the plushies to be used as a guitar stand alongside her many, many novels and right next to her keyboard standing near the desk.

Not even a day into living here and she’s already managed to make it into her own. Gotta give her props for that one.

Well, maybe not for some of her clothes still strewn about in her bed.

You can’t stare at it. You won’t. It’ll make you start thinking about what she’d look like in them. What she’d look like without them.

You booked it straight to the box—still black, still closed—your head staring at it, damn near putting holes in it as you walk out of the bedroom to avoid anything else except for the piece of carton in your hands.

Right into even more trouble.

The very first thing you noticed when you came back into her living room was her shorts on the floor.

The sounds registered after. The squelches, the moans, the gasps. All so low, so lewd, so incredibly fucking fucked hearing it all come from her.

You’re almost tempted to go back to her room and leave her be. Pretend you never saw anything, play the dummy that she always call you by.

But you look up, because what you’ve been imagining for so long is right in front of you and the devil in your shoulder is whispering all the dirty things that you’ve been wanting to do with Yuri. Do unto Yuri.

Everything.

And boy, was it a sight.

Yuri made herself comfortable on the couch, legs spread with a hand between her legs, blue-ish black panties that matched her bra pulled to the side with a small silvery object playing in her fingers rocking back and forth into her tight ass. Her other hand’s busy pinching a nipple, her shirt ridden up to her chest along with her bra.

She’s easing into the plug, teasing herself, the tip all wet and shiny from what you think is lube. You can see her tense up every time she pushes it in, mouth trying to bite a piece of her shirt to stifle her moans.

Didn’t really work, but the view.

Hips rocking with every thrust, the plug slowly disappearing into her, thighs shaking, muscles rippling. The hand on her tits hasn’t stopped pinching and squeezing. Everything about her looks so fuckable in all the ways you’ve thought extremely hard not to.

It almost made you drop the box, with the sound of saving it alerting Yuri to your presence.

“He-Hey.” She moans, pushing the entire thing deep, taking all of it into her ass before fixing up her panties. “You were taking too long.”

“I–” You start. Your mouth stays open for a good while, trying to think of something to say. You can’t.

Because you don’t exactly know what to say when someone’s fucking herself on a butt plug in front of you.

“You want-wanted to know about the toys right?” She says, letting the plug settle, hand pulling away from it to cup her tits. “C’mere and give me one.”

You follow, mouth still stuck in that perpetual curse of being unable to move as you sit down right next to her, box in hand.

The box moves from one pair to another. Yours to hers, where the flaps open once more to show her very bright collection of dildos, vibrators, and handcuffs.

Yuri’s planning something devious, or ambitious. Could be one, could be both. She hums, eyes looking through her box, tongue slipping out of her mouth to lick at her lips.

Definitely both.

“Pick a toy.” She asks you, face full of perverse mischief, hand roaming over her wares. “We can take turns choosing.”

You were completely still, stuck from earlier, mind processing; Embedding the image of Yuri playing with her ass into your head like a core memory of hers that you would never delete from your brain.

“Yuri–” You exhale, making her hum—purr, really, but who gives a shit at this point. “Are you seriously asking me to pick a fucking toy?”

“Duh. They’re all clean by the way, so touch all you want.” She answers, rolling her eyes, leaning back into the couch’s arm. Her shirt’s still ridden up, her breasts out in front of you, nipples hard from her earlier teasing. “Or do you want me to go first?”

She’s already reaching out to the black carton, decision made on what she’d be showing you—or using on herself—before you cut her off with yours.

“The dildo.” You say, one of your arms picking it up. It was the same one you first found when you opened it earlier. Red, large, and girthy, something that looked like it would fill her up all the way. “This one.”

You hand it over to her. It looked comically large in her hands, yet she’s all grins and giggles when she brings it closer to her mouth, tongue already lapping at the tip of it.

“Would you believe me when I say that this is the first one I bought?” She’s slobbering all over it, sucking on the first few inches of the toy, tongue flicking and licking to get it all wet and ready for her.

Her eyes are closing, moaning as she takes it deep, likely imagining that she’s throating a real cock. Yours is twitching at the thought of it being yours that she’s fucking her mouth with.

“This became one of my faves too.” She lets out, biting her lip as she lowers it down to her clothed pussy, rubbing it over herself. Her panties are stained from earlier, a wet darker patch of it in the middle. “Other than the vibrator, but I use both anyway–”

She cuts herself off with a strangled moan, her hips raising, arching as she presses the toy into that spot, rubbing it in, wetting it even more with the saliva that stuck to it.

Jesus Christ, is all you can manage to conjure up in your brain as you watch her edge herself with her favorite fucking strap. The thought of pulling her panties aside never seemed to cross her mind because she’s pushing it inside her to no avail.

“God, the things I did with this fucking thing–” She’s babbling, starting and stopping about how she’d always use it whenever, wherever, whoever.

“Fuck, I’d just use this to get off when I needed a good dicking–” It’s probably why she never goes out on dates even when everyone’s telling her to go on them. Who needs a boyfriend to satisfy her if she can do it herself anyway?

“Had to-god-to get the smaller ones cause I couldn’t walk in public with this.” That gets you thinking, pacing, recollecting every moment you’ve been with her if she had one stuffed inside of her pussy.

“Yena even borrowed one of them–” Now the vivid picture of Yuri and Yena sharing the red toy with each other, fucking each other with it, wondering how’d be on top, is painted inside of your mind. “And she still hasn’t given it back, the bitch–”

You might never look at Yena the same again with that.

All the while Yuri’s kept on going, hands never quite stopping with her metaphorical blue balling. Her underwear is completely soaked with her juices, even marking the couch with the damp spots underneath her.

“Fuck, Yuls–” Your cock’s been straining against your pants since she’s started, in dire need of relief from the confines of your clothes. One of your hands comes to undo the draws of your sweatpants to relieve the tension but you’d think the air can get you off at this point.

“Fuck me, huh?” Her tongue paints her lips before a question—a very dangerous one, you might add—comes out of her mouth. “Is that what you want?”

“God yes,” You confess, eyes roaming all over her. From her delectable thighs, her perky tits, her adorably sinful face; It’s all so ruinable. “Wanted you ever since–”

“The wedding?” She cuts you off.

“Even before that.”

“Tell me.”

So you do.

Tell her that it happened at that university reunion party you all attended. It was pretty memorable, considering that’s when Minju was officially announced ‘out of the market’.

Yuri was blonde then, wore this green dress that hugged her curves and showed her off in all the right places. That was the first time you ever saw her outside of baggy clothing or the tamer casual wear she has on.

It didn’t help that she stuck to you like glue for the majority of it all. You and her were making sure Yena didn’t do something stupid when she had a bit too much to drink.

You tell her how much you wanted to pull her into the bathroom and rail her against one of the stalls; You would hike her dress up and pull her underwear down and go to town on her pussy, not caring if anyone walked in and found out about it.

Watch her face morph into a state of euphoria as you give her a nice, thick load at the end of it. Steal her panties so she’s forced to go back out there glowing from the aftermath and dripping with your cum.

Her eyes are closed all throughout, hand lazily circling the dildo over her, clinging to every single word, and all the dirty things you wanted to do to her that day. It gets her even more riled up hearing you talk like that, judging from the way she’s pushing the toy harder through the cloth.

Then she grins, pulling at the fabric covering her cunt at the same time she pushes. Whether it’s to tease you or to pleasure herself, you can say both and you’d be rewarded, just like she’s doing to herself when she stops for a moment to hike up her legs and take off her panties.

It’s left dangling on one of her legs when she brings it back down and spreads them once more, wet pussy out in the open. You wet your own lips at the sight of it, wanting to put your cock in between her legs and feel how hot she would feel.

Even the butt plug is mocking you, the shine of it inside of her ass barely visible because of the grip that she has on it.

“You-you wanna know something funny?” Her eyes are locked into yours while her hands are back to playing with herself, grinding back on her toy. The lack of ruined underwear makes it even better for the both of you. “I had this plug on my ass that day. Fuck, I even had this on ever since we talked about moving in.”

You two were fucking hopeless.

She slides just the tip in, relieving all the built up tension she’s had for the past few whatever long time has passed and the moan she lets out sounded heavenly, the relief of everything crashing down on her.

“It was my first time too,” She continues, slouching down further into the couch to give you a better view of her ass, holes filled up with her toys. “Having it in me in public. I was so fucking horny that day that I probably would’ve let you fuck me in that bathroom–”

The red toy goes deeper inside of her, shutting herself up with her own actions. A whimper rings out, her thighs trembling with each thrust of the dildo into her drenched cunt.

“Wish th-this could be your cock–” She squeals, biting her lip to stop the perverse giggles that were trying to sing out of her. “You’d stretch me out so well–”

You couldn’t take it anymore. All the stories, the teasing, the view of Yuri fucking herself to the thought of you. You’re bursting at the seams, needing to chase your own pleasure this time.

So you stand up, a visible tent in your pants—she’s already eye-fucking it—and grab something different from her collection; A vibrator, all white with teal highlights because of course she has the classic one.

You turn it on, watch it whir for a moment before turning it off. You turn your head back towards her, still fixated on your pants, your cock, before you take a step. Her breath hitches.

Take another, and you stop to take your pants off. Quick, crass, it did the job to relieve your own stress as your length is freed from its confines. Yuri visibly shivers in excitement.

One more, and you’re cock-to-face with Yuri, her gaze finally looking up from one head to another.

“Holy shit.” It’s only two words, but those alone speak volumes. She reaches out, gripping you at the base, before she starts to lazily pump away at your shaft. “You’d ruin me for all my toys with this.”

“Would I?” You ask, moving to grope one of her tits. She felt so soft against your hand, so perfect. You needed to feel every inch of her, squeezing, pinching, tugging. Move from one breast to another, and you’re addicted. “All those toys, and I’d ruin you?”

“You fucking would.” She arches, hand between her legs moving faster, no rhyme or rhythm to it. Only a need to cum, and she didn’t care how she’d achieve that high. She pulls you closer, your cock resting on her face, the tip of her tongue having a small taste of you. “Because a real cock would feel so much more better.”

She starts kissing your cock, making out with the head, lips glued to you. Her tongue’s twirling and flicking and dousing you in her spit. She moans, the vibrations thrumming over you, making you clench your legs.

“Yuri, what the fuck–” You steady yourself by leaving her tits to grip her head, the other still holding onto her vibrator, waiting, begging to be used on her.

“This already beats out sucking on Glassy.” She even has a name for the damn thing, and it’s not even made of glass. “I can feel you throbbing.”

And you were, when she presses you back to her face. You are when she giggles, giving you pecks all over your length. And you still will be when she inevitably goes back to sucking your cock.

Her hands pump what she can’t put inside of her, wetting your shaft, surrounded by the hot feeling of her mouth that shakes you to your knees. She has the perfect grip on you, stroking you just fast enough to keep you aching for more.

You don’t know if she’s practiced on a dildo to suck somebody’s—your—dick. Not that it mattered if she did it for anyone else.

Because it’s Jo fucking Yuri that’s loving your cock right now, and that is a dream come true.

Her cheeks hollow, tightening her lips around you, just like yours hands are around her hair. It might’ve hurt her scalp. In reality it turned her on even more, bobbing her head quicker, taking more of you inside her mouth.

Then you remember: You’re holding onto one of her toys too.

A finger is pressed on a button, and it begins humming low, drowned out by her filthy fucking slurps. She’s too entranced with your cock to notice that you’ve brought it down to her chest, letting it massage one of her tits.

She hums, eyes closing, enjoying all the sensations she’s feeling. It’s all a fucking mess; From her sucking you off to fucking herself on Glassy. And she’s enjoying every single minute of it.

She mutters something; Too hard to understand with your cock in her mouth, too obsessed with your cock to let go of it. Girl can’t even bother to let her lips go off your head. So she speaks with her actions instead.

Her hand leaves the base of your shaft in favor of your forearm, resting there while you move the vibrator from one nub to another. Still set low, massaging her breasts slowly, pressing it into her.

Yuri even incentivizes it. She starts going at you faster, getting messier and messier with spit starting to drool down her chin. She keeps uttering indescribable things while she’s at it, and you can’t understand a single fucking thing.

“You know I can’t understand what you’re saying.” You pull at her hair, popping your cock out of her lips, now pouting at the loss of her new favorite toy.

“I was enjoying that.” She whines, trying to push herself back onto you, pulling your arm, anything to get you back. “You taste so good, I could just suck on you all day.”

“I’m not exactly part of your collection, Yuls.”

“Yeah you are.” She retorts, shaking her head at another attempt to escape your grasp. “I have Glassy, and you are Dummy.”

“Fucking–Seriously?” You’re in disbelief. Known each other for who knows how long and she suddenly treats you like an object. “I’m a toy to you now?”

“Of course not!” She grins, hand finally coming up from her legs with the sex toy. She’s waving it around, drenched in her juices, glistening in it. “I love each and every single one of them.”

The implications are damning, yet your lust-addled brain is too horny to comprehend that fact.

“So who’s this?” You ask, pressing the vibrator into her chest, watching her tits sink in. You so badly want to suck on them, make her cry out when you bite one of her nipples. But you save that for later.

Right now you have other priorities.

“Oh, Cherry?” She has a name for everything. “A friend got it for me when she went to Japan.”

The only one you knew that went to Japan recently was—

“You wouldn’t believe the stuff she has.” She grins, the hand on your arm pulling you downwards, to the dip of her breasts, to her midriff, and stopping just above her clit. “She’s crazier than me.”

“Having toys isn’t enough?” You push the vibrator, making sure to up the setting and make her thighs quiver. “Nothing’s crazier than that.”

“You-You’d be surprised.” She admits in the middle of her moans. “Cherry’s the real reason why I moved out.”

“Yeah?” You bring it lower, the head of it moving directly on top of her clit, and you repeat the same words she told you minutes prior.

“Tell me.”

So she does.

Tells you all about that time when she overheard Nako and Hitomi over the walls of her old bedroom. All the moans they were letting out. They were trying to hide it for Yuri too, when she says that they were a lot more muffled than usual.

She just got the toy you’re holding; ”All the way from Japan.” She comments, and was wanting—dying—to try it out.

“The hearing aid helped out a lot.”

She continues with how she used it in tandem with her other toys. Had it go in the same places you had it while she bounced on top of a dildo while she had another smaller one up her ass.

“I’ve always wanted to have this in my ass but it’s too fucking big–”

Her breathy moans sing out of her lips every few words, drawing her story out even more. Yet the pressure on her clit never really goes away, only being released for a short moment when she gets too lost in the pleasure to keep on talking.

She knows what you’re doing because she’s done the exact same thing to herself. All the words, the actions. It’s gotten to a point where the both of you are getting so close to losing all composure, yet you still want to carry on with this game.

So she carries on, giving you a play-by-play of what she did that night. It’s so detailed it makes your cock harder if that was even possible, made you leak pre-cum right there in front of her.

She’s eyeing it of course, has been since she’s started talking, still deprived of your cock in her mouth. She brings her hand back to your shaft, gripping you, jerking you slow. Another comes back to her pussy, her toy pushing back inside of her.

Her eyes meet yours, and the face she makes for you is extremely tempting; Tongue pushing into her cheek, eyebrows wagging, eyes full of perverse ideas.

A pull of her hair stops her, and with a whine or a whimper, she keeps on going.

She admits how she got a bit too noisy after a while, louder than the couple at the other side of her room. She didn’t stop even when they did, if anything it got her hornier at the thought that they knew about what she was doing.

All her thoughts about that night was how much she wanted to get in on the action between the two. Yuri’s heard them so many times and the one time they took her into consideration her libido was at an all time high.

“It wasn’t the first time, either.” Yuri giggles, confessing that she’s gotten off to the both of them so many times at this point. The realization that she got caught that night made her cum all over her bedsheets.

The morning after was awkward for the both of them, she says. How Nako had to sit her down and tell her to stop being so loud with what she was doing. But that only spurred Yuri on, knowing that Nako was listening in on her masturbating to said girl.

Her hands haven’t been idle; Stroking you faster, fucking herself deeper. Her clit’s being abused by the vibrator that you’ve constantly held there, and you can tell that she’s close to cumming her brains out.

She’s all twitchy, legs and arms and mouth just begging for you to turn it up to the max.

“You are just…” You pause, trying to find a single word in your limited dictionary of horny thoughts. A lot of words spring up to mind, but only one really fits the description of Jo Yuri in this very instance. “Such a slut.”

“Yeah?” She cackles, depraved, debauched, deafening. Her entire being is screaming it, and you are loving every second of it. “Cute innocent Yuri being such a closet perv, who would’ve known.”

“Be-Bet you didn’t think of that when you wanted to-to dick me down at that party.” She’s abandoned Glassy in favor of bracing herself to your arm, the shaking in her thighs intensifying as you turn the vibrator up a notch. “Like–Fuck, like you wanna do me right here on this couch.”

You want to confirm something. It’s been gnawing at you ever since she’s decided to ‘obtain’ you as part of her collection. And just as she was about to cum, you slow down.

“One more.” You press a button, and the humming dims.

“One-one what?” She can’t focus anymore, so you turn the toy down to low and watch her exhale in annoyance. “What the fu–I was so close!”

“One last toy you gotta tell me about.” You answer her, tugging her hair back and making her fall back down into the sofa. “Swear on my rank I’ll make you cum right after.”

She’s taking deep breaths, her entire body having these micro spasms, angry and disappointed at her orgasm being halted as well as urging her to finish the job herself. But she decides to indulge you.

“Fi-Fine.” She accepts, “Which toy?”

You reach down, yanking the toy out of her pussy, a guttural mewl spilling out of her followed by a yelp as you throw the vibrator away and pick her up by the waist. You take her place on the couch, ignoring the fact that there’s a giant damp spot where she sat—you’ll help her clean it up after—and manhandle her into your lap.

“This toy.” Your cock is pressed to her lips, dripping with need. You can feel the heat in her legs. “Tell me everything you want to do to me.”

Yuri takes a moment to regain her bearings. It doesn’t take long for those words to register in her head, and when it does, she looks you dead in the eye, and grins.

“Fucking perv.” She comments, grinding onto your lap, shirt up and thrown out of her frame somewhere into her apartment, her bra following soon after. You can feel the heat radiating off her legs and the cold plug in her ass. “Wanna hear me say how much I’ve wanted your dick?”

“I told you mine.” You slide a hand up to one of her tits. “Tell me yours.”

Her grin’s turned into this lewd smirk. Combine that with a bite of her lower lip, and you might as well forget about what you asked at this point.

“Remember that bachelorette party,” She’s edging herself with your cock now, toys all but forgotten. ”When you came to pick me up after we got in trouble with the club. That’s how long I’ve wanted you.”

She’s on a roll, going over all the times she’s gotten wet to the thought of you. The wedding, the after party, every night, to right fucking now. She hasn’t stopped rubbing her folds—like you haven’t been groping her tits—cock in between as she starts to lose herself one more time to the pleasure.

“Watching me fuck myself, having me suck your cock–” Her eyes are fluttering shut, the utter perversion of her words taking over the both of you, pouring gasoline into the already raging inferno of your libidos. “You could dick me down right fucking now and I’d thank you for it.”

Fuck it, you’ve heard, seen, and felt enough.

You grab her by the waist and lift her like she’s another damn box to unpack, and push into her in one smooth thrust. You’re both gasping at the sensation, her arms wrapping around your neck, yours around her hips.

“So much better than my toys.” She sighs out, finally getting what she wants. What you both want. “You’re fucking throbbing.”

“And you’re so fucking tight.” It’s unbelievable how true those words are, gripping you so snug every movement makes her squeeze you oh so harder. She’s had that dildo inside her for so long that it made fucking her all the more easier, and all the more better. You slither a hand down to have a feel of her ass, giving it a little pinch before you start to lift her up and down your length.

Her moans ring out in your ear alongside the kisses down your neck as you bounce her on your cock as if she’s your sex toy now. She’s not idle at all however, hands tugging your hair, her hips rolling in your palms, tits pressing up against your chest.

“S-Shit, you’re the best.” She gasps, needy pants airing out straight into your eardrums. “Don’t think I’ll ever go back to my toys after having this dick all to myself.”

“What makes you think I’m yours, Yuls–”

“Shut up, you fucking dummy.” She cuts you off, straightening up before bottoming herself down, taking your entire length. “Thought about this for weeks. Got myself off at the thought of riding you.”

“I know you’ve thought about it too.” You can barely understand a word, her pussy almost suffocating you. “Fucking told me all about it, you dummy. And now you’re mine.”

She starts doing the repetitively damning motion of lifting herself up and slamming herself down on your cock. She was slow, enjoying the way you fill her up, taking every single inch of you before she rides back up again.

Her hands are still on your shoulders, staring right into the face that’s enjoying every small bit of Yuri’s doing. Every hip roll, every squeeze, every bounce; It is everything and more that you’ve thought about with her, and you are craving to have more of it.

You snap your hips up just as she comes back down, giving her ass a squeeze. The gasp she lets out when you do add a slap to the same cheek is like getting hooked up on drugs.

“And what does that make you, huh–” You’re grabbing onto both ass cheeks, keeping her steady as you take back control, setting a rough pace that makes her leave scratch marks on your shoulders. You catch glimpses of the cool metal of her butt plug on your fingers, still fitted so snugly inside of her ass.

“Wh-What do you think?” She retorts amidst the cries of bliss that you’ve caused.

“Say it.” A hand creeps down to the metal, giving it a tug before placing it back in. The guttural moan that comes echoing into the room makes your cock throb harder inside her, as if it wasn’t already throbbing enough for her.

“N-No–” She’s lost all control of her body, surrendering it to the pleasure she’s feeling yet she’s still putting up a front to you. Pretending that she hasn’t when you both know she already has.

“Say it, you brat.” Another slap to her ass before the both of you pause.

Yuri stares. Gives you that look you’ve seen a million times by now. Her entire body’s sweating, hair matted to her face, even with the cool blow of the AC. The playful glint in her eyes that never seems to leave, and you can’t help but be lost in them for just a moment.

And utters two words. Two words that caused you to come right down to reality, and snap.

“Make me.”

Your grip moves to her waist, hard, enough to leave marks on them as you start to pound into her needy cunt, as if you want her to regret ever saying those words.

She won’t, and she never will. Doesn’t mean you won’t try.

“Oh my god–” Her hand braces itself onto her couch, absolutely ruined by what you two have done to it. “Give me more, fucking wreck me–”

You don’t stop. Make her perverse moans turn into desperate gasps in the air. Turn her body into mush in your hands as you do in fact, wreck her pussy for anything and anyone else.

Fuck her till she has tears in her eyes from how good she’s taking you. Until her toes go numb from all the curling. Until she can’t take it anymore. Until she begs.

“Say it.” It’s a mantra you’ve repeated all throughout. Everytime you fuck her so close to cumming before you stop, slow down, whatever it took to keep her from reaching that high.

And she’ll keep denying it. Keep saying all these different ways to tell you no and you’ll keep forcing it out of her. Keep fucking it out of her.

It’s a game. Some fucked up, depraved version of an unstoppable force meeting an immovable object. Neither of you want to lose, but the both of you oh so want to win.

So you start cheating.

Your mouth moves to her chest, taking in one of her nipples, twirling the nub over and under your tongue and giving it a messy suck. You can taste the sweat off of her, that surprised gasp ringing in your ear when you give her a bite.

“Yes, fuck–” She moans, hands wrapping around your neck, mixing through your hair as she leans further into your mouth, keeping you locked in her entire frame. You’re hammering into her harder, the couch protesting in silence at the stress it’s received today. “I’m so close, please, please–”

You murmur those two words, the repetition breaking her down, sending the vibrations straight into her chest with a swipe of your tongue over a bud before clamping back down to suck on her tit.

Your other hand isn’t idle, dipping down low between her legs, your hand getting a coating of her juices before you bring it back to her plug, using it against her. Pushing, pulling, teasing her tight, delectable ass.

You repeat those two words one last time, reveling in the fact that you’re ruining her for everything else, just like she said you would. Feel her legs start to tremble, waist start to shake, face start to get a rosy hue from all the teasing. All the fucking.

“Please, please keep going, I-I’ll say it, just–” She’s pleading, demanding, begging, for you to finish what you’ve started. “Just make me cum!”

“Swear it.” You’re making her work for it, pushing that plug all the way in to her ass, making her take every inch of the plug as you fuck her into her much needed orgasm.

You only need her to speak the words you’ve been wanting, no, needing to hear into existence, and you’ll give her what she wants. What her body is naturally telling her to do.

Yet she’s lost all manner of speaking, syllables coming out as broken moans because you’re not giving her a chance to rest. The heat of her pants brushes your face when she brings you up from her chest to meet her gaze. Yuri lets out this silly drunk chuckle, before her lips crash into yours.

It’s needy, it’s soft, it’s messy, it’s her. It’s a way of agreement, and you respond with fervor. Tongues meld, grips tighten around each other’s bodies, an urge to take everything this brat of a woman in your lap is giving you rising deep within your chest.

You accept it, all of it, and you return it in earnest by finally giving her what she wants.

You all but rip the buttplug out of her ass at the same time you bottom into her, and she’s reached that high she’s been denied for so long.

Yuri seizes up, abruptly pulling away from your lips as her jaw slackens, back arching as a silent scream is frozen on her features before she starts to shake, jerk, convulse everywhere. Her thighs, her chest, her pussy. She’s gushing, spilling herself all over your cock, the couch, the floor, and you’re left close to your own end.

Yet you pepper her neck with kisses, holding her as she trashes about on your lap. Give your entire focus on her, one of the most beautiful things you’ve seen, and the moans and whimpers that followed were so…fuck.

In that moment all you know is her, completely enraptured by the view of her being undone. Let her break, and watch her be remade. Her teary eyes return back to you, and she regains her bearings with a cup of your cheeks.

“Yeah,” She lets out a weak laugh, leaning in to press her forehead to yours. “Definitely the best.”

She leans in, pecking your lips. Then another, and another, until she’s showering you with them. She’s following it up with these giggles that sounded suspicious.

“Give you my spare key if you give me yours.” She whispers after leaving a kiss on your cheek. It’s a sign of an unspoken promise between you two. One you wholeheartedly agree to.

“If it’s an excuse to spend more time with you,” You reply, thumbs circling her hips. “Then it’s a deal.”

“Like you would say no after this.” Yuri laughs, before a flicker of realization crosses her face, followed by a short roll of her hip that makes your cock jump inside her. “You haven’t cum yet.”

“Close.” You groan, fingers tightening around her hips, head lolling to the sofa back. “Really close.”

“You gonna cum inside me?” You can see the perverted amusement twinkling in her eyes, lips turning into a smirk. “Make me swallow your thick cum? Maybe cum in my ass. You would, wouldn’t you, perv.”

“Christ, Yuri–”

“You’d cum on my face though, right?” She’s given you all these options but the brat’s already decided where you would cum. “Shut me up with that cock, make me choke on it, fuck my face till you burst–”

You’re not going to fall for it. Not gonna pull her off of you and get her down on her knees and cum all over her—the thought makes your cock twitch—when her pussy’s pulsing around your length, trying to milk you of your cum. You feel like you’d cum when you pull out anyway, and she would probably consider that a waste.

So you grab her hips and flip her on her back, pull her legs up to her chest, and give her another sloppy kiss. She moans into it, even as you shove your tongue down her throat just to get her to stop talking. You didn’t even realize that you'd placed your hand on her neck when you pull away.

“Just shut up and get fucked, Yuls.”

You give her throat a squeeze, firm enough to make her gasp, make her eyes blow out and this shit-eating grin forms as you slam into her, fast and rough, with no regard for her at all this time.

“That’s it.” She’s hooked her arms around her legs, keeping them upright for you, giving you all the leverage in the world to fuck her into the sofa. “Use me as your toy, make yourself cum. Fuck it all inside me, I’ll take it, I promise I’ll take all of it for you–”

“I said shut up.” You clamp down harder on her neck, feeling the vibrations of her gullet as she moans into every harsh thrust. Her walls are clenching around you, drowning you in her juices, making it so much easier to drive your hips down harder, urging you to flood her with your cum.

Yuri’s fucking you up with your eyes too. Her eyes are starting to roll back, jaw gaping in struggling sobs, perky tits swaying at every movement, a desire to slap the flesh stirring deep within you.

But you can’t. Not when you’re so close to filling her up with your cum. Your hips get punchier, unfocused. Keep hitting that spot that gets you dizzy from how tight and wet and amazing she feels, taking the hand out of her neck in favor of pressing down on her legs.

She’s almost folded in half, but she’s taking your cock so well, her wails burrowing the slaps of wet flesh against each other as she experiences another orgasm, and the last few thrusts makes your entire body tense up and you finally let go.

Every spurt felt larger than the last; Each rope of cum being unloaded deep inside her. The pleasure was immense, the feeling of filling her up seemed endless, giving her deep thrusts as if you wanted to fuck the cum deeper.

You don’t think you can ever go back to your hands after this.

You’ve collapsed on top of her, completely spent as you move your arms to rest on each side of her face, brushing a stray strand.

“So much…” She mutters, glassy eyes looking up at you, wrapping her arms around your nape. “It feels so good.”

Ditto, is all you can muster up, too tired to move a muscle. You can’t help but stare at her. The matted hair, the drool on her chin, the sweat of her skin, and she’s positively glowing after being wrecked.

She presses a kiss on your forehead, before dropping back down on the couch. “You’re helping me clean this up.”

“Anything for you, Yuls.” You blurt it out without thinking, and the giggle you hear makes you smile.

“Dummy.” She utters, giving you a small peck on the lips before pushing you up. “Come on, get up. I need to make dinner.”

“I thought I wouldn’t be getting free food anymore.” You chuckle, sliding yourself free from her. The both of you let out differing versions of disappointment in your mouths—hums, moans, whines, groans.

“I’m hungry.” Is all she needs to say. “But we both need a shower first.”

“Is that an invitation?”

“No.” She denies, pouts, thinks, then smiles. “Maybe after dinner.”

#jo yuri #jo yuri smut #yuri smut #kpop smut #izone smut

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shy-writer-999 · 9 months ago

Note

AHOY can i humbly request op men hcs for when they accidentally cum too early (monster trio + ace sabo law and kid) if you so desire 🤲

i got a couple requests about this same idea and i am so happy to oblige!! (afab reader) please note there are a handful of instances of "girl" being used in dirty talk! (´ ᴗ｀✿)

ZORO

He’s buried deep inside of you when he cums on accident.

He can’t help it, you’re just too wet and hot for him—he underestimated how close he was to cumming.

You’re both sitting up and you’re straddling him with your legs wrapped around him. Every time he fucks up into you, his tip nudges on your g-spot.

The dirty noises you make are what really drive him crazy.

Every time you say, “fuck Zoro,” or “feels so good, Zoro” his cock twinges—he can only take so much.

One particularly deep thrust and he’s convulsing and shuddering.

He can’t even get out a warning, he just explodes inside of you with a deep groan.

“Zoro, did you just cum? What the fuck”

“’m sorry babe”

His cum is leaking out of your cunt and you’re pouting because you were really looking forward to cumming on his cock.

“I wanted it, Zoro” >:(

He pulls out of you, and you whimper at the emptiness.

“I’ll make it up to you” he purrs in your ear, and you get goosebumps.

He picks you up and puts you on your back on the bed. He scoots down between your thighs and starts to fuck his cum back into you with his fingers.

“Does that feel good, baby?”

“Do you like it when I finger fuck you? You like how my fingers feel inside of you?”

You quickly become a fucked-out mess. He knows how to use his hands, that’s for sure.

He admires the cum seeping out of your entrance that he shoves back in with his fingers—it adds so much lubrication, and the idea that your wetness and his cum combined are being stuffed back inside of you gets him hard (again).

“Cum on my fingers, baby, juuusttt like that.”

SANJI

You’re riding him cowgirl-style when he cums inside you too early.

His hands are on your hips and he’s looking up at you, mesmerized by the way you roll your hips on his cock and by the way your tits bounce as you grind back and forth.

He’s lost in pleasure. Heat builds inside of him and every time you moan his name so sweetly, he gets closer to letting go.

Unexpectedly, his orgasm crashes on him like some huge wave, white-hot and crushing.

He bucks his cock up into you and his grip tightens on your hips, holding you in place.

He can feel your walls pulse around him, and you try to keep fucking him, not realizing what just happened—you’re confused at the fact that he’s making you stay still.

When you inspect his face further, he’s making that face, the face he makes when he orgasms.

His brows are pinched together, his eyes are closed, and his mouth is open. He’s making the cutest panting sounds and lets out the occasional muted whine.

“Fuck, my love, sorry”

“Sanji, did you just cum?”

“Mmmhmmm sweetheart, my bad”

He takes a couple moments more, surrendering to the last ripples of pleasure from his orgasm

“Just give me one minute and I’ll go for round two, gorgeous.”

His eyes are glossy, his cheeks are flushed, and his hair is ruffled—he looks messy, and it emphasizes how hot he is.

You make the move to pull off his cock, but his hands hold you in place.

“Hold on, angel, I’ll be ready in just a second.”

You huff and sigh, sitting there with his cock in you. It does feel good so there’s not much to complain about. Also, his refractory period is insane; he can go round after round, and he never fails to make you orgasm multiple times.

He’s like a rabid animal for your pleasure and he’ll do anything to get more.

After a few minutes, he’s ready to go again.

“Alright darling, keep riding me. Wanna feel you cum on my cock now.”

LUFFY

Luffy is fucking your doggy style with his chest pressing on your back.

His arms are wrapped around your waist and he’s fucking you hard and fast.

You have no clue what’s going on other than that Luffy is railing you into oblivion.

He’s literally feral and could fuck you for hours (and he does)

After so much toe-curling pleasure being extracted for your core, you’re sweaty, sticky, and dripping with own arousal.

There’s a small puddle underneath where he’s fucking you—drops of your own juices that have seeped downwards.

You can hardly talk at this point, the only word you can force out is his name “Luffy.”

In an instant he cums all over your insides, painting your insides white. It’s so much cum that it oozes out of your entrance and onto the base of his cock.

He knew that he shouldn’t have, but the orgasm had hit him like a train.

“Fuckkkk” he groans and pulls out of you.

“Luffy, did you just cum?” You’re annoyed because you had been so so close to orgasming.

“Yep” He’s nonchalant about it.

He doesn’t think it was such a big deal, but he knows that he should and will make you cum. He always does, so it’s no biggie if he released too early on this one. No matter what happens you will be more than satisfied.

So, he fingers you for a while until he can go again, then he fucks you so hard you see stars.

LAW

When he’s not making sweet love to you, he has a really dirty mouth.

He lets it all out shamelessly.

“Poor little thing. You need me to fix you up?”

His voice is deep and sounds like honey, with a sprinkle of smugness

He’d like you to beg him for it, he gets off on the idea that you need his cock so much you resort to being pathetic and whining for it.

“Yeah, you want my cock that badly? You wanna cum on my cock like a good girl?”

He’d fuck you prone bone and rub your clit at the same time, and when he gets tired of that he makes you ride him reverse cowgirl.

He is an ass man, there’s no question about it.

He’d grab fistfuls of your ass as he watches himself slide in and out of you.

As you spasm around his girthy cock, he starts feeling like he’s going to lose control.

He’d groan and growl at you to keep going, “ride it just like that and don’t stop.”

He’d throw in the occasional pet name—they only make an appearance in bed.

He’d praise you and tell you that you’re “doing such a good job for me, sweetheart, pussy feels like it’s made for me.”

Out of the blue, he’s cumming. He didn’t realize that he was at that point and he’s surprised.

“Fuck, fuck, I’m cumming, fuck.”

He loves to cum in you, but he pulls out at the last second and cums on your ass.

“Lawww,” you whine. “Wanted to cum on your cock. Why’d you pull out?”

He knows that he came far too early and he’s pretty embarrassed about it, he apologizes once but won’t say more than that.

His spur of the moment thinking is that if he pulled out before you orgasmed, he can eat you out until you cum on his tongue. He’s not a huge fan of a mouthful of his own cum so he had to prevent that.

When he goes down on you, he makes a real mess until his face and your thighs are covered in your juices.

He fingers you at the same time and alternates between licking your clit and fucking you with his tongue.

And boy, does he deliver. He eats you out so well that your orgasm is better than what it would have been if you came on his cock.

Your eyes roll back in your head, and you grab and pull on his hair so hard it hurts.

“All better now?”

ACE

Ace has you in a mating press, fucking you as deep as he can.

He has one of your thighs pushed up, his fingers are digging into your supple skin.

As he grunts out sweet things, he looks so damn hot.

His muscles are rippling, his hair is really messed up, and his freckles are scrunching up.

He just won’t shut up during sex, he knows you love hearing him.

“You’re so gorgeous with my cock in you.”

“Do you like how my cock feels, pretty girl?”

“So wet for me, sweetheart”

“Your cunt is so tight for me, beautiful, you’re doing such a good job.”

“Want you to cream on my cock, baby, let it all out for me.”

Before you actually can cream on his cock, the pace of his hips becomes frenzied and haphazard.

He’s groaning suspiciously deep and desperately—you wonder, is he about to cum?

He is, in fact, about to cum.

He gets so carried away by how your walls are squeezing him and how pretty your face looks that he shoots cum inside of you unexpectedly.

His hips come to a stop and he almost collapses on top of you.

“Fuck, babe, I’m so sorry, came too early” he’s pouting, you can tell he really is sorry.

You tell him it’s ok but he knows how badly you needed it.

“Let me make it up to you” he kisses your cheeks and forehead and then pulls out of you.

He goes to grab your vibrator and comes back.

Ace spreads your legs on the bed and one of his hands comes to hold your thigh down for better access.

He turns on the vibrator’s pulse setting and holds it up to your clit, you yelp in response.

"Fuck, Ace, feels so good” you keen his name as the vibrator’s pulses send zaps of electric pleasure to your core.

He starts to finger fuck you and you get to the point of orgasm rapidly.

“You’re doing such a good job, princess, just a little bit more.”

“Cum on my fingers, darling.”

You cum and gush all over his fingers.

Afterwards he gives you kisses and promises he’ll try his best not to cum too early next time.

SABO

Okay, so I DO want to write about Sabo but I fear I don’t know his personality much since he hasn’t reappeared where I’m at in the anime—it will only be in a few episodes though, I think! So I’m going to do my best guesses based on what I know about him. From my understanding he’s a little freak of a man, and by that I mean he’s HOT and I want him to be freaky in bed… Also he seems polite. AM I tripping or does it seem like he’d be the type to do love bites during sex and have a really dirty mouth? And he could get a little possessive…

Am I just projecting? … Probably. So here’s what I came up with:

He’s fucking you in missionary when he cums too early.

He’s in the middle of saying something really nasty.

One of his hands is braced next to your head and the other reaches down to rub circles on your clit.

When your hips jerk up in response, he has a little smirk.

“Does that feel good? You like it when I touch your clit?”

Because of his position, he gets a really deep angle, fucking down and into you.

He watches your face the whole time and adjusts his movements based on how much you moan or how contorted your face is with pleasure.

“Fuccckkkkk, you’re taking it so good.”

He adjusts his strokes to be as fast as they can, and when your fingernails start digging into his skin the pain pushes him over the edge (he likes it)

When he cums too early, he’s pretty dramatic about it.

Just shoots his cum inside of you with heaving breaths and the cutest O-face.

He apologizes a lot afterwards and will do anything you ask him to, so he can make up for it.

---

Also aaaghhhhh I wanna feed the kid lovers so bad but I fear I am just not attracted to him so I shan’t write for him (well, not right now at least…)

that's all for this one!! don't be shy to send over some pseudo-kinktober requests, check my masterlist for the info or just send over whatever pops into ur head lol.

#one piece smut #one piece x reader #one piece headcanons #zoro smut #luffy smut #sanji smut #ace smut #law smut #zoro x reader #luffy x reader #trafalgar law smut #trafalgar law x reader #sanji x reader #one piece x you #portgas d ace smut #portgas d ace x reader

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lust4nero · 10 days ago

Text

SWEAT FOR ME! ─ ✦.ᐟ

summary ✦ the piling and constant number of missions that come through his doors has left Dante unable to look after himself and neglect his needs, which eventually hits him especially hard one night. luckily, he has his fiancé to take care of it.

tags ✦ p in v, MDNI, not beta read, light cursing, riding, masturbation (m!), dante gets caught jerking off and is turned on by it

wordcount ✦ 1.9k

Mission after mission that came through the wooden doors of the Devil May Cry building left him little to no time to look after himself, hopping from one city to another to take care of some demons. Sure, they were nothing he couldn’t handle but too many all at once while barely having time to recuperate can take a toll on him despite being a seasoned demon hunter. Nero and Nico were running the remote Devil May Cry branch just fine, excellently in fact, so it’s not like Dante had to work thrice as hard in order to keep the lights on and the water going; in short, your fiancé is simply too hard-working for his own good.

Eventually, you hear the distant yet familiar thrum of Nico’s van followed by some conversing voices. Nero heads in first, a hand perched on Kyrie’s waist, followed by Vergil alongside his brother; unlike the others, Dante’s a lot less chatty, especially with the exhaustion evident in his eyes. In true younger sibling fashion, he’s still irritating Vergil but not exerting a hundred percent of his effort into effectively getting Vergil to fall to his ragebait. Whilst everyone makes a beeline for the peeling living room couch, the legendary devil hunter rushes to your arms.

“Hey baby.” His words come out the slightest bit muffled as his stubbly cheek is pressed against your shoulder.

“Hey,” you respond. “Long week, hasn’t it?”

He affirms with a lazy hum, not bothering to use his brain now that he’s home. A deep groan rumbles from the depths of his chest as you give him his favorite head scratches, most of his weight now pressing against.

“Feels nice?” You ask and he nods, eyes damn near closing as all the exhaustion from fighting and travel of the past weeks hits him like a ton of bricks.

“How about you freshen up and I’ll follow you later? I’ll just tell the others we’ll go to bed early.”

He mumbles something, wrapping his strong arms around your waist and hugging you like a stuffed animal. Eventually, he lets up and quietly makes his way to your en suite bathroom.

Kyrie breaks away from the group to fetch herself a glass of water from the kitchen and you take the chance to talk to her.

“In case the others are wondering, Dante and I are going to bed early. He can barely keep his eyes open.”

The girl nods, giving you an understanding smile. “Sure! I can tell he needs that rest, the poor man was out cold as soon as we got back in the van. I’m pretty sure Nico drove on the curb at one point and ran over a cone but he didn’t wake up from all the jostling.”

Your eyes widen; Dante was the type to wake up from something as faint as the sound of the window gently rattling because of wind. He was never able to sleep deeply, always kept up by the slightest of noises or the haunting flashbacks of his troubled childhood.

“That’s new, he’s never really the type to sleep through anything like that. Thanks for telling me, Kyrie, and have a good night.”

Right after she greets you ‘good night’ as well, you head up as a yawn escapes your lips with a soft groan.

By the time you’re upstairs, he’s all clean and fast asleep on his side of the bed. The silence of the room is occasionally interrupted by his snores, not too loud but not exactly muted either. The longer you look at his snoozing form, the more you feel slumber’s somnolent lullaby lull you to drowsiness. Tired yourself, you freshen up right before joining him in bed.

One thing about summers that Dante hates is the irritating humidity and heat that drags on until nightfall; he already runs warm like a half-demon heater and the summer intensity just makes it unbearable for him. Unfortunately for him, his deep sleep is interrupted by the uncomfortable feeling of blankets sticking to his sweat-dampened skin. He switches positions, trying to get comfortable, but the chafe of his boxers jolts his body in sensitivity and wrings a whimper out of him. Peeling the too-warm blanket from his lower half, Dante looks down and sees the groin of his garment tented by a raging hard-on.

“Fuck,” he hisses. He’s too tired but a growing need for relief wrestles against his desire to fall back asleep. You’re fast asleep and facing away from him, he can’t possibly wake you up just to fuck and especially when you look so peaceful.

Electing to ignore his problem, he inches closer to you and snuggles up to hold you while he attempts to find sleep once more. How can he drift back asleep and will for the flames of desire to extinguish when your ass looks so delectable in those flimsy sleep shorts?

Oblivious to his problem, you move ever so slightly in your sleep and brush up against his straining boner.

“S-Shit,” he shakily breathes as he shuts his eyes. “Not the time, bud.”

This won’t do, he thinks to himself. Pulling away from you, his hands travel to his waistband and tug it down just below his ass. Carefully, calloused palms rub the insides of his thighs before coming to squeeze around his needy length.

“A-Ah– shit…–”

Once he has his breathing controlled, he thumbs over his drooling slit before gliding his tunneled hands down to the base. He temporarily stops when he knows he’s about to get noisy, unwilling to disrupt your beauty rest; such a gentleman.

Eventually, he picks up the pace and thrusts up into his hands; it feels so good and he’s right at the edge but it would’ve been better if he was thrusting in and out of your wet heat.

“T-This would’ve been– mmh– better if we had sex– hah–”

He’s right there, but you wake up from all the commotion at your right side.

“Dante? Is that you?”

He freezes, though his grip never loosens around his cock; in fact, getting caught just escalated the intensity of arousal that rushed through his veins.

“Yeah baby, it’s just me.” His voice is strained and ever so slightly out of breath. “Don’t worry, get back to sleep.”

You don’t quite like the breathiness and urgency in his voice, lacking it’s usual cockiness that usually still shines through even when he’s halfway through sleep and consciousness. In a swift movement, you sit up and peel the blankets.

The move startles Dante, who wasn’t fast enough to withdraw his hand from his dick and is now caught in such a promiscuous act. An embarrassed, yet oh-so turned on, flash of warmth surges over his body and manifests on his cheek as a reddened flush. His desire, the overwhelming need to fuck, is evident in his lidded eyes and frankly, the passion spreads like wildfire and sets you ablaze. Suddenly the evening heat is too unbearable for clothes, ridding your lower half of your sleep shorts before sitting on top of his hard-on in just your panties.

“Why didn’t you wake me up?” You whisper as you start to grind against him. He groans, large hands settling on your waist.

“Didn’t wanna disturb you,” Dante mumbles. “You looked too peaceful.”

You take his face into your hands, feeling the tickly prickle of his white stubble on your palms, before locking lips in a manner far from composed; the liplock is all spit, whines, and tongue, something reminiscent of a passionate porn flick.

“Grind on me harder,” the white-haired half-demon hissed as he temporarily breaks away from the fiery kiss.

Guiding you along, you grind and bounce strong enough to start making the bed squeak. Dante’s getting more vocal beneath you, silencing himself by pressing wet kisses or hickeys into your skin. The sensitivity is high for you as well, the drenched gusset of your panties allowing for an easier glide along his exposed length. Unlike you, who’s still chasing your high, your fiance is even more sensitive now that you’ve unintentionally edged him moments ago.

“S-Stop,” Dante huffs. You look at him curiously but he doesn’t notice, focused on sliding your panties down before throwing it off to the corner of the room.

“At least you learned not to tear it off now,” you joke. Dante, when crazed and impatient for your tight pussy, has a tendency to rip your panties instead of sliding it off. Not that it overly bothers you, you just can’t keep going back to the lingerie shop and buying new ones; they aren’t exactly cheap.

Now that you’re naked from the waist down, you line him up with yourself and start to sink down.

“I’d love to eat that pussy and feel you gush on my face but I need you on me more,” he pants.

You whined as the head filled you up first, joining his growls in filling the silence.

“F-Fuck, can never get used to how big you are Dante,” you whimper. His stubble tickles against your cheek, followed by a gentle nip to your jaw followed by light kisses.

“Yet you always do so good f’me, sugar. C’mon, just a little more.”

You finally sit on him, cock all the way in. After taking a moment to properly adjust, you begin rolling your hips as your mouth at his earlobe.

“So good,” he praises as he meets your ass, pelvis thrusting up in search of your heat with each bounce. “Sooo fucking good, baby– oh shit–!”

He coos, dragging you down harsher to stuff you completely full. Eventually, your thighs start to give out but you still want to reach that high. Noticing you slow down, Dante halts his ramming for a moment to check on you.

“You gettin’ tired, baby?”

“Yeah,” you breathe. “Still wanna ride though.”

He smiles, pressing a sloppy kiss to the corner of your lip.

“Let me take over, hm?”

He plunges the rest of his cock back in at full speed, not bothering to increase the speed gradually with each powerful thrust. Dante rabbits and rams hard, wringing squeaks and sexed up squeals from you.

“C-Coming–!” you repeatedly murmur in his ear, nails digging into the muscles of his pale back.

“Me too baby, me too. C’mon, you can do it– gush around my cock baby,” he coos.

He plants his feet into the mattress for the last of his thrusts, keeping you pressed tight against his pelvis. You cry out, walls pulsating erratically around his sensitive cock as you lurch forward and tightly enclose your arms around his neck.

He leans back into the headboard, the cool metal a relief that contrasts his warm and sweat-dampened skin.

“Fuck,” you groan. “Missed this.”

He laughs, a hand coming up to stroke your hair. “Yeah, I did too.”

“This is why you have to trust Devil May Cry to your brother and Nero sometimes,” you point out. To further prove your point, you pull away from hugging him and look at him directly into his icicle-colored pupils.

“I’m not saying you should quit by the way, I just want you to take a breather and stop overworking yourself. You’re not alone anymore, Dante, we got you. Let yourself rest sometimes.”

Dante hates that he worries you with how frequent he’s gone, leaving you alone and lacking any attention from him. With a soft smile, he tucks your hair behind your ear and swears that he’ll do better as a fiance.

“Okay, I promise, honey. Now, how does sleep sound? I’m pretty tired now, not gonna lie.”

[ many thanks to the anon who sent a request, hopefully it lived up to your expectations! ]

#omi.resources #devil may cry #dante sparda #dante devil may cry #dmc dante #dante dmc #dante sparda smut #dmc #dante x reader #dante x reader smut #dmc x reader #dante x you #dante sparda x reader #devil may cry x reader

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xoxolaw · 1 month ago

Note

I loveee your geom seongje fics so much!!! What about reader who hates smoking because either she doesn’t like it orr has breathing problems (you pickk) and seongje has an unspoken rule in the union that if someone smokes within 6ft of reader they’ll get…beaten up 🤗🤗

-🦕

+ SIX FEET OF SMOKE AND SILENCE

in which seong-je makes a rule in union to not smoke within six feet of his girlfriend, only for him to not follow it.

Geum Seong-je x reader

slight angst, fluff

Everyone in the Union knew one rule without needing it posted on a wall or barked across the courtyard:

No one smoked within six feet of Seong-je’s girlfriend.

There was no memo. No warning. But the message spread fast after one poor bastard lit up too close to her during lunch break behind the gym. He hadn’t even finished his first puff before he was on the floor, coughing blood and gasping through a broken nose. Seong-je didn’t say a word after. He just stepped over the guy, lit his own cigarette, and leaned back against the wall like nothing happened.

Since then, the six-foot rule was sacred.

She hated smoking. The smell. The burn. The heavy feeling it left in the air. It clung to her skin when she walked through the old wing where delinquents spent their time. And Seong-je—for all his stubborn chaos—smoked like it kept his pulse steady.

She didn’t ask him to quit. That wasn’t her way. But he knew how she felt. She never looked away from the truth, and when she wrinkled her nose or shifted just slightly away, he knew.

Today, the courtyard was empty, save for them.

She’d been looking for him, half-pissed, half-worried, when she found him under the awning behind the old practice rooms. A familiar white stick between his fingers, the faint hiss of fire at the tip.

He was already mid-drag when he looked up and froze.

Their eyes locked.

She didn’t speak. Just walked forward. Each step deliberate.

And Seong-je, for once, didn’t smirk.

The cigarette dangled loosely from his fingers, smoke curling lazily up like it wasn’t in trouble.

She stopped three feet from him.

He exhaled slowly. "I thought you were in the main hall."

She crossed her arms. "Didn’t realize that changed your personal radius."

He stared at her for a beat. Then, with a quiet breath, he flicked the cigarette to the ground and ground it beneath his boot. No dramatic sigh, no annoyed glare. Just a muted act of surrender.

She blinked. That…was new.

"You mad?" he asked, watching her expression closely.

She tilted her head. "You made a whole rule for me, Seong-je. But you can't follow it yourself?"

"That rule’s for everyone else," he replied, deadpan. "I make exceptions for myself."

She narrowed her eyes.

He hesitated.

Then his voice softened. "But I wasn’t thinking. That’s on me."

Silence stretched.

It wasn’t just about the cigarette. Not really. It was about the things that built up over time. How he always took care of her in his own violent, twisted way. How he respected her space, protected her name, and never let the world touch her with dirtied hands.

But still smoked like it didn’t matter.

"Why do you need it so badly?" she asked, arms still folded, but her voice quieter now.

His lips parted. He looked away, tongue running along his inner cheek.

"It shuts things up in my head," he said eventually. "Gives me something to do with my hands when I’m not picking fights."

A beat passed.

"You always seem calmer when I'm around."

He looked back at her.

"I am."

The silence grew thicker. Tension slipped in between them like static.

She stepped closer. Two feet now.

He didn’t move.

"Then maybe you don’t need it," she murmured.

His breath caught. Not from the words. From how close she was now. How she tilted her chin up, how the wind caught strands of her hair and lifted them between them like whispers.

"Maybe," he said, voice low. "But habits die hard."

Her eyes flicked down to his fingers—still twitching slightly, like they missed the cigarette already.

Then she did something that made him pause.

She reached into his pocket and pulled out the pack herself.

Seong-je blinked. "What are you doing?"

"Testing a theory."

She pulled one cigarette out, then held it up between her fingers like she’d seen him do a hundred times.

"You hate smoking," he said, stepping closer. Just inches now.

"I do."

"Then why?"

"Because maybe if you see me do it, you’ll stop."

He stared at her. Hard.

She was bluffing. He knew it. But then—

She raised the cigarette to her lips.

His hand shot out.

But instead of pulling it away, he held it for her. Between his fingers. Just like he always did.

"This is how you hold it," he murmured. His voice dropped, the space between them now non-existent.

His girlfriend didn’t move.

He brought the cigarette to her lips. She looked at him, stubborn but nervous. The kind of nervous she never let anyone see.

He lit it.

"Now inhale—slow. Then let it sit for a second. Then breathe it out."

She tried.

And immediately coughed, turning away, shoulders shaking.

He chuckled, low and smug. "Yeah, that tracks."

She glared at him with watery eyes. "Asshole."

"You tried to play cool. That’s on you."

She shoved him, but it was half-hearted. He caught her wrist.

"You hate it, don’t you?"

She didn’t answer.

His fingers curled around hers gently. "Don’t do that again."

"Then stop making me worry."

They stared at each other.

And something cracked open.

He raised her hand still holding the cigarette. Took it back between his fingers. Then brought it to his own lips.

Smoked.

Exhaled away from her.

Then tossed it aside.

He leaned in, close enough that she could smell the smoke clinging to him and feel the heat of his breath.

"I’ll quit."

She blinked.

"But only if you keep looking at me like that."

She shoved him again. He caught her around the waist this time.

Pulled her close.

"You really want me to stop?"

She nodded. Small. Honest.

He lowered his head, lips brushing her ear. "Then kiss me. And mean it."

Her breath hitched. She hesitated.

Then she kissed him.

It wasn’t soft. It wasn’t perfect. But it was raw, honest, and more addicting than any nicotine high he’d ever chased.

When they broke apart, her forehead pressed to his, he smiled. Not the usual arrogant smirk. Something quieter.

"Guess I found a better habit."

And for once, the air between them was clean.

---

AUTHOR'S NOTE + MASTERLIST

I hope you enjoyed <33 I love how everyone's making requests!! Also in case anyone's wondering how I am so quick at doing the request 😭 The exam gaps are the best motivation to do anything other than studying lmao.

#geum seong je #geum seong je x reader #geum seongje x reader #weak hero class two #weak hero x reader #weak hero webtoon #wolf keum #fanfic

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biblicallyaccuratemeat · 5 months ago

Text

A Firm Hand

MDNI!!!

A/N: I posted this on ao3 a little bit ago, so I figure why not post it here too! Beta read by @teaflavoredwitch Bucky Barnes x female reader, past Steve Rogers x reader implied/referenced, cheating, alcohol, kind of dub con if you squint, p in v sex, dom!Bucky, protective Bucky, dirty talk, kitchen sex, spanking, fingering, drunk sex, size kink, friends to lovers, angst and porn, shamelessly self-indulgent

Word Count: 5.3k

Steve Rogers is a jackass.

Captain fucking America, mister cherry pie and morals, was a self-righteous prick. Bucky had never felt more pissed off at Steve in his one hundred plus years of living than he does right now. You curled up in his bed, bawling your eyes out and practically chugging some cheap magnum bottle of whiskey.

Steve, who apparently didn’t believe in too much of a good thing, when he decided to stick his patriotic dick in Sharon Carter of all people. Of course, you found out. Steve was a terrible liar despite having the balls to actually cheat on you. You don’t know why you immediately go to Bucky, but you do. In the year you’ve been dating Steve, you became rapidly closer with the former Winter Soldier. Perhaps it was the forced proximity, or maybe you were just kindred spirits.

Bucky, of course, falls for you. Hard and fast like an idiot. Forced to pine after his best friend’s girl as if his life wasn’t already a fucking sob story. Always the dutiful friend, listening to you vent about the pitfalls of your relationship with Steve and trying to offer sound advice. Bucky learns to tame the green eyed monster inside him, finding contentment as your friend and confidant.

When you show up on his doorstep at eight o’clock on a Saturday night, he knows Steve fucked up. He knows it without you even having to say a word, because he knew this would happen. He knew, on some level, that Steve didn’t deserve you. Not that Bucky deserved you either, god knows he was even less deserving. But you went to him, so that has to mean something, right?

The intensifying of your sobs pull Bucky out of his reverie, head snapping in your direction again. Some commercial blares on his shitty little TV in the corner of his bedroom, Even the Nights Are Better playing in the background on some allergy medicine ad.

“T-this was our song!” You wail, burying your face in a pillow as your body shudders with the force of your sobs. The bottle of whiskey remains clutched in your hand. If it weren’t for your inconsolable state, Bucky might’ve been impressed and slightly turned on at the way you chug the whiskey. A woman after his own heart.

Bucky grimaces, perched next to you, stock still, “Okay, dollface, I think that’s enough whiskey.”

He feels awkward and stilted, like his skin is on too fucking tight and the room is too warm. He feels way too self-aware, he’s tuned in to every little sniffle and hiccup.

Seriously, fuck Steve for this. Not only for breaking your heart, but also creating the perfect storm. You, vulnerable and drunk in his fucking bed of all places. A wet dream come to life, if he’s being honest.

He needs to get the whiskey from you. He practically has to pry it out of your hands, amber liquid sloshing inside the nearly empty bottle. Fuck. He should have cut you off way earlier. He grabs the remote, clicking the mute button, “Honey, let’s take some deep breaths, yeah?”

Bucky tries to smile reassuringly but it’s tight and stretches over his teeth in a weird way that makes him look more machine than man. You peer over the edge of the pillow smushed against your face, doe eyes blinking owlishly at him, “Deep breaths?” You echo, incredulously, “You want me to take deep breaths when I walk in on my boyfriend tongue deep in that blonde bitch? Are you fucking for real, Bucky?”

Bucky’s mouth opens and closes rapidly, like a fish out of water. He sure fucking feels like one, incredibly out of his depths. He’s not equipped for this, a tornado of hormones and heartbreak. His stupid silence somehow seems to agitate you even further, angelic features twisting and morphing through every stage of grief in a matter of seconds.

Your anguish quickly gives way to fury, chucking the pillow across the room, “Has he always been like this? Huh?”

Bucky blinks taken aback, “What? Steve?” He sighs, running a hand through shortly cropped hair, “No, doll, he hasn’t always been like this. I’ve known Steve since we were kids, and he’s never been a saint but he’s not usually an inconsiderate, lying, cheating asshole either.” Bucky’s voice is hard and contemptuous.

Bucky takes your dainty hand in his, squeezing reassuringly, “Hating Steve isn’t going to make this better. It’s not going to erase the pain he caused,” He pauses, pursing his lips as he tries to find the right words, “You gotta let yourself feel this, dollface. Feel the anger, feel the hurt, the betrayal. Don’t suppress it, because that’s just gonna make it fester.”

His jaw clenches, teeth grinding together. Bucky silently attempts to work through his own feelings on the matter. On one hand, his never wavering loyalty to Steve, his brother in arms and every sense of the word. On the other hand is you. Heartbroken, far too lovely for his comfort and the odd, delicate bond between you two. Bucky swallows, his mouth filled with a metallic taste as he fights down the ever growing urge to hunt Steve down and beat him within an inch of his life.

He realizes you’re staring at him, gaze hard, “Why didn’t you warn me?” You ask in a quiet, hollow tone that makes Bucky feel like his heart is going to shrivel up in his chest.

Running a hand down his face, Bucky huffs, “Warn you?” He echoes, “Honey, I… I didn’t know.” He implores, clenching his fists in his lap, “I swear to God, if I had known he was being such a fucking prick, I would’ve put a stop to it, I would’ve beaten the information out of him myself.”

“You didn’t know?!” You throw your hands up in the air, gesturing wildly, “You didn’t have a single fucking inkling? I don’t believe that for a second, Bucky,” You hiss, movements jerky and agitated as you tousle your hair, “You didn’t think to say, “Hey doll,”” You begin to mimic Bucky’s voice, “‘You’re about to date the goddamn devil!’”

Holding his hands up in a placating gesture, Bucky scoots back. Your accusation stings, hitting a nerve he hadn’t known was exposed, “Hey, hold on just a damn minute,” He says, his voice rising in defense, “I’m not fucking psychic, dollface. I knew Steve could be an inconsiderate ass sometimes, but I didn’t know he was straight up cheating on you.”

Bucky scoffs, a mixture of shock and anger coursing through his veins, “I’m not going to apologize for not knowing what my so-called best friend was up to behind your back. That’s not fucking fair.”

His gaze softens slightly, his voice lowering to a more conciliatory tone, “Listen, I’m sorry I didn’t see the signs earlier. I’m sorry you got hurt. But don’t think for a second that I would’ve ever encouraged you to be with someone who would treat you like this. You mean too damn much to me for that.”

You’re still pissed, of course. Feeling self-destructive, though Bucky’s heartfelt declaration hits deep. Your chest rises and falls rapidly, a feral kind of rage filling you, “Oh yeah? Well… you’re… You’re an ass!” You shout, a half-hearted insult. You weren’t really trying, you just wanted to burn bridges. You push yourself out of the bed, stomping out of the room. Slamming the door for good measure, the sound echoing through the apartment like a gunshot. Storming into the kitchen, you begin digging through Bucky’s sparse cabinets for more liquor.

Bucky stared after you, stunned and hurt by your somewhat childish outburst. Your accusations burned like salt in a fresh wound. He stood there for a moment, anger and confusion warring within him. Then, with a fierce scowl, he stalked after you, his long strides quickly closing the distance between his bedroom and the kitchen.

The floorboards creak under his heavy footsteps as he follows the path down the hallway. When he reaches the kitchen, he grabs the doorframe, leaning in. “Hey, wait a fucking minute.” He all but growls, his voice a deep, dangerous rumble. “I know you’re hurting, but you don’t get to just accuse me of being an ass and then stomp away like a fucking toddler.”

He steps further into the kitchen, a breath away from crowding you against the counter, “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you about Steve being a prick, but I won’t accept you throwing blame at me when I'm trying my goddamn hardest to be here for you!”

Bucky leans back against the counter, scoffing, “We both know you’re better than this, sweetheart. Don’t let Steve’s mistakes make you forget that. I’m not the enemy.”

You snatch a bottle of vodka out of the cabinet, there’s no more than a few sips left. You down it in one go, sighing tiredly, “I don’t need you to be here for me. I don’t need you to fix me, Bucky. I’m not some little dolly for you to glue back together. You don’t need to make your fucking amends with me.”

Bucky’s expression hardens, snatching the bottle from your hands, “Watch your fucking tone,” He whispers, cornering you against the counter. There’s a glimmer in his eyes, you see it. The Winter Soldier lurking in the back of his psyche. It sends a perverse thrill down your spine.

“I’m not trying to fix you. You’re not some damn doll, I know that. I’ve always known that.” He pauses, taking a deep breath, “I’m here as your friend, to listen, to support you. But I won’t allow you to take your anger out on me, honey.”

You’ve never been good at knowing when to quit, it’s never been your strong suit. Now is not an exception, you double down on your brattiness.

“Don’t tell me to watch my fucking tone, I’m not a child.” You hiss, scowling up at him. He towers over you, all muscle and man. Damn him for being so fucking tall, built like a skyscraper. You damn near have to be on your tiptoes at this point, it’s ridiculous.

He grasps your chin hard, cheeks smushing up and lips forced into a pout, “Watch it, little girl,” He murmurs lowly, licking his lips, “You can be mad. You can scream and shout and curse until you’re blue in the face. But you don’t get to talk to me like that.”

Those sapphire eyes flashed with a mixture of anger, frustration, and a hint of something else, something that made your insides feel molten and heady.

“I’ve taken a lot of shit for the people I love. I’ve been beaten, tortured, and turned into a fucking weapon. But damn if I’m going to stand here and take your anger when all I’m trying to do is be here for you.” Slowly, deliberately, he leans in closer until his breath is hot against your pursed lips, “I know you’re hurting. I know you’re angry. But I won’t let you push me away, dollface. I won’t let you be self-destructive.” His voice drops to a fervent whisper, “You fucking try me, sweetheart. I’ve dealt with terrorist threats and mad titans. Fuck, I’ve been a terrorist. You think a little thing like you is going to scare me off?”

Bucky’s hand snakes around to the back of your neck. You whirl around, the world spinning, and he pushes you face first into the hardwood. You all but shriek in surprise, eyes comically wide. Your left cheek squished on the cool flooring, shoulders pinned down. Your knees prop your ass up in the air, curving your spine into a sharp arch. He has you right where he wants you, submissively positioned. An offering, your perky backside up in the air invitingly. Your body betrays you, a fucking shiver of pleasure wracking through you. You can feel your cunt leaking eagerly at Bucky’s manhandling.

You wonder if he realizes the effect this is having on you. All thoughts of Steve and his betrayal fly from your mind as your pussy throbs in time with your rapid heartbeat. Shame and arousal burn your cheeks, you squeeze your eyes shut, trying to will away your body’s traitorous reaction.

This is Bucky. This is fucking Bucky. Steve’s best friend, your weird friend-ish acquaintance. You know him because of Steve. This is a bad idea, horrible. You need to put a stop to this immediately before you actually let him have his way with you on the kitchen floor. Because you’re heartbroken, you’re pissed, and you’re far wetter than you’ve been in months. You’re too vulnerable and fucked up, not to mention drunk to make a sound decision right now. And you know, you fucking know if Bucky asked to rail you within an inch of your life… You’d say yes.

So, “Bucky, uh,” You begin to protest meekly, all the fire and spit on your tongue moments ago evaporating.

The hand that is now pressing down in the middle of your back and pinning your sternum to the ground increases in pressure fractionally. A silent warning of the consequences of pushing back even further.

The words die on your tongue, you focus your gaze on a piece of lint by your face and huff.

But then, slowly, deliberately he brings his hand down on your upturned ass. Delivering a sharp smack that echoes through the room. A surprised shriek of indignation rips from your throat, equal parts horrified and aroused. The stinging pain radiates across your tender flesh, a stark contrast to the coolness of the floor beneath you. “What in the fuck are you doing?” You demand angrily, scowl deepening.

“Keep testing me, honey, and I’ll show you exactly what happens to bratty little girls who don’t listen,” Bucky punctuates his words with another sharp smack to your ass, watching as the flesh and fat jiggle and redden beneath his organic palm.

He drapes his muscular torso across your back, leaning over your bent form. His breath is hot against your ear, his body a heavy, unyielding weight pressing down on you. It’s a comforting contrast from the rough treatment your butt is receiving, like a warm weighted blanket.

Despite your best efforts to stay quiet, a tiny breathless noise escapes your throat. Halfway between a moan and a squeak, the flush staining your cheeks darkens further. You bite your bottom lip hard enough to draw blood, simultaneously mortified and turned on.

Momentarily caught off guard, the super soldier freezes, his vibranium hand resting on the curve of your hip. A look of shock and disbelief crosses his handsome features. He had expected anger, perhaps even more fighting back, but never in a million years did he think you would react so unabashedly with desire.

For a moment, Bucky simply stares down at you, taking in the pretty flush of your cheeks, the way your lips parted around that sinful little noise. His cock, hard and heavy, strains through his jeans and presses into the curve of your ass. That all-consuming hunger that HYDRA tortured out of his system returns with a fucking vengeance. His blood sings in his veins at your little noises and rushes to his dick.

A low, strangled groan escapes his throat as Bucky tries desperately to grasp at the last vestiges of self-control. His hand digs into the fat of your hip, squeezing and kneading almost unconsciously, “Fuck, honey…” He murmurs, his tone ragged with the overwhelming heat consuming you both, “Are you… are you getting off on this?”

Bucky moves impossibly closer, chapped lips brushing against the shell of your ear, “‘Cause if you are, honey… I’ll fucking wreck you and I won’t be held responsible for it.”

“Shut up,” You whine weakly, your shame and arousal fighting for dominance. Despite your half-hearted protest, you arch your spine deeper. You’re soaked, you know it. Embarrassingly soaked, probably through your fucking sweatpants at this point. Your cunt aches, feeling too empty. Bucky’s dark promise of wrecking you? Fuck if it doesn’t make you clench around nothing, needy and debauched. He’s barely touched you and you’re sure if he so much as brushes past your clit, you’ll cum harder than you ever have in your life.

Bucky’s eyes darken with lust as you arch your back, presenting your ass to him like a cat in heat. A low, approving growl rumbles deep in his throat. The hand on your hip slides back to palm the globe of your ass, sinking into the fatty flesh. You hope it bruises, god you want him to mark you. You want that vibranium arm to rip you into pretty little chunks and remake you into something new. Something Steve’s never touched, never kissed, never held.

“Shut up? Honey, the way you’re acting, you don’t want me to shut up,” He taunts, his voice a deep, seductive murmur.

That rips a pathetic whimper from your throat, eyes fluttering shut, “I’m too drunk for this.”

Bucky hums, “Yeah? You’re a big girl, you know how to say stop.”

You shudder, all but melting beneath him, “I’m too sad for this.”

Smack!

This time Bucky’s metal arm meets your ass cheek, you jolt, gasping. You’re panting openly against the hardwood, eyes screwed shut and blushing like a virgin. The intoxicating mixture of stinging pain and molten pleasure are far more powerful than the whiskey in your belly.

The former Winter Soldier all but rips your sweatpants down, bunching them around your knees. The cool air against your newly exposed skin makes you shudder, a perverse shiver racing down your spine. The rough, calloused pads of Bucky’s fingers dig into the tender flesh of your ass cheek, kneading and squeezing the malleable muscle possessively, “Fuck, baby, look at this ass… you’re fucking perfect,” He groans approvingly, hips rocking forward to grind his clothed erection against you, “Steve was a goddamn fool to ever even look at another woman.”

Without warning, he brings down his palm hard against your bare ass, the sharp crack of skin against skin filling the otherwise silent apartment. The biting ache blossoms across your nerves, quickly followed by a rush of heat and traitorous surge of arousal, “Maybe this is what you need, honey. You need to be manhandled, huh? I gotta slap that bratty attitude of yours outta your ass?” Bucky coos mockingly, dragging his blunt nails down the rapidly reddening skin.

You breathe shallowly, fuck it feels like you’re barely breathing as is. This is a side of Bucky you’d never dreamt of seeing, not even in your wildest dreams. He was always so stoic, quiet. It was like you were friends with a brick wall that used to be a sleeper agent. But this? Domineering, taunting, merciless Bucky? You were fucking drenched.

You hum in agreement, wiggling your ass back, too far gone now. Any sense of decorum or boundaries flies out of your little bird brain. All you know is Bucky’s punishing hand and his rock hard dick pressing against you.

He shifts, maneuvering your wrists to hold them firmly over your head with one large hand. He brings the other down on your backside in a series of sharp, biting slaps. A red handprint blooms across your skin, a brand. The pain gives way to a dizzying liquid heat that has you squirming and whining under him.

“Fuck, listen to you… making all those pretty little noises for me,” He pants, hips grinding slowly against the curve of your butt. Bucky was throbbing in his pants, achingly hard and straining angrily in the confines of his jeans, “Keep making those noises and I’ll bust in my fucking pants, honey.”

You can feel it now, how soaked you are. The cotton gusset of your panties clings to your puffy lips like a second skin. The evidence of your arousal is impossible to miss, the dark spot growing rapidly with each slap and taunting murmur. You rub your thighs together needfully, desperate for some kind of relief. Bucky’s gaze narrows in on your needy display, grinning wolfishly, “Fuck, honey, you’re absolutely soaked through,” His lips brush against your ear as he speaks, rolling his hips teasingly into your backside, “Is this what you need, doll? To be put in your place, spanked until you’re a needy, desperate little thing?”

Holding your wrists firmly above your head, his vibranium hand slides around your hip, fingertips brushing teasingly along the sticky fabric of your underwear. The material clings to your swollen, aching folds.

“You leaking just for me, honey?” Bucky murmurs, nipping at your ear. He brushes the edge of his nail across the swollen bundle of nerves at the apex of your thighs. It’s so light that you almost don’t feel it, but you do and you sob in relief at the slightest touch. Your legs tremble, threatening to give out under you.

Bucky continues his maddeningly light caresses, “So fucking wet and ready for me…”

He circles your clit with the pad of his thumb, cool vibranium meeting feverish, swollen flesh. It swells and throbs under his ministrations. His fingers continue their unhurried exploration of your pussy, a single digit circling your entrance. You feel it push in slowly, sinking in one knuckle at a time. Your pussy flutters and clenches around the invading pressure, eager to be filled.

“This is what you needed all along, isn’t it honey? To be touched like this, to have someone take control and make this needy cunt drip?” He slides a second finger knuckle-deep into your dripping hole, pumping them in and out of your clinging heat as his other hand delivers harsh, biting strikes to your backside, “That’s it, honey, fucking take it.”

The thought of Steve’s vanilla, lackluster lovemaking paled in comparison to the passionate, almost feral way Bucky was claiming your body now. And his dick wasn’t even out yet. He could feel every inch of your silken skin trembling and quaking with need, your breathy cries and whimpering music to his ears. The tender, almost gentlemanly approach Steve usually had taken with you had left you wanting, craving something far more intense and fulfilling.

Bucky eases his fingers out and peels your panties from your sticky cunt, shucking the fabric to bunch it around your knees with your sweatpants. He reaches out once more, his calloused palm cupping the warm, plush flesh of your ass. He could feel the heat radiating off your skin, could feel the way your muscles clenched and trembled beneath his touch. His fingers sank into the giving flesh, squeezing.

“If you don’t fuck me right now, I think I’ll die,” You whisper, needy with shame burning your cheeks. And in that moment, it may as well have been true. To drive the point home, you wriggle your ass back against his groin, a clear invitation.

Bucky groaned, the sound torn from deep in his chest. His cock throbs and jumps at your needy words, desperate to be balls deep in your tight cunt. Faintly, he realizes he should hesitate, take a moment to think this through. But the way you presented yourself so wantonly to him made every logical thought fly out the window. He couldn’t resist, not you, not like this.

His hands flew to his belt, working it open with shaking hands. He quickly shoved his boxers and jeans down his thighs, freeing his aching cock. It sprang up, long, thick, and flushed a deep, angry red. The swollen head was leaking pre-cum, a bead of moisture rolling down the shaft. He wrapped a hand around it, stroking himself a few times, before shifting closer to you. Bucky sweeps the tip of his cock through your folds, from hole to clit, coating himself in your sticky slickness.

You gape at his dick, eyes wide as you peer over your shoulder. He’s fucking huge, because of course he is. Thick and girthy, this is going to hurt, you realize. And though that should deter you, or at the very least make you anxious, it only makes you wetter.

“Fuck,” You whisper, struggling to form a coherent thought, “You’re fucking huge. That’s… that can’t fit. It’s physically impossible.”

The bastard smirks, rubbing the small of your back, “Oh, it’ll fit, honey. I’ll make sure of that.”

You already feel your inner muscles tensing up, trying to force out something that isn’t even breaching you yet. A high-pitched keening noise rips from your throat as the bulbous tip sinks into your wet heat.

Bucky shudders as he feels your tight little cunt clenching and fluttering around just the swollen head of his cock. Fuck, you were so goddamn small, so fucking tight. He could feel every inch of your silky walls squeezing him, trying to push his thick tip out of your needy hole. It took every ounce of control not to just slam forward and bury himself to the hilt in your scorching heat.

He grit his teeth, his breath coming out in a low growl as he forced himself to hold still, to wait for your okay before he fucked into you. His hands gripped your hips hard enough to leave bruises, holding you in place as he fought for some semblance of restraint. Where was all that goddamn self-discipline that HYDRA beat into him? His dick was barely inside you and he was already a slave to your nubile body.

He rocked his hips slightly, just barely, letting you feel the thick, spongy head of his cock kiss your entrance with each shallow thrust. “Tell me to move, honey.” Bucky pants, sounding utterly wrecked, “Let me move.”

All you can offer is a small, pathetic whine in response.

That’s all the confirmation Bucky needs. He starts to move then, his hips rocking in shallow little thrusts as he eases inch after inch of his monstrous dick inside you. His grip tightens on your hips, digging into the plush flesh of your ass as he keeps you in place for each teasing thrust of his cock.

“God, honey, I’m gonna fuck this needy hole just like you want,” He growls, sweat beading on his forehead from the effort of holding back, “Gonna rub this thick fucking tip all over this slutty pussy until you’re dripping and begging for my cock. Fuck… you’re so goddamn tight. Squeezing my cock so fucking hard.”

“W-we shouldn’t be doing this,” You gasp, screwing your eyes shut against the onslaught of sensations. You’re already feeling overstimulated, too warm and too full. Part of you screams to crawl away from the excruciating sensation of being impaled on such a thick cock. You try your best to breathe through it, willing your body to relax. Your cunt weeps, rivulets of slick dripping down and around Bucky’s dick. You feel the little droplets running down your thighs, mixing with your sweat.

Bucky hisses through clenched teeth as he feels your arousal dripping obscenely down his length, your thighs trembling. He loops an arm around your hips, holding you up as he watches the way his dick is swallowed up by your tight hole. He could see you struggling, hear the conflict in your whimper, the way you whispered this was wrong even as your body screamed for his touch. He knew he should listen to the voice in both your heads telling him to stop, to pull away before they crossed a line from which there could be no return… but fuck, he was so goddamn close to the edge already.

His hips rocked faster, fucking his cock in and out of your clutching heat with rough, rapid thrusts. A wet, obscene symphony of squelching and skin slapping against skin fills the room, mixing with his labored breathing and low, strained grunts of pleasure.

“We… fuck.. We shouldn’t…” He repeated your words dumbly, but even as he said it, his cock kept moving. You could feel the tip kissing your cervix with each throbbing, leaking thrust. “But fuck, honey, you feel too good… too goddamn good. We can’t stop now,” Bucky leans forward, pressing his chest against your back, his lips brushing down the side of your neck, “Fuck, gonna make this pretty cunt mine. Fill it up real good, honey.”

“Oh, god,” You gasp, a fresh wave of arousal flooding through you at his words. Your toes curl, fingernails scraping across the floor, “I want that, please. Wreck me.”

The desperate, pleading tone of your voice shatters the remnants of Bucky’s already frayed control. His eyes roll back at your words, groaning. He feels your velvet walls clench and ripple around his throbbing dick, grasping him like a hot fist. Without warning, his hand slides from your hip to your dripping sex, rough fingers finding your swollen, aching clit.

He teases the sensitive bundle of nerves, rubbing tight circles around it with the pad of his thumb as he fucks into you hard and fast. His hips rock faster in tandem with the finger on your clit, each thrust pushing a gush of your juices around his cock and down your thighs.

You feel like you’re on fire, every nerve alight and singing Bucky’s name. You bite down on your fist, attempting to hold back the shrieks of pleasure bubbling up in your chest, “Right there, god, please!” You squeal, trembling with the burning need to cum, “God, don’t stop. Please don’t fucking stop, right there.”

Your whiny, wanton moans bring Bucky’s climax hurtling at him like a freight train. He ducks his head down, sinking his teeth into the meat of your shoulder and shudders. The feeling of your slick little cunt gripping his dick was maddening, and the needy, desperate sounds spilling from your lips were pushing him closer to the edge, “Fuck, honey. Just like that, keep screaming for me. Gonna blow my load in this hot little cunt.”

You whine in response, Bucky’s rough treatment of your clit sending you careening over the edge. Your cunt clamps down violently, slick release gushing out of your hole. Lips parting in a silent scream, you shudder, shattering beneath him. Bucky lets out a guttural moan, his voice raw with pleasure as you cum hard on his cock. A puddle of sticky wetness forms between your legs on the floor, dripping down the fat of your thighs. Bucky can feel his own orgasm building fast and hard, his shaft throbbing and pulsing as he caresses your clit through your aftershocks.

“Yes, fuck! That’s it, honey. Soak me, pretty girl, gonna- fuck!” He grunts, his hips slamming forward and burying his thick cock to the hilt in your spasming pussy with one hard thrust. He groans long and low as your sex milks him for all he’s worth, his hot seed flooding your insides.

Bucky shudders, hips jerking as he empties his heavy balls inside you, thick ropes of pearlescent cum coating your fluttering walls. He presses his hips tight to your ass, grinding against you. That’s enough for your legs to quit on you. His eyes widen as your legs tremble and then give out, your body going boneless and pliant in his arms. He tightens his grip on your hips, hauling you back up onto your knees. Bucky’s heart races, a wild bird in his ribcage, as he struggles to catch his breath in the aftermath of his intense orgasm.

Slowly, almost reluctantly, he eases his softening cock out of your well-used hole. A river of his thick cum oozes out after him, dripping down your inner thighs, joining the puddle of slick on the floor. Bucky can’t help but feel satisfaction at how fucked-out you look, sporting his bite mark on your shoulder. His hands slide around to cup the soft swell of your belly, his palms splayed across the gentle curve. He could feel the heat of your skin, the way it flushed and erupted in little goosebumps from his touch. His gaze heavy-lidded, dark with lingering lust as he murmurs in your ear, “We can’t do this again, right honey?”

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