#I'm serious about the towel thing

[jaratedeguadalupe]

the "are there healthy distractions" where remus is butt as naked has refused to leave my brain. he indeed prances around naked or in his underwear in the kitchen while casually making himself a coffe. it is a normal thing at this point since no amount of pleading will help their case. virigl has to beg him to put on something to go to bed because "i'm not cuddling with your bare ass exposed no a towel covering your dick doesn't count". he just feels more comfortable without being constrained by clothing making him feel icky at all times due to his sensory issues. it's not even a sexual thing. (it is a nice bonus though) to wear cloth that barely covers you and makes you look like a prostitute,, it just feels nice and goes with his aesthetic :)

[wwilsonbarness]

i can't do this anymore

pairings: bucky barnes x y/n reader  

summary: You overhear Bucky’s conversation with your friends and assume the worst but you couldn’t have been more wrong. 

warnings: ANGSTTT, fluffy ending, mention of marriage, more angst “I’m sorry i can’t help it), miscommunication. 

word count: 3665

a/n: I’m in serious need of miscommunication fics (I'm a sucker for angst) so I’d be grateful for any recommendations!! Enjoy <3 

Feedback, likes and reblogs are much appreciated :) 

I do not give permission for my work to be copied, reposted or translated on any other platform.

masterlist

“Buck? Can you pass my clothes?” You had just stepped out of the shower and realised you left your clothes in your room, but Bucky didn’t answer. “Buck?” He still didn’t answer so you wrapped your towel around you and headed through to see the room empty. You begin to get dressed before you hear Sam’s voice from the living room, he wasn’t supposed to be here for another half hour. Every week Bucky and Sam took it in turns to host dinner for the three of you and Sam’s girlfriend, Olivia. This week was yours and Bucky’s turn to host and you were super excited to serve your new recipe. Hearing the voices made you even more excited, but stressed as you still had some cooking to do before they were supposed to be here. You finish getting dressed and apply a little bit of makeup as quickly as you can. These dinners weren’t formal so it didn’t take long to get ready, they were mostly just so Sam and Bucky had some comfort after their missions, especially recently with them having to deal with John Walker. You take one last look in the mirror before heading through, until you hear something that stops you in your step.

“I mean I can’t say I’m surprised.. one look at you two and it’s obvious,” Sam tried to whisper but failed. “how are you gonna do it?”  Do what? You were confused what they were talking about, part of was tempted to interrupt but your curiosity took over. 

“I don’t know.. It’s just..” Bucky was stuttering which he only did when he was nervous, this really made you worry about what they were talking about. “It’s just she’s different from other girls, you know? And I know we haven’t been together that long but I can’t do it anymore. Do what anymore? “It’s not like I don’t love what we have but I just feel like I need more” More? You couldn’t help but overthink what you were hearing. They were talking about you, you weren't enough for him. I mean sure you’d thought that about yourself so many times but hearing it from the man you truly thought was the love of your life hurt. 

“I know what it’s like when you find the one, it’s the best feeling in the world.” You couldn’t see this but Sam had kissed Olivia’s head after his words. “This is gonna be good for you man, I’m happy for you.” 

You couldn’t bring yourself to hear anymore, the tears were already fighting their way out. You quietly walk back into your bedroom and try and calm down, you just had to get through tonight, just tonight and then you and Bucky could talk. You were at your happiest with Bucky, you thought Bucky was too but.. you didn’t even want to finish that thought. Bucky’s happiness was the most important thing to you, and if that meant he wasn’t with you anymore you would have to find a way to get through that. No matter how hard it would be for you, you just wanted him to be happy.

You took a few minutes to compose yourself,  your eyes were red and a little puffy but not enough for anyone to notice. You hoped anyway. This time when you left your bedroom you made sure to close the door loud enough so they could hear you coming and hopefully change the subject. 

“Hey guys, you’re early.” you said as you walked in, Sam and Olivia both stood up to give you a hug as you came in. 

“Yeah sorry we were just a couple blocks over and it didn’t make sense going all the way back home just to come out again,” Sam replied with a smile. “Buck said it was okay.” 

“Of course it is, you guys are always welcome, you know that!” You were surprisingly good at keeping how you really felt hidden, but with your words you couldn’t help but think you would lose Sam and Olivia as friends when Bucky ended things between you, they were technically Bucky’s friends first but you’d grown to see them as practically family as your relationship grew. You tried to push that thought away, you just had to get through tonight you kept repeating to yourself in your head. 

“You okay doll?” Bucky asks as he wraps his arms around you. You plaster on a smile hoping he wouldn’t sense anything being wrong. 

“Course! Just need to check on the food.” Normally Bucky’s touch helped you in situations like this but with what you heard his touch was only making you feel worse. You manage to untangle yourself from his arms and head to the kitchen. You notice that the ingredients and glasses were still laying out for the drinks you’d planned to make. “Do you guys want any drinks?” 

“Yes please!” Sam and Bucky replied at the same time. 

“I’ll help you.” you heard Olivia say through the wall. It only takes a couple seconds before she’s standing next to you in the kitchen. You and Olivia were like best friends, and she’s the reason you and Bucky were together. You had worked together for a few years, you drifted a little when she left that job but it only took one reunion dinner to get your friendship back to normal. That was 2 years ago, and from that night on she had insisted on setting up you and Bucky. It took a while for the meeting to actually happen but once it did you knew he was the one for you. Was. Not anymore. 

“Are you sure you’re okay?” Olivia asks quietly, she was aware of Bucky’s super soldier hearing and wanted to talk to you alone. 

You nodded and forced another smile. “Just a busy week, my boss is still being a dick.” 

“Ugh, you deserve so much better than having to work for that guy. He’s a creep.” She said at a normal volume now. “You should send Bucky after him, make him know he can’t treat you like that just cause he’s the boss.” She brings her hands up to put air quotes around ‘boss’, as he’s only technically the boss for the month while your real boss was on vacation. 

“I’ll manage.” You tried to play it off, you wouldn’t have Bucky there to help you soon, and you needed to stand up for yourself. 

“You know he would do anything for you.” 

“You think?” 

“Yep. I mean have you seen the way he looks at you?” 

“Hmm.” you mumbled. “Here,” You pass her two glasses with drinks in it. “take these and I’ll bring the other two once i’ve checked the food.” 

“Okay,” She starts to walk about but turns at the last minute, “It smells good by the way, I can’t wait.” 

“Thanks” you laughed as she walked away. She could tell there was something different with you tonight but she couldn’t figure out what was wrong, it felt like it was more than just your boss being a dick. 

You tried to take as long as you could checking the food without it being too long that someone would notice. After just under 10 minutes you walk through. “Dinner should only be a little longer.” You pass a glass to Bucky and keep one for yourself, normally you’d sit close to Bucky but tonight you kept your distance, opting for the armchair in the corner. Bucky thought this was weird but he kept it to himself. 

“So, what did I miss?” You hoped they would somehow be able to explain away what you heard but your hope didn’t last long as they started to talk about Sam’s plans to get a lizard. 

“Sam, we’re not getting a lizard,” Olivia replied, “if you insist on getting a pet why can’t it be a normal one like a cat or a dog.” This only reminded you of the plans you and Bucky made to adopt a cat, this was torture. Everything was reminding you of what you were about to lose. 

“I’ll look after it babe, you won’t even have to touch it.” Sam tried pleading. 

“And when you’re away on missions?” Olivia argued back playfully. 

“Okay, you got me.” You laughed a little at Sam releasing this was one battle he was going to lose. “What about you guys? You still planning on getting a cat?” 

Bucky looked at you as Sam asked the question, how were you supposed to answer this when you didn’t even know the answer anymore, luckily Bucky notices the panic on your face and jumps in to answer.” 

“Yeah man, we just have to find the time to get to the shelter.” 

“See,” He turns his head to his left, staring at his girl, “Y/n let’s Bucky get the pet he wants.” He was only teasing, he knew logically he couldn’t get a lizard but it was fun to pretend. 

“Lizards and cats are not the same thing.” 

“Y/n/n help me out here please” Sam pleads to you. 

“Sorry Sam, I’m on Olivia's side here.” You reply whilst laughing. 

“Traitor” he mumbles under his breath making everyone laugh. Bucky noticed it wasn’t your real laugh but he wasn’t sure why. Normally you loved bantering back and forth with them. 

You kept on chatting for 20 minutes before the oven timer went off, just in time as Bucky was about to tell an embarrassing story about you.

“Ah! Saved by the bell” you joked. 

“Don’t think I won’t forget to tell it after dinner!” Bucky shouts through, and you can’t help but laugh before thinking about it deeper. Was that one of the things he couldn’t do anymore, was he really embarrassed by you? 

You tried so hard to push those thoughts away and focus on getting through the dinner, you started plating up the food you were so excited about only an hour before. But you got lost in your thoughts again and picked up the hot tray with your bare hand, burning yourself in the process. “Shit.” The tray fell to the floor, luckily you had already plated everything and you were just moving it to the sink. Bucky rushes through and sees the tray on the ground and you gripping your hand towards your chest. 

“What happened?” He comes towards you but you walk back away from him. “What’s wrong?” You could see the worry in his eyes but all you could think about was his words earlier. I can't do it anymore. 

“I’m fine, Bucky.” You didn’t mean to but you snapped back at him. 

“You’re not fine.” he moves closer and tries to reach for your hand but you pull it closer to you, he notices and steps back. “Y/n?” You don’t say anything. “Look please just run your hand under some cold water at least, please?” 

“Can you just take the food through, I’ll be there in a minute.” You tried to hide the shakiness in your voice but he could hear it. This brought him back to the start of your relationship, you both struggled to open up to each other but he thought you had both gotten better at it, which is why he was extra worried.

He nodded, you hated yourself for being the reason he was sad, he didn’t deserve that. “I’m sorry.” 

“It’s okay doll, just know I’m here for you okay?” You nodded but kept your gaze to the floor. He first grabs the tray with his left hand and puts it in the sink then picks up the plates and brings them through, having to make two trips. He doesn’t want to leave you but he wants to give you the space you asked for. You run your hand under the cold tap for a couple of minutes before drying it off and making your way to the table. 

“You okay y/n?” Sam asks as you sit down next to Bucky, there were only 4 seats at the table so sitting next to him was your only option. Bucky turns to you, concern filling his eyes, he sends a smile your way and you try to send one back. He went to put his hand on your thigh but you see him stop himself and bring it back to his leg. 

“Yeah, all good, just burnt my finger on a tray. How’s the food?” 

“It’s amazing as always.” Olivia answers.

 “Thanks again for having us over.” Sam adds

“It’s a new recipe, and no need to thank me. You know you are both welcome here anytime.” You reply, happy that they like it. 

“Tastes great Doll.” Bucky’s voice was quiet, almost like he was scared to speak, he had a slight smile growing as you turned to him. 

“Thank you Bucky.” 

The rest of the night went just like that, the four of you spoke about planning a trip to New Orleans, you felt yourself get excited about it but then grounded yourself, reminding yourself that it probably wouldn’t go ahead. Well, it maybe would, you just wouldn’t be there. Sam and Olivia stayed for a couple more hours, they couldn’t stay as late as usual as Olivia had picked up an early shift at work the next day. When they left you saw Sam and Bucky whisper something to each other, but you were too far to hear anything. 

Now you and Bucky were alone, it had just been the two of you for 10 minutes and none of you had broken the silence until now. 

“Y/n?” Bucky asks quietly, testing the atmosphere. You took the shakiness in his voice as a sign he was angry, when it was really because he was worried about you. You don’t say anything but bring your head up so you could see him. “Can we talk?” Oh god. This was it. He was gonna do it right now. You weren’t ready, you never would be but you couldn’t do this right now. 

“Bucky, I’m really tired, could we talk in the morning?” You were desperately hoping he would say yes. 

“Yeah..” He stands up and walks towards the bathroom, stopping slightly at you but speeds up again after a moment. “I’m gonna quickly shower then I’ll come to bed.” 

“Okay.” Almost a whisper but he heard it. 

You go through to your room and get changed, ignoring the mess in the kitchen. That was something you’d worry about tomorrow. You crawled into bed, facing the wall and tried to force the sleep to take over. It doesn’t take long for Bucky to come in next to you, you feel him hesitate but he wraps his arms around you and brings his mouth around to kiss your forehead. “I love you.” 

You hoped he’d think you were sleeping, and not know you were pretending. You tried to find comfort in his touch but it only reminded you that this time tomorrow you probably wouldn’t have him wrapped around you. You could feel your eyes growing wetter as you thought about this but you forced yourself to stop before it turned into a full meltdown. That would for sure wake Bucky up. So you sat there in silence, sometimes you could hear a quiet mechanical murmur from Bucky’s arm, and sometimes the one big deep breath he takes every few minutes. By the time morning comes you only got about an hour of sleep, you were exhausted and anxious for what was going to happen today. 

“Doll?” he pauses for a minute waiting for an answer, “Are you up?” 

“Yeah, I'm up.” You don’t turn around to face him like you normally would, you keep your eyes on the wall. 

“I was thinking we could go to your favourite cafe today? The one with the-” You interrupt him and turn around to face him, sitting cross legged. 

“It’s okay Bucky.” He’s confused about what you mean so he stays quiet hoping you'll continue which you do. “I heard you talking with Sam and Olivia..” Bucky’s eyes nearly pop out of his head. 

“You heard us?” Shit. He wanted it to be a surprise. 

“I did. So can you just do it now? Get it over and done with, so we can both move on.”

“What? You want me to do it right now?” 

“Yes. Please, just do it.” You knew you were coming across harsh but you needed this torture to end. 

“Erm. Okay..”  He stood up out of bed and walked over to his dresser, and started to dig through one of his drawers. “This isn’t really how I pictured doing this and I thought you’d be more excited but..” Excited? Why would you be excited over losing him? Once he finds what he was looking for he walks back over and brings himself down to his knees beside the bed. 

“Bucky what-” 

“My turn to talk doll..” What the hell was happening. “Y/n, you have been the best thing in my life since the very first day I met you. It might sound cliche but you’re the missing piece I always thought I’d never find. I know this might seem fast but..” He pulls a small box from behind his back. Oh my god. He was proposing. What. You wanted to stop him but the words wouldn’t come out, it was like your mouth was glued shut. “.. I don’t think I could ever feel happier than I do right now with you but It would mean the absolute world to me if you-” 

“Wait!! Stop!” Bucky’s smile dropped. He’d been scared to ask you but he didnt think rejection was actually a possibility. 

“What?” You stood up and started pacing back and forth, panic setting in. 

“Oh my god Bucky. Stand up!” He stood up slowly and closed the ring box, the loud click making things even realer. “Bucky, what were you talking about with Sam and Olivia?” 

“I thought you heard me? I was telling them I wanted to propose, I want to spend the rest of my time with you. This definitely isn't how I wanted it to go. I’m sorry if I.. I thought you’d want this too.” 

“Oh my god Bucky. I am so sorry. I’m so sorry, I messed up.” You were beginning to lose control of your breathing and your eyes were starting to burn, you were still pacing back and forth. “I thought you wanted to end things, I thought you were done with us.”

“What?! Why did you think that?” He had never been so confused in his whole life. 

“You told them you wanted more, and.. that I wasn’t like other girls.. and..” The tears had escaped now and it was hard to talk properly. “and you said you couldn’t do this a-anymore.” 

“Oh baby.” Bucky walks over to you and pulls you gently to the bed, he sits next to you but keeps one of his arms wrapped around you. “I did say those things but not in the way you think. Did you listen to the rest of what we said?” You shook your head, which only made your growing headache worse. “When I said I wanted more I was talking about marrying you, in case you haven't figured that out by the -I don’t even know if i can call that a proposal- but doll, I want to marry you, I wanted to show you how much I love you and how serious I was about us.” He tries to turn himself slightly so he can see your face properly. 

“I was right when I said you aren’t like other girls, I don’t want you to be like anyone else. I want you to be you, my girl. The girl I fell in love with the first day I met you. I’ve been planning to propose for a while but I couldn’t keep it in any longer, that’s what I meant when I said I couldn’t do this anymore. I couldn’t wait any longer to ask you. I love you so much, doll.” 

Oh god. You were so embarrassed. You had gotten everything so wrong. “Bucky, I'm so sorry. I didn’t, I don’t want things to end with us. I’m so sorry.” 

“It’s okay baby, really it’s okay. I just wished you’d talked to me about it. You can come to me about anything, you know what right?” 

“I do, I promise. I just panicked. I thought I was going to lose you.” Your breathing had started to slow down and you felt like you had control over it again.

“Nope. You’re never getting rid of me. I love you too much for that,” He brought his face down to yours and brushed your noses together before wrapping his arms tightly around you. “And I missed you way too much to ever let go of you again.” 

“I love you too, Buck, so much.. but you’re squeezing me.” For the first time since you heard their conversation you had a real smile on your face and you laughed at him holding you so tight. You were happy. Bucky was happy. 

“There’s the laugh I missed so much. Oh and,” he pulled away just for a second to look into your eyes, placing each of his hands on your shoulders and with a serious voice spoke again, “don’t for one second think that’s how my real proposal will go, I’m gonna make it special, just like you deserve.” he pulls you into his arms and lays you both down.

“I can’t wait, but before you do that..”

“Mhmm?”

“Can we go to the shelter today? I think it’s about time we got that cat.”

“You have no idea how happy that makes me doll” 

Maybe it wasn’t healthy how much yours and Bucky’s happiness relied on each other but for you two it worked. Things were perfect. 

[ohimsummer]

✎ . . .❝ PUSSY PRIVILEGES ARE GONE ❞

— talking about pussy + one mention of “dick privileges”, whiny satoru, poly! satosugu x afab! reader, serial manspreader + sassy man Suguru, black reader in mind :3

“You can’t do this to me.” Silence. “Baby, pleaseee!”

“Nah.,” you scoff. “Over with, pussy privileges are gone, and that’s final.”

“All because I don’t like the nickname?,” Suguru asks besides you, head cocked like a puppy.

You tug at Satoru’s strong hold around your waist. “Yep. Can’t get a kiss, can’t give my boyfriend a nickname. You two don’t love me anymore.”

Suguru crosses his arms over his chest, sinking further into the couch, traces of a pout falling over his face. He sighs. “What’s wrong with just calling me Sugu?”

You fight helplessly against Satoru, ignoring his continuous whining as he pulls you back into his lap. “What’s wrong with calling you ‘Papa Sugs’?”

“You can’t be serious.”

Huffing, with Satoru’s overdramatic and agonized moaning in the background. “Pft. Imma show you some damn serious.”

Suguru’s chuckle, exasperation creeping up the edges. “Sure. You’re gonna ban us from your pussy for…?”

“Indefinitely.,” you grunt, finally prying yourself from Satoru’s grip in his shock at your response.

“Baby!,” he whines, blinking shiny blue eyes at you beneath white lashes. “Baby, I-“

“Ohhh, so now I’m baby?”, you tease, rolling your eyes. “I wasn’t baby when you weren’t kissing me back, loser.”

“It was a joke!” Gojo puffs out his cheeks. “I’m a changed man, I promise.”

“Oh, okay.,” you smile at the knit of his brows. “You’re gonna be a changed man, alright.”

Satoru falls over into Suguru’s lap, stuffing his face into aforementioned man’s shirt and whining a muffled ,”You sooo hate us.”

“Whatever.,” you brush them off with a wave of your hand, heading to the kitchen. “Consider it a lesson in punishment.”

Six days. Just shy of a week before Suguru shows signs of cracking, because Satoru couldn’t withstand this whole thing to begin with. He’d tried everything from begging to gifts to taking your ‘dick privileges’, and then being immediately thwarted with a flick of your vibrator.

“That thing’s gonna replace us?,” Suguru snorts, nibbling the inside of his cheeks.

“It’ll do for now.,” you giggle with a raise of your chin. In truth, it didn’t even come close, but you’re far too petty to admit that.

“Can’t believe that is gonna get more action than me.,” Satoru groans into the pillows. “I’m gonna die at this rate.”

“Good.,” and he jolts up with wide eyes at your response. “I’ll make an example out of you for Geto.”

Satoru drags himself up to pout in your direction. "You could at least call me Satoru, he's the one you're upset with about names."

"No, first names are for boyfriends only."

Suguru lays sprawled out on the bed, legs spread open in retaliation, tapping around on his phone. "Oh? And when did we lose boyfriend privileges?"

"Since just then."

Both men narrow their eyes at you, glancing at eachother before Suguru massages a temple, lids fluttering as his eyes roll to the back of his head. "Fine, we're terrible boyfriends. Happy now?"

You adjust the towel around your chest, and disappear into the bathroom for a shower. "Nope, but I'm glad y'all know."

Ever dramatic, Satoru points an accusatory finger at Suguru. "This is your fault, she didn't take these privileges until you and that whole Papa Sug nonsense!"

"Well, you started it."

Their bickering raises bouts of giggles in your throat. Water spouts from the shower head when you turn the knob, and you tinker for a few minutes to get it to a temperature of your liking. At the sound of your 'ahem', both men go silent.

"First one to join me in the shower gets pussy privileges ba–“

There's a sound of rapid scuffling, Satoru's 'ow!', and then a flash of dark hair as Suguru slams and locks the door behind him.

"Not fair, I fell!," Satoru whines from the other side, jiggling the knob.

"Desperate are we?," you flash your tongue at Suguru as he strips bare.

"Mm." comes his quiet response, not wanting to fully admit this little game of yours was a lot more painstaking than he let on.

"Does that mean I get to call you Papa Sugs now?" Before he can open his mouth, you add, "If not then you gotta get out."

"Yes, kick him out!," Satoru pipes in, door now wide open and you notice the knob is not as attached as it was before.

Suguru sighs, throwing his shirt in Satoru's face before pinching your waist, and he smirks when you give a small yelp. "Fine."

[churipu]

hii hope you’re doing good and taking care of yourself!! Can u do jjk men headcannons when their s/o is finds a bug and is telling them to kill it (can u also add nanami)

JJK MEN KILLING BUGS FOR THEIR PARTNER

featuring. nanami kento, gojo satoru, sukuna ryomen x reader

warnings. cursing, bugs ew.

note. hii anonnn, as a person who despises bugs a lot. yes. this request is just *chefs kiss*, and i'm doing absolutely amazing bby, hbuuu?? i hope you like it and thank you so much for requesting mwah mwah <;33

AND U GUYS WE REACHED 800+ FOLLOWERS??? i really don't know what to say, thank you so much <33 this means a lot to me, and i feel so loved i'm gonna cry. i love u all

NANAMI KENTO. your knight in shining armor. the moment you called out for him in a voice lacing with worry, he just knows what was up — you'd be fifteen minutes in your shower, and nanami is in the living room watching the television until you call out to him. voice loud, mixing in with the vivid sounds of water pouring.

"ken!"

he jolts up in surprise and walked towards the bathroom door, raising his hand to knock on the door a couple times, "are you alright, sweetheart?" he asks.

"come in, please," your voice was meek, and he could hear the shower turn off.

the male slowly opens the door, and he could feel the steam from your shower caressing his face lightly. you were there, still inside the shower with a nervous smile and a towel wrapping around you, "bug. kill. please?" was all you said.

"where is it, baby?"

you pointed at the sink, and there it was — the sacred and vile being, just sitting there beside the sink. though, it was so little nanami almost laugh, but seeing his partner being terrified; he was not going to make fun of them, he finds it adorable actually. and glad that the first thing you decided to do was call him for help.

nanami didn't even use a tissue, no hitting, no slapping, no squishing; he just grabs the bug in his grasp and tells you to have a nice shower and left.

your knight in shining armor.

GOJO SATORU. little bastard would definitely be all bark and no bite, he's all about that "oh, it's just a bug, baby. it's not like it's going to kill you" or "come on, baby, what's a bug going to do?"

until it flies. and he uses you as a shield.

"y/n kill that disgusting thing! holy fuck, i'm going to die." he cowered behind you, pointing at a little bug just resting on top of the kitchen counter — you rolled your eyes at him, not even having the energy to be as scared as him anymore.

"oh, it's just a bug, satoru. it's not like it's going to kill you," you mimicked his words sarcastically, and the male glares at you, wrapping his arms around you.

"it flies," he mumbled lowly, "bugs that can fly are disgusting. and don't quote my words on me, it hurts my pride," he kisses your shoulder, almost pouting.

"rock, paper, scissors? loser kills it," you asked him, raising your balled up fist with a smirk on your face.

he sighs, "bring it on, loser."

gojo lost. it took him half an hour and half a can of bug spray along with a mask to protect his handsome face from a possible bug attack, a pan lid to use as a shield, and a sandal (for protection) to get rid of the said bug.

SUKUNA RYOMEN. ignores you at first because you couldn't actually be serious? a human scared of a bug? just the mere thought of it makes him break out into laughter.

until he actually realizes it was that serious.

"brat, are you really not going to come out because there's a bug on the door?" he asks out in annoyance, standing in front of the door where you were on the other side of the open door, nodding with a lop-sided grin.

"come on, ryo. i hate bugs, 've always told you that," you rolled your eyes, crossing your arms.

"it's a bug. it won't do anything," sukuna mutters out.

"bug bites kill more people than shark attacks every year," you informed him, drumming your foot as your anxious eyes looked over to the bug as it moves slowly all over the surface of the door, "ryo, please. just squish it."

"why don't you squish it?"

"because i'm scared."

"well, ha ha. i'm scared too," he tells you with a proud smirk, crossing his arms. he finds joy in seeing you like this, really — he finds it laugh worthy, sukuna could do this all day.

"huh. the king of curses having a fear of bugs? how cute." you muttered out.

alright, that took him by surprise. the male stomps over to the door and got rid of the said bug almost immediately, "'m not scared, i was just kidding."

"i know, i said that so you could kill the bug for me," you walked out of the door, brushing past him with a big smile.

sukuna 00

y/n 01

© CHURIPU 2024 , DO NOT COPY OR REPOST ANYWHERE

[libraryofgage]

Good Vibrations Four

One | Two | Three

It has been a hot minute since I updated Good Vibrations hfjdksl thanks everyone for being patient with me, I just couldn't get this part written the way I wanted to for the loooongest time

There's a meme at the very end for anyone who sticks around!

As always, if you see any typos, no you didn't ;P

------

Of all the ways for Eddie's free period to go, getting cornered in the boy's bathroom by Robin Buckley was pretty damn low on the list. It's not even Robin's presence in the boy's bathroom that's throwing him off; it's the way her arms are crossed and she's glaring at Eddie like he's just bragged about kicking her puppy down the street.

Eddie pauses just inside the stall, holding the door open as the toilet struggles to flush behind him. A few seconds pass before Eddie forces himself to walk over to the sinks and wash his hands. "Buckley," he says, "to what do I owe the pleasure?"

"We need to talk, Munson," Robin says, her eyes narrowing as Eddie shuts off the faucet, grabs a few paper towels, and dries his hands. "What's your game?"

"D&D, mostly," Eddie replies, dropping the paper towels in the trash and giving Robin his full attention. He notes, briefly, that she's locked the door to the bathroom, ensuring nobody is walking in on them.

"With Steve, asshole."

Oh.

Eddie pauses, shoves his hands into his pockets, and tilts his head at her. "Still not sure what you mean," he says. He's starting to get an inkling, though.

Robin frowns, seeming to argue with herself before shoving her hands into her hair to push it out of her face. She just leaves it even frizzier and messier as she takes a deep breath. "Do you think Steve is just, like, your entertainment of the week?" she asks, placing her hands on her hips as she levels that same glare from before at him.

"What? Shit, no, of course, not," Eddie says, sliding back a step at the implication. "What the fuck, Buckley?"

She grits her teeth, takes a deep breath, and marches up to Eddie. "Listen, Munson. I know you. I know all about your little Munson Doctrine. I agreed with it once. And because of that, I know you might be thinking of getting to know all about how former King Steve is a...a...a deaf idiot so you can tell the whole fucking world about it," she hisses. "And I'm here to cut that shit off before it even starts. So, if that's your angle, Munson, I suggest you waltz your flat ass out of Steve's life before I bury you in the football field."

There's a lot to unpack there, and Eddie is going to start opening suitcases soon, but first he can't help saying, "My ass isn't flat, Buckley." Robin raises an eyebrow at him and pointedly looks in the mirror. Eddie doesn't follow her gaze, deciding he'd like to spare himself that tragedy.

When she looks back, Eddie clears his throat. "Besides, that's not...that isn't what I'm doing."

"Then what are you doing?"

Eddie looks away, squirming slightly under her gaze. If this were anyone else, if this were someone who hadn't endured the most awkward seven minutes of his life with him, Eddie wouldn't admit a thing. But because it's Robin, because he knows she'll understand even if she doesn't agree, he finds himself blurting, "I think he's cute!"

"Oh? Oh! Oooohhhh."

He can see Robin going on a whole journey over the course of one word repeated three times, and Eddie almost immediately regrets admitting anything. "You can't tell him," Eddie says, moving forward without thinking and grabbing Robin's shoulders. "I'm serious, Buckley, you can't tell Steve."

She blinks, studying his expression for a moment before humming softly. "What do you want me to do? Lie? I tell Steve everything. He'll know if I'm not telling him something," she says.

"Just say it's not your secret to tell! Because it isn't! It very much is not your secret to be sharing around."

Robin huffs and shrugs Eddie's hands off her shoulders. She leans against the sink, head tilted. "So," she says, her tone implying they're changing the subject now, "when did this little crush of yours start?"

"What do you care?"

"If I'm going to help you, Munson, I need to know."

"You're gonna help me?"

Robin grins at him. "This is my entertainment of the week."

Eddie huffs and looks away, pacing a few times from one end of the bathroom to the other before finally stopping. "Okay," he says, more psyching himself up than anything else. "Steve has always been, you know, hot. It made me so fucking angry when I realized in sophomore year since he was a jock and all. But now...now he's...more. And I'm burning up, man, I've gotta know everything. What's his music collection look like? Do the kids know he's deaf? How does he interact with people when he can't hear them? Is he comfortable closing his eyes when he kisses? Does he feel everything more because he can't hear? Wou--"

"Okay, I'm stopping you there," Robin says, her face twisted in disgust as she levels a judgmental look at Eddie. "I don't want to hear your questions about Steve and kissing or whatever else your dirty little brain is thinking of."

"You asked."

"And now I'm telling you to stop," Robin replies. She runs her fingers through her hair again, frowning slightly. "Okay, I think the most important thing here is etiquette."

"Etiquette? What, am I too rough for Steve's delicate sensibilities?"

"Oh, I'm sorry, I thought you'd like to avoid offending him the way you did the last time you spoke."

Okay. Fair. Eddie grimaces at the reminder, the image of Steve's frown and the sound of his closed-off voice forcing themselves to the front of his mind. His shoulders slump and he nods. "Yeah, I would," he says.

Robin nods once, pushes herself off the sink, and places her hands on her hips. "Let's start with some basics," she says, taking a deep breath, and Eddie finds himself wondering if he's about to get overwhelmed by these basics. "Don't talk when Steve isn't looking at you. Don't have anything in or covering your mouth when you speak. Talk a little slower and make sure you enunciate, but if you talk slow like Steve is stupid, I will punch you. If Steve asks you to repeat something, repeat it word-for-word, no matter how many times he asks. If someone addresses Steve and he doesn't notice, give him a subtle nudge. Never sneak up on Steve when he's alone. Even if it means more walking or whatever, move to a spot where he'll notice you approaching. Be expressive when you speak. Steve can't hear things like tone, so he doesn't always know when something is a joke or sarcastic. And never, ever, call Steve or anything about him bullshit."

"That last one...," Eddie says, trailing off as he frowns slightly.

"Is the most important. I'm serious, Munson."

"Okay," Eddie says, nodding once and figuring he'll leave it at that.

"Oh, and ask Steve to teach you sign language. It'll give you an excuse to see each other more often."

-----

Robin has been acting weird since she started her shift, and Steve barely manages to wait until he's 95% sure the store is empty to turn around and ask, "What's wrong?"

Her hands falter, nearly dropping the tape she's busy rewinding. She catches herself, though, and looks at Steve. "What do you mean?"

"You're not telling me something. You tell me everything. What's wrong?"

She hesitates, looking away and biting her bottom lip before sighing and looking back. "I learned a secret today, so it's not mine to tell."

"Oh," Steve says, his shoulders relaxing some. "I thought you were hiding something actually important from me."

He doesn't hear her scoff, but he sees the way her head jerks and her eyes roll when she does. "Why would I bother hiding anything from you, dingus?"

Before Steve can answer, Robin stiffens slightly as she looks over Steve's shoulder. He braces himself for the customer interaction he's about to endure, slaps on a fake smile, and turns around. "Welcome to Family Video. How ca--Eddie?" His smile softens into something genuine at seeing Eddie on the other side of the counter. "Hey, man, what's up?"

Eddie flashes a smile in return, glancing at Robin over Steve's shoulder before focusing back on him. "Hey. Just, uh, kinda had a favor to ask you," he says.

Several possibilities run through Steve's mind, all of them related to the kids, since he can't think of any other reason for Eddie to need a favor from him. "Oh," Steve says, frowning slightly in confusion. "What's the favor."

Instead of answering right away, Eddie shifts awkwardly. He looks away, tugging on a few strands of his hair like he's nervous. He starts to use them to cover his mouth, making Steve dread his inevitable request for Eddie to repeat himself, when he stops. Eddie literally freezes, his fingers twitching before he drops the strands of hair and places his hands on the counter like he needs to keep them in sight.

He takes a deep breath, and Steve is starting to get really concerned now. "Hey, Eddie, whatever it is, just ask. I won't get, like, angry or anything," he says, hoping that makes things easier.

"No, I know you won't," Eddie says, huffing softly before nodding once, more to himself than anything else. "I was, uh, thinking. I read once that sign language is, like, a thing. So, if you teach me some sign language, I'll write you a song that's all noise and vibrations."

Steve doesn't get it all at first, concentrating on Eddie's mouth and getting distracted halfway through by the thought of dragging his thumb across Eddie's bottom lip. "Could you repeat that?" he asks, steeling himself to actually pay attention this time.

Eddie doesn't complain. He just nods and repeats himself. Steve got more of it, enough to know what Eddie is asking for, but he finds himself pausing when he meets Eddie's eyes again. There's no annoyance or frustration at being asked to repeat himself. All Steve can see is patience and nervousness. Without thinking, he asks again, "Sorry, one more time please?"

And Eddie says everything again. He repeats himself word-for-word, still lacking any negative reaction to saying the same thing three times. Steve feels something warm settle behind his ribs, and he nervously licks his lips, catching the way Eddie glances down to follow the motion. He shoves his hands into his pockets, balling them into fists so he doesn't do something stupid like grab Eddie's hand. "One more time," Steve says, the words feeling breathy and soft as they brush past his lips, and he hopes he wasn't too quiet.

Eddie blinks, tilting his head slightly and glancing over Steve's shoulder again. Steve hasn't forgotten about Robin being behind him, but he figures he can just play it off as fucking with Eddie at this point. Eddie doesn't complain or ask if Steve is serious, though. He just...repeats himself, and Steve suddenly knows that Eddie would keep repeating himself until Steve got tired of asking.

"Thanks," Steve says, deciding to spare them both from continuing the loop. "I got it that time. What do you want to learn sign for?"

"A D&D campaign. Thinking of using it in the plot."

"Oh. Uh, yeah, I could teach you. Are you doing anything on Sunday?"

"Nope. Totally free. Nothing planned at all."

Steve can't help a slight grin, and he tells himself it's just because he's excited by the prospect of Eddie writing a whole song catered to how he experiences music. "Cool. Come by my place around noon."

Eddie nods once, exhaling like he's forgotten to breathe the entire time they were talking. His hands tap against the counter, drawing Steve's attention downward, and he suddenly wonders what Eddie's rings feel like. Steve forces himself to look back up before that thought can go too far.

"Will do," Eddie says once Steve is looking at him again. He flashes a smile and adds, "See you then, sweetheart."

With that, he turns on his heel and leaves, waving over his shoulder like Steve isn't trying to figure out if he read his words correctly. He watches Eddie leave, waiting for the door to close behind him before whirling around to find Robin still rewinding tapes like nothing happened. "Did he call me sweetheart?" Steve asks, needing to know if he's misunderstanding.

Robin looks up, eyebrows raised. "Don't know, dingus. I wasn't listening."

Steve barks out a laugh. "You're always listening," he points out.

She grins at him, her expression screaming trouble and that she knows something he doesn't. "Well, not that time," she replies, her grin widening as she adds, "But if I was, I'd say he did, yeah."

"He did," Steve murmurs, looking away from Robin and letting her confirmation sink in.

----------

Tag List (the tag list is completely filled up! There definitely wasn't enough room for everyone who requested a tag orz

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The meme for those who stuck around:

[luveline]

hi jadey!! can i request something with steve? maybe where reader used to be in a relationship where the other person made her to do all the work ( put in the groceries, clean the house, etc.) and one day steve is taking care of some of the chores and reader freaks out cause she’s the one supposed to be doing it?? it’s just an idea, no pressure lovely! hope you’re having a good day 🫶🫶

ty gorgeous! fem!reader

Steve hums when he's busy. No pretentiousness, no shame, he sings lyrics, guitar, and occasionally drums, too. You can hear him in the kitchen singing that Van Halen song he loves, his voice twisted tight as he tries to hit a high note. 

"Are you making a sandwich?" you ask hopefully, hanging your coat on the hook as you trudge in from the front door. 

You're in the kitchen before Steve's collected the wits to answer you. Your jaw falls open. 

"Hey, babe," he says. It's difficult to tell if the pet name is joking or serious, Steve in his pyjamas with his sleeves rolled up, his lips quirked into a funny smile as though he's pleased to see you but confused at the same time. "No? Did you want one?" 

"What are you doing?"

Steve holds his games up in surrender, a cloth held in the left. "I'm wiping down the counters?" 

"Why?" 

"I do this every Friday before you get home." 

"What?" 

Steve takes the cloth to the sink to rinse it out. Bleach bubbles squeeze from the fabric. "Am I doing it wrong? This is how I always do it. Wipe the counters, vacuum, mop. Why are you back so early?" 

"Steve, you don't have to clean. I… that's my job." 

"Then what's mine?" he asks, turning off the faucet and dropping the wet cloth at the bottom of the basin. He wipes his hands dry with a hand towel, ushering your forward with a gesture of his index finger. "Come here…" He wraps his arms around you. "All you do lately is work." Steve kisses your cheek three quick times. "Miss you."

You blink a little, overwhelmed, still worried. "Do I not do it right? It's okay if I don't, I can–" 

"Do what? The counters? No. I just figured it's my turn before the weekend starts and you go on your cleaning frenzy. Which isn't your job, by the way. I don't know why you think that." 

He's light-hearted, but your silence spurns him into a more serious tone. Taking your face into one still-damp palm, he narrows his eyes until they're more brown than anything else and says, "Do you really think it's your job?"

"I'm the girl." 

"And I'm so stoked about that, but…" He smiles, pulling your cheek with his thumb to encourage the same. "That's not right. Do you even like cleaning?" 

"I don't have to like it, it's housework." 

Steve can't seem to decide whether this is serious or not. He goes from smiling to frowning to impassive, his fingers rubbing a slovenly path down your cheek. Strands of hair like lace drift into his eyes as he ducks his head, his gaze on your chest. "It's housework for the house we both live in. I know you've been doing more of it since we moved in, and I'm really sorry. I'm lazier than you. I should've asked you about it, but now I've let you do more and you think you need to do all of it. I'm a dick." 

"No, you're not." 

"I'm a total dick. You think you have to clean up after me?" He brings you in for another hug. "Holy fuck, baby. I'm a grown up." 

You bristle at first, but relax the longer he holds you, his words sinking in steady. He's not criticising you; Steve is apologising and self-deprecating. You slide your arms behind his back and breathe in his smell, all things boy but with the sharp smell of bleach lingering. 

"I did it myself. You know, before. So that's why it feels like it's mine to do. Not your fault," you say into his chest. 

Steve pulls away. "Thanks, but I'm a huge dick no matter what." 

He marches you backwards and forces you back into one of the chairs at the dining table. You grab at his arms as he attempts to walk away, lifting your chin to kiss him. It distracts him for a while, the soft, slow press of his lips against yours, your hand in his hair scratching tenderly, but he can't be kept forever. Steve ends your kissing with a peck and beelines for the fridge.

"What are you doing?" you ask. 

"Making you a sandwich. Dinner and a show tonight, did I forget to tell you? You can eat the best BLT in the western hemisphere and I'm gonna vacuum the crumbs from under the toaster. Perfect Friday night, right?" 

[ooffmlsorry]

OP Men Dating a "Girly Girl"

A/N: sorry this took so long and I haven't posted anything original in a minute my life is mess and I'm so very tired jfc...I know this isn't more than my usual group but I was just gonna stop at Luffy and then decided to add Ace and Sabo as a thank you because writing these and putting them on Tumblr has been really good for me, so thank you for always being here to indulge me 🥲 ❤️

Sanji, Zoro, Law, Luffy, Ace, Sabo

Sanji

Let's be honest, girly-girls drive Sanji craaaazzzzyy (not that all women don't, but he's definitely more partial to the feminine ones) Your make-up, pretty skirts and dresses, jewelry, and manicure, he can't help fawn over you constantly 😍Although you do it because you enjoy it, it's nice that your efforts are so appreciated!!

He spoils you soooo baaaddd!! He literally can't help himself when he sees something pretty or cute that reminds him of you, he has to get it for you. You're drowning in squishmallows at this point.

A river of blood shoots from him every time you show off a new outfit. You're going to kill him and he'll thank you for it.

Dressing up in nice outfits together, especially on date night, is a shared activity that you love to do together. Y'all are living your best happily ever after lives.

Ya'll definitely have scheduled self-care nights. You put on some slow music, open a bottle of wine, draw a bubble bath, all that.

He's utterly useless when it comes to helping you pick your outfits or makeup if you're stuck because he loves you in everything, it's too hard for him to pick. You're his perfect, beautiful Y/N-swaaaaan 😍💖💖✨

He does love to see you in pink or red though so he might default to those colors

Don't try to test your makeup on him lol, you're going to re-awaken the gender identity crisis...I mean Kamabakka trauma

Listen...I'm not saying Sanji has a mommy kink...I'm not even at Whole Cake Island so idk wtf is going on there. All I'm saying is if you give this man a bath, wrap him in a towel to dry him off, and rub him down with luxurious lotions and oils, you might awaken something...that's all...👀

ZORO

He has no clue wtf you're doing. If it weren't for the fact that there's no proof that witches exist in this world, he'd think you are one

He looks at your vanity full of serums, creams, scrubs, lotions, etc, not to mention the makeup and he's like "??????" Just completely baffled

But what do you expect? This man would use that five-in-one Irish Spring soap if he could.

Just because he doesn't understand it doesn't mean he doesn't appreciate and admire the fact that you have extensive knowledge in something he can't even comprehend

He knows you like nice shiny things, and again, while he doesn't get it, he does think it's really, really cute when you go starry-eyed over a necklace or an outfit in a store.

In the same vein, he knows how much you love cute things and animals. He has absolutely found a cute animal in the jungle, picked it up, and brought it to you just to show you because he knew you'd love it.

Sometimes in his own gruff way he'll agree with you that it's pretty cute. Thank you for helping this manly man admit things are cute and that's okay.

Other times, he's the one making sure you don't get distracted because it's so cute

Unfortunately and fortunately, you're pretty to him no matter what you do to yourself so it's all kind of a moot point to him.

You can try to ask him about which 'x' to wear, sometimes it's helpful because he'll throw out a really practical answer and then other times he's like "How 'bout you just go naked" 😏.

He'll wear a face mask with you like...twice a year. And he's going to bitch and moan about it but he does it because he loves you. The entire process is like trying to give a cat a bath "WHY IS IT SO COLD? THIS STAYS ON MY FACE FOR HOW LONG???"

Exfoliate this man at your own risk...I'm dead serious that water is going to be brown

LAW

I need you to know right now this man will let you paint his nails!!! I mean, not like gel or acrylics or anything, but he'll let you paint them any color as long as it's a dark shade of that color. You once designed Bepo on his middle fingers. He did in fact flip people off a lot more often when he had them.

Let's you wear a pastel boiler suit because you he loves you and wants to see you happy

Much like Zoro, he's got no clue what you're doing. He'll stand back and watch you while making the exact same face as the gif above.

He thinks he's being stealthy peaking around a corner to watch your morning or night routine, but you quickly catch on. Please please pleeaaassee ask him if he has any questions because he does. He's just really curious why you're doing what you're doing and what it does. It's basically skin medicine and he's really fascinated.

Knowing that you like shiny things makes his life admittedly a little easier, it's not that he doesn't think of what to gift you, he puts A LOT of thought into what he gives you, but knowing that earrings, necklaces, and bracelets always make you happy is great just in case of analysis paralysis or he forgets. Sorry.

Also you wearing the jewelry he gets you does something to him, especially a necklace he can pull on a little, mmhhm you're making this man struggle with impure thoughts.

You both love cute things, it's something y'all connect on. It's really good that you help him access that very neglected inner child of his and encourage him to coo and fawn over adorable animals with zero reservation.

He'll do skincare with you too when he's not super busy. He can admit it's kind of nice to sit in bed with a book, glass of wine, and a face mask and just bask for a minute

He acts like he hates when you rub serums across his face and use a derma roller on him but he loves it

Law doesn't really pay attention to your clothes, but when you really go all out he breaks out in a sweat and he can't keep his eyes off you.

LUFFY

I'm not saying he thinks it's stupid, it just...why have an hours long care routine when you could be going on adventure with him??? 😭😭😭

He will help you pick out your makeup but don't expect it to look good. You're gonna end up with neon orange eyeshadow and green lipstick. Like literally every "My Boyfriend Does My Makeup" youtube video.

Plays around with your stuff but that's because he has no idea what all these strange contraptions are. The moment you try to explain his eyes glaze over and next thing you know he's whisking you away to go do something more fun.

He likes the shiny bright stuff (highlighter), makeup probably is the only part he even remotely engages in because it's

Explain how contour works to this man and watch him lose his fucking mind, he thinks you're a shape shifter now (honestly this applies to all of them except Law and maybe Sanji)

He never notices what you wear, Nami is gonna have smack him on the back of the head to get him to realize you put on something fancy

Luffy points out everything, it just so happens that things he points out sometime happen to be cute animals

Hides in all the stuffed animals and squishmallows in your room to surprise attack hug you

*throws mud at you* "Is this the kind of mud you like, Y/N??" He really means well though.

You know those hair masks with all natural ingredients like honey and banana? Yeah, he's gonna start sucking on your hair like spaghetti...I'm so sorry.

He'll bathe with you but that's because he wants to be close to you, it's definitely not about being pampered or relaxing.

Try to put a face mask on him or something else and it'll just become a game of tag around the Sunny. You can't catch him and he's having a great time outrunning and outwitting you.

He knows this is all important to you so even though he doesn't get it he'd never make fun of you for it and the moment someone calls you "extra," he's kicking their ass.

ACE

Maybe all the glam is a little silly to him but that just makes you extra cute!

He will also absolutely let you paint his nails. Hell, he'll let you do a full beat on him just for fun and he'll wear it for the whole day because he's so unserious lol

...As long as he gets to do your makeup after...Much like Luffy you're gonna be covered in neon colors that don't even remotely match, but you guys have a great time lol

Admittedly likes to be pampered by you when he gets back from a long mission.

Please take a bubble bath with this man, it's not like the water is ever going to get cold!

I'm pretty sure you'd legitimately lead to Ace taking better care of himself. Got this man out here talking about his cuticles and shit lol

Honestly, it's really good for him because self care leads to self love and Ace needs a lot of help with that.

He tells Pops about all the stuff you do 1.) because he loves you and 2.) he hopes some of it will help Whitebeard heal a little, god bless him 😢

All of your hardwork doesn't go unnoticed, he legitimately gets kind of misty eyed when you really dress up because he's so so so lucky. He swears he doesn't deserve you.

He always brings back some kind of gift even whether it's a cute plushie or something exotic to wear from all of his long travels

I need to stress how much this means to him, everyone of these things is like a little proposal because he already knows you're it. Every little gift is leading up to a ring from this man.

He's also just genuinely impressed by the skill it takes to do your makeup so well, especially after he tries doing it on you

Much like his little brother unfortunately, he does play with all the little contraptions in your vanity, especially in the beginning because have you seen an eyelash curler? He's so confused lol

SABO

Sabo and Ace truly are his brothers because he really don't get all the effort lol

Admittedly, a lot of that is because he thinks you're so hot already what's the point???

Once he gets this is just how you are he's less confused, he's probably the most normal out everyone. He lets you do your thing, although he's really curious how you managed to always look amazing while being in the fucking revolutionary army!!?? Where are you getting the time???

If someone were to intrude on y'all on a free afternoon you're both in fluffy robes with face masks on and Sabo loves to pretend to act like a bitch when he's in selfcare mode with you lol

"Are you seriously bothering us right now, ugh! I can't even right now!!" And then you both break out in laughter

He really thinks you should teach others how to contour and do makeup because it has great applications for disguises and infiltration.

And brags about your skills to everyone

Wonders how many of your makeup supplies could actively be used as a weapon *eye roll* jfc Sabo

There's a part of you that secretly worries all your boujieness will remind him of his blood relatives, but he assures you that it doesn't because you have a good heart and he never doubts that

Besides, being a little extra with him helps him associate those things he used to associate with his blood relatives with you instead so it's even better

He spoils you so bad, but with a Sabo-flair, ie. stealing from shitty people and bringing it back to you because you're oh so more deserving of nice things let's be honest

He gets jealous of the cute animals that you squeal over hehehe, please hug him when he starts pouting

He'll always wear a little pink just for you ❤️

[capslocked]

KINKVEMBER DAY: 6

[prompt: blowjob]

male reader x hyeju

12k words

“I mean, don’t you think,” Hyeju says, wagging a finger at you, “that when you suffer through a bad date, the world ought to owe you something?”

"Like what?" you ask.

"Better taste in women - maybe more orgasms; I dunno, a blowjob?" She shrugs. "The general idea is just that someone gets to cum."

You nearly choke on the air in front of you. "Jesus, Hyeju, warn a guy."

“What? I’m trying to commiserate with you,” Hyeju laughs. “Wouldn’t that be funny? Being able to kiss someone who actually, you know, might love you back, and at the same time. Imagine not hooking-up just to forget a shitty day. Sounds wild, right?"

"Utterly deranged."

"So wild."

-

The first time you hook up with your roommate, it’s because of genetics - though not in the weird, uncontrollable way your body gets rigid and sensitive to any pretty girl who wears nothing but a towel moving between her bedroom and the bathroom, or how her eyes might flick fast from your chest up to yours - or given that the absolute shape of her is a blessing from one god or another (benevolent, clearly). That's not why Hyeju and you find yourselves only a few months later grinding on each other after the clock ticked past midnight, making out on New Year's Eve.

No, it has to do with the fact that Hyeju's nearly failing the nine AM section of molecular genetics because she's spent every lecture doodling stars and planets and planets shaped like asscheeks and planet-ass constellations while everyone else writes notes or doom scrolls twitter or whatever and she is somehow simultaneously the only student who never slept with her face on the lab desk or missed an assigned reading and the only one who absolutely needs a tutor.

It's just cosmic odds that you'd be that one: her roommate, who shouldn't be talking so loudly in the library about sex (in a sort of non-sexy, Mendelian kind of way) or be thinking the kind of things you've started thinking when Hyeju wears one of her more sleepshirt-esque long sleeves, her voice getting lower as you rattle off, "fruit flies and thale cress, definitely, it's just an error of fate or chromosome splitting..." before trailing off into a question.

"This is the worst thing that has ever happened to me," she finally tells you. You listen to her sigh into the binding of her textbook, facedown. "I'm really going to bomb this exam."

You tap her hand twice with your highlighter across the desk. "Then you're pretty damn lucky, if you think about it."

She turns to you, smiles a bit. "Okay, point. The worst thing will be having to retake this stupid fucking class."

"Why didn't you ask for help or go to office hours if you knew you were... failing?"

"Maybe because doing anything more than the bare minimum to get through a class I don't care about is my definition of, failing," she mumbles. "Why didn't anyone tell me a single lab is worth half my grade? Or that the TA is this fucking unreliable? How is this the one thing, really, beyond the basics, that can't be taught by wikipedia, a wikihow article and a youtube video?"

You scoot your seat closer to her. "You really need to relax."

"Fucking tell me about it."

You turn it over in your mind a few times, capping the top of your highlighter.

"Want me to get you off?"

And it’s not like you really mean it, when you say it, which is the strangest thing: you wouldn't actually suggest it, normally, wouldn't mention it in passing and then leave yourself open to the follow up and cross examination; yet there it is, after three, four hours of cramming notes on heterochronicity and the sloshing of gametes - you actually did propose it.

Hyeju jerks up, surprised.

"Are you serious?" She looks around, nearly snorting. "In the library?"

The face you’re giving her makes her scoff.

“You’re absolutely nuts.”

You have character flaws; the inability to admit wrongdoing chief among them. Hell, maybe it's from your mother - or maybe all your brains are just scrambled by the fact that Hyeju's sitting there with her pen against her pretty lips, hair glossier than usual as she scans your face and makes your entire body feel like a reactor core in meltdown.

Maybe you can blame what comes next on that.

"I'm always serious. I'm asking a serious question," you whisper, closing the textbook and resting your elbows on top. You look around quickly, like you're sneaking something in instead of this perfectly reasonable exchange, the perfectly platonic - except maybe not so much - way for friends to help each other.

"And I'm wondering what you're asking." Her cheeks are definitely pinker, you think, or the way it fills out her face, from the bottom up, is just that easy to imagine.

“I’m saying you haven’t gotten laid in months.” Here, you realize, these blocks of mental logic that definitely weren’t there when you blurted it out start to coalesce into something solid as you go on.

And you hadn't been wrong when you thought no one had given Hyeju a helping hand in a long, long time: you've heard through the walls or the floorboards at odd hours of the morning that she spends far too long fingering herself to a mind-numbing, tear-worthy frustration that leaves her knuckle-deep but never, ever sated or satisfied.

"No one's around, you'll feel better. You said it yourself."

Not a work of your imagination here - her ears are fucking burning.

"Wait a minute." She pushes her chair back, away from you and your gleaming offer. It clatters on its back legs, and a librarian waves her finger in warning. You wave back, sheepishly, until she stops and Hyeju stands and moves away from the table to talk, hands crossed over her front.

She turns and asks in a hushed-down-voice, "how did you know - did you hear something last night?"

"You couldn't keep it down even if you wanted to, honestly."

Hyeju turns further and throws a glare at the library doors, because obviously her noisiness and their collective noisemanship, or whatever the hell the word is, is clearly the root of the whole goddamn problem.

"Look - if not, no big deal - but I'm just saying you'll probably get over it and at least think less about sex. Or at least the wrong kind of sex."

You expect her to turn, sigh, and ask if you've lost your mind. Expect her to gather her jacket from the back of her chair, take her books and stomp out the room. Or even burst out laughing at the insanity, before slapping your arm lightly, in playful retaliation - anything other than the serious look she gives you in return, tilting her head, pressing her lips.

She turns up at the ceiling for a moment, contemplating something. And it's cute. It's so very, very cute, how her mouth pouts as she considers the possibility, right up until she says, "okay, fine."

The moderate twist of surprise taking hold in your brow must be visible.

"Oh, don't tell me that was all talk. Get me thinking about the right kind of sex or whatever."

You laugh, which has the librarian staring at both of you - until the librarian stops staring and probably sees Hyeju sliding back into her chair, the full, pent-up weight of her concentration pointed your way, knees inching apart - you, and Hyeju waiting, your knee bumping into her inner thigh, leaning closer as the textbook hits the floor.

"Don't laugh."

"Not laughing, seriously. Not laughing," you stammer. “I just think you’re just full of surprises.”

She spreads her knees further and sits taller, looking right at you.

"So then, surprise me," and then presses her cheek to the crook of your elbow.

You slide your chair right into the space next to hers, nuzzling up into the space under her ear. “Keep studying, Hyeju, you’ve got shit to do.” And then you slide your hand beneath the waist of her sweats, knead the swell of her thigh until you find the seam where her leg meets her body, press your palm down on the place just next to her center, your thumb in the middle. All this perfect pressure.

"Fuck," Hyeju says under a shudder. She's breathing heavier when your hot, open-mouthed kisses start landing at her neck, and she probably tries to read her textbook for about forty-five seconds longer. But there's the clench of her jaw right as your middle finger begins tracing circles beneath the fabric of her panties, and her gaze is blurring until she can't tell the difference between an allele or your fucking name.

"Shh-shh," you quiet her, finger tapping harder, playing with the slick wetness beneath all those layers of thick cotton and pressing two fingers there until her knees part like they’re not interested in resisting at all. Your lips press a kiss to the shell of her ear and she tenses all at once, hand shooting up to cover her mouth.

She simply leans back, closes her eyes, and lets you take care of her.

“Okay, you’re right,” she says, shaky and uneven, “that really did take some of the edge off. Did we ever review - poly- uh, pol-polymers here?"

The sweatshirt sleeve falling off your shoulder is a hindrance to any actual reading; her shifting against the chair isn't helping either, but you manage to push down the thoughts of stripping her down completely and giving her your tongue as yet another distraction.

"What did the syllabus say? I don't know if we need to read too far on 'polymers'," you say, having going through an entire afternoon without considering this once, but as you curl your fingers and take an honest crack at cramming the remaining chapters into her head, the knowledge that no one else is getting her this wet - except for whoever she's got in her mind's eye at three AM - is enough to get you feeling a little dizzy.

-

It’s probably supposed to be weird, given that you’ve never gotten any of your other friends off spontaneously in the library, or there's the fact that you can't really avoid each other afterwards, how she shows up in a silk negligee when you're pouring coffee before sunrise to prep for another day and you have the opportunity to notice - yes, she has amazing taste in underwear, yes, you might not have really appreciated her chest and figure enough before - yes, fuck it. She catches you noticing that first time, after coming downstairs with nothing but one of her cropped t-shirts and her board shorts, and she smirks when she realizes you're still thinking about it that afternoon, when her foot grazes yours while you're both washing dishes, and she dries the plate in her hand with a slow swipe.

And it is weird, actually, to describe what’s going on between you in words. 

A few words, anyway, like a one-word label to describe what it was: friends or roommates-with-benefits, or - fuck buddies - god, it's even worse. Fuck buddies? Fuck friends? Something equally terrible and stupid that still makes sense, like something out of a shitty rom-com: it doesn't capture any of the rest of the myriad ways in which things can feel less or less friendly between two people.

So, friends was never, ever going to cut it. Roommates - although technically correct - is just this side of too clinical. And let's be clear: strangers don't wake up every morning together, walk to the same class, sit close together in the middle seats, secretly flick a strangers' skirt up in an empty lecture hall and get on their knees and work your mouth onto her pussy and watch the legs of the desks shake when her feet arch into the floor.

"The notes you've got are better than mine," is how Hyeju tries to put things, the next day and every time after that, standing in the doorframe, or at the foot of your bed and looking every bit the disheveled and hopeless mess you imagine she might spread out over the sheets of her own.

-

It gets complicated, which isn't really a surprise.

"You think your roommate is going to be home tonight?" is the question that comes up multiple times - from a revolving door of pretty names and faces. Hyeju has at least one opinion, if not more, on each of them.

"Tell Jinsoul I say hi," she says once, watching you get ready for a date, and you nearly bang your knee on the edge of the bathroom vanity. 

It's one of the more harmless comments she's offered.

Another, backhanded: "if you’re just looking for a blowjob everyday between lunch and our physics lab, let Hyunjin or Heejin or whatever-her-name-is know she's easily my favorite," Hyeju says on your way out one morning, still under her covers.

Or,

Hyeju's texted a simple "uh, Chuu? really??" when you mention, once, how much fun you've been having - and what kind, as you make a round of self-conscious and rambling phone calls the next day that land you with only one prospect for the night - but your roommate's also no longer being your roommate by the end of it, bouncing against your thighs in the bathtub and moaning something about please more and fuck or fucking make me cum; the details escape you a bit.

That's what friends are for, probably.

Still, in the same, bare-bones explanation, friends also aren't for falling asleep on you - or letting you hold her - or fucking you awake in the middle of the night. Friends aren't for pushing down your jeans when the early-morning dew settles on the back patio, or jerking you off in the seat beside yours with a sweatshirt over your lap when a group project is due later and you all should probably work on that and instead get yourselves off and leave the mess of what you're doing half-finished. Friends aren't, probably, for offering to watch you rub your palm up and down your cock the night before next semester's exams when you can barely sit in a single chair and you can't think about molecular biology or neurochemical transcriptions when your whole body aches to do the transcribing. (If you can catch that drift.)

The lists of who are and are not good enough for you goes on and on - the latter longer than the former.

So, there's Choerry, who according to Hyeju is 'straight up, a total slut'. Yeojin, who gets mistaken for your little sister enough times that Hyeju refuses to - in good faith - let you keep sleeping with her. Both Heejin and Gowon are apparently too pretty for you. "Kim-lip?" she asks, in the middle of peeling garlic, "is that one name or two?" And laughs into a bottle of beer, loud, while you're telling her to quit being nosey and watch her fingers with the damn knife.

"You have a problem."

"Why, because I asked a few simple questions? I think anyone would be a little curious with the -" she pauses to wave her fingers - "I'd be remiss to not be interested in the very drama that unfolds literally across the hall."

She waggles her eyebrows.

You look up at the ceiling. God save you, you think. "Hyeju."

("Seriously," Hyeju chimes in one evening, arms around you, and a mouthful of the dinner you'd cooked.

"You need better taste in girls. Don't waste time on anyone too dumb, or who drinks the milk straight from the carton, or doesn't wash her socks with the same load of laundry. Oh, and - no one who chews loudly. No one who can't tell you're going to cum. The worst is someone who doesn't know what you like, trust me on that. And remember the last rule: don't do anything with someone who eats at a really slow pace, it's incredibly depressing."

You rest your chin on her shoulder from the spot behind her. "Duly noted, oh Master of all Knowledge."

She sighs into your arm, but in the next moment, her voice gets a lot softer, her hips fidgeting slightly against you. "I just mean you're the kind of person people would want to sleep with again," she says, before turning to say your name and kiss you again and again as your bodies curl inward.

"I wonder what that means, Hyeju," you say.

"Fuck," Hyeju groans as you slide further into her, pushing her back into the sofa - hands on her shoulders, legs bent on her either side, "don't tease me like this.")

-

The first snowfall of the year is mild, a tiny dusting, nothing that sticks on the pavement in the alley or on the sidewalks - or the lintels - or in Hyeju's hair, but by evening, when the snow picks up and everything goes quiet, Hyeju has changed into flannels and wool socks in anticipation, curled up like a cat at one edge of the window ledge as the world begins to go white. It's enough that you even pull on a thicker sweatshirt, open up a book, and join her.

She turns toward you, quiet.

You've reached a point in the semester where this, the silence, doesn't unsettle you anymore. It's the space you fill up with time in-between, where you can see the contours of her body against the orange lamplight of the space heater, or watch her kick off the top half of the duvet at night as you fight over space in her bed and wonder about the bare skin peeking out from her shorts.

"Feeling bored?" She slides her foot a little closer to yours, almost imperceptibly. "Am I keeping you entertained enough?"

Her lips pull up at the corner. You chuckle.

"Oh, no."

She scoffs and puts her hands on her knees, pushes herself closer to the window sill and bumps her elbow into your shoulder. The bare skin of her neck and shoulders and face is getting a little redder as she cranes it forward. "Okay, if not, do you need someone to entertain you, maybe."

Your mouth twists, fighting a smile.

Hyeju is so close to you, you could kiss her really, really easily and not care how she'd feel about that. It's not a habit, not as often as it used to be, but every once and a while - she starts this game. Every once in a while, Hyeju just starts smiling like that, and leans into you like she's daring you to play along, hard round of chicken until it's clear what the two of you are doing with each other; the minutes pass by, one, then two, and then - maybe she pushes first, her leg on yours, or a kiss to your jaw or a palm on your back as she walks behind you - and then you'd turn and kiss her full on the mouth and pull at her clothes like nothing's holding you back.

She cocks a smile, and says, "why don't you go and call what's her name."

"Because."

You glance out at the cold, gray light outside. If you had a better understanding of any of the workings inside you, you could reach forward and tell her everything that's stopped you.

-

You're supposed to meet the girl-of-the-month at a New Year's party. Hyeju looks disgusted within the first ten seconds of the whole story.

"Heejin dumped you once, like, two months ago? For no reason."

"It wasn't a break-up. We talked about what we did wrong and we're doing better," you say, lifting one finger.

She glares, then, tilts her lips into this unamused purse that you can't take seriously at all when she starts walking back and forth across your living room, hands moving emphatically to the sides as she speaks, like she's in the process of unveiling a brilliant argument and is using both palms to guide your eyes toward the unquestionable logic. "God, you're the worst. You're just her easy fuck and you'll still answer her late night calls, really."

She leaves the rest unsaid - that she's just not that into you.

"I don't tell you which boys or girls you can call up," you try, putting on a boot. "If you'd like, I can. Name off the list, and make sure that the right name leaves my mouth this time."

Hyeju doesn't blush when you glance up, which is the surprising thing. No - her cheeks have grown a little more sullen, and she stares down at her socks in contemplation. You're in the middle of fastening up the lace and getting to your feet, waiting, wondering if Hyeju's going to continue this conversation, when Hyeju takes one small step forward.

And her hand goes out to touch your chin, thumb at your lip, fingers holding it in place - like you'll turn if she lets it go - the sharp shock of the sensation like a short circuit, before her knee comes between yours, and your body tingles, at the root and stem. "Hey," she says, eyes meeting yours. The edge of her nail flicking gently as she drags the curve of her thumb downward.

"Hyeju, please - I need to get going."

When you start walking toward your car, she calls out from the window. Something about how you better have the time of your life, fun for the two of you - it’s only fair.

(You feel, somewhere, a certain strange loss.)

"What, are you going to stay up and wait until I come back? Or am I interrupting your session for the night."

You can barely make it out, the smallest look passing over her face. "Maybe," she says, and then: "god, it's fucking cold."

-

New year's parties have this sort of quality of being simultaneously the most thrilling, exciting prospect on earth and the absolute worst fucking event in the history of the planet - depending on the venue, how egregious the racket is for a gin and tonic, the guests - oh, and the company.

Jinsoul and Choerry are both in attendance; in separate corners and in equal states of undress and intoxication, which seems fine by every present party, who are for the most part busy ogling one or the other in the full spirit of the New Year - as you would too, if the stars are aligned and Heejin hasn't already gone upstairs with half the guestlist, her arm wound with someone else's, as per her recent habit; if you haven't been tossed aside for any of the usual, less forgettable prospects and for something bigger, better and certainly much more enjoyable.

Which, if there were any way to track these things down with math, you'd already be reaching for your pen and notebook, as Hyeju would describe this sensation in a phrase she picked up from some podcast. Inevitable means necessary, or something.

"Good party," says Heejin, throwing back another drink.

"Yep. You said that," and you finish yours in one long draw, hissing through your teeth.

Heejin is a goddamn delight, of course, in all the simplest of ways. When she looks up at you - mouth pink, hair framing her face - she is so clearly and completely aware of what she is, and exactly what the world has in store for her, what it has set aside.

"Do you want to know what happened at the other New Year’s party we went to last year?"

"I - yeah. Hit me. Tell me all about (another date you were on) Heejin, that’s exactly what I’d love, let’s hear it."

She throws her head back and laughs, before starting into an overlong recount of her latest, greatest conquest, you on the outside. This is the thing - this is how a pretty face, with just a hint of a flirt, will make you feel for a beautiful, attractive, vivacious - absolutely shameless, raving sex-crazed lunatic of sorts who, apparently, loves to run around town and make a bunch of your closest friends fall in love and heartbroke-er, with every passing notion of her beauty, her charm - just the tilt of her chin, and some poor fucker is lost, absolutely lost.

 Even she knows it's a bad habit of hers. 

But who doesn't have a weakness? You've got plenty of your own - plenty, Heejin can admit - everyone does, in a way, and so Heejin, the other sloppy drunks milling about the party, and Choerry and Jinsoul all agree - someone like her just happens to have the best kind of weakness - so, so many of them, in fact:

"Can you believe how easily a few words get Jinsoul riled up? Or how it only takes a couple drinks for Choerry to pull up the hem of her skirt, not knowing the effect that'll have?"

And as for the last, and arguably worst kind -

"Hyeju, huh? What a great start to the New Year," is her final word. Heejin reaches across and downs your drink. Her expression turns just shy of grave, a pensive look. "Not your smartest idea, the living-together situation. Who in their right mind would put themselves in such a mess?"

"Thanks for the great advice." You wave her off, irritated.

There's another laugh before Heejin leans her face onto the table.

"Though maybe she's onto something, now that I think of it. Who needs anyone for the New Year?" and it's almost convincing the way her mouth, lined up with the rim of the glass, smirks when she drinks. "Mm. All a matter of taste."

-

The snow is halfway up your calves when you realize you need to find a cab at 11:30 PM on New Year's Eve. (Which, categorically, is the worst time to need to find a cab on New Year’s Eve.)

Or just:

11:36 PM and the nearest bus stop is too far away.

11:41 and the temperature feels like its dropped by fifteen degrees, like you should start wondering what hypothermia symptoms look like and what signs to look out for in yourself, your future wife and your children. You try not to think about why, but you get your phone out and immediately call Hyeju, so you're not sure what you think you're denying.

"No party?" she asks. Her voice is distant and sleep-ridden, but Hyeju's quick to pick up, like always.

"It sucked, I'm trying to find a way home early. Happy New Year."

"Happy New Year." There's a long pause, filled in by the squeak of snow beneath your boots. "Get a kiss?"

"Uh, not yet. In the market, I guess."

Hyeju's low hum isn't reassuring, either. "Well, you're kind of missing your window. Bad time to start looking."

"Says you, and here you are - still up for someone to spend the night with. Look at you," you respond, all this snark in your voice that she clearly hears. There's a long sigh.

"Actually," and Hyeju, much to the confusion of you and possibly the whole world, doesn't respond, and for a few seconds, the line goes completely silent, leaving you hanging.

She breathes once and comes out of her sleep with a yawn.

"I actually," she begins. There's a lot less preamble this time - this tone - and when she speaks again it comes through not nearly as sleepy, "was sorta wondering. Are you on your way home?"

"If I don't freeze to death, yeah."

"Yeah - no, yeah," and that's it. That's the sum total of what makes any difference between where you were a moment ago, and where you are right now, head spinning, fingers buzzing. Hyeju waits and there's the wind on the line, snow settling on your hat and in the corners of your face.

"I - sorry. I probably woke you up. Are you expecting someone else," you say, very small. Your foot drags behind the other. The cars whizz by you faster, passing.

"Hm. You're the only one, I guess," and after that - just static and the muffled sounds of her footsteps on creaky floorboards - or the tick of her ceiling fan? You can't make heads or tails of the rest of the background noise. All those words she said.

You bite your tongue to stop whatever curse words start pouring out from the jumble and cross streets, or the pedestrian underpass; snow gets stuck in your lashes and burns, but your chest is like a molten furnace. You consider telling her right there on the line, everything you're feeling - so hot, it feels like fire, Hyeju, I'm not used to getting heated and desperate and impatient - that even if you're not here now - just imagining your face - the sound of your breathing, it feels like I'm on the cusp.

"Yeah. Sure - good - okay, Hyeju."

"I guess, see you soon?"

"In a bit."

(It takes 33 minutes, trudging through cold and wet. It's all very dramatic, you think, and there's no one there to even watch you suffer for it, or - though you try not to think about that particular line - really, no one at all.)

-

You hear the way your key grinds in the lock - it's been like this, jammed since summer, when you pushed the front door in late at night a little too hard and something came undone and made a sound like a small stone tumbling down the world's deepest well. The hinge squeaks, and there's ice on the stoop, on the doormat, on every nook and corner you can see, all the way up your neck.

And your face, too. You shake off your hat, undo the buttons on your jacket, and pull off your boots before hanging them and all the layers to dry.

You can make out the outline of her profile at the edge of the door frame, right in the kitchen - barefoot, hip pressed against the island, pajamas - the dim lights illuminating the shadow of her head, hair over her face -

- but you don't pause. The next layer. There's nothing left to say. You're too cold for excuses, too smart to use the same ones you'd been taught, like: this is a normal, acceptable circumstance; everything, anything, will be perfectly normal if the two of us act as though that's the case; pretend we're both acting within the norms of reason, within our senses and logical thinking and I won't make myself go out in the cold a second more - won't stand for more than five minutes with your eyes looking like they're waiting.

So you move instead toward the kitchen, where the heating is better and she's already pouring coffee. There's a heat radiating out of the oven, and it smells sweet in there, like cinnamon and warm butter, and you wish you weren't still shaking, blood barely thawed, but there it is - her face, watching you - eyes gleaming as you wrap your hands around a mug, steam rising up - a shiver running up your arms; her knees skirting yours when she takes one step back and there's the cabinet door shut, then open again, and then a palm on your back.

Hyeju presses a cup of the fresh coffee, now warm enough to drink, to your chest, and says, softly. "What the fuck happened out there?"

She starts reaching out to wipe the frost and slush from your face. You let her hand hold you still, eyes wide.

"Oh you know," and her palm stays, even though it's obviously - suddenly - gotten warmer, and wetter too, and the longer she stands there and lets her fingers warm the pale bones of your cheeks, her wrist, the base of your forehead and ears, the more expectant the look on her face grows. "The usual."

Her eyes go as narrow as they ever can. For just a moment. "You're gonna die a slow, pathetic death someday, just for the record."

"Don't forget how this starts," you try, and feel your neck go warm, throat and breath tight. And not even when her shoulders shift, her mouth going smug - just looking at you.

“I mean, don’t you think,” Hyeju says, wagging a finger at you, “that when you suffer through a bad date, the world ought to owe you something?”

"Like what?" you ask.

"Better taste in women - maybe more orgasms; I dunno, a blowjob?" She shrugs. "The general idea is just that someone gets to cum."

You nearly choke on the air in front of you. "Jesus, Hyeju, warn a guy."

“What? I’m trying to commiserate with you,” Hyeju laughs. “Wouldn’t that be funny? Being able to kiss someone you actually, you know, might love you back, and at the same time. Imagine not hooking-up just to forget a shitty day. Sounds wild, right?"

"Utterly deranged."

"So wild."

When Hyeju sighs and gives a long, nonchalant hum, leaning her body closer, pressing up until her waist hits the cabinet top and you're pressed together chest-to-chest, she looks at you and her hips settle, the heel of her foot reaching around your calf.

There's that tingle. Again and again. You're not even trying to not think about what it might mean.

But then, you start, silently and unconsciously, trying to answer the question: why don't you, maybe. Why don't you, actually - Hyeju kisses you, pulls on the loop of your jeans and lets your lips brush the corners of hers and pulls away, suddenly, mumbling and head-turning. And just as abruptly, your nose buries in the space between her neck and her shoulder, where it's all warm. And when she puts her palms on your hips and squeezes and twists her knuckles into the fabric there, it seems she wants your hands up her shirt and under the small of her back.

And her hands - they're fidgety tonight, fingers curled up to keep their nails and the chill away, moving lower - one on your ass, while the other comes forward and begins rubbing circles, a handful of times - enough so you're letting a deep, low breath escape into the space just above her collar, your knee working its way between hers.

"That," Hyeju breathes, lips at your ear, hand reaching down to trace the hard curve of your cock pressing in the spot right between you, and there's that small rush again, familiar now, like you've caught a rhythm and she wants to feel it in its fullness: "is how you can make it up to me. For making me stay up. Worrying about you, god knows why. Waiting."

You're still half-frozen in a way, slowly thawing. "Hyeju, I've been trudging through the consequences of my actions this entire night. What am I about to suffer through now?"

"It's no consequence, honestly."

You squint.

"Just an idea, but," she breathes again; your bodies getting closer, and looking up at you, she grins and reaches down to touch the very root of you, her fingers drumming. You make a sound, and at that she says, her voice coming out thick, low:

"Want me to get you off?"

She squeezes again for good measure, just to be clear. Just a slight curl of fingers that's enough to send a flash of heat and the transient thought: why, why, why is she always wearing those fucking shorts, even in the winter?

Your blood thrums through the pulse at the end of your cock. You shake.

"Alright," is the response you let out.

And at that, Hyeju takes your wrist and leads you upstairs.

"There's that look. Don't worry. We'll find a way," is all she says as your feet walk forward, up step-by-step and higher and further up to her room. "After all, isn't that what we've always done?"

"It's usually whatever will make me stop talking."

Hyeju puts her chin on your shoulder. Her eyes follow the lines and shapes in the patterns of wallpaper as you turn onto her side of the apartment, and even through the wall and behind the doorway, her arm still around you, she pulls at your chin until your faces turn and you both can share each other's heat.

"Who, you and your awful habit of talking out-loud in your head while you work through equations?" and she brings her lips to yours, close and warm.

"Hey. Fuck you," and your voice breaks into an odd, low laughter when she kisses you harder.

"Yeah, I know," she whispers as her hand dives past the band of your boxers, palm sliding easily until she's gripping you fully and letting her fingers rub. She holds you there, in her room, her arm looped through yours, another arm resting at your belly.

And she stops there. She stays like that: holding your gaze.

"Look, Hyeju," you say, unable to not, though this can hardly count for anything; this, what you're about to admit, is nothing new. You swallow. "The thing is - you shouldn't."

"Don't want me to touch you?" she says, finger to your lips.

"Well, that's different. Maybe. Is there - maybe it's not the best thing to ask you right now."

Hyeju considers for a brief moment and tuts under her breath. "Can you at least do me the decency of waiting until I'm done wringing you dry before you say shit like that."

And she moves then, toward the bed.

So:

No. Yes. Maybe. Who knows, you tell yourself. Maybe, but only because you'll do anything if it makes you feel less sick, like a creature standing over its own skeleton - an abandoned shell; a relic, something to be feared and disgusted, as you let her go between your thighs, kneel beside the bed.

"I mean - since when - have you felt," is just as far as you're allowed to go before Hyeju presses her nose into you and pulls you out of the thin, cold fabric - palm, thumb, all those slender fingers swiping over your head - and now there's just the smell of her room and the shock, the buzz that runs down your spine and settles somewhere, somewhere inside the small and desperate movement of your hips and the tension building just below.

And god, fuck, Hyeju’s lips.

These soft, wet, pouty fucking things that could suck you straight off if you were feeling any less stupid or inexperienced or sentimental - if she wasn't solely intent on teasing it out of you first; a slow drag of the tongue up the underside; the tip of it poking, tracing the rim, like she's figured you out, just where to lead you. She's ready to smoke you out - always - until you're not taking in a breath every ten seconds but starting to close your eyes to the overwhelming, needling pleasure, too sharp, the way she knows you like best.

"Now you're finally - mm - starting to sound hot," and that smirk comes back to the corner of her mouth, teasing the sensitive belly of your cock and tracing her tongue everywhere. "With the voice and -"

You're losing track, her thumb and fingers circling the whole length of you - just, one after the other - mouth a hair-breadth away, her breath hovering like a promise.

"- that face."

"Don't, fucking tease me-"

The sound of your cock going in is like nothing else.

Wet and filthy in all the right ways.

Just the suction in her throat has your eyes nearly roll back into your head - Hyeju's gaze calmly watching the terrible sort of helplessness that washes over you like this: her lips wrapped around, bobbing - her hair falling into the wet mess of her mouth and sticking there. Hyeju likes being a little sloppy, likes feeling that spark run up the length of her tongue when she slides. It's the wet and the heat that gives everything away.

"I don't have much of a choice -" her jaw and chin is smudged when she pulls back off of your cock, mouth glossy and glistening, "and honestly, wouldn't it be a better use of our time, or my talents if I actually do that thing?"

“Which is?”

She looks up for a bit and sighs, the flush blooming pink to the tip of her ears and into the rounds of her cheeks and all across her neck. "Since, as far as I can see, what you really like - is, oh I'm just spit-balling here," and she stops just to bite her tongue and look into your eyes, "it's letting the girls take care of you? Isn't that right?"

You want to tell her, no, not always, that it's not as though you enjoy giving control completely - that that would be completely and unarguably, the opposite of true -

That most of the time you love it when the person you're with is a little bossy, a little crazy for you. You know some guys really get off on a strong woman and maybe, maybe if a girl's pretty and dressed up, and - sure - a little wet, but that's hardly -

“You know I’m right,” she says, a flicker of mischief skittering across her features. “These walls are paper thin.”

You want to tell her, perhaps remind her, that she likes someone in charge just as much as you do - to be taken care of, told what to do - to have a hand curled up around her throat and the other at her tits while a guy fucks her the right way and takes the reigns when she needs. So who are you, when it comes to knowing her better? And who, really, are you fooling?

But before you can get any words in: Hyeju dips, lips parting where the head of your cock throbs, and then disappears; and the hot wet warmth, enveloping all around your shaft and back; the curve of her throat contracting.

You moan - a lot, and louder this time - into the whole feeling. The way her fingers work the distance from the base, twisting and twisting and twisting into the pout of her lips; or how the sound is like nothing - a whimpering, messy sound - almost a whine and definitely not a slurp as your cock sinks further and further, until it's all one big, heavy throb.

And it's like Hyeju can read your thoughts, the visual you have of her lips screwed tight around your shaft - cum leaking from the corners, and her eyes scrunched up tight, as she looks up to watch your face unravel - this perfect image of her taking you, all of you, swallowing each drop as your hips start rutting up into her and - and - and.

Or else she gets impatient, because then Hyeju gives one long pull off the tip of your cock - saliva mixed in the precum there, and that shiny string of fluid hanging, caught in the middle between your bodies - a disgusting and irresistible sight. Her jaw slack, lips swollen and full, and her mouth gone wide open, wanting.

"Fuck - that's good. Don't stop," you start to whimper, desperate, at the sight, the smell. Her hot breath coming quick over the red wanting wetness left behind - then touched by the cold air - fuck -

She slaps your cock to the corner of her lips as she speaks.

"Can you believe what's going on down here?"

"God, can you -"

"And to think most guys wanna jump straight in. That or fuck a load out between my tits."

"Hyeju, shit, come on -"

She kisses the soft tip, right where it’s most sensitive, rolls it along her lip. Then, back down the length of your shaft where she's generous with her mouth inch after inch - lapping, licking, laving - and Hyeju begins working her way down and downward, nestling in at the edge of the bed and between your thighs.

Your eyes blow up the first time she dips low enough to put your balls in her mouth. 

“Mmhm,” she hums.

It’s killing you and she knows it; it’s killing you and she can feel the pre-cum leaking from your slit - the thumb she has moored there, keeping everything right where she wants it, running circles up the length with such little intention - she could bring you to the end just like this. 

"Am I supposed to believe it?” she asks out from beneath the shadow of your cock, looking up at you with her eyes all wide and brilliant - pupils dark as sin. “That not a single one of those girls ever did you proper?"

You curse under your breath. Hyeju seems amused, at least, like she can't help but love doing that to you, which is almost worse and honestly the sexiest thing a girl can be. You groan - wanton, raw and desperate and feeling exactly what she wants you to feel when her nails drag along the dip of your hip bones.

"Did they not leave you fucked-up the right way?"

Her wrist flicks out these twists and turns, making your spine bend to her control. Like even when you're sure to be bundling her hair in your fingers and fucking the whole length of your cock down her throat, all of this is the worst kind of power-trip for her - not the other way around.

Her tongue runs through the tangle of your balls, slowly, lasciviously, as though the plan is to memorize and map every detail. 

And the worst part is, how much it's making you desperate for the warmth of her mouth - where she'll run her tongue up and down and over and around and inside - before sucking you off nice and slow.

"Or maybe," she laughs; another flick to the top and then suddenly her hand goes faster and the fist pumping the rest of you tightens. "They left you so needy you're resorting to having the bestie suck you off so that you won't be desperate the next time you date. Oh my god-" 

Hyeju breaks into this fit of laughter, and you're nearly cross-eyed at the feeling of your entire existence - not just your cock - so wholly held within her mercy, and her pity, and you're breathing so shallow now you'd think this is the real reason people have died and will die - this exact moment where you're choking and stuttering at the edges, so very close to cumming and going absolutely bonkers with how good Hyeju is with her hands, her tongue, her mouth - everything - how much she's wrecking you, and your jaw drops, wide open, her name dripping like molasses off your lower lip.

"Are you going to cum?" she asks, curiously. All as if she can't see you nodding, collapsing under pressure, and then and there: "should we make it official?"

Her nose tickles the seam of your balls. And your toes begin to curl and uncurl - all this anticipatory, coiling pleasure burning from her throat, shooting from the pit of your stomach; the tightening spiral, twinging and stretching every nerve - as her lips enclose around the end of your cock, softly.

And oh, just excruciatingly slowly.

You watch the irresistible shape of her mouth travel down until her throat feels so incredibly, beautifully, and unbelievably tight, and then, just like that - Hyeju starts fucking herself onto you; pushing forward and down the full, rigid length of you, hard and fast - each time hitting deeper inside her - all that sticky, messy, wet squelching.

"Unh-unh, yeah. Unh. Mm-!" you say, or moan, or some animal version of that, maybe, it’s incoherent.

But regardless:

It's messy and your hands scramble for purchase in the sheets of her bed when you feel that snap, the tightening of a trigger; when your balls roll up and it builds, and builds, and it comes faster - harder and -

"Hyeju," you pant, and it sounds so, so filthy. "I'm gonna cum, if you - gonna cum-"

Hyeju pulls you free from her lips, quite possibly at the most final of final moments, to rub the base up and down, just right, between her fingers. Your cock is resting right on her cheek when it all happens. When she squeezes her fingers around your balls just enough to hear you wheeze and make a sound no sane man should have the right to. And fuck, you're cumming all over her face - or just one side of it - which is already just -

Okay, fuck.

She makes a startled sound and her fist closes tightly around your shaft when you pump another fresh load of white up onto her eyebrow.

"I'm, ah-shit," your mouth moves faster than the blood in your veins - and now the shame - oh god, the humiliation, it's pulsing right behind you. "Hyeju," you apologize.

Only, Hyeju has no interest in any of it. She doesn't seem offended or disappointed in proportion to how you're ruining her pretty face: "no, just do it, cum wherever you fucking like."

Which isn't what you're expecting at all, because Hyeju makes no effort to close her lips, let alone avoid any of it; nor is she making a fuss about the sticky mess in her hair, her mouth, nor as another stream of cum throbs from your cock, all tangled up in the long dark eyelashes that sweep down across her cheek.

It’s fucking filthy: you're cumming all over her and she's just kneeling there, telling you, "good boy."

See, she pushes through it, languidly - all those filthy sounds, and those watery little tears gathering at the edge of her eye and all of that, mixing up together until you're rolling your head back with your orgasm, shuddering, feeling weak - drained dry -

Except,

Hyeju's pushing a finger to your chest, kneeling up tall from the side of the bed. She turns her body toward the center of the bed and wipes a bit of the cum on her knuckles into the sheets. Here you feel like you've done something terrible or at least regrettable, like that last round at the bar when you have a test the next morning; a dick move, all of the sort that requires apology.

"You gotta give me a minute, if you're thinking about hopping on."

"Hmm. Sounds like a lot to ask."

"Wait," you grab her arm. Hyeju grins and there's nothing stopping the shake of your knees now, that weakness between your thighs: "let me get you a drink."

"Or."

"Or?"

Her tongue peeks out, running along her upper lip. Her eyes drop again, hands dipping below, beneath the hem of her shorts and oh. She slips a hand past her bra. The whole outline of it. And you -

"Mm, I could show you what that actually means." She lowers her chest, her breasts, and a lot of skin to the mattress while keeping your cock firmly in her hands. "That look tells me you wanna stick around a bit. Stay up past New Year’s, you know?"

You're almost unable to parse her words, there is so much to look at: the jutting curve of her chest, cleavage pressing into the mattress as her body settles between your knees. A soft chuckle; a sigh: "you are seriously the best lay, no-one else can get hard the minute after they just fucking exploded all over me-"

"Fuck, watch it," you hiss, because there's oversensitivity - and then there's Hyeju's mouth on the line of your cock, polishing you clean.

And it’s not that she isn’t trying to prove a point. Or that she's not trying to tease - that's an inherent quality of her character: a naturally dominant position with a high appetite for your lust. That much, Hyeju gets from you, whether you've got your head down between her thighs or the other way, too, so that her neck is arched around and her ass pushed up high in the air, legs open, and if she had any idea you would spend the next twenty minutes or more just going down on her, licking into her creaming cunt while two fingers work over her aching clit, then really, Hyeju would only encourage it - maybe get on top, force you to gag - and so you don't know where it comes from - how and why you want nothing more than to drive your fingers inside her and work her until she's a wet, squelching mess, not when this was always Hyeju's role of being the aggressor; and yes, sure, even the aggressed.

Surely not because you came so hard, still somewhat shivering with the remnants of a rather abrupt, painful, sudden and all-consuming orgasm.

"We're not doing anything else," she says, lips pulled up into a smirk right at the crown of your cockhead. But before you can respond she pushes a hot open kiss, and goes lower. She presses the flat of her tongue to the seam, just below the head. Licks a line right up to the tip and finishes with a tender flick that sends you fisting the bedspread in your fingers and leaning back as your mind begins to disintegrate -

"I'm not going to ride you yet, or going to get my hips in your hands so you can fuck my pussy real hard until I cry and pass out. Nothing of that sort is gonna happen." She licks one long drag of her tongue. Then, the other way. "I want to make this very clear: this isn't some huge favor - and if you want it - want it so bad, you can stay there and I'm going to do everything for you. We will get there - together," and with her voice shaking as she brings the wet, glistening skin of your cock just inside her mouth, she looks up. "We'll get each other off, just like this," and it's the deep, dark, throated moan that makes your thighs and all the nerves in between stiffen and buck when she swallows you again.

Hyeju's hands tug, pull her whole body closer still as it slowly bends, curves - her ass raised, her stomach lying on the bed. Her mouth takes you another few inches, until the tip of her nose is barely visible, but when she pauses to lick the cum still left over - the cum that's starting to leak out again - to breathe through it, then squeeze her palm and bob her mouth down, take another inch, until the sides are stuffed and emptying out again, that's when she finally has something to say: "got anything left? I'm a little starved."

"I. Christ, yes-" you whine, which doesn't help your case at all: the image, the image of you lying flat - back with Hyeju's head tucked between your knees, her hand pulling out your cock.

Sloppy, slimy-wet.

She presses an innocent, not-at-all-innocent kiss right to your tip, puckering - 

"You know what I did learn in that genetics class?" she muses, tongue flicking over her lips. Hyeju's about ready for a second helping - you're losing it. "When I first saw that DNA diagram - the double helix and all those little base pairs, and everything - it made me think of your cock. Your cock and me. Specifically our DNA. Did you know-"

She presses her palm over the head and rolls it - teases and strokes her palm - her knuckles - her fist - the whole nine. "When I hold your big fucking cock, mm, and just get it right - up in here, rubbing all along my walls - so deep, it gets me in my fucking ribs, makes me choke like I never been choked before, ah-mm," and it's this thought sliding toward the front of your mind, this perfect picture: Hyeju, getting fucked hard and open and stuffed full and stuffed good and stupid; you’ve got more than a few inches on her, can make her feel small and delicate; you know how to do her right.

But here you have Hyeju stroking the shaft - holding her hand tightly up near the head, rolling and twisting and sliding down and pushing her whole body right into the side of your legs: the soft, solid length, warm flesh and curves everywhere pressing into you.

You sit back, and just watch Hyeju with her eyes cool and composed, like half of her fucking face isn't streaked with your cum, mouth wrapped and looking fucking satisfied to be a total, gorgeous mess. She makes a dramatic display of kissing the tip again, just before telling you words you probably dreamt up at some point - either sleep deprived, or, during three AM jackoff, fantasizing. "Sometimes, just from riding your cock, I can't sit up straight."

"Fuck," and you feel your whole body run rigid, because apparently that's something you’ve been aching to hear.

You're covering her mouth again. White streaking onto her lips - where she's catching it in the well beneath her tongue and letting it spill out of the corner of her mouth. Into the crook of your thumb, which catches a drip here and there and rubs it down the length - down the curve - and pushes it back between Hyeju's pert little pout.

"Doesn't count, mister, just more pre-cum," she says, all with the audacity of a wink and smile; her words are a little garbled around the head of your cock between her teeth. And when you nod and realize just how painfully your jaw hurts, your throat becomes tight and raw, a knot pulling the underside from the center. Hyeju slides her lips lower, lower down, to the hilt and stays there, just like that - one hand holding down the flat of your belly to keep your hips still, her chin hanging - bobbing-as she feels every pulse, every twitching shift. You curl one hand around the side of her face, over the sharp edge of her jaw; rub a thumb into the delicate skin of her throat.

She shifts. You start to tell her what you like: how hot the rush comes when a girl puts her tongue against the slit at the very tip, and licks at the precum in nice, quick circles, soft and fluttering. And how her fingers shouldn't hesitate either, Hyeju's not even struggling to give it to you - god - just giving and -

She jerks her head up, swallowing down her next breath like it's one of her last. "I'm serious, if you're going to fuck a hole, start with my mouth - we can move onto everything else after."

"You're ridiculous -"

She meets her lips to your head, kissing once. Again. Kissing every inch, letting her mouth wrap around and then just - staying, just - staying like that and humming, with you, enjoying the fullness, the smell of you, the taste, the shape, just the weight and size and you.

There is spit fucking everywhere.

And if it's not clear what you're supposed to be doing - her fingers weave through yours, squeezing hard at the wrist and you can imagine: pulling her forward by her hair and holding her down while she chokes on your cock. "Fuck, Hyeju," you say, and your voice comes out way shakier than you'd like, "when, how did it get like this, huh? You always - always did, shit, always want your mouth filled."

"Never figured you to be someone who'd get turned on watching their friend sucking their cock like this."

"Doesn't everybody love the sight of their cock in a pretty girl's mouth?

"You were really convinced they weren't lining up behind you? Or anyone in the queue who can't keep their eyes off of this thing. Tell me, and try not to lie, try not to bullshit this one out: how many girls have you come home and fucked and creamed their brains out - then asked for the sloppiest, most -"

"Honestly."

"- Filthiest, nasty, ball-busting, gut-wrenching blowjob ever to make them think - to make them really start wondering what the hell it was you did - like it's gotta be something that leaves them so ruined, they can't ever not compare - can't ever not compare this moment, right here. Ever. When you give them the hardest fucking of their life, compared to any other guy - can't not, because no-one, literally no-one's cock can fuck like you do-"

"Fuck-"

"Any harder. Come on, seriously, tell me it isn't true. Come on."

Her voice - her fucking words, the tone she uses and how her words roll: honey-warm and soaking with sweet, thick degradation - she talks like sex, and that's exactly what gets you harder, like it’s something else; like it’s nothing, like it’s less, so much worse - you feel this guilty-dirty heat pool at your tailbone and push down the hard press of you throbbing all the way to her nose. And Hyeju smiles as much as she's capable around the fat, round stretch, humming around the warm taste of you, before opening wide and sinking her throat on it.

There's nothing like it.

You've got two fists in her hair; she's so tight and wet around every god-damn inch. Her cheeks flush - hot to the touch; her tongue laving in slow, long drags, slicking your shaft nice and warm until you're balls-deep and pushing her further: a small shift to the hips, a push here, a harder, faster pull, and Hyeju's feet behind her go curling like an angry cat, wanting the tug.

A long, satisfied breath slips from the hollows of her throat.

There are tears threatening, thickening her lashes, and though she doesn't choke - you're just afraid. Every sound that she pulls out, her eyes blinking up to you as if it's only natural to love getting used by her friend's cock, like the very premise of it - swallowing down the very shape of you, dragged over her tongue and brushing cum into the back of her throat - is something she can’t go without.

But this is nothing compared to the noises from where her lips are pressed tight around you, where you're hearing and even feeling:

That gluck, gluck - where her chest spasms just the slightest when her nose gets nuzzled right into your belly and you remember how much she likes to hear you talk dirty, how fucking wet it gets her. The heavy, deep breaths, gasps; the strangled moans when your hips just buck - the heat and the thrill, and this is better than every other time because there's just something in this moment -

"I'm not gonna come again, not like this. Not in your mouth. You can’t-"

But Hyeju refuses to hear a word; just pumps your shaft faster, feeling it's familiar hardness grow and throb and ache and retch, all her effort paying off: you're slick with precum and spit, hard and straining, the whole shaft begging for release - all because of her. And Hyeju won't stop, she pushes her cheek onto your thigh and then taps a hand there to pull your hips. The motion drives your cock further still inside her. Until it’s bathed in her spit, your cum, all this mess.

Until it's reaching, choking her, and the muffled sounds she's making are filthy and wet and so incredulously hot.

But god. Hyeju has something of a temper and a habit, too: with those big beautiful eyes and the perfect plump of her pouting lips, her tits swelling up around, when your grip slips on her shoulder, and her mouth goes tighter - how the pleasure begins to make you unbearably cruel and you push her away from you, only for a second -

She doesn't wait or seem to care; Hyeju follows the cock with her whole head and whimpers so hotly in her throat when it plops right back on her tongue. "That's more - more like - fuck, oh, there we go," her nose and fingers prodding.

You groan through a high, strangled whimper, a helpless shiver that turns into an uncontrollable roll of the hips - you can't believe it: she's already so thoroughly debauched and defaced; just fucking painted with it. Your cum dripping off her chin and rolling down her neck.

"Fuck - gonna make me - ah, Jesus -"

When Hyeju seems to have reached her fill, the feeling, you're cumming - pumping the length of your shaft. And the moment she feels you twitch and throb and that first hot spill lands in the bend of her mouth, it's as if she understands and holds herself tight - her legs going stock-still while your eyes blow up behind her, your cock spewing another and then another thick, milky load into her mouth, over her tongue: all along the topography of her throat - sticky cum landing in every ridge and valley -

Hyeju catches as much as she can. What little she can. You cum and pump and gush so much that when you're finally finished - done - every last drop spent and given - your cock throbs soft between her fingers; her chin is a complete and utter mess and her chest heaves with the sound of her catching her own breath. Hyeju groans softly and just swishes the load around in her mouth for a bit as if wanting to remember its feel and weight before lifting her eyes to look into yours. You can just barely see the color.

"Jesus, Hyeju-"

The entire bit of it, slick and shining-wet. With a small moan, a sound from the back of her throat: one swallow and the cum is gone, disappeared, vanished. She smiles like she didn't just ruin your entire goddamn life and, with her body limp and exhausted beside you - her gentle hand rubbing a flat stroke over your thigh before yours slips up to meet her chin.

"You," you curse and roll your eyes, catching the mess at the edge of her jaw, the very little left in the corners of her lips. You feed the cum over her bottom lip - her chin, her throat - watching your friend: Hyeju's throat, bobbing. "Really didn't have to," you start, but you realize just how useless a point it is to make.

She's smiling and biting and showing you what's left between the tips of her canines. "Do you always do this to the people who suck you off?"

"That's an awful habit. A pretty girl's lips aren't meant to get that messy," you reply.

"Oh." She frowns. "Well, I do a lot of things I shouldn't."

"God, seriously," and you think there's no greater hell, no sweeter pain than whatever's lingering in these little aftershocks - this fizzling and dying sort of pain, where the body is buzzed with all you're aching for. It's impossible to stop this train of thoughts, is the fucking feeling of her-

But just then, Hyeju rises to her knees, a new spark in her eyes, as she grabs ahold of your wrist and tugs you off the sheets, a few inches closer.

"And you," she purrs as she drags the palm of your hand across her neck and collarbone, collecting what remains and making the perfect image, "well - you are going to help clean me up, like you said before." She sits tall; the arch of her spine is pronounced - her back, so, very, slightly tapering, to where your hand slips right off the last of it: the wide flare of her hips. "Now isn't that the gentleman's thing to do?" she asks.

"Of course." You sigh, resigned and in desperate need of water. "Of course," you add and smirk a little and slip your hand lower, toward where her skin is getting hot, and her body, "let's get you clean."

"Mm." She's already grinning. "You know what wasn't in those textbooks?"

"Oh, I can only guess." You bite your cheek and start to lower yourself back. "Give it a try."

Hyeju drags you by the wrist toward the hall, the bathroom, ostensibly the shower -

"There's no way in hell you don't want to put a baby in me, like, right fucking now."

"Is that what we're doing?"

Hyeju makes a face like you're stupid - she might've grabbed a towel on the way out. She wipes her chin a little while walking - the corner of her mouth where, well - where it looks like a little dribble has somehow remained. "No. But you’re going to fuck me like it is."

-

(There's got so much on her mind. 

The door of the shower rattling in its frame as she struggles standing up against it. Getting fucked so fast and full, the feeling of both your hands cupped beneath the weight of her breasts. It's not the fact of where you are and your situation, per say - more about the immediate, the imperative nature. About fucking you. She was already feeling herself like, leaking the moment the door shut, so all that waiting, all that patience, really - and it's what drove her insane when you were, well: like that, after she put her mouth around your cock, made a right and proper mess of herself, and sucked you off.

Though there's less on her mind, clearly, when she cums all over your cock.

She's crying with her tits up onto the glass, your palm holding her ribs. Your cum-slick cock working itself hard again as it slips, back and forth, as you're fucking her open, spread apart. It's your finger in her asshole. That's what's on her mind then. How the press of your knuckle lights her entire fucking spine on fire - how the other hand finds her clit in all this, too, when you're no longer supporting the both of you but rather Hyeju is folding on her bent knee and trusting, on shaking and shivering, raw nerves, that you're not going to collapse.

"Fucking. God, please-"

There's the harsh slap of flesh - skin on wet skin, your palms against the sides of her ass and the curve of the breast. But otherwise - it's you, sighing - soft and gentle, like you can't get over the feel of her. "Hyeju, oh-fucking, god, fucking," is what you're saying, and it doesn't end up really mattering which one of you came last because she can feel you twitching, squelching in and out with how badly you're wanting to explode inside, but also you can feel her cunt absolutely begging, this fucking fluttering and clamping down on every thrust and the moment you manage to grind this angle she loses her ability to speak properly because you're not just, like - fucking her-

Just, absolutely, completely pounding her pussy, stretching her insides, dragging and sliding along the walls; each rough rub and thrust makes her knees quiver until her body is trembling and falling. But mostly her voice, the sharp gasp that shakes into her, how her nails are scraping the walls of the shower stall and she's saying - telling, crying and asking and wondering and pleading - just utterly astounded:

"Amazing," she huffs, breathes coming out cloudy and true onto the pane of glass, "you - it’s, fucking amazing.")

-

“And I am… Ironman.”

Your eyes flicker awake, hazy, as Tony Stark snaps his fingers, killing himself alongside Thanos’ army in the process.

The TV's long been running on background noise, though not as ambient. Its characters now bickering between the rubble and ruins and being picked up for the end credits. In the dark of the screen, you see Hyeju had nodded off and slumped over the side of your body. A new year means new beginning means resolutions and diets and gym routines -

Maybe no sooner than the sun can come up, apparently.

You lean over to grab your phone from the table: 4:14 A.M.

There's a lot of things you want to say, even more you want to hear, but your mind has begun to settle a bit - a lazy and dreamy thing that fills you with this sort of, tired kind of - not sad, or empty - no, of course not. That's hardly fitting; not after tonight. You want to wrap this in an idealistic sort of sentiment - maybe hold Hyeju close and let the hour carry you and the comfort be enough to forgive whatever there is to miss: like the fact, it's still really dark, so dark even outside. The moon reflecting off the sheet of snow on the street. And not even a distant dog barking, or car driving by or someone playing loud music in the early hours of the new year.

As the film drifts off into another set of commercials, you slip into an easy sleep that feels effortless. Your head drops, landing on the cushion by the arm of the couch, where Hyeju's hand begins to slip mindlessly across your belly, tickling your waist and causing you to slightly squirm - things are cooling down, but still a little agitated.

"Don't tell me you're waking me up, cause I just -"

She kisses the pulse at your throat and answers, mumbling half-words into the spot below your ear. "A kiss for a new year."

And maybe the world doesn't owe you anything at all.

Maybe it just gave you more than enough.

[arienotari]

Drowning

Summary: When your worst fear becomes a reality and all you have on the other side is a brown eyed boy.

Pairing: Wally Clark x Reader

Warnings: Death, Drowning, Bullying

Edit: I am terrible at editing, and I tried my best so I'm sorry if you find any mistakes. This is my first full story I am releasing out into the world.

Word Count: 3330

I’ve never liked swimming.

People say it makes them feel free, but I felt anything but free. Every chance I got I avoided water at all costs. It's suffocating. Something about floating in a body of endless water and possibilities always made my skin crawl. One major problem that contributes to my fear is the fact that I can’t swim. I don’t blame anyone for this setback because I've never asked how to or showed interest. My inability to swim didn’t become a problem for me until my senior year of high school. I’ve gotten out of swimming class every year up until now and I had no choice but to take it. I tried to tell the swimming coach and counselors privately that I couldn’t take the class. All they said was I could stay in the shallow end. That I’ll be fine. I believed them. 

Word spread quickly throughout my class that I couldn’t swim once they started noticing I wouldn’t leave the 4ft mark. I didn’t really care, all I cared about was getting through the year. I was never really popular which didn’t matter much to me but being in this class never made it more obvious how much I hated it here. I felt eyes on me at all times which only made being in the water worse. 

It was March 12, 2015. Only a couple months left of school and then I’d be off to NYU living my dream of being a writer. First I had to get through 4th period swim class of course. I walked into the girls changing room preparing for the next 50 minutes of anxiety as I put my swimsuit on. I folded my dark blue jeans, my gray sweater, and a white tank top with lace on the trim that I wore under the sweater. Making my way to the pool I started putting my hair up in place of a hair cap I seem to have forgotten. Staring at the water I can see the bottom but it doesn’t stop the feeling of wanting to crawl up from my throat. Half the girls were already in the water preparing for a game of volleyball. Step by step down the ladder my hands begin to shake and my mouth becomes dry like I just ate pancakes. I make my way to the back to avoid any confrontation or any chance of being involved in the game. The one thing good about this class is it has a perfect view of the sky. I always get lost staring out at it wondering who’s also looking back. It makes me forget the situation I’m in and my environment. That's until a ball lands in front of me and about 15 girls are looking back at me waiting for my next move. I pick it up with my now calmer hands from before and spike it. Thankfully I made it over to the other side and the girls immediately turned back to the game. Not without some dirty looks but quite frankly I don’t really care. I watch as Mrs. Withers gets a call which seems to be serious as she tells us that she needs to step outside and when the bell rings to just go ahead. It’s only 10 minutes later when the shower bell rings and I feel the crushing weight lift off my shoulders. The other girls split based on which ladder they are closest to heading to the locker room and I help one of the girls get the volleyballs together. Making my way back to solid ground I rush to put the balls away not wanting to be one of the last to leave. I grab a towel on the rack near the other end of the pool as I make my way back seeing the last of everyone leaving. At least that’s what I thought until I heard someone behind me scream “Wait up” before running past me tripping me in the process. Losing my balance I watch as the one who screamed leaves the room leaving me alone. I hit the water with a loud splash waiting to hit the bottom to kick back up only to never feel my feet hit the concrete. I try to reach for the surface but everything I try seems to pull me down further. I panic, feeling my lungs on fire from filling with water. I tried to scream but no one could hear me and no one ever would. Everything was starting to go black and everything was becoming numb. All I could think about was how much I would miss out on. Finally, everything goes dark and I feel like I’m floating but I’m not, I’m being pulled up. I grab onto whoever’s pulling me up as if my life depended on it. Once I reach the surface my lungs fill with air as I begin to cough unbearably with my eyes screwed shut. I feel myself being hoisted up on the ground and out of the water. I’m pulled into the person who saved me as I am unable to move from exhaustion. When the person holds my face to center it I finally open my eyes as I am met with wide brown ones. 

“Are you okay”, he’s breathing heavily as I study him blocking out his yell to someone to bring his jacket. 

I feel a warm weight on my shoulders seeing its a blue and white letterman jacket out of the corner of my eye. 

“Thank you for saving me” I give him a weak smile but all I get in return is an expression filled with nothing but sorrow and guilt. 

Still seated on the floor I hear a horrified scream from beside me causing me to whip my head towards the chaos. Suddenly time stops and everything goes silent as I choked out a sob watching as a student and Mrs. Withers pull my body out of the water. The whole class comes to watch as they try to resuscitate me but nothing is happening. I feel the stranger push my head into his chest and I begin to cry harder than before. He repeats “I know’s” and “I’m sorry’s” as my world comes crashing down on me. 

Hours later we are still in the same position my hair and clothes dry now along with a tear-dried face. It’s dark outside with only the poolside fluorescent lights to illuminate our two figures. I begin to shiver more and more as the stranger who pulled me out of the water rubs my back and arms. 

“We need to get up, you're getting too cold” he whispers, pulling his body to get a better look at me. 

I lift myself up getting a better look at him as well as I memorize his long structured face, beauty marks, and brown eyes. After a minute I nod and try to stand up realizing that I’m still exhausted, the position not helping adding to the pain. He helps me steady myself and fully extend as he holds my hands making sure I’m okay. 

“You should take a shower and change into your regular clothes, I’ll probably do the same and I will explain everything once we're done. Okay?”, he says softly with an uneasy half-smile waiting for my response.

“Okay,” I whisper back at him not wanting to raise my voice feeling it’ll be too much to handle. 

His smile fills out more as he nods and begins to turn away to do the same tasks as me. I begin to turn away as well before I realize I never got the guy's name who pulled me out of the pool and stayed with me for hours. 

“What’s your name?,” I said, grabbing his arm to stop him from walking away. 

He looks down at my hand holding his arm which makes me see I’m still holding onto him causing me to let go. 

“Wally, Wally Clark”, he said with a wide smile that made me feel alive again for just a split second. 

After warming up from the shower I changed into my clothes from before that were neatly folded. As I begin to walk out of the locker room I get a glimpse of myself in the mirror. I look back at the girl staring at me feeling disconnected from who she was or what she could’ve been. I take a heavy breath before opening the door to leave and face the reality of my situation. Stepping into the hall, the school looked unnatural to me with the lights off. I look over and see a less wet and cold Wally approach me with the same smile as before. 

“How was the shower? Do you feel better?”, he asked one right after the other. 

“The shower was good and I’m doing the best I can with the fact that I am already dead,” I said, peering up at him only noticing now how tall he really is. 

“I know it's hard and I’m sorry it happened this way but I will try to explain everything the best I can.”, he said, extending his elbow out for me to take it as we began to walk further down the halls.

And Just like he said Wally kept his word and explained everything to me that he could. Like how we’ll never be able to leave school grounds unless we pass on. He also showed me all the other kids stuck here just like us and told me how some passed. As well as the weird support group that the kids attend in the gym. Even though he’d joke he never sugar-coated anything, which I couldn't help but appreciate. I won’t lie, the first couple of weeks were rough. I was plagued by the memory of what happened as well as the thoughts of the future I’ll never get. It definitely didn’t help that everyone at school was mentioning it and not in a sorrowful way. During those few weeks, Wally helped a lot with trying to be a distraction so I wouldn’t focus on others. I guess one of the perks of being dead is being able to duplicate belongings so I was able to get my phone and journal. I found the perfect spot on the football field to just listen to music and lie down. I’d close my eyes and imagine what life could’ve been but I knew I couldn’t do that forever, so I started to write more. It was easier to put my wishes and fantasies on pages without having to dwell on them. I usually kept my writing to myself so around 7:30 every day I’d go to my little bubble of solitude on the field and write. It was May now so the sun would start to set around 8 giving me enough light and a view. 

“What are you writing?'' I suddenly hear Wally's voice right next to my ear. 

“Jesus Christ Wally you scared me to death”, I said, jumping in reaction to the sudden deep voice, placing my hand on my heart and dropping my journal. 

“I mean it's a little too late for that someone must’ve beat me to it.”, he said smiling at me as he sat down next to me grabbing my journal to open it. 

I glare at him and snatch my journal back. 

“What too soon?”, he said with a stupid grin trying to get my journal back.

“Just a little,” I said, scrunching my nose. 

“No but seriously what are you writing? You come out here every day and write in that little journal.” He said leaning back on his arms a bit more to get my full face into view. 

I try to hide the blush that has crept up on my face when I realize that he’s been watching me come out here. After a moment I brush my hair out of my face and am met with those famous brown eyes. I take a deep breath before explaining to him my reasons. 

“I don’t want to stay stuck in the living because all it’ll do is bring harm. All I thought about for the past couple of months was what I’ll miss but I never stopped and processed my death. I’ve been hurting for all the things I couldn’t change and it caused me to push anything away, even you. So I thought why not write my wishes and wants down so they don’t stay on my mind. At least this way I can close the journal.” I said with a tiny smile looking up at him as he was staring back intently listening. 

“Before I died I wanted to be a writer and I had my whole life planned out, I was going to attend—“ 

“NYU, I know,” he said, finishing my sentence before I could. 

I watch as Wally sits up straighter and scooches closer to me before tilting his head. I can tell he’s trying to figure out what to say because he’s fidgeting with his necklace. I wait for him because there’s no point in rushing, I have all the time in the world. 

“I’ve been watching you for a long time,” he says with a breath held in waiting for my response. 

One of my eyebrows lifts as I tilt my head in response to the slightly weird statement. 

“Oh god, that came out creepier than I meant it to. What I meant to say was even when you were alive I knew who you were.” He said laying back fully down in the grass. 

I watched as he covered his eyes with his hands with a frustrated grunt like he was trying to revert into a hole. 

“What do you mean?”, I said moving towards his laid position to where I’m now bent over leaning towards him leaving my crisscross position to now on my knees. 

I grab his hands that are covering his eyes and pull them down to his chest as I hold them to keep him from covering his eyes again. How he’s looking at me I can tell he’s debating with himself. I wait and listen before I watch as he closes his eyes. 

“The first time I saw you was during your freshman year in the library. I was looking for something to watch for group movie night. I had Rhonda yelling at me in one ear and Charlie telling me something in the other. I was getting a little annoyed but then I looked between the bookshelves and there you were.” He takes a pause to look at me and I squeeze his hand in return to continue. 

“You were tucked into the corner where the bookshelves meet, where no one could see you. In your hands was The Devil’s Highway by Luis Alberto Urrea. I watched as you cried the further you got into the book. After that day I came back to the library every day to see you. I even started picking up some of the books you read, but I couldn't finish half of them though.” He said with a small smile on his face and in his voice.  

He sat up which caused him to become closer to me while he took my hands instead of me holding his. He was looking at the grass for a minute while rubbing his thumbs over my knuckles. When he looked up I could see that he was tearing up making my heart ache. 

“I knew you had anxiety when it came to swim class because you couldn’t swim so I’d go to try and help. Even though you couldn’t see or feel me, I was always there.” He said lifting his hand up to tuck a loose strand of my hair that fell. 

His hand stayed in place as he cupped my cheek and I went to ask why he was tearing up because of this before he spoke. 

“I watched you die. I was there and I couldn’t do anything until it was too late, that’s why I was there. I had to watch you struggle knowing I couldn’t grab you or even scream for help.” He said with his voice croaking with the struggle of what he’s had to go through. 

My eyebrows furrowed as I watched the walls I built up crumble down with one look at him. I never knew he’d been holding in something like this for so long. If I had known I would’ve never tried to shut him out. I was scared of what had happened and how my life had ended but I never thought about him. He was always there and whenever I needed help he was right by my side. I moved from my position pulling him into a soul-crushing hug. It took him a second to respond to the sudden gesture but after a couple seconds, I felt his arms wrap around me.

“Wally my death wasn’t your fault, I need you to know that.”, I softly spoke while hugging him harder, feeling him return it. 

We continued hugging for what felt like years but could never be enough for me to be satisfied. One of my arms is coming up from under his arm grappling his shoulder while the other is around his waist. His arms are wrapped around my waist and I can feel his hands rubbing small circles on my back. Looking up from being tucked away in his shoulder I notice the sun is beginning to set. I begin to pull away and when I make eye contact with him again he’s only a mere few inches away from my face. I raise my hand to brush his hair away from his face as it has flattened from the hug. My hand slips down as it trails from the side of his head to where it now rests on his neck. He’s staring at me the whole time while I do this and when I look up to meet his eyes my heart quickens. Well, I imagined it quickened. There’s something about those brown eyes I’ve grown fond of that makes me feel alive again. His eyes flash down to my lips and back up to my eyes like he’s silently pleading. I give into his wants that now become a need for me and all I can do is nod. His hand comes up to my face pulling me towards him as our lips meet. The kiss felt like everything in my little life led up to this moment. Nothing else seemed to matter to me but the boy in front of me right now who just confessed that he’d been watching me for years. Wally’s the one to pull away first. I slowly opened my eyes to look at him wanting to capture this moment forever. He tucks a loose strand of hair behind my ear before cupping my cheek and giving me a quick peck. I can’t restrain my gleaming smile as he pulls away for the second time. 

“Well I’m glad we got that cleared up”, he laughed as he spoke. 

I glared at him while punching him in the arm causing him to fall back but not before dragging me down with him. I land on his chest relaxing in his touch like it’s something I've been craving but have been deprived of. We lay in comfortable silence as I felt Wally rub circles with his thumb on my hip. 

“I’m glad it was you who found me. I don't know what I would’ve done” I said, being the first one to disturb the still air. 

“I am too,” Wally said into my hair as he kissed the top of my head. 

We lay there all night even when the stadium lights came on we just talked about everything and anything. Maybe the afterlife won’t completely suck. 

[niabang]

Take it out on me

Pairings: Yang jeongin × fem reader

Summary: Your boyfriend gets mad at work and you offer a way for him to relieve his stress.

Warnings: smut included MINORS DNI. Mean/hard dom jeongin, sub reader, daddy kink, degradation/ praise (reader receives.), impact play, dumbification? Semi public sex? Overstim, creampie, unprotected sex (please do not do it.) Mentions of other members of skz.

Let me know if there's anything I missed! ♡

You went to the company with your boyfriend today because you were bored alone at home every day after he left for work, so today you begged him to let you tag along, and surprisingly, he agreed.

You watched as he and the members did a dance routine over and over again, and you were beginning to wonder if they had to go through this every day. No wonder your boyfriend always came home exhausted.

You sat at one corner of the practice room watching them, and your eyes fell on your boyfriend, who was now drenched in sweat and had his sleeves rolled up, exposing his contracting arm muscles.

Fuck.

His hair was wet, and he looked so sexy when he was serious. You subconsciously crossed your legs and tried to distract yourself by watching some tik toks.

"Can you just leave me alone? I'm tired!" You heard your boyfriend's voice echo round the room, and you looked up from your phone to see what all the fuss was about.

"You're not the only one who's tired here. I.N, at least do the dance right so we can move on to the next phase." His colleague Lee know snapped right back at him, and things were not looking so good.

"Hey, hey guys, don't fight. Let's just carry on with the choreo, please." Felix appealed to them, but his request fell on deaf ears.

"Tell him to stop complaining about every single thing I do it's annoying." Jeongin said to Felix.

"If one person looks bad, the whole team looks bad, and I'm just trying to make sure you're on the same page as us, you selfish asshole." Lee know might have just added fuel to the fire with that comment because your boyfriend raised a fist to him but just before he could do anything or you could call out to him a loud voice resonated through the room.

"Everybody stop!" It was bangchan. The leader of the group. You were a little scared because you had never seen him like that before, but it worked because the commotion did, in fact, stop.

"What do you guys think you're doing right now, huh?" He said to Lee know and your boyfriend.

Lee know opened his mouth like he was about to say something, but chan shut him down before he could.

"I don't wanna hear it. Everybody take 5." He said that, and everyone, including him, left the room, but your boyfriend stayed back.

"Baby, are you okay?" You asked, getting up from the corner where you sat.

He didn't answer you and just kept on wiping his face with a towel.

"Jeongin, answer me. Are you okay?" You asked again.

"No, I'm not. I'm tired and frustrated. You saw everything that happened." He had made his way onto one of the couches in the practice room, and just the way he sat was making you horny again.

He was reclined on the couch with his legs spread wide, and he was wearing a pair of shorts so you could see his thighs, and you had never wanted to ride them more than in that moment.

"You can take it out on me." You said before you even realised it.

Your boyfriend's head shot up from the frame of the couch he had rested his head on.

"C'mere." He said as he pulled you onto his lap. You were now straddling him.

"Say that again for me, princess." He said while tucking your hair behind your ear and looking straight into your eyes."

"I- I want you to take your frustration out on me... to relieve to of your stress." You said already getting wet from just sitting on him.

"Oh you dirty slut." He said as he grabbed your neck and pulled you in for a kiss."

"Wait what about the others?" You asked him turning to face the door of the practice room.

"We have 15 minutes." He said and pulled you into the kiss.

Your boyfriend was being completely ruthless with you and took full control of your mouth with his tongue.

You started to grind against him for friction, but he stopped you and lifted you up from his thighs, so you were kneeling and not sitting.

All you could do was moan, and you got even louder when he lifted up the skirt you were wearing and smacked you particularly hard on the ass.

"You like that, huh?" He asked as he broke away from the kiss and landed another hard smack on your bare ass.

"When I speak to you, you answer me." He said as he landed what you think was the hardest one yet.

"Yes, Daddy." You said choking back tears.

"That's my good girl." He said as he wrapped his hand around your throat and pulled you in for a kiss again.

He pulled out his dick from his shorts and began to stroke it. He then put his fingers on your panties to see if you were wet, and you most definitely were so he didn't waste any time moving them to the side and placing you on his dick.

"Ahhh." You whined as he slipped into you. You already knew your boyfriend was big, but for some reason, you felt like he was stretching you out more than usual.

He had his hands on both sides of your hips and began to move you up and down his length.

Your eyes rolled to the back of your head, and it was almost like you could feel every vein and ridge on his dick.

"Ride me." Your boyfriend commanded, and you groaned from the loss of movement because he had taken his hands off your hips.

Your boyfriend knew you couldn't last for 5 minutes on top but he was a sadistic fucker and loved to see you suffer.

You began to bounce up and down his length, and your boyfriend threw his head back.

"Yeah, just like that, baby keep going." He said in a raspy voice and landed a light smack on your ass.

You felt your legs already starting to give out after a while and as if your boyfriend knew he started thrusting up into you from below and he did so fast while landing hard slaps on your ass.

"Fuck fuck fuck please daddy please." You have no idea what you were begging for because it hurt so good you couldn't think straight.

Your boyfriend turned you over so you were now laying on the chair and he was on top.

"Listen to me princess we can't be too loud okay? Take it quietly like a good girl."

You nodded your head and he pushed his dick back into you and choked you restricting just a bit of your airflow.

He was slamming into your cunt so hard and fast you began to see stars. Your moans were getting louder and you forgot that he had told you to be quiet.

You felt a sting on your left cheek and you realised that he had slapped you for disobeying his instructions.

"I told you to be quiet you whore. Do you want people to hear you getting fucked?" He asked you.

"No, Daddy." You managed to blurt out through tears.

"Good." And as he said that, he parted your lips and spit in your mouth, then gave you another slap.

He continued to slam into you but it was impossible for you to say quiet so he now had a hand over your mouth while he continued the assault on your cunt.

"Who's daddy's little cumslut?." He asked after a while and you were too fucked out to answer so your boyfriend brought you back to your senses with another slap.

"Me daddy it's me." You cried out.

"Okay now you're gonna take my cum like the slut you are." As he said that he pressed further into you and filled you with his seed.

You both stayed in that position for about two minutes till you started hearing voices coming towards the practice room.

"Just in time." Your boyfriend said and pulled out of you.

"Keep it in till we get back home." He said as he tapped your thighs and put his dick back into his pants.

"We'll finish things up there." He said and left to join the others.

[harmonicakai]

Powerslide

Pairing: Yeonjun x Reader

Summary: Usually, your best friend’s player roommate is the most annoying person on earth, but after your date ditches you, he’s more than willing to step in as a replacement.

Tropes: enemies to whatever this is, frat boy!yeonjun, bff!taehyun, college AU, soft dom!reader, sub!yeonjun, kinda exhibitionism & dacryphilia

Word Count: 1.5k

Warnings: smut (mdni!!!!!!!!!!), mentions of alcohol

A/N: My friend really wanted a Yeonjun fic to happen and I suddenly felt like writing this. I am NOT a smut writer, so this might not be very good, but I tried <3

“Damn baby, I'm a train wreck, too I lose my mind when it comes to you I take time with the ones I choose And I don't want to smile if it ain't from you” —Boyfriend, Ariana Grande & Social House

The guy you’ve been seeing has pissed you off for the last time. As soon as you got a text asking to reschedule tonight’s date, while you were already standing outside of the restaurant he was supposed to meet you at, it was over. 

You reply for him to go fuck himself and trudge back to campus to complain to your best friend, Taehyun.

Despite the two of you becoming almost inseparable after being paired up in organic chemistry together, it’s clear to both of you that it’s just a platonic thing. If you had to pick which one of his friends you were most into, it’d be his roommate, Yeonjun.

Except he pisses you off more than the guys you actually go out with. You can’t recall a time where you’ve ever talked to him sober or he hasn’t shamelessly flirted with you in front of whoever else was involved in the conversation. 

You know he sees girls as pawns and not people, and so you don’t even bother thinking about the two of you together. Until he answers the door instead of Taehyun, fresh from the shower, water still dripping from his hair onto the towel barely clinging to his waist.

“Where’s Taehyun?” you ask. Your line of sight naturally falls on his bare chest, but you do your best to look up at his face. He’s smirking at you.

“He’s got a soccer game,” Yeonjun says, stepping aside to let you into the common room. “Should be over soon if you want to wait for him.”

You walk past him, plopping yourself onto their small couch. Yeonjun’s eyes don’t leave you, taking in your full date night outfit and the way it hugs you perfectly.

“Do you want to talk about it?” he asks. You can swear you can hear him about to burst out into laughter as he watches you go through the five stages of grief. “You had a date tonight, didn’t you?”

“How do you know that?” you sit up, finally locking eyes with him. By now, he’s got a full fledged grin on his face.

“Taehyun told me,” he shrugs, his towel becoming looser with every movement. “Listen, I was just being nice and asking. If you want to ice me out like you always do, go ahead.”

His honesty makes your face heat up in anger. Yes, you’ve never been very nice to him, but for good reason. He’s just another fuckboy in a frat, and you’ve dealt with enough of those in your first years of college to know better.

“I can be nice,” you scoff, turning to look out the window. It’s so dark that all you can see are the streetlamps in the distance. 

“Then by all means, show me,” he says, his voice shifting from playful to something more serious. “I’d really like to see how nice you can be.”

There’s something about the way he’s talking to you that feels good. Wrong, but good.

“Fine,” you relent, looking back to see he’s gotten much closer to you than before. “But you need to go get dressed.”

“Am I distracting?” he smiles, tilting his head at you. You roll your eyes.

“More like nauseating,” you lie. He is distracting, just like usual. The only thing that really keeps you from giving him a chance is how annoying he is, but for some reason, you’re happy to entertain his advances tonight.

“I’ll be right back,” he says before walking into his bedroom. When he comes back, he’s got a red hoodie and ripped jeans thrown on, his hair still damp and messy. “Better?”

“Much better,” you approve. He nods before sitting down next to you on the couch, close enough so that his hand can graze your knee without it being obvious that he’s totally doing it on purpose. “Do you really want to hear about my love life?”

“Hmm, what else would we talk about?” he hums, his gaze locked on your glossy red lips. You can feel your face heat up, prompting you to scoot further away from him. 

“We could talk about yours instead. Although, from what Taehyun tells me, I’m not sure you’re even capable of love.”

“Ouch. I could be, you know? For the right girl.”

“And who’s the right girl?”

“You.” You want to laugh at how ridiculous this all is, but Yeonjun’s breath is hot against your neck, and he leans in to place a single kiss against your sensitive skin. “I can treat you better than any of those other guys, Y/N. Let me show you.”

Fuck it, you think to yourself. He’s here and he’s hot and he’s desperate for you. You turn to face Yeonjun, crashing your lips onto his. He tastes sweet, no doubt from the bubblegum he’s always smacking whenever you’re around.

When he moans into your kiss and grips his hand in your hair, you feel a shockwave in your core. You climb into his lap, his hard-on nestling in between your legs. He groans at the pressure.

“God, you’re so hot,” he gasps in between kisses. “You don’t know how long I’ve wanted to do this.”

“Trust me, I know,” you laugh. “You make it so obvious.”

“I can’t help myself around you, Y/N.” He snakes a hand underneath your skirt, his fingers feeling how he’s already got you soaked through your panties. It takes everything in him not to finish right then and there. “Can I touch you?”

“Not now,” you say, your hand gripping his wrist and pinning it against the couch. Tonight, you’re in charge. “Maybe if you’re good for me, we can do this again.”

“Please,” he sighs as you grind your hips into him. “I’ll do whatever you want.”

You never pegged Yeonjun as someone who begs in the bedroom, but you aren’t complaining. You pull away from him, moving off of his lap to beside him, your hand palming his erection through his jeans.

“Fuck, that feels good,” he says, his eyes squeezed shut and fists clenched. You bring your free hand up to his chin, moving his head to face you.

“Open your eyes,” you tell him. “I want you to look at me.”

“I can’t,” he stammers. “I’ll cum if I do.”

“You aren’t allowed to cum until I say so,” you whisper, sucking at the sensitive spot on his neck. His breathing grows heavier by the second. “Yeonjun. Look at me or I will never let you touch me again.”

His eyes shoot open and he’s not sure how much more he can take. Sure, your body is to die for, but it’s always been your face that he likes the best. Seeing you with messy hair and smudged lipstick, all because of him, is an image he won’t be able to get out of his head for months.

“You sound so pretty for me, baby,” you tell him, moving your hand faster. He could really get used to you calling him that.

By now, he can’t control his moans and tears start to run down his face. All he can do is whine your name over and over in the hopes that you’ll finally give him permission to finish.

As if it weren’t agonizing enough, the front door’s handle starts to jiggle. “Hey, Jun?” Taehyun’s voice calls from outside. “Can you let me in, man? I forgot my key.” 

Yeonjun’s eyes go wide at the sound of his roommate. You reach up to cover his mouth. “Be quiet, Junie. You don’t want Taehyun to hear you, do you?”

He shakes his head as you continue palming him through his pants, one of your fingers slipping into his mouth. He moans around it. 

Taehyun starts banging on the door. “Dude, are you asleep? Wake up! I need to shower and get to bed.”

You laugh at the nervous look on Yeonjun’s face, cupping his cheek with your free hand and placing a soft kiss on his lips. “Cum for me, baby. It’s okay.”

Your words send him over the edge and he’s bucking his hips into your hand just seconds later. He does his best to keep quiet, although not even your kiss is enough to dampen the string of profanities that leave his lips.

When he’s done, he stares at you with sleepy eyes and the most satisfied grin on his face. Both of you look down at the wet spot on his crotch. He’s never going to be able to wear these pants again.

“Go change,” you say, patting his cheek and getting up from the couch. You smooth your hair down and fix your skirt into place. “I’ll get the door.”

Yeonjun knows that every time he looks at you now, he’ll be thinking of coming undone under your touch. He quickly scrambles out of the room before you can let Taehyun in. 

“It’s about fucking time, man,” Taehyun scoffs, his eyes locked on his phone. When he looks up, he’s shocked to be greeted by you instead of his roommate. “Y/N? What the hell are you doing here?”

“Waiting for you,” you say, smiling at the confused look on his face. “I wanted to tell you about my date.”

“Oh, yeah, that was tonight. Sorry, I picked up a game at the rec center.”

“It’s okay,” you reassure him, following him into his bedroom and shutting the door behind you. “Yeonjun kept me company.”

—————-

Taglist: @orangesodafoam @ur-mother-realnotclickbait @iyeeeverydee @internet-folks @darlingz99 @foxyjun @niningtori @csbenthusiast @lonelybutterflytae @midnight-mochii @theresawtf @nowadays56 @jjklvr9

Literally only tagging the people from my taglist that I KNOW are over 18!!!

[laneywrld]

things lost and things found | Lewis Hamilton

part two

word count: 10k

warnings: smut, smut, more smut, fluff.

A man not made for commitment also doesn’t know how to communicate

It's safe to say that since that night in Cannes nearly two months ago, the lines have blurred.

Every night Clem spends with Lewis ends with her falling asleep nestled in his arms.

Some nights, they don't even have sex; he just calls her up to see him. 

Their outings are no longer limited to his bedroom or whatever hotel he's shacked up in. They're often found all over tabloids and fan pages, seen out at clubs or dinners or even on simple excursions such as shopping or taking walks.

Clementine tries her hardest to remember that Lewis was noncommittal. He would never ever even think about dating her or taking her seriously. That realization and his vocally telling her to not make things weird every time he can see that he catches her off guard keeps her on track. 

Clem knew what she signed up for; quite literally, the NDA she signed entailed every component of their relationship.

Besides the weird butterflies she got around Lewis, life was only getting better and better.  

Being around someone who understands her fully and allows her to completely unravel herself to them has really been good for Clem socially and career-wise.

She was less awakward around people, less reserved and she felt like hey, this man has accepted me for my every little flaw, why wouldn't other people. 

She was moving up in the world, and people loved her for who she was, and for the first time ever, she did too.

She's won an emmy for her netflix show, her movie was breaking records, and she was finally stepping out of her box and showcasing other skills she had.

Along with this new burst of confidence came new relationships. 

She's been trying to go out on dates to see if now was finally the time for her to try to settle down and find something serious.

That what she was doing currently, at dinner sitting across from some NBA players as he rambles on and on about different shots he couldve taken during the game, that he most definitely lost.

Clem hums, eyes feigning interest as he describes how he actually wasn't open when he tried to go for a three-pointer. Shocker, he missed.

When he excuses himself to run to the bathroom, she whips out her phone, seeing that Lewis texted her. 

Lewis 🏁

How's your date?

She shakes her head, typing out her response.

dense. how's silverstone? 

Lewis 🏁

Nerve-wracking, my car is still shit.

i'm sorry 😞  

Lewis 🏁

I'm going to need you tonight.

Lewis, i'm on a date.

Clem scoffs, but the smile on her face as she presses send is misleading.

Lewis 🏁

Is he getting lucky tonight?

NO!

Lewis 🏁

So why can't I?

Clem feels the familiar tingle in her core and places her phone face down on the table just as her date takes his seat in front of her again. 

She can't help the incredulous eyebrow raise she gives him as she sees a powdery substance painting his nostril.

"Yeah, it was nice meeting you, love." She smiles politely as she stands and motions for him to wipe his nose. He lifts his camera just as Clem drops enough money to cover her bill and tip the waitress generously. 

She hops into the black SUV, thanking her driver for helping her into the back. She unlocks her phone and sees another message from Lewis.

Lewis 🏁

My jet will be waiting for you.

That is precisely how Clementine ended up in Lewis' hotel room, waiting for him on the bed as he took a quick shower. 

When he emerges from the bathroom she can only offer him an uplifting smile, he looks so tired and so stressed. 

It helps, it always does which is why Lewis wanted her here in the first place. She was like sunrise after the darkest of nights.

"Hi," she coos, opening her arms for the muscly man.

He falls into her arms, his torso bare and his bottom half swaddled in a towel. He lays his head in her lap as she sits against the headboard. He looks up at her face as she stares down at his, and she physically pouts as she brings her fingers up to massage the stress lines from his face.

"That bad?" she whispers as his eyes flutter closed. Lewis sighs, grumbling out a faint "Yeah."

"You don't have to go through it much longer, at least." She tries and she knows it does nothing to take the heavy weight of mercedes off of his shoulders.

"You feel like you're carrying the weight of the world." She hums, her hands traveling down to rub the tension out of his neck. Her fist rubs up and down from the sides of his neck to the crook of his shoulders.

Lewis lets out a relaxed sigh, letting her work on him. 

She doesn't know how long she sits there with him snuggled into her lap as she kneads the tension from his body. 

After a while, she connects to his speaker and plays music. She has Lewis turn over onto his stomach as she slips from underneath him.

She hums as she sits on his bottom and begins massaging his back. "Your back is bruised."

"I was bouncing around like crazy in that fucking car." He curses.

Clementine bends down, pressing kisses around his back on the purple and red marks adorning his skin. 

Lewis closes his eyes, relishing in the comfort she gives him.

Lewis has noticed it, too, the turn their dynamic has taken. He is aware that he has given slight leeway to the emotional part of their relationship. 

He finds himself thinking about Clem plenty throughout the days. Buys things he thinks she'll like. He's grown accustomed to placing delicate pecks on her lips and face randomly throughout their time together; he can't help it.

Something about her has him wanting her all of the time, not even in th physical way. He just wants her to be with him.

"Can you come out to the race tomorrow?" He rasps.

She sits up, her legs still encaging his body. "Hmm, I don't think your publicity team will like that, people are already speculating about us."

"I don't care." Lewis argues, "It's about time you come to a race, wanna see you immediately not wait to get to the hotel and then see you."

His words make her heart thump harsher, and suddenly, all of the warnings from her publicist dissipate.

"Okay." 

Lewis didn't initiate sex between them that night. He simply turns over with her still on top of him and places his hands on her thighs.

"Come here," he whispers, reaching up to tug her head down to his face.

Their lips lock and it's not rushed or leading to anything. It's like how he kissed her in France. It's just sweet?

She can feel his heart against her chest as she is pressed against him, beating rampantly. "Thank you for showing up for me." He mutters against her lips. She grins against him as she remembers the words she scribbled onto the note she'd given him with her gift.

"Always." she breathes, diving back in to kiss him. One hand travels to her waist, and the other has a soft grip on the back of her neck. 

She feels his member poke against her thigh, and she sits up as much as she can with his hand on her neck, ready to free him from the towel, but the hand he had on her waist stops her actions with a grip on her wrist.

"I just want to lay with you tonight, if that's okay?"

Just when she thought she was safe from her tom-foolish thoughts, she felt her suppressed feelings for Lewis take light again. Don't make it weird, she thinks to herself. "Okay." 

Lewis sits up, his hand returning to her hip; she is sat in his lap, legs folded, and his body pushes her slightly back as he tugs on the comforter. He falls back taking her with him and pulls the thick comforter over her body which lays against his chest.

"What's one thing that surprised you about me?"

Clem traces her fingers on his chest in deep thought, "that you don't do relationships."

"Why that?"

"You're a lover boy at heart." Clem chortled, "Literally just a sweetheart. Most men who can't see themselves being with someone don't act as affectionate with women."

Lewis lets out a hmm sound, his hand still gliding up and down her back beneath his t-shirt that she wore.

"Is that a good thing or a bad thing?"

"Good, there's nothing wrong with being a sweetheart; bad if someone gets the wrong idea; I have a feeling you're an easy man to fall in love with."

Lewis presses a kiss to her hairline, butterflies doing summersaults in his belly. 

-

They wake up the next morning in the same position, with Clem's face nestled in the crook of his neck. Lewis smiles as he reaches over to turn off his alarm.

"Gotta get up, Clem." He soothes, rubbing up and down her back. 

"Mhmm." She moans in denial, cuddling deeper into him. "No."

"Come on, beautiful."

He sits up, forcing her up with him.

She flutters her eyes open and wraps her arms around his neck. 

He chuckles at her defiance, throwing his legs over the side of the bed and standing. He taps her thigh and she gets the message, wrapping them around his waist.

He walks her into the bathroom and sits her down on the bathroom counter. "Sit here, be careful." He orders, unraveling her from his body. He almost gives up and tucks her back into bed as she whines at him.

He leaves the bathroom and returns with a small bag of hers. She slumps against the mirror as she hears him rustling about. When she hears the faucet turn on and then feels his big hands massage circles into her cheeks, she opens her eyes.

There, she sees Lewis standing there with a cheeky smile, his hands lathered in her face soap as he massages the suds onto her face.

"Going to have to get my girl ready myself, huh?" He questions.

She only smirks at him and closes her eyes, letting him work through her skincare routine step by step, laughing as he inquires about every product.

When he finishes, he washes his own face and then passes her toothbrush to her. He stands between her legs as they both brush their teeth. Both of them stare at each other with googly eyes, laughing as foam bubbles from their mouths. When she leans over to spit into the sink, he follows shortly after and then pours a capful of mouthwash for her and them himself. And again, they stare into each other's eyes, giggly and gleaming, as they swish the liquid between their puffy cheeks.

This is where Clementine struggled with the status of their agreement. These weren't the actions of a man who didn't intend to be in a relationship. But she had heard of Lewis and his many flings and "friends" and she knew that he was a very affectionate person so once again she willed away the thought that there was any chnace of Lewis ever straying away from his bachelor lifestyle. 

She pats his shoulder beckoning him to step away, when he does she hops down and releases the last of the contents from her mouth into the sink and stepping aside so Lewis can do the same. 

"I'm going to grab my clothes." She informs.

As she lays her outfit options across the bed, she hears a vibration beneath her shirt, and she leans over the bed, patting until she finds the culprit. When she feels the device, she pulls it from underneath and sees that it's not her phone but Lewis'.

The screen lights up with notifications. 

One catches her eye from, Natalie.

Lewis did feel comfortable enough to disclose his other flings to her, and she nearly shit herself when he associated them all with cities. She remembers the way he laughed when she asked if she needed to get tested. Then she asked if he had referred to her as Clementine, NYC.

Natalie, Silverstone. She recalls.

It wasn't like she was intentionally snooping, but as the screen lit up in her hand again, she couldn't help but read the message as it appeared.

Still on for tomorrow?

At first, she feels a pang in her chest, but then she remembers her place, and she gently sits his phone on the nightstand, allowing the screen to turn off.

"Hey, you okay?" Lewis questioned, poking his head from the bathroom, realizing that she had stopped responding to him. 

She is stood facing the bed with her hands on her hips, scanning her oufits. "Yeah," she smiles though it doesn't quite meet her eyes. 

He eyes her quizically, but when she chuckles at his facial expression, pulls her outfit from the bed, and saunters into the bathroom with him, he relaxes.

Clem is in her head, and she hopes it's not obvious to Lewis.

But she can't help but wonder why he would fly her out just to make plans to sleep with another woman in the span of two days.

She's hurt, and she's jealous, and she knows she shouldn't be, but a part of her wants to slap the shit out of him. 

Instead, she refrains and plays into whatever sick bullshit he was playing with her heart unintentionally.

-

She arrives to the paddock with Lewis and she tries not to grimace as he tells a journalist that he brings friends with him to races all of the time, as they pass by.

He opens the door to the Mercedes motorhome like the proper gentleman he is and directs her into his room.

"I'm just going to change into my suit, and then we can head to the garage, okay?"

She nods and pulls out her phone. Already, she sees that they are trending. 

Lewis steps out of the room and leaves the door open. A few minutes pass before she hears an audible gasp.

When she looks up, she sees a bright-eyed George Russell.

"Hello, Hi! I'm George, I'm a big fan." He enters the compact room, his hand outstretched before him. She stands from Lewis' bed and accepts his hand.

"Hi, George, I'm Clem."

"I know who you are. What are you doing here?" He wonders.

"I'm a friend of Lewis'. I wanted to see you guys race today."

George stutters out a wow, beginning to ramble on before he is interrupted by a throat clearing at the door. There stands Lewis, with a burning look on his face that makes George immediately drop her hand.

"Lewis." He gasps, "How do you literally know everyone, man?"

She smiles, raising her eyebrows behind Lewis as George rambles about her.

Lewis claps his hands against George's shoulder before speaking, "I love you, kid. But we've got to get going."

And then he reached his arm around George and latched onto Clem and pulled her from behind him.

George stammers out a quick bye, and Clem waves sweetly at him as Lewis pulls her from the motorhome and towards the garage.

"He's so sweet," Clem coos, and Lewis only grunts out a "yeah."

"He looks like a literal prince charming." She extends.

Lewis doesn't want to hear her call his teammate any more kinds of cute, so he opts not to respond.

When they finally reach the garage, he is sitting her down beside Toto, who introduces himself with a warm and welcoming smile.

She accepts his hand, gently shaking it, and in return, Lewis gets whisked away.

She enjoys her time in the garage, whilst Lewis talk to his strategist she is sat beside Toto and a few engineers and she feels like she is on a field trip as they explain the many different parts of their setup. Finally Lewis appears at her side again, beckoning her to follow him. She accepts his hand, lifting from her seat and walking hand in hand with him to his car.

"Wow." she gasps as she studies the racing car.

"You want to get in?" Lewis questions. She turns to him with wide eyes, and Lewis can see the excitement in her dark orbs.

"You don't like people in your car." She reminds, peering back down at it.

"I said I don't let just anyone in my car, are you just anyone?" He is staring at her so intensely it has her body on fire.

She felt shy underneath his gaze as he stepped closer to her.

She stands tall, looking up at him through her lashes. He's nearly bumping chests with her as he looms over her.

"There's an entire team in here, Lewis, and cameras." She whispers only loud enough for the two of them to hear.

He doesn't care. He leans down, his mouth near her ear, "Are you just anyone to me, Clementine?"

She swallows nervously as he takes a step back, "No."

"Then get in the fucking car."

Toto watches on from his seat in amazement as Lewis lifts her frame into the car. He then turns and looks into the camera with his eyebrows raised as to show his impressment. 

He put two and two together that she was a personal guest for Lewis. It was obvious since Mercedes had already planned for Tom Cruise and Damson Idris' arrival for the race today.

Lewis leans into the car as he motions to different parts on the inside of the automobile. 

Clem honestly couldn't give two fucks about the car, but she was relishing in how passionate Lewis looked and sounded as he spoke about every aspect of it. She hadn't moved her eyes from his face not once, and Lewis froze as he turned to face her and saw the wanting look adorning her features.

It has him hard instantly.

"Behave." He warns, turning his head to survey their surroundings.

"You're fine as fuck when you're talking cars."

Lewis chuckles, and a blush comes up to cover his cheeks. He lifts his hand, his knuckles skimming along her jaw.

"I want to kiss you, but people will see."

She drops her face against his hand, puckering her bottom lip out at him.

"Aw, too bad." She whispers seductively, and Lewis whispers out a quiet "fuck." as she tugs her bottom lip between her teeth. His thumb reaches up and drags it back out.

"Gotta be nice to me right now, Clem. Hmm?" He hums, not bothering to remove his thumb from her lip. He smears his finger across, watching as it pops back into place. 

"Help me out of this car." She smirks, lifting her arms, "Before you do something you'll regret, there are cameras around."

"I don't give a fuck about the cameras." He rasps and breaks out into a grin when she bursts into a fit of laughter. He smacks his teeth, standing up straight, preparing to get her out.

"You like fucking with me." He declares.

Lewis helps her from the car, his hands probably lingering on her lower back for far too long once she's back on the ground.

"Lewis." He hears, and when he turns around, he sees Tom and Damson.

He pulls Clem with him, introducing her to the pair. He instantly regrets it when he sees the way Damson eyes her down like she's a refreshing tall glass of water.

 Tom starts up a conversation with Lew about the business they need to handle for his upcoming movie, but his eyes can't leave Clem's frame, and how Damson brings her hand up to his lips. 

He feels like a suicidal maniac when he watches her laugh and smile at whatever he is saying.

He'd met him before, and trust, whatever he was saying couldn't possibly be that funny.

Lewis wants to rip Toto's head off as he directs the two of them into a set of empty seats. He was less than present during the conversation with Tom, and he hoped he hadn't noticed. His arms are folded over his chest, and his foot is tapping the ground anxiously. He tries not to make it obvious when he directs Tom to his spot and takes his in order to keep an eye on Clem.

When the time for the start of the race gets closer he is thankful to see Tom take his place beside Toto. 

He saunters over to the still chatty pair and stands in front of Clem. He waits for her to notice him, and when she doesn't, he clears his throat rather dramatically. 

She stands when she notices him, shooting Damson an apologetic smile that has him ready to drag her off. Which he does.

He pulls her to a corner of the garage and up the stairs into a random office and locks the door. 

"You okay." Clem questions, stepping towards him and placing her hands on his waist. "Lewis." she tries again when he doesn't answer.

He looks stressed and zoned out.

"I- uh yeah." he coughs and suddenly he feels better having her away from Damson. "i'm fine, pre-race jitters." He lies.

Her hands slide up his chest until they settle on the sides of his head.

She tilts his head so that he's staring into her eyes. 

"You sure?"

"Yeah."

"Okay."

"I'm regretting this." He admits and her eyes squint, "bringing you here, I mean."

That does nothing to alleviate her hurt expression, so he continues, "My car is still shit, I don't want you to watch me lose."

She scoffs, gently slapping her hand against his shoulder before returning it to its place caressing his beard. "Would’ve watched you lose at home too, what's the difference. I'm going to support you all the same."

Lewis leans down and presses a short, soft kiss to her plump lips.

Her eyes flutter closed as he stares down at her, and finally, his hands raised to her hips, pulling her into him. "I don't think that I tell you thank you enough for all of the ways you help me, Clem."

"You don't have to," she whispers, dropping her forehead against his chest. He rests his chin on top of her head, putting his arms over her shoulders as hers wraps around his torso.

Lewis likes this. He thinks he can start every race for the rest of his career like this. When he hears a knock on the door, he groans but shoots Clem a warning look as she chuckles at him.

"Big baby." she teases, moving around him to unlock the door. He maneuvers behind her, reaching to open it, and when he does, he sees Toto there with a knowing smirk.

"Time to race, Lewis."

She allows Lewis to pull her from the office hand in hand, and she knows her publicist is probably in New York and stressed running through cigarettes. She always joked that this Lewis rendezvous would result in her smoking her stress away.

Lewis knows something is wrong with him for sure when he realizes that he doesn't care about the camera or who's watching him show Clem his affection. He knows they're going to be the main topic of every tabloid tomorrow, and he just doesn't care.

She stands in front of him beside his car as the crew bustles around them.

When it's time for Lewis to finish his preparation, he motions his head towards Clem, and suddenly, her hands are stuffed with a balaclava and a pair of gloves. 

She turns to the man who handed them to her and he offers her a small smile. 

She turns to Lewis, and he can tell she's trying to fight off the grin that desperately wants to appear.

She reaches for his right hand, tugging the glove onto his hand gently, she checks each finger and pulls to make sure the fit is snug. She repeats her actions on his left hand and then Lewis firmly places his hands on her waist. He's looking at her with those sparkly eyes and a loving smile.

She turns the balaclava in her hands, trying to figure out which way to pull it over his head. When she sees the opening, she lets out an "Aahh" that has Lewis chuckling at her.

She stands on her tiptoes, freeing his braids from the ponytail and pushing them back. She hums to herself as she pulls the balaclava over his head. 

She settles back on her feet, and she can only see his eyes, but it does something to her. 

She reaches between them pulling the upper half of his suit up his body, giggling when he grunts realizing he's got to let go of her to push his arms through the sleeves.

His hands are back on her in an instant, like by not physically touching her he'd fly away.

Clem reaches between them again; this time, her fingers latch onto the zipper, and she tugs it up from his pelvis all the way up his chest until it's set in place. 

"I don't know, Lew. I think we've at least got a podium." She whispers, accepting the helmet.

She steps back, allowing his hands to fall, and then hands him the helmet.

"I can feel it in my bones." 

"Oh," Lewis laughs, "Can feel it in your bones?" He sticks out his free hand, tickling at her.

Clementine laughs, stepping back and gripping his arm, "Stop!" 

He listens, pulling on his helmet and looking back at his car.

"Well, that's me."

Clem feels like a lovesick puppy as she watches his eyelashes flutter with every blink of his eyes.

"Podium." She reminds him, lifting her pinky.

"Podium." He declares, wrapping his own against hers. He lifts their conjoined hands and places them against his helmet where his mouth would be, and she swoons.

"Get in the car, Hamilton."

She's a giddy mess as she steps away from him and finds herself accepting a seat from one of the crew members.

She sighed while watching the screen as Lewis started in P5. He is quickly into P4. She feels her adrenaline kick in as the crew cheers excitedly watching him overtake into third. When he overtakes two other drives all in the same lap the garage erupts in shouts of excitement, just for that to be taken away just as fast when they see a car barrel through off od the track and into the fence.

Clem gasps, her hand coming up to cup her mouth.

She knew Formula One was a dangerous sport, but watching a wreck like that happen in real-time has her mind reeling on just how much danger Lewis puts himself in.

"Is he okay?" She hears as the crew all talk amongst themselves.

"George is out of the race. The other driver is okay." Toto announces, "We're restarting."

Lewis is back in the garage, and he is irritated.

Clem stays back and out of his way as she watches him angrily rant. "That is not right, Toto." He snaps, "back in fifth?"

She watches as Toto nods at him, and Lewis turns to his assistant, rolling his eyes. He looks so frustrated as he throws his hand out, "fucking fifth."

Clem knew that when she was angry that she didn't like to be bothered, so she stayed in her seat. She feels a body plop down beside her, and she turns to see Damson.

"Intense, yeah?" He questions.

"Most definitely." She sighs, "My adrenaline is off the charts right now."

"First time coming to a race?"

She nods, returning the question, "Nah, this is like the NFL to Brits."

She laughs, "Right."

The two chat whilst the rest of the garage is in shambles, and Lewis watches the two with slits in his eyes. 

He knows he shouldn't be jealous. Clem was nothing to him but a friend who he enjoys fucking. It's what he tells himself as Damson passes his phone to her. She was just his friend. He'd even encouraged her to get out there and find her person.

But that was before he realized how differently she made his heartbeat.

Lewis doesn't bother going over to her before the race restarts, he can feel her lingering eyes as he manuevers around the garage, avoiding her.

Lewis feels a bit enraged. Initially, it was just the FIA and their stupid fucking rules, then it was the car, and now it was Clementine and the stupid British actor drooling over each other in his face.

It was all piling on top of him, and he hadn't felt so unsettled ever before a race. 

He hops back into his car, not sparing Clem a glance, and rolls out into P5.

This time the only thing on his mind is how fucking mad he is. 

That anger got him P3. 

He doesn't know why he doesn't approach Clem as she waits for him patiently in her seat. He goes around and thanks the crew and the engineers and has a brief talk with Toto and Tom. And then he leaves to go to the podium, all without even glancing at her.

Clem, always aware, remains silent and tries to keep the pout from taking place on her face.

She tries not to take Lewis' actions personal, it's obvious he's wound up. She doesn't know if it's something she did or if he's still frustrated by the race restart. Logically it's the second, she's learned that not everyone's behaviors have to do with her. It's taken years of her enternalizing other people's moods to realize that 9/10 people are just feeling things. She hasn't done anything, she's sure of it.

She is directed into the motorhome whilst Lewis handles other business and she sits in his room on his bed waiting patiently.

When Lewis had brought up the idea of bringing her to the race yesterday, he raved on and on about how she'd be able to walk the track, wait with his team whilst he's on the podium (if he got one), and get the classic guest experience. She hadn't gotten that, which was a letdown since she really wanted to experience Lewis' world, but she understood why that wasn't possible today after seeing Lewis' mood.

But still, it would have been nice not to sit in his motorhome and then the garage all day, just to end up back in his motorhome alone for hours. 

When Lewis emerges into the tiny room he is clean and dressed in comfortable clothes. He had been on the phone in the office preparing a few arrangements for the past hour. He sighs as he sees her frame sprawled across the tiny bed. 

There are soft puffs of air escaping her, and her phone is clutched loosely in her hand.

He can tell she fell asleep scrolling through her phone.

He sits on the foot of the bed at her feet and drops his head into his hands.

He doesn't know what he's doing. But he does know he can't keep going on like this. Lewis didn't like relationships, he didn't like being tied down, it wasn't fair of him to only want Clem to himself when she would never get all of him. 

"C'mon Clem, let's get you back."

Like the sleepy girl she is, she whines as Lewis pulls her body from the bed, placing her on her feet. 

"Can you walk?" 

She only nods, reaching over to grab her bag and her phone. She doesn't speak to Lewis quite yet, still unsure of his mood. She lets him direct her from the motorhome, his hand tight in hers as he leads her through the paddock. It is so late at night that there are rarely any people hanging around. When they exit and get to his car, the flashes from the cameras wake her up even more, and she uses the back of her hand to block the lights. 

Lewis walks her to the passenger side, waiting for her to slip in before he closes the door gently and goes around to his seat.

He pulls out cautiously and begins their trek to the hotel.

Clem forces herself to stay awake, knowing that it's only a short drive.

Still, she is waiting for Lewis to speak, but he doesn't. 

"I had fun," she announces.

"I'm glad."

"You got podium." She cheers lowly.

Lewis only offers her a small smile, and uncertainty settles in her gut. Something's not right.

She gives up trying to talk to him after that. 

The car is filled with tension and awkward silence. It's so unlike them.

When they pull into the hotel, Clem doesn't wait for the valet to open her door. She clambers out and thanks god as the night breeze fills her lungs. She's never felt so suffocated around Lewis.

As Lewis exchanges formalities with the man she rushes into the hotel and onto the elevator, when she reaches the room she unlocks it with the secondary key taking a moment to gulp down a glass of water.

Lewis follows in behind her shortly after, paying her no mind as he goes to the bathroom and emerges with his shirt and jewelry off.

"You got an attitude?" Lewis questions, standing in the doorframe.

"No, I don't." 

"I know you, Clementine." Lewis rasps, coming to stand over her as she sits on the bed.

"You're the one with the nasty ass attitude." She huffs, reaching up to nudge him away from her. He doesn't budge.

"Lose the attitude, Clem." He orders, and she rolls her eyes. 

"Or what, Lewis?" She pushes.

Lewis' hand is at her neck in a second. His grip is not tight at all, just holding her in place as he ravishes her mouth. Just as frustrated as he is, she returns the kiss.

"Got something for that attitude," Lewis grunts, pushing her onto her back.

She gasps as he roughly pulls at her pants.

He has them off before she knows it, and his hand lets go of her neck and travels down to pull at her panties. He rips them off of her with a hunger in his eyes like no other. 

"Gotta fuck it out of you, Clem?" He asks. 

He doesn't give her time to answer as he sinks down to his knees at the end of the bed and pulls her down with him. He lifts her legs over him and wraps his arms around her thighs. His hands settle on her thighs, keeping them apart, and he stares up at her one last time before connecting his mouth to her clit.

She jumps, but his hands hold her in place.

He removes his lips from her bundle of nerves, his tongue traveling down to swipe through her crease. She moans lightly as she fists at the sheets. His fingers travel up to replace his mouth, and he digs them deep into her core, his tongue flicking against her clit before he presses it flat and moves up and down.

Clem gasps as he curls his fingers inside her and suckles extra hard on her. Her hand shoots down to push him away, but he catches her wrist in his free hand, holding it against the mattress. 

He stares up at Clem, the whole scene naughty and erotic. He lets her other hand come down to rest in his hair. 

Lewis moans into her, his mouth sending a wave of vibrations through her body. Lewis never took his eyes off of her, watching as she writhed above him. He was showing her no mercy as the gushy sounds filled the room. 

She tasted so good.

Lewis worked his tongue around her clit, teasing her only for a minute before he smushed his mouth over it again and suckled just the right amount, his fingers still thrust in and out of her, driving her absolutely insane. He moans into her pussy and trails his mouth down to swallow where she is oozing. 

Lewis lets her captivating moans egg him on as he devours her like a starved man. He can feel it when she comes when her tight, spongy pussy constricts around his fingers. He happily licks up the juices she releases as she comes undone. 

He pulls his fingers from her core and stands, quickly turning her body over. She lands on her stomach with a slight "oomph" noise and turns to look back at Lewis.

He wastes no time hammering into her from behind. He grabs her arms pulling them behind her back and crossing her wrists; with one hand, he holds them against her back, and with the other, he swats at her ass. Groaning as he watches it ripple.

"Fuck."

Clem can do nothing but pant underneath him and let out pathetic mewls as his hand repeatedly strikes her ass. It hurts so good.

Lewis keeps pounding into her hard, his heart racing as he chases his own orgasm. He sees her phone light up beside him, and a message from Damson appears. 

When he sees this, he speeds up his thrusts, gliding his thick member in and out of her suffocating walls. 

She can only blubber out useless moans as he plummets in and out of her.

He lets go of her wrist, pulling her up onto all fours. 

"You get a thrill out of pissing me off?" He grunts, his hand going up to grip her hair.

"No!" she whines, gripping the covers.

"I think you do." 

His other hand is gripping her waist, pulling her back to him every time she falls forward.

"Nuh-unh." He orders from behind her, letting go of her hair and holding on to her waist tightly with both hands now.

"Don't run from it, baby. You wanted this, huh? This what you want?"

Clem rasps out a choked yes, her head falling at the intense pleasure running through her veins.

Lewis sounds like a beast behind her, all strangled up and growling out praises at her. 

He feels so possessive as his hand lifts and smacks at her ass again. "Fucking, mine." He growls, and Clem falls forward. He doesn't stop as her legs give in, and she drops to the bed again. He climbs behind her, still keeping his pace, and throws his head back as she quivers around him like a candle on fire. 

He can feel the heat building in his core, and it eggs him on as he places his hands on her ass, holding her in place.

Clementine spasms beneath him, never experiencing an orgasm like this before. Her heart feels like it's beating outside of her chest as her ears ring and her eyes roll to the back of her head. She can only curse over and over as she feels Lewis drag out of her and return again with much more force. 

This was the best sex she'd ever gotten in her life.

Her walls clenched around him, her breath hitching as he moved aimlessly in and out of her.

Lewis shuddered at the feeling, sucking in a sharp breath at the sensation. She is face down, panting into the mattress as he pants above her.

She can't count how many times she has come undone underneath him, but as she feels another orgasm approaching, she can't help the way her thighs tremble underneath Lewis. 

Lewis is an incoherent, mumbling and moaning mess above her as he allows himself to succumb to her squeezing cunt, clamping over him. Lewis falls into the abyss, pleasure washing over both of them as he spills into her.

He pulls out with a hiss, shuddering at his sensitivity, and falls over beside Clementine, who rolls onto her back.

"Woah." she pants.

Lewis feels her phone vibrate and he watches as she scambled down the bed to get it, he feels green as he watches her smile at the screen.

Just as she moves to lie beside him again, he speaks up with words that make her feel dismayed.

"I booked you a room."

He turns away from her, staring at the ceiling.

"I- What?" She stutters, turning to face him.  

"It's just a floor below, suite 909."

Clem is distraught, and it shows on her face as she jumps away from the bed as if Lewis has burned her. "Lewis, what-"

Her words are cut off as her phone vibrates in her hand. Lewis chuckles dryly, finally tilting his head to face her. Suddenly Clem feels like a little girl again, wondering why her parents never made an effort in her life, wondering why it was so easy for them to push her aside like they didn't care that she existed.

"What's the matter? Are we okay?" She rambles.

Stop talking, Lewis. He thinks to himself as he watches Clem's eyes flash with wetness. Even sad, she has doe eyes, still shining, but this time, there are tears in her eyes and an intense sadness. 

"Yeah," he should’ve stopped there, but he kept going. "I'll probably see you tomorrow. If not, it'll be the next time I need you." He motions to the bed.

Clem frowns, letting out an exhale as she bends down to tug on her pants. As she maneuvers around the room collecting her suitcase, Lewis calls out to her. "I put the room key beside your toiletry bag."

She slips into the bathroom, picking up her small bag, and sure enough, the keycard is there. She grasps it in her hand and walks out. She wants to scream at him, tell him how big of a dick he's being, but she's not that kind of person.

She is graceful. But it's taking everything in her to channel the lessons her grandpa has taught her when she is this mad, this hurt. 

Clem avoids looking at Lewis as she latches onto her suitcase. 

 "Maybe you should start considering finding someone who's serious, Clementine."

Is this what this is about? She knew the blurred lines would come back to bite her in the ass eventually.

She freezes, her back turned to him as her hand pauses on the door handle. And her body shakes slightly as a her frown deepens, she feels a stream of tears flow down her cheeks.

And just when Lewis thinks that Clem is going to turn around and argue with him, probably throw something at him and shout at him, she doesn't.

She lifts one hand, swiping at her face, and then softly opens the door and leaves without so much as looking back at him. The door clicks shut behind her, and she walks on down the hallway towards the elevator. 

The words don't react, echoing over and over in her head, but as she hears the wheel rolling on her suitcase, she can't help but feel the trembling in her body. She presses her lips together, stepping onto the elevator, and as the doors close, she lets out a gutwrenching sob. 

She sniffles as she steps into the suite. Rushing to the bathroom to shed her clothes, she showers wiping all traces of Lewis Hamilton from her body the way she wishes she can erase him from her mind. She scrubs harshly, eyes still full with tears, between the scorchingly hot water, steam and the tears she can barely see anything as she scrubs severely.

For the first time since agreeing to this arrangement, she feels used by Lewis. She's never felt so dirty in her life. As she sank down to her knees, feeling the wails rip through her body with force, she realized why exactly his words and actions hurt her so much. 

It didn't matter how much she showed up for him or how much she allows herself to be his shrink and him hers, it'd always be a bad religion, loving someone who'd never love you back.

Lewis is in the same position he has been in since she left, flat on his back with his hands covering his face. His body is quivering as sobs rack through his body.

It was a tough decision, but it was one that had to be made. He could never give Clem what she deserved; he wasn't a committed person. Seven years on and off with the same person is proof of that. He could never be okay with putting her through that.

-

Lewis wakes up the next morning with a pounding headache and lingering loneliness. 

He always felt like this when he woke up without Clem in his arms. As he sits up and swipes his hands over his face, his heart aches when he notices her ripped panties thrown on the floor.

He regrets his actions. 

He wishes he would've sat her down nicely and explained how things were getting too deep for him. It's Clem, she would've understood. 

He realizes just how bad he fucked up when her giddiness to lay beside him last night flickers through his mind like a clip from a movie.

"What if we lay in bed after every meetup and we just talk?"

He feels like he's been shot when her hurt face replays over and over. He treated her like shit last night, all because he was scared of what she made him feel. 

He was a mess during yesterday's race; all he could think about down every straight and around every curve was how much he liked Clem, how good she made him feel, and bad she could make him feel just as easily.

He realized that the woman had too much control over his heart yesterday, and he couldn't take that. This was supposed to be fun, casual fun. He never inteded to catch feeling for Clementine Russell, but she was the kind of girl who made you drop to her feet.

He never stood a chance against her charm.

He scrambled from the king-sized bed, rushing to his phone.

-

When he hears a knock on his door, he opens it in a rush; he sees the butler there and offers him a finger to signal to hold on. He rushes to his table, picking up the bouquet of flowers, an array of red, yellow, and orange orchids, dahlias, and marigolds. 

"Can you take these down to suite 909?" Lewis pants pushing the boquet towards the man, there is a note nestled between the pedals.

The man tilts his head, pushing the flowers back towards Lewis.

"I am sorry, Sir Hamilton, Ms Russell has checked out already in the early hours of Midnight."

Lewis feels his heart crumble as he steps away from the man, the giant bouquet firm in his hold.

Lewis says nothing as he closes the door and walks away. 

-

Clem had left that night, not long after leaving Lewis' room. After her shower, she was on the first flight home, and she hadn't spoken to Lewis since. 

Lewis misses Clementine. It's a realization that he came to rather quickly but refused to admit.

Lewis pulls himself out of the leggy woman he picked up at the end of his race. She drops down beside him in heavy pants. 

"That was fun." She exhales.

He doesn't know why when he turns his head, he expects to see Clem staring back at him with her dark eyes and cute smile. 

This woman is no Clementine, and that's for sure. 

He doesn't know why he tries it, but he does. "You can go anywhere in the world under one condition. You'd have to stay there forever; everything is unchanged, and nothing new will ever come. Where do you choose?"

He watches as her eyes scrunch momentarily in confusion.

"I don't know. It's probably Paris. I'm obsessed with their lifestyle, honestly."

Lewis turns his head back to the ceiling.

He wants her to leave. And he wants Clementine to be in her place.

It's quiet and awkward, and she doesn't even try to ask him. 

He already knows his answer. He'd be with Clem in his bed, hands connected as they lie naked underneath his covers, heads turned to each other as they talk. He'd watch on as the moonlight supersedes the darkness and the moonbeams are replaced with sun rays. And he'd listen to her feel things like she made him. And he'd be happy and content with spending eternity like that.

Everything unchanged, nothing new.

Lewis begins to think that maybe casual sex isn't for him anymore. Perhaps he's taking Clem's absence extra hard because he yearned for the other form of intimacy, the emotional aspect of being with a woman.

So he tries dating. 

And he comes to the same conclusion, date after date.

Their eyes don't gleam like hers.

They don't understand his humor.

They don't care about why losing his favorite toy as a kid was an integral part of the man he became.

They can't carry on discussions like Clem or even talk like Clem.

They don't have her precious smile and her deep dimples. They're not gracious and benevolent.

They aren't Clem, no one ever will be.

Lewis craves Clem; he misses her with every fiber of his being.

And he regrets letting her up from his bed. He regrets telling her to pursue another man. 

When Lewis returns to New York, his thumb lingers over the send button.

clemmy 🪂

I need to see you, where are you?

He doesn't send the message; he drops his phone with a sigh, knuckling at his eyes. Why was it so fucking hard? He'd never felt this troubled in his life, especially over a woman he'd never even dated.

He sighs in distress, picks up his phone, stares at the message begging to be sent, and clicks off of the app. Instead, he opens his Instagram. As he goes to search for Clem's name, he sees that she is still his top search, and he feels like a loser as he enters her profile.

He'd take any sight of her he could get.

-

Clementine wouldn't say she was necessarily religious. Her grandpa would probably drop dead of a heart attack if he heard that. But it was the truth. She thought it was fairytale-like sometimes. Yes, she had faith, but she wasn't as devout as many people. 

If she was being honest, she thought religion began as something beautiful, putting your complete trust and faith into another person, with the idea that they were quite literally the holy grail. Over time, it's been skewed and manipulated, some for great purposes and others for very wrong reasons. 

She thought most religious people were hypocrites. Lewis was a hypocrite for sure, giving her an inch and then taking a mile. Now that she has had time to ponder over it, Lewis Hamilton is actually a sick man. Pouring affection into her and poisoning her heart. 

How did he expect her not to fall for him when he treated her the way he did? She feels like a fool herself, too, thinking back to the conversation she had with him the night before it all went to shit. 

"You're a lover boy at heart." Clem chortled, "Literally just a sweetheart. Most men who can't see themselves being with someone don't act as affectionate with women."

Lewis lets out a hmm sound, his hand still gliding up and down her back beneath his t-shirt that she wore.

"Is that a good thing or a bad thing?"

"Good, there's nothing wrong with being a sweetheart; bad if someone gets the wrong idea; I have a feeling you're an easy man to fall in love with."

Lewis was a hypocrite, and she was too. 

But the truth is religion gave people purpose. She'd never felt it firmly in a spiritual sense, but she had experienced that strong urge to follow someone's every command. She's believed every word that tumbles from his mouth. Given the opportunity, she would surely drop to her knees at his feet. She's only ever felt the need to praise and put her limited faith and her secured trust into one person. Sure, she had faith, just in a bad religion. She admired one man, Lewis Hamilton, but there was one problem, she could never make him love her the way she loved him.

Clem took his advice. She branched off, presented herself in new ways, made new friends, developed herself, and found someone who would take her seriously, though that didn't last long at all. 

clementine

liked by feliciathegoat, pharrell, and 12,898,465 others

clementine so, they've helped me make an album? Clementine, NYC out now on all streaming platforms !! 

view all comments

feliciathegoat Cool kids doing cool shit 🏌🏿

clementine the coolest 😎

lilyachty ALBUM OF THE FUCKING YEAR

clementine 🤸🏾‍♀️🤸🏾‍♀️🤸🏾‍♀️🤸🏾‍♀️

user no bc who did my girl like that

clementine no really, it's okay though builds character 😃

user builds character my ass, go beat his ass

user A MOVIE AND MUSIC IN THE SAME YEAR ASVJHKHK WHEN DO WE GET SEASON 2???

clementine yk im filming girl 🙄

clementine

liked by danielricciardo, justinbieber, and 10,898,465 others

clementine two post in one day bc why not, what's everyone's favorite song from Clementine, NYC?!?

danielricciardo In your hands slaps

clementine you sir, have great taste 😘

user daniel what are you doing here 😭

user No really, weird ass crossover episode

user the blue hair to match the album cover the movie * chefs kiss*, your creativity is unmatched queen

clementine you noticing the small details >>>

justinbieber posting us arguing over the order is killing me

clementine no bc we both look so over it 😂

user I love her and Tyler's friendship sm

feliciathegoat i love my bestie

clementine and I love u T 🥹

-

Lewis instantly throws in his airpods and starts the album, one by one he listens to each song. Sure enough every song has small anecdotes about their time together that only he'd know.

He was aware that he was blurring the lines between just benefits and true feelings, but he didn't know that he wasn't the only one feeling strongly about it. He never took her feelings into account.

Just when he thought he couldn't feel any worse about the situation, that realization dawned on him. Clementine Russell loved him and he threw her to the curb like a bag of trash. 

He's throwing on whatever clothes he sees first as he rushes from his door. 

He doesn't bother calling his driver as he treks block after block; he has one destination in mind, Clem's townhome. 

He's there before he knows it, his fist urgently banging against her door. 

He sees a light flicker on through the window, and then her door swings open.

She's in her nightshirt with her hair wrapped in a scarf, and her eyes are puffy from sleep. When she sees Lewis, she begins to swing the door back closed, but his hand pushes against it.

"No, Lewis." She snarls, swinging the door open again. She is looking at him like he's the devil himself. "I don't want to see you, I don't want to talk to you, I don't even want to think of you."

"Clem, please." He begs, "Please, I can't take it."

She pauses at the door, taking her time to study the man in front of her. He looks bad, simply put.

His eyes are bloodshot and droopy with bags, his braids are disheveled and clearly in need of a touch-up, and he just looks all around miserable.

She almost gives in until she thinks back to the last eight months where she had been miserable herself. She smacks her teeth swinging the door closed until she hears Lewis shout out three words that take her back to when the roads got foggy, Cannes. When she realized the difference in how she actually felt for Lewis.

"I love you."

She peels the door back open and stares at him intensely. "What did you say?"

He looks like he's watched his whole world get taken away from him as he repeats himself, "I love you. Don't shut the door, please."

"It's not fair, Lewis." She fumes.

"I know." He whispers, and his voice cracks.

"You don't get to do this to me." Clem snapped. "You can't just make me feel things for you and then push me away. You can't make me love you and then hurt me and tell me you love me when it's too late."

"I'm sorry."

"Sorry, isn't enough." She hissed angrily, approaching him and poking his chest. 

He reaches up and grabs her hand, holding it close to his chest. She feels him shudder underneath her touch, and his body begins to shake.

"Clem, I'm sorry." his voice is hoarse and thick as he peers down at her, and she cracks when she feels a teardrop against their connected hands. "I'm sorry."

Her forehead drops against his chest, and he wraps his arms around her. "You didn't deserve that; I should have just told you; I was scared; you broke all of my walls, Clem; I didn't know what to do. I didn't want to hurt you in the end."

"But you did, " she cries.

"I know, I did; I was scared of commitment, was scared I would ruin us further down the line." He presses a kiss to the top of her head, "I'm not scared of commitment, Clem, not anymore. I just don't want to be committed if it's not to you."

"You don't mean that." Clem breathes. 

"I promise I do, Clem."

She steps back from him, letting his arms fall to his side. "You made me feel dirty."

He opens his mouth, and she puts up her hand, "Let me talk. I let you disrespect me, Lewis. I should be done with you. I should be over you. I don't care how much I feel for you; if you ever, and I mean ever, speak to me that way or treat me like I'm nothing ever again, all gracefulness is out of the fucking window."

"I understand." He breathes, "I will never, Clem, and I mean never treat you like that again."

It's ironic, the two of them standing infront of each other as the sky illuminates in yellow and orange hues. 

"It's six in the morning." Clem sighs.

"I couldn't stop thinking about you."

"I wasn't supposed to be here today; you almost missed me," Clem informs.

"I would've found you. Lost you once already. I didn't know how much I cherished what we had until I no longer had it. Until I lost it. I don't want to lose you forever, too."

"It's almost spring," Clem announces. 

"Gonna take you to that mountain, Clem." He promises, pulling her into his arms again.

"I've missed you so much. There were so many things I wanted to talk to you about. I missed talking to you." She admits and Lewis holds her tighter.

"I missed listening to you. Swear I did." 

"Are we still friends?"

"No, we're more than that. We should’ve never been friends. Always meant to be more." 

"I wrote an album about you." She sighs.

She feels Lewis hum against her. "It's beautiful."

"I talked so much shit about you, I'm sorry."

"Don't be sorry for feeling Clem, I was a shit person to you." 

"My hair is blue." She announces, and he chuckles; there she was, his Clem talking his head off.

"Starting over, right?"

"Yeah, starting over."

Although they weren't laying in bed on their backs hands connected and staring through the ceiling like it was their sky. Things felt familiar to the two as the sun rose and light beamed around them.

Lewis was her sunset, the beauty that comes after a hard and blaring day. To him, she was the sunrise. After the darkness, it will always be light again. She was his light source, and he knew that now. He could never lose something that's always shining. 

"Thank you for showing up for me."

Not proofread

the album:

bad religion - frank ocean

in your hands - halle

i think- tyler, the creator

saturn- sza

broken is the man- jorja smith

everything is gonna be alright- infinity song

everything- kehlani

mine- beyonce ft drake

poison- beyonce

are we still friends- tyler, the creator

eternal sunshine- jhene aiko

<3

[javiscigarette]

Sweet Spot

Summary: You get a promotion at work, so Joel dresses you up and takes you out for dinner but you're hungry for somethin else

Warnings: no use of y/n, smut with the tiniest sliver of plot, established relationship, fingering, fingering in public, rough sex, oral (m receiving), spitting, a bit of choking, daddy kink ofc, degradation,

w/c: 9k (omfg) of pwp :)

a/n: I don't loveee this one but I've been sitting on it for three months and I can't get the image of freshly showered Joel out of my mind so. Here we are. Also the daddy kink as taken over, I cant stop and I'm NOT sorry!! Pls let me know what you guys think, your comments and love are the only things keeping me going. (also also, if you're someone who likes making edits for pics PLS message me I am desperate and really bad at making them)

my masterlist

Joel is in the driveway leaning over the hood of his truck when you pull up to the house, fiddling with whatever new project he decided to start this afternoon. You’re able to catch a quick glimpse of his shirt riding up a bit, exposing an inch or two of the skin of his back before he hears your car and turns around. 

You pull into the driveway next to his truck and hop out as soon as you’re in park. The warm sound of Joel’s laughter fills the air as you squeal excitedly, running around the front of your car and into his outstretched arms. He pulls you close into him, his black t-shirt hot from the sun has he squeezes you tightly. He smells like motor oil and sweat and you’d be lying if you said it didn’t get you going just a little bit. 

“M’guessing it went well?” Joel asks when he pulls back, chuckling as he watches you bounce up and down on your toes. 

You’d been working on this presentation for your job for two weeks now, spending hours smoothing out every minor detail, giving mock presentations to Joel and staying up late worrying about how it’ll go. 

“Everyone loved it, Joel!” you nearly shout. 

“And guess what?” you ask, not giving him any time to respond. “I got promoted!” you squeal. 

Joel’s chest is about to burst with pride. 

“M’so proud of you, angel. You worked so hard for it.” Joel tells you, his voice soft and sincere as he holds you against him. 

“We need to get in the shower,” Joel says, turning away from you to lower the hood of his truck. “I’m taking you out.” 

—-----------

You sit on the edge of the bed with your towel wrapped around your waist, waiting patiently for Joel to return from the closet. It's no surprise when he returns with a bundle of black fabric – in his hands is his favorite thing you own: the lacey black 3 piece set and the thigh high stockings to match. 

He has a wide smile, his eyes sparkling with affection as he looks at you. With a soft smile in return, you drop your towel allowing it to pool on the bed around you as you expose yourself completely for him. 

“You’re so pretty, baby” 

Your ears perk up at the slight strain in his voice. You look down and grin, the outline of his half-hard cock clear as day under his black boxer briefs. 

“We’re never gonna make it to the restaurant” you laugh and move to stand up for him, despite wishing he would just give in right now and fuck you until you couldn’t see straight. 

But he just shakes his head with a chuckle as he takes your place, sitting on the edge of the bed with you standing between his knees.

“Yes we will, angel. And we’ll play when we get back, give you whatever you want…if you’re good” Joel promises, easily reading your mind. 

You huff dramatically as he picks out the garter belt from the pile and holds it up to you. He doesn’t say anything, just braces himself when you reach out and grip his shoulder for balance as you lift up one leg.   

He bends over, holding the belt open so that you can step with one foot and then the other. He then straightens back up, pulling the fabric up your legs as he does so. Heat pools in your tummy when you look down at him and see his brows knitted together in serious concentration as he dresses you. 

He does this all the time. The routine is committed to muscle memory at this point. 

It’s not that he cares about what you wear, he couldn’t give two shits as long as you’re comfortable. But the power in deciding what you’re going to wear underneath, or if you’re going to wear anything at all, gives him a rush. And he’s positively obsessed with being the one to dress you up in it, says it’s like “wrapping his own present that he gets to rip open later”. 

Goosebumps erupt all over your skin under his warm fingers. You feel so beautiful in these moments, with Joel so focused on your body inches away from his face, his eyes wide and his cock hard just at the mere sight of your exposed skin and the excitement of seeing you in whatever he picks out for you. 

He settles the belt around your waist, making sure all the edges are untucked and lying flat before reaching for the thong and repeating the process. 

“So fucking, pretty” Joel mumbles as he smooths the lace over your hips, adjusting the elastic so it stretches perfectly over your skin. Then he’s spinning you around so until you’re facing the other away, your ass on full display for him. He can’t help but press a kiss to your cheek before straightening out the back of your thong, his mouth watering at the sight of the thin strip of fabric disappearing in between your cheeks. 

Mindlessly, he reaches around to your front and slips his hand between your thighs. The tips of his fingers just barely brush over the lace of your thong but he can feel the heat of your swollen pussy underneath. 

 He sighs and wraps his other arm around your waist and pulls you back into him until his cheek is squished against your lower back, his scruff scratching lightly against your sensitive skin. His fingers keep dancing over you with minimal pressure behind his touch. 

“Joel,” you whimper quietly, already getting all worked up from his minimal teasing. He just shushes you and presses another warm kiss to the back of your hip. After a couple more seconds of light brushes he slips his middle finger into the side of your thong to find your entrance and immediately sinks it inside of you. 

You yelp in surprise, and reflexively try to take a step away from him, but he’s got you tight in his grip. 

“Just wanna feel you, baby” Joel mumbles against your skin, his beard tickling you and making the muscles in your lower back twitch. He closes his eyes, fully focused on feeling your wet walls flutter gently around his finger. His brow furrows and his mouth drops open slightly when he hears your quiet whimper, the sweet sound going straight to his already painfully hard cock. 

He doesn’t even mean to tease you most of the time. Sure, he loves seeing you get all worked up just from a few gentle touches and he adores watching you fall apart underneath him, collapsing into a begging mess for him before he’s even really done anything. But most of the time it’s a genuine need to touch you. It’s like he needs to have physical contact with your body at all times, serving as a reminder that you’re real, you’re here and you’re all his. 

He slides his finger out a few seconds later, much to your disappointment. But before you can complain, he spins you back around and stares you in the eyes as brings his finger up in front of you and gently pushes it between your parted lips. You allow him without any hesitation, and he watches you in awe as you lick and suck his finger clean of your arousal, his jaw slack and eyes dark and wide.

“Ain’t it sweet, angel?” Joel asks, breathless with amusement and lust. 

You nod and he grins before slowly sliding his finger out of your mouth. 

“S’a good girl, baby” Joel comments as he reaches for one of the thigh high stockings. His praise wraps around your heart and melts into your veins, just his simple words making you feel warm and floaty. 

You watch him as he bunches up the stocking at the foot, holding it open for you to step in before pulling it up your leg. He smooths out the lace edge and makes sure that it’s even all around your thigh before he fastens the clips of the garter belt to the top of the stocking. He does the same thing with your other leg before turning you around again and fastening the clips in the back. 

Joel turns you around so you’re facing him again and then presses a kiss to the top of each thigh. 

“Fuckin’ perfect” he sighs as he leans back and admires his work. 

You blush under his gaze, his eyes burning holes in your skin as he stares hungrily. He stands up after a few moments and reaches for the matching bralette, helping you slip it over your shoulders before fastening the clasps in the back. 

He looks down at you and tries to resist the urge to touch you again but he can’t keep himself away. And the small moan you let out when he brings both his thumbs up to brush over your nipples through the lace has him nearly giving in right then and there. 

You look up at him with pleading eyes, silently telling him that you’re not going to be good for much longer if he keeps this up. He stares back at you and thinks about pushing you, letting you act like a bad girl before fucking some sense into you. But he decides he wants to show you off first. 

“Go get dressed, baby” Joel instructs gently with a smile. “Pick something nice for me.” 

— 

You decide on a black dress, one that clings to all the right places while just barely concealing the tops of your stockings and the clips holding them in place. You finish getting ready in the bathroom, and when you walk back out to the bedroom, you nearly collapse at the sight in front of you.

Joel is standing in front of the floor-length mirror with his back turned to you. He’s wearing a simple outfit: black trousers with a black button down to match. The top two buttons of his shirt are undone and your mouth waters at the exposed skin of his thick neck and broad chest. 

It’s almost unfair how good he looks with his hair pushed back just slightly, the damp locks just starting to curl into their usual pattern as they air dry. Your heart races at the thought of tangling your fingers into the ones laying at the nape of his neck. His eyes meet yours in the mirror and he smirks as he finishes rolling up his sleeves until they rest perfectly at his elbows.

He then reaches for his rings – the ones you got for him as part of his birthday present earlier this year, the small gold bands that you insisted would look good on him – and picks them up from where they’re sitting on the dresser. And clearly you were right because when he turns to face you, you almost moan out loud watching him slide a ring down one pinky and then the other. He crosses the room towards you, your knees trembling as he shamelessly rakes his eyes up and down your figure. 

“Stunning” Joel whispers, shaking his head slightly in disbelief. His hands easily find your hips and he gently turns you around so you’re facing the mirror, your back pressed into his warm, broad chest. 

“I love you, angel. And I’m so fuckin’ proud of you, you know that right?” Joel asks as he wraps both arms around your waist and hooks his chin over your shoulder. 

“Yes, Joel, I know. I love you too” you giggle, easily flustered at his praise. 

“M’serious, baby. So proud of how hard you work, how dedicated you are” Joel starts, moving to nuzzle his face against your neck. “How smart you are” Joel continues, his lips brushing delicately over your sensitive skin. You melt so easily underneath him, relaxing into the soft glide of his warm palms up and down your sides as he whispers sweet words of praise into your neck. 

“And I bet you looked fuckin’ sexy doing it too” Joel growls,  his hands tightening on your hip. You let out a mixture between a sniffle and laugh and then feel Joel’s lips curve into a smile against your neck. He presses a kiss behind your ear and straightens back up and turns you around to face him. 

Joel’s heart turns to liquid when you look up at him through watery lashes with a wide smile. He smiles down at you and brings a hand up to wipe away your tears with the pad of his thumb before placing a sweet kiss on your forehead. 

“Now let’s get goin’. I think my good girl deserves to be spoiled.” 

— 

Joel was back to teasing you as soon got in his truck and continued to do so the whole ride to the restaurant. He kept one hand on the wheel, using the other to slide up and down your thigh, occasionally fiddling with your garter straps or just brushing the lace edge of your thong with his fingertips.

And now you’re seated at a table in a dark corner of the dimly lit restaurant, and you can barely think straight. Joel had spoiled you with the most expensive champagne, far more appetizers than two people could possibly eat and a main course of delectable pasta on a plate bigger than your head. And of course, he looked devilishly handsome the whole night, and he knows it too, smirking and looking at you like he’s about to pounce across the table and devour you. Now you sat there with a full belly, but you were still hungry for revenge. 

“What’d your coworkers say? When they saw you got promoted” Joel asks as he pours you both another glass of champagne. You furrow your brows at his question, so far away from even thinking of that whole situation at work and so turned on that you almost completely forgot about the reason why you’re even here right now. 

You look up at his face, forcing yourself to peel your eyes away from the muscles bulging underneath his shirt as he sets the bottle back down. He has that knowing look in his eyes when you find them, his signature smirk thinly veiled with a sweet smile. 

Without even trying to answer his question, you slide down slightly in your chair. He watches curiously as you shift in your seat for a few seconds. Just as he opens his mouth to ask you what you’re doing, your warm foot presses against the crotch of his pants. 

He freezes in place. His hand visibly tightens around the stem of his champagne glass, and you can see the muscles in his jaw twitching. You fully expect him to push your foot back to the ground, but he doesn’t. Instead, he just leans back in his chair and spreads his knees giving you more room to work. He tilts his head and stares at you, a smirk creeping up on his lips when he sees the devious twinkle in your eye. 

You look back with a smirk to match and experimentally wiggle your toes against him. Your heart pounds in your chest when he narrows his eyes at you and slowly moves his hand beneath the tablecloth. You stop wiggling your toes when he wraps his hand around your ankle, the heat radiating from his palm to your skin like a hot iron through the thin material of your stocking. 

“Think about it, angel” he warns quietly. There’s a brief pause, where you pretend to weigh the risks and rewards, trying to decide whether to be good or bad. But your mind was made up before you even left the house. 

After a few seconds, you smirk back at him and press the ball of your stockinged foot against him. Joel chuckles and leans back in his chair again, watching you amusedly. He doesn't move, barely even flinches when you press a little harder against him and it’s infuriating. It's completely unfair how he’s able to literally bring you to your knees with a single touch but remains completely composed when you touch him. 

But what you don’t see is his heart hammering in his chest or the sweat starting to prickle the back of his neck. Truthfully, he had been just as turned on as you this whole time. Actually, he could feel the heat stirring the second that you told him about your promotion. 

He was barely able to hold back when he was picking out your lingerie for the night. He had to take a break in the closet, leaning against the dresser as he took a couple of deep breaths to try and calm himself down.

And when he started dressing you, he could’ve come right there in his boxers at the sight of the garter belt sliding up your waist.  Then the ride over here, the smell of your perfume mixing perfectly with his cologne in the cab of his truck, his head going fuzzy at the scent that seeped into the fabric of his seats, a reminder of you that’ll stick around for a few days. 

And now with your foot covered in the delicate mesh of the stockings that he dressed you in pressing deliciously against his aching cock, he’s rapidly losing his self-control. 

But Joel is just as stubborn as you, not willing to give in so easily. 

So, he bites his tongue and suppresses any noise and tenses his muscles trying not to flinch. Because seeing you get frustrated like this was just turning him on even more. He’s about to say something but you see the waiter coming up behind him and immediately move your foot back to the floor and sit up straight. 

Joel exhales heavily, releasing all the tension he was holding. He doesn’t even hear what the waiter says, too busy admiring the flustered look on your face and the slight shake in your voice as you talk to the waiter. 

The waiter leaves after a few moments and you face Joel again with a mix between a pout and a glare. 

“What was the plan there?”  Joel asks, cocking his head to the side in mock curiosity while he secretly prays that his voice doesn’t crack. 

You don’t respond, just keep glaring at him as you shove your foot back into the shoe. 

“You were being so good, what happened?” Joel presses, each word drenched with sarcastic concern. He watches delightedly as you huff and cross your arms over your chest. 

“S’okay, baby” Joel says, his voice dropping half an octave. Your stomach flutters with excitement.

 This is exactly how Joel starts off every proposition and you can’t wait to see what he wants you to do next. 

Joel pauses and looks at you with an evil glint in his eye. You should’ve seen this coming from miles away. But it still slaps you in the face when he says it. 

“I want you to slip a hand under that pretty dress and touch yourself. Right here, right now.” Joel says so quietly that you barely hear him. 

Your breath gets caught around the lump in your throat and Joel just smiles at you. 

“Go on, baby. Since you’re so needy and set on bein’ bad” Joel encourages after a few seconds of you not moving. “Or we can get the paddle out when we get home?”

The threat of paddle was more than enough.

You glance around to see if anyone can see you like this. No one was sitting near you though, the booth you’re in provides a decent amount of privacy and all direct lines of sight to you are clear. With a gulp and shift down in your seat again and your pussy throbs, pathetically turned on as you slide your hand under the tablecloth and up your dress. You move slowly to slide two fingers into the side of your thong, just like Joel did an hour earlier. 

It’s no shock how wet you are, the lace of your thong absolutely soaked, your whole cunt swollen and slick with it. Your eyes flit up to Joel’s and he gives you a small, encouraging nod.  

“You’re soaked for me, aren’t you angel?” Joel asks. His voice is so calm and steady that you almost stop and get up to walk over to his side of the table and strangle him. You’re so turned on you can barely breathe, and you’re pissed at him for it. It’s maddening how he has you so needy and desperate for him that you’re willing to touch yourself in publicwhile he just watches.

You give into your temptations easily, working quickly to soothe the aching need that spreads across every single inch of your skin. You glance around again, making sure no one is looking before you ease your middle finger into your dripping entrance, your eyelashes fluttering a bit as you curl your fingers and press up against your g-spot. 

Joel’s head is swimming as he watches you finger yourself right there in front of him in this restaurant. Any moment someone will pinch him and tell him to wake the fuck up because there’s no way in hell that this actually happening.

His head is foggy, turned on just as much as you are. His cock strains in his pants, tingles rushing down his spine as he stares at you, biting your lip, your eyes barely open and your eyebrows drawing together as you try to hold back soft moans. 

He wants more.

“Faster.” 

You snap your eyes open and look at him as if to ask if you heard him correctly. The look he gives you tells you that you absolutely did. 

Well, you’re not gonna say no to that. 

Your teeth sink deeper into your lip as you heed his orders and start pumping your finger faster. You’re painfully aware of any sounds you make, whether it’s a moan clawing its way up your throat or the slick sounds of your finger gliding through your folds, you try your best to keep it down. 

Joel of course isn’t any help. 

“Don’t be too loud, baby.” Joel whispers before taking a large swig of champagne. “Wouldn’t want ya to embarrass yourself” 

You shoot daggers at him over the dinner table, but you don’t slow down. And now he’s stumped because does he punish you for being bad, playing footsies under the table with him and fingering yourself in public or should he praise you for being a good girl and listening to him. 

“Baby,” Joel starts, his voice tight in his throat. “Show me, I want to see.” 

To his surprise, you obey easily enough and slide your finger out from under your dress. You bring your hand out from under the tablecloth to present to Joel. His adam’s apple bob in his throat, swallowing thickly at the sight of your middle finger absolutely coated in your wetness, some of it glistening on your palm as well.  He nearly loses it when you spread your fingers apart, thin strings of your arousal stretching between your digits. 

“Fuck” Joel hisses. There’s a tingle of delight in your stomach as you watch him shift in his chair, finally starting to visibly crack. 

He doesn’t say anything else, just reaches into the inner pocket of his jacket to grab his wallet. He hastily pulls out more than enough cash and nearly slams it on the table before standing up. 

“C’mon” Joel commands firmly, extending his hand out to you. You blink at him, not moving a muscle otherwise. You don’t know why, something innate inside you when you’re around him, but even when you're inches away from an orgasm you still find room to be bratty. 

“And what if I wanted dessert?” 

Joel’s jaw clenches as he grinds his teeth together, the tendons in his neck pressing against his skin and you have to bite the inside of your cheek to stop the smirk forming on your face

“Angel,” Joel huffs. “Get up right now and I’ll give you anything you want.” 

That’s all it takes. Joel shakes his head when you immediately grab his hand and pull yourself to stand up. 

“Such a fuckin’ brat” Joel mumbles as he wraps an arm around you, pulling you into his side. He practically drags you out of the restaurant, his grip tight on your waist and your heels clicking on the asphalt as you trot next to him to keep up with his long strides as he speeds back to the truck. 

Ever the gentleman, he opens the passenger door for you, keeping his eyes glued to your body as you climb inside. With you safely inside, he slams the door shut, the sound of your heavy breathing fills the otherwise silent cab of the truck as you watch him walk over to the driver’s side. 

You wait a few moments to see if he’ll say anything, but he just stares straight ahead, the muscles in his jaw flexing subtly like he’s chewing over what he’s going to say next as he shoves the key into the ignition. 

He backs out of the parking spot and leaves the parking lot without saying a single word. Meanwhile, you’re a mess sitting next to him, 

You manage to keep your mouth shut for one whole minute. 

“I was just following your instructions” you mumble, crossing your arms over your chest with an exaggerated pout. His jaw shifts to the side but he doesn’t say anything. Doesn’t even look at you. 

You sigh dramatically and glance sideways at him to see if he’s looking. But he keeps staring straight ahead. There’s a small part of you that realizes that this is probably all part of his grand plan to drive you up the wall, work you up until you can’t take it anymore. But there’s a much larger part of you that desperately wants his attention. 

“And isn’t this my treat anyway? Shouldn’t I be getting what I want?” you press, dipping into dangerous territory just to try and get a reaction out of him. 

Still nothing. 

The thought of slipping your hand under your dress again crosses your mind, but his earlier threat of the paddle quickly extinguishes it. 

All you can do is sit there with a pout etched into your face and ride the rest of the home in silence. 

You’re about to explode when he pulls into the driveway. He slides out of his seat and strides over to your side and opens the door. The fire in his eyes burns fiercely as you take your sweet time climbing out. He slams the door shut behind you as soon as you’re out and turns on his heel and quickly makes his way to the door. You groan and actually stamp your foot in frustration. It’s just not fair. 

You stomp towards the door, arms still crossed over your chest. 

“You said you’d give me anything I want” you call after him, recalling his words from earlier as you make your way inside. 

You barely make it through the door before he’s pushing you against it, using his whole body to keep you pinned in place. Your breath catches in your throat and your knees weaken instantly, all of your resolve immediately crumbling around your feet. 

He has one hand on your waist while he braces himself with the other one on the wall next to your head. His face is inches from yours and you can smell the sweet champagne on his breath and the cologne on his skin. His eyes flit from yours to your lips, his pupils blown so wide that there’s just a sliver of brown around them 

“I said if you were good” he hisses, his voice dangerously low. “What you pulled back there? That was bad, baby. Real bad.”

“You’re the one who told me to finger my-” 

Joel’s hand flies from your waist to your throat, his broad palm pressing against your windpipe while he squeezes either side of your neck with his thumb and fingers. Heat surges down your spine and settles in your lower abdomen, your aching sex throbbing pathetically in response. 

“Don’t you try to fuckin’ spin this on me, sweetheart” Joel snarls. 

Maybe he meant to strike fear in you, maybe try to teach you a lesson. But it’s exactly what you want. Joel knows it too – you can tell by the slight smirk that tugs at the corner of his lips in response to your small, breathless gasp. 

“Was just trying to be nice to you” he starts, his voice so low at the point you doubt you’d be able to hear him from any further away. “Try to take you out to a nice restaurant to celebrate and that’s how you repay me? Playin’ with me like that under the table and then actin’ like a spoiled brat all the way home?” 

You both know he’s playing up his part. These were all minor infractions at best. Both of you knew that. You had been in this position for much, much worse behavior. But Joel isn’t dumb, and he’s well aware of what you want - to be tossed around a little, roughened up and broken down until you’re a squirming mess.  And who is he to deny you of that?

You chew on your lip before muttering a small “M’sorry daddy” 

Joel’s eyes narrow even more, the hand on your throat tightening slightly as your carefully chosen words have the exact intended effects on him.

“No, you ain’t” Joel growls. “But you will be. Get on your fuckin’ knees.”

He drops the hand from your throat and takes a step back. You exhale the breath you were holding, and you stare at him as his hands fall to his belt. Just the thought of having him in your mouth has you nearly drooling. 

But you’re not done yet.

“No” you say plainly, crossing your arms over your chest once again. 

Joel’s hands freeze on his belt, his eyes burning holes into you as you stare right back, not moving an inch from where you’re standing. 

He raises one eyebrow slightly as if to say I hope I didn’t hear what I just heard but you remain silent and motionless. After a few long moments of complete silence, Joel chuckles softly, his hands falling to his sides in defeat. He gives you one more look and then shakes his head before turning around and heading towards the bedroom.

You’re about to call after him, ask him where he’s going, but his earlier threat of the paddle floats through your mind once again. That has you panicking nearly instantly. 

You watch in disbelief as he disappears up the stairs. Your legs feel as though they’re stuck in wet concrete, and it takes a few seconds to coordinate your mind and body to get you to move. You scamper after him, a cold sweat tingling on the back of your neck as you head towards the bedroom. 

He’s sitting on the edge of the bed when you walk in, in the middle of untying his shoes. You stand in front of him, arms behind your back and patiently wait for him to toe his shoes off. 

He kicks them to the side then looks up at you with a heavy sigh, like your behavior is causing him physical pain. You offer him a meek smile as he rests his palms behind him on the mattress and leans back, his eyes raking over your body as he does so. 

He doesn’t say anything, which you take as an invitation. 

You move to climb into his lap. He doesn’t reprimand you, but he doesn’t move to hold you either. 

You sit on your knees, your legs straddling his. You can feel him through his pants and your soaked panties, still hard as diamonds. That’s a good sign at least. 

“M’sorry, daddy” you say again, much more sincerely this time. You bring your hands up to fiddle with the collar of his shirt, avoiding his eyes as you wait for a response that never comes. 

“Just wanted to play” you confess quietly. Joel still doesn't say anything, but his eyes follow your hands as you start toying with the buttons of his shirt. 

“And you just looked so handsome tonight” you continue, undoing the first button. You wait again. Still no response. 

“Thank you for taking me out” you say as you undo the next button. 

“And for dressing me up” 

Another button. 

“Making me feel so beautiful” 

And another. 

You undo the last button then push away both sides so that his whole torso is on display for you. You stare for a second, fixated on the steady rise and fall of his broad chest, the soft curve of his tummy, and the trail of hair disappearing under the waistband of his pants.

He remains silent still as you place your hands on his abdomen and slowly slide them up to his shoulders before crossing your arms behind his neck. Finally, you drag your eyes up and look at him through your lashes. His gaze is soft and much warmer than you were expecting. 

“Promise I’ll be good.” you say, barely above a whisper. 

He gives you a half smile and brings a hand up to cup your cheek, his thumb rubbing across your bottom lip. 

“You want daddy to make you feel good? Want me to fuck you til you fuckin’ stupid” Joel asks, tilting his head to the side acting like he doesn’t know the answer. 

You nod vigorously and poke your tongue out to lick at the tip of his thumb, just for good measure. 

“Thought so” Joel says as he pushes his thumb past your lips. You suck on it eagerly and let him press down on your tongue, your clit twitching with desperate need. 

“Then why don’t you show daddy how sorry you are, and I might reconsider gettin’ the paddle out.” 

You immediately pull off his thumb and sink to your knees without any further instruction. You reach for his belt, deft fingers unbuckling the belt that you’ve undone so many times before, his button and zipper following soon after. 

He stops you there and moves to stand up. You sit back on your knees with your hands on your thighs and watch as he quickly shucks off his shirt, tossing it somewhere behind him. You chew on your lip as he pulls down the waistband of his pants and boxers, his cock bobbing heavily as he steps out of them. 

Your completely transfixed by it, the veins running along the length, the redden head and the drops of precum leaking from the slit. You don’t even realize you’re staring until he slides a finger under your chin, tilting your head up to look at him. 

“Turn around” he instructs simply. 

You have no reason to disobey at this point, so you do as you’re told, turning in the small space between Joel’s leg and the edge of the bed. He takes another step forward, backing you up into the side of the mattress. 

“S’this what you wanted, baby?” he coos as he wraps a hand around himself. 

“Yes, daddy. Always want it” you respond. You look up at him through your lashes, batting them for added effect. 

“Yeah, I know you do” he rasps, taking another small step forward. He rests the head of his cock on your bottom lip, smearing precum. You dart your tongue out to lick it up. 

He drags the tip of his cock from your lips to your cheek, smearing more precum on your skin and giving you a few light smacks for good measure. 

It’s degrading, and should be humiliating, but it just makes your head spin, the fire in your stomach rapidly growing as you open your mouth for him, giving him silent permission to use you however he pleases. 

He groans softly as he pushes past your lips, sinking into the wet heat of your mouth. He’s only halfway in when you gag around him, tears already pricking at your waterline. 

“Oh, you know you can take it deeper than that, angel” 

He places both hands on the back of your head, gently forcing you down the rest of his length. You let him, focusing on breathing through your nose as rolls his hips forward until he’s buried in your throat. You gag again once he’s all the way in, but he keeps your head in place, holding you there for a few more seconds, groaning as your throat convulses around him 

“Yeah, that’s it, baby. Got that throat fuckin’ trained” 

He pulls out, allows you to take a gulp of air before he’s shoving back in again. His hips quickly settle into a steady rhythm, his cock nudging the back of your throat with every thrust. You brace yourself with one hand on his thigh and you can feel the muscles working under your palm. 

“Spoiled little brat just needed daddy to fuck her throat, huh?” 

You hum around him in response, reveling in the feeling of his cock twitching against your tongue. He continues to fuck your face, completely unconcerned with the tears rolling down your cheeks and the spit leaking out of the corners of your mouth. He moves one hand from your head to your throat, his palm splaying across your windpipe. He tightens his grip just slightly, pushing against the bulge of his head buried deep in your throat. 

“Fuck, baby,” he groans, thrusting in all the way and staying there. “Love feelin’ myself in that tight little throat” 

The fire in your tummy burns with blinding heat at his praise. A dull ache starts to settle in your jaw as salvia slides down your chin and neck, more hot tears spilling over your lash line as you squeeze your eyes shut and try your best not to gag. 

“Take it so well” Joel pants as he starts to rock his hips again. “Fuckin’ made to take my cock.” 

The lack of air already has you feeling dizzy, and his words are only adding to the feeling. He’s not wrong –with him fucking your face like this, a strong hand on your head and the other wrapped firmly around your throat, it feels like your sole purpose in life is to please him, to be a toy he can use to make himself feel good. And you fucking love it. 

After one more strong thrust, he pulls out of your mouth completely. His cock is dripping with your saliva, a string of it connecting his head to your swollen lips. 

“Look at you” Joel coos. You look up at him through wet lashes. 

“Bein’ so good for me.” 

He moves his hand on your throat to your cheek, cupping your jaw as he wipes some of the tears away with his thumb. He then rubs it over your wet, glossy lips, and you already know what he wants next.

“Open” he commands gently, his thumb tugging down on your bottom lip. 

You obey immediately, your jaw hanging open and a smile pulls at the corner of your lips. You watch hungrily as he gathers the salvia in his mouth before he bends down slightly. He lets it drip into your awaiting mouth and you hum happily as the liquid hits your tongue. 

“Good fuckin’ girl” he rasps before spitting again, this time with more force. A small moan finds its way out of you as you keep your mouth open and let the warm liquid pool on your tongue until he gives you further directions. 

“Swallow it.” 

You do so happily, and he hums in approval before standing up straight again. He grabs his cock and guides it to your lips again. He allows you to take one deep breath before he’s pushing in again, his fingers now digging into your jaw, his other hand back on your head as he guides your movements. 

“Such a slut for it, aren’t ya?”

You nod the best you can with his cock filling your mouth. He holds you steady, giving a few well-measured thrusts down your throat before pulling out again, leaving you coughing mess below him. He looks at you lovingly as you gasp and try to catch your breath, your lips cherry red, matching the color of the rims of your eyes.

“Doin’ okay?” he asks, voice soft and gentle. 

You nod again and give him a dazed smile before wiping your mouth with the back of your hand. 

“Good girl. Now stand up.” 

Joel reaches out to hold your arm as you pull yourself to stand on weak legs, your knees tight and sore from kneeling on the floor. But you couldn’t care less.

He uses both hands to hike up the hem of your dress, making quick work of lifting it up and over your head. He quickly discards it to a forgotten corner of the room before planting a wide, calloused palm square on your chest and pushing you down onto the mattress.

You land on flat on your back against plush mattress, your legs dangling off the edge. Joel reaches for a pillow, and you lift your head so he can slide it underneath. Your skin buzzes as you watch him take his place, standing at the edge of the bed between your legs. 

“So fucking pretty” Joel mutters as he smooths a hand down your front from the hollow of your throat to the tops of your thighs, leaving goosebumps in his wake. He plucks at one of the black satin garter straps, letting it snap against your skin. It barely stings and you giggle and wiggle your hips in pure excitement. 

Your hungry eyes rake down his body before settling on his cock again, shiny from your spit as it bobs heavily between his legs. 

He starts working on undoing the clasps of the straps without preamble, letting you know that he’s not in the mood to take things slow, which you appreciate greatly. 

He has all four straps undone in a matter of seconds and tugs at the belt. You lift your hips, helping him to slide it down your hips and legs. The speed and carelessness he exerts as he pulls the fabric off your body is a stark contrast from how concentrated he was while dressing you in it just a few hours ago. 

With the belt out the way, he cups your pussy in his hand. The heel of his hand presses against your swollen clit through the delicate fabric of your thong, his fingers pressing firmly against the damp spot that’s been there since before you left the house. 

You whine, a high-pitched sound from the back of your throat. Joels eyes flick up from between your legs to your face, a wicked smirk curling on his lips. 

“Such a needy little pussy” he says darkly, pressing his hand further against your core. You roll your hips up and grind against his hand, chasing after the friction you’ve been craving all evening. 

But he immediately removes his hand and gives you firm smack instead. You yelp at the sensation, your clit tingling and pulsing. 

“Wanna hear you beg for it.” 

He drags his fingertips along on the edges of your panties, his touch featherlight and torturously slow. There’s a small part of you that wants to say no, that wants to argue with him, push him further, just to see what would happen. 

But you’re 10 levels above desperate for his touch. 

“Please daddy, w-want it so bad” 

Joel clicks his tongue and lands another light slap to your clothed pussy. You bite back another yelp and will your hips to stay still. 

“You know you can do better than that. Try again, tell daddy exactly what you want” 

You squeeze your eyes shut, well beyond frustrated at this point. You suck in a deep, steadying breath and exhale is slowly before opening your eyes again to meet his gaze. His eyes are dark, and his jaw is tight as he looks back at you. 

“Want you to fuck me, want you so deep inside me that I can barely breathe, want you to be rough with me, make sure I can feel it for days, please daddy please. I promise I’ll be good, just – please I ne-” 

You cut yourself off when Joel digs his fingers into the lace of your thong, the sound of tearing fabric hitting your ears as he rips it off of you. 

“Joel!” you shout, sitting up on your elbows to look at him. 

He doesn't say anything, just grabs your hips and pulls you closer to the edge of the bed. But you’re still stuck on the fact that he just casually ripped off your panties like that. 

“Thought those were your favorite pair” you mumble, looking at the discarded fabric sitting on the bed. 

“Shut up” Joel grunts as he wraps a hand around the base of his cock, steadying himself and lining up at your dripping entrance. “I’ll buy you more.” 

You’re about to say something back, but he slides in before as soon as you open your mouth, effectively taking your breath away. 

The stretch of his thick cock inside you as he sinks in all the way in one smooth motion is enough to wipe your brain clean. 

He stays still once he’s inside, his tip kissing your cervix. He curses under his breath as your walls spasm around him, already milking him for all that he’s worth.

“Always so fuckin’ tight for me. Perfect little pussy.”  

You let him maneuver you into position, one of his hands cupping the back of your knee, lifting your leg up to rest on his shoulder, both of you sighing as the angle pushes him just a bit deeper. He brings your other leg up but keeps it pinned to the bed with a strong hand on your thigh, leaving you spread open just for him. 

Without warning, he draws his hips back, sliding nearly all the way out before slamming back in. 

You cry out, your hands scrambling for purchase on the duvet. You’ve taken him countless times before. But he’s big. And no matter how wet or turned on you are, without opening you up first on his fingers, your walls are aching and tingling as he forces your body to mold to his. 

And it’s exactly what you asked for. 

He grinds his pelvis against your clit, his cock bumping into a spot that’s impossibly deep inside of you. You jolt at the sensation and reflexively try to scoot up the bed, your already overwhelmed body trying to get away from the intense feeling. 

“Oh, don’t run from it now” Joel growls, grabbing one of your hips and forcing you back down on his cock. “Begged for it all night, so I’m gonna fuckin’ give it to ya” 

“S-so much daddy, you’re so– oh fuck. You’re so fucking big” You whimper pathetically, your hands gripping the duvet so tight that your nails are digging into your palms even through the barrier of the fabric. 

“I know it’s a lot, angel. But you can take it,” Joel pants. “Can’t you?” 

You nod lazily against the pillow as he pulls out again.

“What’s your safeword” he asks, the head of his cock resting just a few inches inside of you, providing you with enough relief to answer. 

“Red” you whine. 

“Good girl. Do you wanna use it?” 

You immediately shake your head

“No.” 

“That’s my girl” Joel growls before slamming back in again, knocking the air straight out of your lungs. Your back arches with the feeling as he quickly builds up his pace. 

He fucks into you like it’s his last day on earth, fast and rough, just like you begged for. Just like he knows you need. Your whole body feels electrified while moans tumble freely past your lips, your eyes rolling back into your head. 

With your eyes closed, you don’t see it, but you do feel Joel’s lips pressing against your ankle that’s resting on his shoulder, lips warm and wet through the sheer fabric of the stocking that he never took off. 

“Little pussy is takin’ me so well, angel” Joel mumbles against your ankle “Feel so good wrapped around me, squeezing me like that” 

He starts a trail of kisses from your ankle to your knee, his hips not faltering in pace, not even once. The last of the stinging ache melts away as your walls stretch to fully accommodate him. He has an iron grip on your ankle, and his fingers on his other hand dig into the meat of your thigh, creating small purple marks under the smooth skin. The hot coil in your stomach is starting to tighten as you moan incessantly. And of course, Joel notices. 

“Get those tits out, angel.” 

You whimper underneath him and try your best to follow his instructions. Your arms feel like cinder blocks as you unclench your fists from the duvet and move your hands to your chest. You grab the cups of your bralette and tug them down, letting your breast spill out over the tops. 

Joel gives you a few words of praise that you can’t fully process. You already feel delirious, his cock quickly turning you into a useless, needy puddle underneath him. 

“Play with ‘em for me.” 

You do as your told and cup your breasts, one in each hand before gently tweaking your nipples with your thumb and forefinger. Joel gives you more indistinguishable praise as you let your eyes slip closed again, completely surrendering to the pleasure coursing through your veins. 

The hand that Joel has wrapped around your ankle slides down to the back of your thigh, pushing on your leg and forcing your knee into your chest and sending his cock even deeper. 

“Ohhh, daddy shit fuckfuckfuckk” you whine as the head of his cock nudges against the spot that only he has ever found over and over again, the same spot he finds every single time. 

“There ya go” he whispers as you start to squirm underneath him, your jaw slack and your walls fluttering around him.  “You gonna cum, pretty girl? Gonna make a mess on daddy’s cock?” 

You nod vigorously but you already know he wants more than that. 

“Want–” you try to start, but Joel’s hand landing on your clit steals your breath, a loud moan coming out instead. 

“C’mon, baby. Keep goin” Joel urges breathlessly, two of his fingers rubbing tight circles on your clit. “Sound so pretty when you beg. Look at me while you do it.” 

You groan and open your eyes again to meet his gaze. His chest is heaving with every breath, muscles flexing deliciously as he fucks you with everything that he has, pounding you further and further into the mattress. 

“Please let me cum daddy, M’so close –ah oh my god please let me cum please please please let me.” 

“You can cum, angel. Keep those eyes on me and show me how pretty you look when you cum on this cock” 

It’s only a few more seconds of him pummeling into you and his fingers drawing expert circles on your clit to send you over the edge.

You lock eyes with him and let out a long, loud moan as your orgasm starts to rip through you, your whole body trembling with pure, white hot bliss. He fucks you through it, on the heels of his own release as you shake underneath him, your warm, wet walls rhythmically clenching and fluttering so perfectly around him. 

“Gonna make me cum, honey” Joel grits out, his pace getting more and more uneven. 

“Inside” you manage to whine, still riding out the last of your orgasm. 

“Yeah, baby, I know. Gonna fill you up so good” 

One, two, three more thrusts until you feel his cock pulsing as he starts to spill his load deep inside of you with a loud groan from somewhere deep in his chest. He keeps fucking you, pushing his spend deeper and deeper inside of you until he he’s too sensitive to continue. He buries himself in you as deep as he can and stills. 

After a few moments, Joel straightens your legs out on the mattress then pulls out of you, moving off of you and flopping down flat on his back next to you with a heavy sigh.

Labored breaths are the only sound in the room as you both come down. You whole body feels like jell-o, all thoughts moving slowly through your syrupy head. You can’t help but giggle next to him, feeling positively euphoric after getting your brains fucked out of your skull. 

Joel turns his head to look at you. 

“What’re you laughin’ at?” he asks, a smile quickly spreading on his face. He rolls onto his side and props his head up on his hand. He wraps his other arm around your waist and pulls you closer to him, despite you being dead weight right now. 

You look up at him, eyes hooded with a lazy smile. You try to think of something to say but all you can manage is another giggle, which makes Joel chuckle too. 

“You’re such a goose” he says, leaning down to kiss your forehead. 

“Thought I was a spoiled little brat?” 

Joel rolls his eyes and rests his cheek on his hand again, his smile still glued to his face. 

“Those aren’t mutually exclusive.” 

“So, I’m a spoiled little bratty goose?” 

“Mhmm.” 

You grin and scoot closer into him. 

“That sounds like a lot to handle” 

You squeal when he pinches your hip. 

“Tell me about it,” Joel sighs, lying his head down on the mattress and wrapping his body around yours. You smile like an idiot with your face squished against his chest, fully satisfied once again. 

Thank god you got that promotion. 

Thank you for reading I love all sm!!!

[lady-of-tearshed]

My rugged Illyrian male

Cassian x Reader

Cassian week 2024

@cassianappreciationweek

Day 2: Hair

Summary: Cassian is about to meet your parents for the first time, and he is skeptical that they'll appreciate his rugged Illyrian's features as much as you do...

Warnings: Mention of a razor blade.

Word count: 627 words

“Cass! Are you ready to leave?”

You shout out from downstairs, looking all over your shared house for your favorite red sparkly heels. You were to attend an important ball thrown by your parents, some important Lords from the Spring Court, with Cassian. Your parents hadn't met Cassian yet, well, not as your boyfriend. And you could sense how nervous the male was in making a great first impression.

“Yeah! Uh… One moment, my love.” He stutters from the bathroom on the second floor.

You halt at his suspicious tone, immediately giving up your frantic heel research, instead sneaking upstairs.

You peek your head through the half opened bathroom door, and your eyes widen in horror at the sight of the razor blade in Cassian’s hand.

And at his beautiful beard now half removed from his face, scattered all over the counter.

“Cassie! What-”

He instantly drops the blade, putting his fists on his hips. “What part of “one moment” do you not understand?” He scowls.

You were now standing right in front of him, your hand tracing the newly shaved part of Cassian’s right cheek. “Why would you do that?” You whisper, already knowing you'll miss his beautiful, sexy beard.

Cassian’s arms fall from his hips, and his shoulders slump. “I… I wanted to not look like a…” He paused, “I didn't want to look too rugged.”

He didn't want to look like a rugged Illyrian bastard, was what he didn't say. Your eyes narrowed. “Cass, Illyrians are rugged. And hairy,” You hold his hand, your eyes dead serious. “That's part of the things I like about you.”

“But what if they don't like that about me? What if they think I'm not good enough for you?” He hisses through clenched teeth, running his free hand through his long, unbound hair.

Your eyes soften, and you take a step back with how distressed Cassian sounded about meeting your parents, your hand still firmly holding onto his. “They don't have a say about who I decide to love. I chose you, Cassian. And I'd do it a thousand times again, despite everything anyone has to say.”

Cassian stays silent, but nods. You sigh, and pull him towards the edge of the bathtub. “Sit here,” You mumble, ordering him around. Cassian does what you ask of him, but raises a questioning brow. “Well, we can't just let you have a half-shaved beard. I'll finish the job. It'll help me… grief.”

It might sound quite dramatic, but you would truly be missing your Illyrian’s beautiful thick beard.

Once you're done, you rinse the shaving blade clean, and wet a towel to wipe away any mousse or facial hair remaining on Cassian's defined jaw. He stands up to stare at his reflection into the mirror, all while tying up his hair, the only step left before being completely ready to meet your parents.

“I'm banning any kind of blade from approaching your face.”

Your dramatic complaints make Cassian snorts. “I'm going to let it grow back in peace… Don't worry, love.”

You playfully slap his butt cheek before cowering away, fleeing to the front door before he smacks yours back.

You both slip into your shoes, and before you leave the house you both share, you kiss his cheek, and lean your lips to his ear. “I love you just as you are, my rugged, sexy Illyrian,” You yelp as a brightly smiling Cassian scoops you into his arms, wings spread, ready for take-off. “I love you with a beard the most, though.”

He rolls his eyes and laughs, before taking off to the sky, ready to fight any battles, even if it was just meeting your parents, if you were by his side, loving him for who he is.

Taglist: @mybestfriendmademe @lilah-asteria

[rotdistressxox]

Kengan Men: What turns them on?

!Nsfw! 18+! Afab bodyparts mentioned

Ohma Tokita

• Calling him a good boy. Doesn't matter if you say it teasingly or seductively. It will hit the right nerve in him

• Watching you walk up the steps while he's behind you. Likes seeing how your hips and ass move from side to side.

• Pulling his hair, especially while he eats you out. Roughly tugging at it while arching your back as he sucks on your clit.

• Wearing his clothes. It's like eyecandy to see how his shirts fall on every curve on your body. Will fuck you senseless if he finds out you're not wearing anything else but his shirt.

• Seeing you a bit more dominant also gets him riled up. Bonus points if you're a fighter, seeing you beating the shit out of someone gets him instantly hard.

• Squeezing and admiring his muscles, he knows what his body does to you. Purposefully flexes his abs while ramming his cock into you so you can see and tighten around him.

Lihito / Ichiro Nakata

• The basics. Lingerie, dirty talk, seeing you in any tight and revealing clothing.

• Flirty texts and nudes.

• When you bend over in a skirt. Has to lean to the side a little to see how far it rode up before smacking your ass.

• Degredation. Yes I'm serious, but not the extreme types.

• "You're my little fuck toy, you know that? My good little fuck toy" "Y-yes, I'm your good little fuck toy" he replies as you grind on his dick relentlessly.

• Seeing you wear lipstick, knowing damn well it's gonna end up all over his body at the end of the day.

• Looking up at him while you suck him off. That's why he looks away from you during blow jobs otherwise he's just gonna burst.

• Telling him to fuck you. Whether it's commanding him or begging him, his pants are coming off. When you moan "faster" or "harder" He goes insane and swears under his breath as he nears his peak.

Raian Kure

• Praise. Praise. Praise. Whisper how good he is at fighting or how sexy he looked while doing and it sends him over the edge.

• Being rough with him. It seems like he'd be the one manhandling you, for the most part it is. But scratching his back, biting him, and gripping any part of his body tightly awakes a primal urge in Raian. Mostly because he likes to keep memoirs of how good he fucks you.

• Suffocate him with your thighs. No light squeezes, make sure you're actually suffocating him with them while he's sticking his tongue down your pussy.

• Begging. No matter the context, it will always make his head go crazy seeing you pleading for him to fuck you, or to buy you ice cream.

• Chokers where they have spikes on them or a ring. He wants to get you one with his name on it. For bedroom purposes...

• Whimpering or when you moan into a pillow. You look sound so cute and helpless and it makes him wanna growl.

• When you gag on his dick. Further more reason to shove it down your throat.

Gaolang Wongsawat

• When you wear silk or satiny robes with some of you chest exposed. You look like a Renaissance painting to him if you sit in a robe in the evening infront of a window

• The after-shower look. Your hair is wet, your skin is dewy, and you're wrapped in a towel. Scolds himself for not joining you, but is also glad to see you walk out like that.

• Romantic atmospheres. Candles, lights down low, rainy nights. Anywhere he can truly cherish you and your body.

• Seeing you tremble and hold back your moans from pleasure. Will try his best to make you moan louder though.

• Squirming underneath him as his fingers curl inside you.

• Moaning his name into his ear, something about it just makes his mind fog with the dirty things he wants to do to you.

• Seeing his bulge in your stomach while he slowly thrusts in and out of you. Tries to not look to much because it will make him cum almost instantly.

Saw Paing Yoroizuka

• Flashing him. A nipple, a bit of underwear, your ass, he will get flustered and try to hide his hard on.

• Shoulder kisses and hickiessss

• Words of encouragement. Like "You're doing so well, just a little longer" and "Yes, right there- Please"

• On a similar note, telling him how good he's making you feel. Commenting about how you're gonna cum on his fingers or his cock.

• Giving him a hand job as you look into his eyes. Kissing his lips as his knees weaken and he groans uncontrollably. Thrusting into your hand as hes desperate to climax. Everytime

• When your eyes roll over in euphoria as he snaps in and out of you repeatedly. The sight of you is enough to drive him into craziness and break the bed.

• Watching as your hands desperately grab the sheets or his arms because of the amount of pleasure you're experiencing

Kanoh Agito

• You wearing sheer tights, leggings, or nothing at all on your legs. He isn't that horny / needy all the time. But when he gets you at the right moment, he's on his knees kissing up your foot to the back of you calve.

• Neck kisses. Your lips fluttering up and down his neck as he tilts his head to the side. Closing his eyes and he sharply exhales.

• Body worship. Fight me. I will die on this hill.

• Watching your body's every reaction to his touch. His hands sliding from your waist down to your thighs.

• Your face as it winces in pain as you struggle to take his length after a while.

• Hearing you moan is like music to his ears. Him slowly rolling his hips in and out of you so you feel every inch of him.

• Your body when it moves in sync with his. Finally feeling one with you again as it reacts positively to every single movement.

Wakatsuki Takeshi

• Feeling you pressed against him. Like hugs and cuddles, sometimes he'll get a boner but won't tell you unless you notice

• Strip teasing. It takes every ounce of willpower not to rip your clothes off of you, but he likes it.

• Riding his thigh, holding onto his shoulders as he presses you harder into him. Loves how needy you get as you grind faster, riding out your climax.

• Holding you on his shoulders, against the wall, while he eats you out. Your palms pressing against the ceiling as he sucks on your folds and nibbles your inner thighs.

• Playing with your breasts/chest as his fingers mercilessly rub your clit in circles.

• When your thighs shake as he inserts himself. He knows he needs to take it easy because of his strength, but one of these days he hopes you let him be a little rougher.

• He likes to press his thumbs into your stomach while gripping your hips and bouncing you on his cock. Feeling the slight bulge of himself moving before cumming inside of you.

[strangersteddierthings]

"I think we should break up," is what Eddie blurts the moment Steve opens the front door to reveal him.

Steve's first reaction is anger -how dare he?- but he doesn't do anything with that anger. Instead, he takes a deep breath through his nose, crosses his arms, and looks Eddie over.

He's breathing heavily yet his van is parked along the curb. He didn't run here. His hair, while never tame, looks rougher. He is fidgeting but in a nervous way, not his usual too much energy way. His eyes are wide and scared. It's the last bit there that drains Steve's anger.

Something's happened.

He drops his arms and says, "well, you're not dumping me on my porch. Get in here."

This doesn't seem like the response Eddie was expecting. Even though he has been looking at Steve this whole time he still manages to do a double take at him. Steve just shoves the door open a bit wider when he turns and heads back to the kitchen, where the dishes are not washing themselves because he doesn't have a dishwasher.

"I-I'm serious, Steve," Eddie is stammering behind him, which is good. Means he did follow. Steve hears the door shut and the shuffling sound of what he assumes is Eddie trying to pull off his combat boots without untying them, like the animal he is.

"Don't shout at me in my own home! Get in this kitchen," Steve shouts, then smiles and relishes in the offended huff Eddie lets out because Steve is the one shouting. Steve picks up the dish towel he'd deposited on the counter and throws it back over his shoulder, then get back to the dishes. There's just a couple bowls and a pot left, might as well get them done.

The sink is perpendicular to the doorway, so he watches Eddie slink into the small galley kitchen, stopping just inside the doorway to frown at Steve. "I'm breaking up with you and you're just, what, gonna wash dishes?"

"You're not breaking up with me, but yes. Look, one bowl down already. Just two more dishes."

"I- what. Yes, I am!"

"Edifer, you are 24 years old. That's much too old to just show up, yell 'we're over' at someone and run away. We're going to talk about this," he's not sure if it's the nickname, or the scolding parent voice he's put on, but it gets a huff of laughter from Eddie, and he counts it as a win.

"Alright, dad."

Steve grins, "I'll be dad if you be Daddy."

There's some sputtering from Eddie, and Steve gets the final dish done before Eddie says, "you can't just say that when I'm breaking up with you! That's- that's manipulative!"

He shrugs in response. "Seems fair. You're messing with my feelings; I'm messing with your feelings."

Those words freeze Eddie, and Steve can see him processing the words. Did Eddie really not consider that Steve had feelings involved? "I- that's... um."

He takes his time to unplug the sink, rinsing away the left-over bubbles before drying his hands and turning around. Eddie looks less wild and scared, now. More conflicted and uncertain. Which could be a good or bad thing. "Did you think you would just come over, break up with me, and I'd be, like, completely fine with it?"

"No," Eddie is quick to say, "Not completely fine but like, fine enough. It's- we've only been together for a month."

Steve frowns at that. He's not going to take offense to the 'only' added in there, because he's grown a lot over the last four years. He's mature now. "Sure, but beyond that, we've been friends since the world almost ended. I don't understand. I thought we were on the same page, here."

Eddie's fidgety again, in the bad way, pacing up and down the length of the kitchen. "What if this was a mistake?"

"What if it wasn't?"

That stops Eddie in his tracks, whipping around to look at Steve. "What if this goes bad? What if you meet someone else and they can give you everything I can't? What if-"

"Whoa, Eddie!" Steve shoves off the sink and gets to Eddie in two steps. His hands come up, hovering. He wants to touch, comfort, but... well, if he allowed to? "I- where's all this coming from?"

"Dustin and Suzie broke up!"

"What?"

"Dustin and Suzie broke up!! They were the forever couple! Perfect for each other! If they couldn't make it work, how am I supposed to be able to?"

Ah. The root of it. Eddie, afraid he's not good enough. Fuck it. Eddie can shove him off if he doesn't want Steve to touch him. He slides an arm around Eddie's waist, his other hand going up to caress his cheek before cupping it, a move he knows makes Eddie melt like cotton candy on the tongue. "Eddie, baby, we make it work by working on it. Not just giving up."

Eddie does melt into Steve, his own arms wrapping around Steve (probably against Eddie's will). "I- I don't know what I'm doing. I'm gonna fuck this up and you'll hate me, and everything will be ruined."

"Well, that's melodramatic."

Eddie glares at him even as he nuzzles into Steve's palm. "Rude."

"Baby, so long as you just talk to me, we'll be okay. Don't just show up and declare you're gonna break up with me. I think there's some steps we can take before it gets to that."

He watches Eddie swallow thickly before he nods his head. "Yeah. Yeah, okay."

"So, we okay? You aren't gonna break my heart?"

Eddie whimpers at that, throwing himself forward to shove his face into Steve's neck. Steve settles his hand on the back of Eddie's head, idly scratching it while his other arm tightens its hold. When Eddie speaks, it's muffled and directly into his skin. "No. No breaking hearts."

"Hmm, good," Steve says, content to hold his boyfriend in his kitchen for however long Eddie wants to be held.

He'll call and check in on Dustin a bit later, too.