#Is that the kind of story we’re telling here?

[ikeucity]

moonstruck. | chapter one pt 2 - smoke and surrender

warning. contains explicit sexual content, drug use, angst, domination, spacestation!au, slight action, slow burn, strong language, intense sexual tension, a more technologically advanced iss, explicit fantasies, and adult themes. reader discretion is strongly advised. mdni.

wc. 30k

with just 24 hours left until the drug is supposed to completely take effect, the crew is on the brink of losing control. with the clock ticking and their self-restraint nearly shattered, tensions are boiling over, fights breaking out as the crew's patience wears thin.

── .✦⸝⸝ previous chapters: ✦ pilot - locked in orbit ✦ chapter one: orders from above pt. 1

disclaimer. this story is a work of fiction and does not represent real-life events or the members of enhypen

"whose fucking idea was this? how is this supposed to be physical wellness?!" jake yelled, firing off rounds as simulated monsters closed in, his shots barely connecting. ducking behind a boulder, he cursed under his breath, frantically reloading next to jungwon, who, of course, was unbothered, calmly taking out each alien with unnerving precision.

"jake, for the love of—keep it down," jay muttered, hunkering behind some debris, irritation etched into every line of his face. sunghoon was right next to him, visibly pissed at the situation—or maybe just pissed off at jay. "why are you yelling like it's gonna help?"

"why are we even acting like this shit matters? it’s a simulation, we’re not actually gonna die," sunghoon mumbled, frustration slipping into his voice as he aimed and shot an alien in the head, the kill almost too clean. then, as an afterthought, he added, "right?" his confidence faltering for a second.

"got 'em all cleared over here," heeseung’s voice crackled through the comms, way too relaxed for the chaos unfolding. he was enjoying this a little too much, his gamer instincts taking over. "let’s regroup," he added, his voice carrying a smugness that made it clear he was thriving in this chaos.

you, on the other hand, were perched up high, hidden behind the walls like heeseung had suggested. you were chilling, taking your shots at the aliens whenever the opportunity arose. the tech was impressive, too—real guns, simulated ammo, the kind of shit that made you wonder how much had changed on earth while you’d been up here.

"that was sick," you breathed, more to yourself than anyone else, marveling at the seamlessness of the whole setup.

"how are you so calm right now?" jake shot back, glancing over at jungwon in disbelief. jungwon, not even breaking a sweat, methodically picked off another alien, his demeanor unshaken.

"this is supposed to help us de-stress," jungwon said evenly, his voice calm as ever over the comms, making it sound like he was explaining a basic fact rather than shooting his way through an alien horde.

"de-stress my ass," jake muttered, clearly not convinced. his frustration was evident, not just with the situation, but with the fact that you weren't near him.

he could tell you weren’t paying him much attention anymore, and that fact stung more than the simulation itself. maybe it’s because the other guys keep hovering around you.

as if sensing jake’s irritation, sunghoon chimed in with a bite to his words. "yeah, well, some of us don’t need to act like it’s life or death just to get through it." his eyes flicked over to where you were perched, his annoyance obvious.

he’d noticed, too. noticed how the others, especially jungwon and heeseung, seemed to be getting more time with you than he was comfortable with.

"cut it out, sunghoon," jay muttered, his patience thinning as he reloaded his weapon. but sunghoon didn’t seem interested in backing down, his gaze lingering on you for a moment longer before he returned to firing at the simulation.

after regrouping, you all found yourselves in a dimly lit cave module. the uneven terrain was tricky to navigate, and you brought up the rear, jungwon in front of you.

it wasn’t long before your foot slipped on a loose rock, and you stumbled. the pain was minimal, but a whimper escaped your lips before you could stop it, echoing through the confined space and over the comms.

everything stopped.

jay whipped his head around, his hand gripping his weapon a little tighter. "you alright?" his voice was tense, concern barely masking the shift in the air.

"she tripped," jungwon said smoothly, moving to your side in an instant, helping you back up. his hand on your waist lingered, fingers pressing a little too firmly as he steadied you. "you good?" he asked softly, though it felt like more than just checking on your physical state.

you laughed it off, embarrassed. "yeah, i’m fine."

your voice, however innocent, carried a weight over the comms that made the others pause, especially jake, whose gaze hardened as he watched jungwon’s hand on your waist. too close.

"what happe- i’m coming," jake muttered, already moving toward you before sunghoon stepped in his way, shooting him a pointed look.

"she’s fine," sunghoon said, his voice sharp, almost defensive. his eyes flicked toward jungwon, clearly annoyed by the way he was handling you. "focus on the task, jake."

jake hesitated, torn between frustration and concern, but nodded, falling back in line. still, his eyes lingered on you for a moment too long, watching jungwon’s arm wrapped around you.

heeseung’s voice cut through the comms, his usual commanding tone laced with something a little more possessive this time. "she’s good to go. let’s keep moving."

you could feel the tension rising, the air between you all charged in a way that had nothing to do with the simulation. jungwon kept close to you, his arm steady around your waist as you continued walking, his touch burning through the fabric of your suit. it felt deliberate, like he was making a point—both to you and to the others.

and then there was sunghoon. his eyes hadn’t left you since the stumble, the irritation practically radiating off him. he wasn’t even trying to hide it anymore.

the way jungwon was practically glued to your side, the fact that heeseung kept sneaking glances your way—it was all too fucking much. they were taking up way too much time with you, and it was getting under his skin.

jake, on the other hand, felt the shift. he saw it unfolding right in front of him—how you were being pulled in all these different directions, each one of them fighting for your attention. but what bothered him the most was how you weren’t looking at him like you used to. it was because they were circling you like vultures, wasn’t it?

he was first. he made the moves. you flirted back, smiled at him like you meant it. you wanted him too, didn’t you? he was sure of it. so why did it feel like you were slipping away?

but sunghoon couldn’t stand the way jungwon was glued to your side, his eyes constantly flicking to the hand that rested on your waist, each touch like a silent taunt. "jungwon," he said, his voice laced with irritation, "how about you give her some space?"

jungwon raised an eyebrow, not even pretending to hide his smirk. "why? she doesn’t seem to mind."

before sunghoon could fire back, jake cut in, his frustration finally spilling over. "both of you, knock it off." his eyes flicked between them, his voice tight with anger. "we’ve got enough to deal with here without this shit."

sunghoon’s eyes flared, his irritation clear as he took a step forward, squaring his shoulders. "that’s not the point, jungwon," he snapped, his voice dripping with frustration. "you’ve been glued to her since this started. give her some damn space."

jungwon didn’t back down, his smirk only widening as he glanced at you before turning his attention back to sunghoon. "like I said, she doesn’t seem to mind." his voice was calm, but there was a sharpness to his words, a deliberate jab that made sunghoon’s jaw clench.

"are you fucking serious right now?" sunghoon shot back, his fists tightening at his sides. "you act like she belongs to you."

"and what about you?" jungwon countered smoothly, tilting his head. "acting all territorial when you’ve barely even talked to her today. what’s your deal, sunghoon?"

jake, who had been standing off to the side, couldn’t hold back any longer. "both of you need to shut the hell up," he barked, stepping between jungwon and sunghoon. his eyes flicked briefly to you, frustration etched deep into his expression. "this isn’t about who’s getting more time with her. we’re in the middle of a fucking activity. so maybe focus on that instead of—"

"oh, and you’re one to talk?" sunghoon cut him off, his eyes narrowing in challenge. "you’ve been sulking ever since she stopped paying attention to you."

jake’s face reddened, his teeth clenched hard enough to crack. "i’m not sulking." but even as the words left his mouth, he could feel the truth in sunghoon’s accusation sinking in.

the jealousy gnawed at him more than he’d like to admit. the possessiveness that had been building up inside him was getting harder to ignore.

"i’m pissed because you idiots are making this harder than it needs to be. we’re supposed to be working together, but you two are too busy fighting over her like it’s some goddamn competition."

jungwon, standing with his arms crossed, scoffed, eyes sharp. "you’re just mad because you feel like you’re losing."

"what the fuck does that even mean?" jake growled, stepping closer to jungwon, frustration blazing in his eyes. but deep down, it stung—jungwon had hit too close to the truth.

jake wasn’t used to this feeling, this irrational need to keep you closer to him, to be the one you turned to. it was messing with his head in ways he wasn’t ready to admit.

sunghoon, still glaring at both of them, muttered under his breath, "fucking whatever," not even bothering to hide his disdain.

"shut up," jake snapped, his voice rising, a sharp edge of anger slicing through his words.

the tension in the room had reached its peak, every word dripping with jealousy and frustration, neither side willing to back down. jungwon held his ground, cold and unyielding, while sunghoon looked ready to snap.

and there you were, right in the middle of it all. their possessiveness weighed heavy, wrapping around you like a suffocating blanket. the way they argued, the intensity of their stares—it overwhelmed you, each word pulling you deeper into their desires.

it wasn’t just about them fighting with each other anymore; they were fighting for you, and you could feel it, the heat of their unspoken claims burning in the air.

"are you serious right now?" you snapped, voice cutting through their bickering. you’d had enough. "you’re acting like kids. this is a simulation, and all of you are too wrapped up in your egos to remember why we’re even here." your gaze landed on jungwon’s hand still resting on your waist, and you pushed it away, firm but calm. "stop treating me like a prize to fight over. it’s fucking embarrassing."

silence fell, thick and heavy. they looked at you, shock flickering across their faces. no one expected you to speak up like that, but they should have.

jay, who had been quietly watching from a distance, finally stepped forward, shaking his head. "she’s right," he muttered, his voice low but firm. "this isn’t about who gets more time with her. we’ve got bigger issues, and this isn’t helping anyone."

heeseung sighed, standing off to the side, clearly fed up with the situation. "you’re all making this harder than it needs to be," he said, frustration clear in his tone. "focus on the mission, or don’t, but stop dragging her into your bullshit."

jungwon’s smirk faded slightly as he stepped back, his hand dropping to his side. jake crossed his arms, still irritated, but held his tongue. sunghoon grumbled under his breath, jaw clenched, but the fire in his eyes had dimmed, at least for now.

"thank you," you muttered, tension still thick in your voice as you exhaled, trying to shake off the frustration. "we’re supposed to be a team. stop making it about me and start acting like it."

for a moment, no one spoke. the tension hadn’t disappeared, still simmering just beneath the surface, but at least the arguing had stopped.

heeseung gave you a nod, his gaze softening slightly. "let’s move," he said quietly, taking control once more. "we’re wasting time."

then, with a slight smirk tugging at his lips, heeseung muttered, "i ain’t about to lose a game." the tension shifted, just a bit, as nostalgia flickered in his eyes. the familiar competitive spark returned, and for a moment, it cut through the frustration.

"remember when we used to play shit like this back on earth?" he added, his grin widening as he readied his weapon. "except, you know, without all the drama over her."

you rolled your eyes but couldn’t help the small smile that tugged at your lips. heeseung had a way of diffusing tension, even if he wasn’t letting anyone off the hook entirely.

jake scoffed, shaking his head but appreciating the shift. "yeah, well, it’s a little different when it’s not a damn game," he muttered, though his tone was less harsh now.

sunghoon, still visibly irritated, mumbled something under his breath but didn’t push further. jungwon chuckled softly, finally easing out of his defensive stance.

"fine, let’s finish this," you said, stepping forward, done with the back-and-forth. you glanced at heeseung, who was already back in position, his cocky grin growing.

"don’t worry," heeseung teased, aiming down his scope. "i’ll carry the team—like always."

his comment did the trick, cutting through the tension like a knife. as he confidently took the lead, the atmosphere lightened, if only slightly. even jake let out a small sigh, shaking his head with a reluctant smile on his lips.

you glanced at them, your heart beating a little faster. something about seeing them like this—competitive, bickering, but still a team—made your eyes soften. the jealousy, the tension, it was all still there, but moments like this reminded you why you cared about them.

sunghoon, though still tense, chuckled quietly, watching heeseung with his usual cocky grin. jungwon’s smirk widened, and jay rolled his shoulders as if getting ready for the final round. even jake caught your gaze for a split second, something softer flickering in his eyes, like he was glad to see you smile again.

your heart swelled, a warmth spreading through your chest as you looked at them. these guys—they drove you crazy, but there was no one else you’d rather be stuck in this mission with.

“alright, let’s finish this,” you said, steady, a small smile tugging at your lips.

heeseung glanced back at you, his smirk softening just a touch before nodding. "let’s win this." his voice carried that familiar spark of confidence, pulling everyone back into focus.

when the simulation finally ended, you all stumbled back into the main area, adrenaline still thrumming through your veins. everyone was sweaty, breathless, but the thick tension from before?

it hadn’t gone anywhere. if anything, it had only gotten worse, like the simulation had fanned the flames.

you stood there, trying to catch your breath, but their eyes were still on you—all of them watching you, their presence took up too much space, pressing in on you from all sides.

heeseung, still panting slightly, broke the silence as everyone’s eyes shifted toward the scoreboards. his smirk was cocky, almost too confident, like he knew he was the top scorer. "good job, everyone. hq’s gonna love this," he said, wiping sweat from his brow.

jay, leaning against the wall, let out a dry laugh, his chest rising and falling with labored breaths. "yeah, if we don’t melt first," he muttered, tugging at his collar, sweat beading on his skin.

"yeah, real fucking great," sunghoon muttered, his voice sharper than usual. his gaze slid toward you, his jaw tightening as he wiped sweat from his face. "is it just me, or does it feel like my body’s on fire?" he asked, irritation clear.

you felt it too. the heat. it wasn’t just adrenaline from the simulation—it was deeper, more intense, creeping through your skin. you shifted, wiping sweat from your neck, the burning sensation only growing. it wasn’t just sunghoon; all of you felt it.

"fuck, it’s too hot in here," jake grumbled, his voice rough as he ran a hand through his damp hair, his eyes flicking toward you like he couldn’t help himself.

jungwon, furrowed his brows, glancing at you for just a second before looking away. "this doesn’t feel right," he muttered, barely loud enough to hear. mind already working, to think of a reason why

you nodded, feeling the heat crawl up your spine, tingling your skin. the room felt heavy, charged with something unspoken. "we’ll cool down in a bit," you said, though even you weren’t sure you believed it. "just… take a breather."

heeseung rubbed the back of his neck, his smirk fading slightly. "maybe it’s just the sim," he suggested, but even he didn’t believe it.

so what did you all do? it was like an unspoken agreement—avoidance. everyone was way too pent up, way too on edge, but there was a collective decision to just… ignore it.

to push through. no one said it out loud: stay away, keep your distance, pretend like you weren’t all about to fucking lose it. avoidance felt like the only option left.

it’ll only be a few more days, right?

those questions haunted every one of you. if you could just make it through the next few days… but deep down, you all knew what came after that. once the drug fully worked its way through your systems, once you had control again—if you ever did—none of you were going to hold back.

jake, jungwon, sunghoon, heeseung, jay—they all had the same hungry look in their eyes, even if they tried to hide it. they all had the same thought: if we make it through this without snapping, then what happens next? would any of you even be able to keep the floodgates closed once the pressure finally released? the thought was terrifying and thrilling all at once.

and yet, no one wanted to be the first to admit it. no one wanted to be the first to break the fragile illusion that you could all survive this, untouched, unscathed.

it was a cruel joke, really. why didn’t hq even think to send condoms or normal birth control pills? how the hell were you supposed to get through this when everything had been amplified to the point of unbearable? but then again, how would that even work up here? where do you even dispose of a condom in space?

you chuckled bitterly to yourself when you realized the answer. oh right. you don’t. every ounce of waste had to be accounted for. and birth control pills? those probably wouldn’t do shit anyway, not with the way your bodies were being pushed to their limits. being in space already messed with your systems—hell, your period barely functioned as it was. what the hell would a bunch of hormones do when everything else was already out of whack?

but hq—those assholes—clearly hadn’t thought any of this through. they sent you up here with experimental drugs and didn’t even bother to consider how those drugs would interact with the unique effects of living in space. maybe they knew, maybe they just didn’t care.

either way, it was a disaster waiting to happen.

and the worst part? you were all too far gone to care anymore.

on the sixth day, everything felt like it was teetering on the edge of disaster. you had done your best to avoid unnecessary contact, kept your distance, and stayed focused on the mission. but the air was thick, almost suffocating, and the tension you’d all been pretending to ignore was now impossible to avoid. it felt like you were all walking through a minefield, one wrong step and everything would blow.

you made your way to the helm, tablet in hand, your mind buzzing with the routine diagnostics you were supposed to be focused on. but then, without warning, you collided with sunghoon.

your body slammed into his, and for a moment, it felt like time stopped. the contact sent a shockwave through you, heat flaring under your skin as the air between you practically sizzled.

“watch where the fuck you’re going,” sunghoon snapped, his voice rough, thick with irritation. his hand grabbed your arm to steady you, but the touch lingered, his grip tight—too tight, his body rigid with the effort of keeping himself in check. his breathing was heavy, ragged, as if he was barely holding on.

“i—i didn’t see you, i’m sorry,” you muttered, trying to step back, but he didn’t let go. his eyes, usually cold and calculating, now burned with something much more dangerous—desire. anger. frustration. his jaw clenched, muscles flexing beneath his skin as he stared down at you.

“you think sorry’s gonna fix this?” he growled, his voice dripping with something darker.

“you think you can just walk around like this, pretending everything’s fine? look at us.” his hand dropped, pointing at the obvious bulge straining against his pants, his expression turning almost feral.

“we’re all fucked. we’ve been avoiding each other, without even fucking talking about it. because we know. we fucking know what’ll happen if we don’t.”

your breath hitched as his words hit you like a punch to the gut, the heat in the room only growing worse. your pulse quickened, your patience wearing thin. because, yeah, you felt it too.

the constant pull, the unbearable pressure building with every passing second—they were driving you to the edge of insanity. and now sunghoon, with his hard-on and his rage, was pushing you past your breaking point.

“and you’re not helping,” sunghoon continued, his voice low, venomous. his gaze was intense, his eyes locked onto yours, and you could feel the unspoken accusation in his words.

“what the fuck do you want me to do, huh?” you snapped back, your own frustration bubbling over. “you think this is easy for me? i’m trying to get through this just like the rest of you. but it’s getting worse, and i’m fucking losing it, too.” your voice shook with barely controlled anger, the heat in your body matching the fury in your words.

“yeah? well, you’re making it harder. look at me,” he gestured again to his erection, his eyes wild. “every time you walk into a room, it’s like this. and i can’t fucking take it anymore. none of us can.”

your patience snapped. the drugs, the tension, the constant avoidance—it was all too much. “you think i don’t feel it too?” you hissed, stepping closer to him, your body reacting to the proximity, the heat rolling off him in waves.

“you think i haven’t noticed the way you all look at me? i’m doing everything i can not to lose it. but right now? right fucking now, i want to fuck you so badly i can’t think straight.”

that shut him up. his eyes widened for a split second, shock flickering across his face before it was replaced with something far more dangerous. desire. raw, unfiltered desire. his lips parted, his breath coming in heavy, uneven bursts as he stared at you, his pupils blown wide with lust.

“then what the fuck are we waiting for?” he growled, stepping even closer, his body crowding yours, pinning you against the wall of the helm. his hand came up, gripping your waist, pulling you toward him. “because i’m this close to losing my shit, and if you want me, you better fucking say it.”

but before either of you could go any further, the door to the helm slid open, and heeseung walked in. his eyes immediately locked onto the two of you, and his expression darkened, taking in the tension, the heated air, the way sunghoon had you pinned against the wall.

“what the hell is going on in here?” heeseung barked, his voice cold, a sharp edge to it that cut through the room like a knife.

you and sunghoon turned to face him, both of you still breathing heavily, your bodies thrumming with unspent energy. you tried to step back, to regain some semblance of composure, but sunghoon didn’t move. his body was still pressed against yours, his gaze flicking to heeseung with a challenge.

“nothing,” you managed to mutter, though your voice was shaky, and you knew you weren’t fooling anyone.

heeseung crossed his arms, his eyes narrowing as he glanced between the two of you. “get it together,” he snapped, his tone leaving no room for argument. “we’re all fucking on edge, but you don’t get to let it turn into this.”

“you think i’m not trying?” sunghoon shot back, his voice full of frustration. “look at us, heeseung. it’s getting worse. we’re fucking losing it. and no one’s saying a goddamn thing.”

heeseung stepped forward, his eyes hard. “you think i don’t know that?” his voice was low, dangerous, as he stared sunghoon down. “but we don’t get to crack. not here. not now.”

sunghoon’s jaw clenched, his fists tightening at his sides, but he didn’t say anything. his body was still rigid, the anger radiating off him in waves.

“this ends now,” heeseung said firmly, his gaze locking onto you for a brief second before he turned back to sunghoon. “get out of here. cool down.”

sunghoon let out a bitter laugh, his eyes flashing with frustration. “cool down? yeah, sure,” he muttered, turning and storming out of the room, the door sliding shut behind him with a sharp hiss.

as the door closed, you let out a shaky breath, your body still trembling from the intensity of the confrontation. heeseung stood there for a moment, watching you closely, his expression unreadable.

“this isn’t over,” he muttered quietly, more to himself than to you.

as sunghoon departs, heeseung’s eyes burned with an intensity that made your heart race, locking you in place. the beeping from the console felt deafening, a sharp contrast to the heavy silence between you two. your jaw was still tight from the argument with sunghoon, your thoughts racing as you tried to make sense of it all.

you moved to leave, wanting to shake off the tension, but heeseung’s hand shot out, gripping your wrist firmly and pulling your closer. your breath hitched, the sensation overwhelming your already sensitive body.

the second his fingers reached out and brushed against your waist, it was like being jolted with electricity. your skin burned, and a small, unintentional whimper escaped your lips, loud in the tense silence between you.

the sound broke something in him. his eyes widened, panic flashing across his face, and he immediately let go, his hands pulling back as if he had been burned. “shit,” he muttered, running a hand through his hair, stepping back like he had crossed a line. "fuck, i didn’t mean to—"

you stood there, still feeling the lingering heat from where his hands had been. the space between you now felt like an unbridgeable gap.

“heeseung,” you said quietly, your voice trembling. you weren’t sure what you were about to say, but the words just wouldn’t form.

heeseung took a deep breath, his fists clenching at his sides as if trying to fight the pull between you two. for a moment, he just stared, like he was caught between wanting to move closer and knowing he shouldn’t.

then, without another word, he turned sharply on his heel and walked away, leaving you standing there, breathless, your body still tingling from the brief contact.

he didn’t even look back.

you stood frozen, feeling the heat from where his hands had been, his absence a punch to your gut. the silence that followed felt deafening, and the frustration burned hotter than before.

your skin still tingled, aching for something more, something that had been taken from you the second he pulled away. you wanted to scream, to call him back, but your voice caught in your throat.

as the door slid shut behind you, you couldn’t take it anymore. your body still tingled from the brief touch, frustration boiling over into something you couldn’t quite contain. the thought of heeseung leaving, the tension left unresolved, drove you mad. you needed to get out, clear your head.

you walked through the dimly lit halls, each step feeling heavier, the cold steel of the ship’s floor beneath your feet doing nothing to cool the fire inside you. the endless view of space through the windows felt surreal, like a vast reminder of how far away you were from normality, from any sense of control. all you wanted was a break—a moment to breathe. something, anything, to quiet the chaos inside your head.

coffee—that’s what you needed. something simple, familiar. maybe it would help you focus, keep the drug from dragging you deeper into this mess. as you made your way toward the dining area, you tried to shake off the tension, the lingering heat crawling over your skin, making you desperate for relief.

but the second the door to the common room slid open, you weren't alone.

they were all here and they turned to look at you at the same time, their heads snapping toward you in sync like they’d been waiting for you. each of them had been doing their own thing—jay lounging on the couch, scrolling through something on his tablet; jake standing by the counter, hands gripping a cup; jungwon sitting cross-legged at the table, absentmindedly playing with a datapad, his eyes unreadable; and sunghoon, leaning against the far wall, arms crossed, gaze sharp. heeseung, on the other hand, sat in the far corner, his posture relaxed, but his eyes sharp, tracking your every move. his legs were spread, one arm draped over the back of the chair, while the other rested on his thigh, fingers twitching slightly, as if itching to grab something—or someone.

the room felt suffocating, their eyes burning into you.

for a split second, none of them moved, the silence stretching out. your breath caught in your throat as their gazes lingered on you, like they knew exactly what was going through your mind—because it was going through theirs too. the drug was making sure of it.

you swallowed hard, trying to steady yourself as you stepped further into the room. the weight of their stares clung to you like a second skin, but you forced yourself to focus. coffee—just make the damn coffee, keep your head down, and act like nothing was wrong.

"morning," you muttered, your voice barely breaking the thick silence. no one replied, but you didn’t expect them to.

you crossed the room, feeling their eyes track your every move. your fingers fumbled a bit as you grabbed a cup, your hands shaking just enough for you to curse under your breath. you could feel the tension rising behind you, like the air itself was alive, pressing in from all sides. the coffee machine sputtered to life, the sound breaking through the quiet like a crack of thunder.

as the coffee dripped into the cup, you felt it—the way sunghoon’s gaze bore into you. more intense than the others. his arms were still crossed, jaw clenched so tight you could hear the faint grind of his teeth. you avoided looking his way, pretending you didn’t feel the heat of his stare burning a hole into the back of your head.

you reached for the sugar, your hand trembling just a bit, and that’s when it happened. the packet slipped from your fingers, falling onto the floor with a light thud. such a small, insignificant thing, but in the charged air of that room, it felt like a bomb going off.

"seriously?" sunghoon snapped, the sharpness in his voice cutting through the silence like a blade. you froze, your hand still hovering in midair, your pulse racing. "you can’t even hold on to a fucking sugar packet now?"

your breath hitched, and the room seemed to shrink. the tension that had been building over the last few days finally cracked open, raw and exposed. you could hear the frustration in his voice, the way the drug had been chipping away at his self-control, just like it had with everyone else.

"what’s your problem?" you shot back, your voice shaky but defensive. you weren’t about to let him get away with snapping at you like that, even though you knew—fuck, you knew—he was feeling the same unbearable pressure you were.

“dude, cut it out,” jay jolted up from his seat, glaring at sunghoon with a warning edge in his voice. “turn off your asshole mode for one goddamn moment.”

sunghoon’s fists clenched, but he didn’t fire back immediately. the room was tense, thick with frustration, and you could feel the heat radiating off them.

jay wasn’t backing down, and the silence that followed made it clear that no one was about to challenge him. his eyes locked on sunghoon, daring him to keep pushing.

“fucking bitch,” sunghoon mumbled, just loud enough for everyone to hear.

the shift in the room was immediate. tension snapped like a wire pulled too tight. jake slammed his cup onto the table, the loud clatter echoing through the silence.

“woah.” jake’s voice was low, dangerous. in seconds, he was in front of sunghoon, eyes blazing with disbelief and fury. he had sunghoon cornered against the wall, his grip on sunghoon's shoulder hard enough to make it clear—this wasn’t just a conversation. “what the fuck did you just say?”

sunghoon’s eyes narrowed, lips pressed into a thin line. he wasn’t backing down, even though his breath came in heavy, uneven bursts. but he didn’t speak, refusing to give jake the satisfaction.

“say it again,” jake’s voice dropped colder, his grip tightening. “go ahead, say it again. i fucking dare you.”

jay and jungwon exchanged glances before stepping forward, their expressions unreadable but ready to intervene.

“jake, man, chill,” jay said, his tone calm but firm, cutting through the charged air. “this isn’t how we handle this.”

sunghoon, not one to let things go, shot a glare at jay. “oh, so now you decide to talk, huh? you’ve been real fucking quiet, jay.”

his words hung heavy in the air, a sad attempt to shift the blame, deflect attention from the fact that he had crossed the line. he was scrambling, and it was obvious to everyone.

jay’s gaze turned steely as he stepped further into the circle of tension. “oh, i’ve got plenty to say,” he said, voice sharp. “been sitting back, watching you all fall apart like amateurs.” his gaze swept the room, finally locking onto you.

“me? i’m making sure i don’t lose my shit and do something reckless—like calling her a bitch. that's low, man.”

the atmosphere grew thick, everyone holding their breath. jay’s words hit hard, the room now electric with barely-contained tension.

“trust me,” jay continued, his voice dipping into something darker, “you’d have to be a fucking idiot not to know what’s at stake here.”

jake’s jaw clenched, his fists balled at his sides. “and you think you’re handling this better?” he growled, clearly not liking the way your face softened while listening to jay.

before jay could respond, jungwon stepped in, his hand gently pulling jake back. “he is,” jungwon said quietly. “you have to admit it.”

jay’s smirk faded as he met your gaze. “i’m backing the fuck off because if i don’t, i’m gonna do something we can’t undo. with these drugs? any sane person would’ve put a baby in her by now if they got too close.”

the silence that followed was deafening. jay had ripped open the truth everyone had been avoiding. the tension, the desire, the drugs—everything had been building to this, and now, it was all laid bare.

you swallowed hard, the weight of his words sinking in. every lingering look, every accidental brush of hands—it had all felt dangerous. but hearing jay say it out loud made it undeniable.

jungwon broke the silence, his usually calm exterior now showing cracks. “he’s not wrong,” he muttered, his voice strained, like he was barely holding himself together. “this shit is dangerous. for all of us.”

sunghoon let out a bitter laugh, more frustration than humor. “so what, you’re just gonna back off and leave her to the rest of us?” his eyes flicked to you, sharp and possessive, challenging anyone to take his place.

jay didn’t miss a beat. “i’m stepping back because none of us are thinking straight. and if you were smart, you’d do the same. because right now? all you’re doing is letting the drugs push you toward something you’ll fucking regret.”

sunghoon’s jaw clenched, his fists tightening at his sides, but he didn’t say anything. the anger radiated off him in waves, but he held his tongue.

“just drop it, you're stressing her out.” heeseung’s voice boomed finally taking the chance to intervene, his eyes locking onto you for a brief moment before returning to sunghoon.

sunghoon’s lips pressed into a thin line, but the fire in his eyes hadn’t dimmed. “fine,” he muttered, storming out of the room.

as the door slid shut behind him, you let out a shaky breath, feeling the tension seep out of your body. your heart was still racing, the intensity of the confrontation leaving you rattled.

you couldn’t deny it— it was a dangerous mix, and the line between control and chaos had never been thinner.

heeseung's gaze lingered on you for a moment longer, like he wanted to say something but couldn’t. instead, he sighed, frustration heavy in his voice.

“let’s just… call it a night.” he ran a hand through his hair, the others silently agreeing, even though sleep seemed impossible.

you turned and walked out without another word, your footsteps echoing down the cold, metal corridor. the dull throb behind your eyes pulsed in time with the tension still hanging in the air. everything felt too tight, too close. the once-familiar hallways now felt suffocating, closing in on you with every step.

when you reached your quarters, the temptation to lock yourself away was overwhelming. all you wanted was space—any kind of break from the constant pressure, from them.

you slid down against the door, letting the cool surface steady you. closing your eyes, you tried to will the headache away, but it stayed, just like everything else.

you didn’t think it could get any worse, but it did.

the ship’s hum, once soothing, now grated on your nerves like nails on a chalkboard. the dim lights barely pierced the darkness, casting jagged shadows that made the room feel more like a cage than a sanctuary.

now that you thought about it, the hours blurred together, each one more unbearable than the last. frustration grew with every second. each morning was a repeat of the last—everyone keeping their distance, their eyes lingering too long on you, simmering with tension that never seemed to break. the fight that happened only made things worse. waiting it out wasn’t helping—it was a ticking time bomb.

hq, oblivious to the storm brewing inside the ship, continued with their routine updates, spewing rehearsed bullshit. they couldn’t see how the crew was falling apart—the heated glances, the touches that felt like fire, the way everyone was one misstep from tearing each other apart. but it couldn't last too much longer, right?

jungwon was doing his best to keep it together, but even his usual calm was cracking. his eyes darkened every time they flicked toward you, his jaw clenched tighter with every passing interaction. he was feeling it just as much as the rest—just better at hiding it. for now.

jake? he was a fucking mess. he hardly spoke, keeping to himself, but the tension around him was like a live wire. he was always there, always watching, his gaze burning into you from across the room. he wanted you—needed you—and the drugs were turning that need into something nearly uncontrollable.

subtlety? sunghoon was done with that. every conversation felt like a battle. his sharp, biting words barely hid the hunger in his eyes. he wasn’t playing games anymore. the tension between you two was a powder keg waiting to explode. his irritation was impossible to miss when jungwon or jake stepped in—his possessiveness simmered just beneath the surface, ready to boil over.

heeseung kept his distance, but his watchful gaze never left you. he was calculating, waiting for the right moment. more than once, you caught him staring, his expression unreadable, but the intensity in his eyes spoke volumes. he was just as deep in this mess—he was just better at keeping his desires under control.

and jay? fuck. he claimed he was "backing off," but that was bullshit. he might’ve kept his physical distance, but his presence was suffocating. his eyes always found yours, and for just a split second, you saw the raw hunger before he hid it. he wasn’t fooling anyone, least of all you.

the air on the ship was suffocating. every meal, every briefing was thick with tension. conversations were clipped, bodies stiff, movements calculated to avoid any accidental contact. but their eyes lingered, their restraint slipping. everyone was fucking cracking.

then there were the drugs. goddamn the drugs. coursing through your veins, amplifying everything until you couldn’t think straight. your senses were overloaded—their scent, the heat from their bodies when they got too close, the way a glance sent shivers down your spine. it was too much. everything was too fucking much.

you were in the last 24 hours, the countdown to what felt like an eternity of agonizing, drug-fueled fever dream that had turned the ship into a pressure cooker.

you woke up, your body ablaze, every inch of your skin tingling with raw, desperate need. it was leaving you breathless and trembling. your hand slid over your heated skin, but it wasn’t enough.

all you could think about was them—each one of them—and the way their hunger for you was growing, spiraling out of control.

your hand moved between your thighs, a soft moan escaping your lips as you tried to ease the ache gnawing at you from the inside. but it wasn’t enough. nothing was enough.

you needed them—all of them. their hands, their mouths, their bodies. you imagined their touch, the heat of their breath against your skin, and it sent a shiver down your spine.

the ship was silent, but you knew you weren’t the only one awake, fighting the same losing battle. you could hear it—the quiet creaks of the bunks, the muffled sounds of frustration, the ragged breathing as they struggled to hold on to the last remnants of control.

you stumbled into the dining area, your body buzzing with pent-up tension, the dull throb of desire pulling at your every nerve. even the brush of your arm against the cold metal wall sent a jolt through you, making you bite your lip against the overwhelming ache deep in your core.

this was hell.

"good morning," you managed, your voice shaking, betraying the sleepless night that had left you on edge.

sunghoon, standing by the counter, clutched his coffee mug with trembling hands, the usual calm on his face shattered, replaced by raw frustration. his knuckles were white, gripping the porcelain as if it was the only thing anchoring him. “morning,” he grunted, his voice rough, thick with need. “this shit’s worse than we fucking expected.”

you slid into a chair, avoiding their eyes, but the tension in the room was impossible to ignore. you were the epicenter of this storm, and pretending otherwise was pointless. little did you know this would be the last relatively calm moment before everything unraveled.

jake stormed into the room, his easygoing demeanor nowhere to be found. frustration was etched into every line of his face, his movements aggressive as his eyes locked on you with a predatory gleam. he slammed a stack of papers onto the table, the sound echoing harshly in the confined space.

“how much longer are we supposed to deal with this?” he snapped, voice raw and barely restrained. “it’s driving me fucking insane.”

“tell me something i don’t know, jake,” you shot back, your own patience frayed. the words came out sharper than intended, but you were on edge. the drug was messing with your mind, and their relentless focus on you wasn’t helping.

jake’s eyes flared as he stepped closer, fists clenched. “watch your tone,” he warned, his voice low, simmering with frustration.

you leaned back in your chair, a smirk tugging at your lips. “my tone?” you shot back, voice dripping with sarcasm. “you’re the one losing it, jake. if you can’t handle a little attitude, maybe you’re in the wrong place.”

before jake could respond, jay stormed into the room, his usual calm shattered. desperation was clear in his eyes as he approached, tension radiating from him with every step.

“we need to call hq now,” he growled, his gaze sharp. “i’ve jerked off eleven times, and i’m still hard as fuck. this shit’s unbearable.”

jungwon entered next, his fists clenched, jaw set tight enough to make his teeth grind. the room grew even more suffocating with his presence.

“i can’t even get off,” he muttered darkly, frustration heavy in his voice. “is fucking you the only solution-”

you rolled your eyes, pushing your chair back. “oh, please.”

jungwon’s eyes darkened, his irritation barely contained. “cut me off again, and i’ll make sure your mouth’s too busy to even breathe,” he threatened, his voice cold.

“it’s affecting all of us,” jake growled, stepping closer, his frustration simmering. “and it’s your fault. everything about you—your scent, your presence—I’m about to fucking lose it.” his voice trembled with barely restrained need.

the tension was unbearable, pressing in from all sides. sunghoon slammed his clipboard onto the table, the sharp sound breaking the thick silence.

“you don’t get it,” he snarled, his voice a low growl. “every breath, every second near you—it’s driving me insane. all I want is to bury my dick in you, over and over.”

jake moved closer, his breath hot against your neck. “you think you’re keeping it together?” he whispered, voice thick with desperation. “i’m losing my mind. just being near you is fucking torture. i’m this close to throwing you on this table and fucking you until you can’t think.”

his words sent a shiver down your spine, fear and excitement tangling together as you stepped back—right into jay’s chest. his hands gripped your shoulders, steadying you but trapping you in place.

“back off, jake,” jay snarled, his grip tightening, eyes burning with possessiveness.

“shut the fuck up,” jake spat, shoving jay hard enough to make him stumble. the air crackled with tension as they squared off, ready to fight or fuck.

jungwon leaned against the wall, a smirk playing on his lips. “enjoying this, y/n?” he taunted, his voice laced with sadistic pleasure. “watching us lose control, tearing each other apart over you? must be fun, knowing you can take your pick whenever you want.”

you gripped the edge of the table, knuckles white as you fought to keep control over the storm raging inside you. "i didn’t ask for this fucking chaos," you spat, glaring at jungwon, your voice trembling with barely contained frustration.

sunghoon moved closer, his presence suffocating, eyes burning with a mix of fury and lust. his breath was hot against your skin as he growled through clenched teeth, “i fucking swear, y/n. you’re going to beg me to stop,” his voice low and threatening, “and then beg me not to.”

a violent shiver ran down your spine, your body reacting to the intensity of his words, the heat between your legs growing unbearable.

jake groaned, leaning in even closer, his voice shaking with desperation. "just one touch, please. you don’t understand how bad this is. i’m aching all over, and looking at you is fucking killing me." his words hung in the air, his need palpable, making your pulse race.

just the sound of their voices had you soaked, arousal dripping down your thighs as you sat down, the sticky mess squishing uncomfortably against the cold steel beneath you.

your legs trembled as you squeezed them together, desperate for any relief from the ache building inside you.

"shut up," you whispered, barely audible, but they heard. the raw need in your voice made everyone freeze for a moment, their breathing heavy. "just fucking shut up."

the simple act of rubbing your legs together for friction sent a wave of sensation through you, and they noticed. the low groans they let out were enough to make your heart skip a beat.

heeseung, who had been watching from the sidelines, finally stepped forward. his eyes dark with desire, he towered over you, his voice dangerously low.

"can’t believe getting talked down on made you wet," he murmured, leaning down until his lips brushed your ear, sending a shockwave of heat through your body. "it’s crazy how after all this, you still don’t get how far we’re willing to go. you have no fucking idea, y/n."

his words made you shudder, your breath catching as the throbbing between your legs intensified. your thighs clenched tighter, but it only worsened the ache, the wetness pooling between your legs making it impossible to think straight.

everything was spiraling out of control. every fiber of your being screamed for release, for something—anything—to break this unbearable tension.

“we can’t keep this going,” you breathed out, your voice barely steady, chest heaving as you fought to regain control over yourself. the weight of their eyes on you felt overwhelming, each of them watching, waiting, ready to snap.

jay, pacing restlessly, let out a low, dangerous chuckle. “oh, but we can,” he muttered darkly, his gaze locked on you like a predator closing in. “this isn’t about control anymore, y/n. we’re past that. pick someone. now. before this blows up in ways you won’t like.” his voice was thick with impatience, his words vibrating with raw, untamed desire. well, it appeared that the fight yesterday and the conversation about backing off went right out the fucking window. whatever thin thread of self-control they had clung to had snapped, leaving the room simmering with tension.

there was no more pretending, no more playing along with the idea that this was just a temporary phase to ride out.

"fuck this," sunghoon growled, patience shattered as he yanked your chair toward him, his frame looming over you, heat radiating off his body. his eyes burned with frustration, and hunger.

“you think you can keep teasing us?” his voice dripped with venom. “sitting there, soaked, trembling—like we wouldn’t fucking notice?” his tone dropped, dangerous and possessive. “shit, you look like you’re about to piss yourself.”

the second his hands gripped your thighs, your body jolted, heat flooding through you, your moan spilling out louder than you intended. sunghoon’s grip tightened as he pushed your legs apart, revealing the soaked mess of your uniform.

cold air brushed against your skin, and you shuddered, but worse than that was the room’s collective reaction—their eyes locking onto the wetness between your legs.

“fuck,” sunghoon muttered under his breath, fingers digging into your skin as he stared down, primal need flashing across his face. his body went taut, every muscle coiled with tension.

the others reacted just as violently. jake slammed his fist into the table with a loud crash. jay knocked a chair over, sending it clattering to the floor. heeseung gripped the counter, knuckles white, his jaw clenched as if he were on the verge of snapping.

“look at what you’ve fucking done,” jay muttered, pacing, his voice low and dangerous. “you’re driving us insane.”

the air buzzed with electricity. sunghoon’s hands didn’t leave your body, his grip firm, possessive. he leaned closer, eyes flicking between your flushed face and your legs spread before him.

“this isn’t going to end how you think,” he whispered darkly. "you’re not walking away from this, not when you’re this desperate."

sunghoon dropped to his knees in front of you, his hands moving with reckless desperation, tearing at your soaked pants. the fabric ripped easily, leaving you exposed, vulnerable. the cold air on your skin only amplified the heat coursing through your body, the throbbing ache between your legs unbearable.

for a second, all you could hear were your own ragged breaths and sunghoon’s, both of you caught in the intensity of the moment. his eyes were fixed on the wetness between your thighs, his tongue darting out as he stared at your pathetic excuse of panties, barely holding together.

but then, chaos.

jake lunged forward, grabbing sunghoon by the collar and yanking him away with a feral snarl. "dude, stop!" jake’s voice was raw, frustration boiling over as he shoved sunghoon back, his face twisted with anger and jealousy.

heeseung followed, stepping in, eyes blazing as he pushed sunghoon further. “are you fucking insane?” he growled, fists clenched, the restraint in his voice hanging by a thread.

sunghoon staggered back, his eyes wide and wild, trying to process everything. "make up your damn minds!" he snapped, voice shaky.

jay, pacing furiously, kicked a chair, sending it skidding across the room with a loud crash. "you’re not getting first fucking dibs, sunghoon!" he spat, barely holding his anger in check.

sunghoon, trembling and panting, made another move toward you, his hand reaching out, but jake grabbed him, his grip tight. "back off, man," jake growled, his voice low, eyes hard.

you shook, heart pounding as you watched them unravel. their raw frustration, the hunger in their eyes—it was overwhelming. your body quivered, every nerve on fire, the heat of their desire pressing down on you.

sunghoon’s eyes met yours again, wild with need. he wasn’t giving up.

you glanced down at yourself—disheveled, thighs still slick, body a mess. you wanted this, god, you wanted it so badly it hurt. the craving burned through you, desperate for their touch, for their bodies against yours.

but then the thought of pregnancy cut through the haze—being filled by all of them. that was the only thing stopping you from fully surrendering.

on shaky legs, you stood, gripping the table for support. the room was heavy with silence, the tension unbearable. their eyes were locked on you, devouring every inch, their frustration and need a mirror to your own.

you were barely holding it together, torn clothes clinging to your sweat-soaked body, but you couldn’t let them see you break.

the quiet stretched, thick and suffocating, every second dragging out as the weight of what just happened hung between you all. your breath hitched, chest tight, trying to stay calm.

then jungwon spoke, breaking through the suffocating tension.

"fuck, this isn’t working anymore," he said, voice low, strained. his eyes lingered on you briefly before shifting to the others. "i didn’t think i’d say this… but follow me."

the atmosphere shifted instantly. confusion flickered across their faces as they glanced between each other. your heart raced, unsure what jungwon meant—unsure what was about to happen.

"where?" jake asked, his voice sharp.

jungwon’s jaw clenched, frustration evident. “just follow me,” he repeated, more firmly this time, his calm starting to crack.

jay stepped forward, glaring at him. "where the hell are you taking us?"

"the greenhouse," jungwon answered, his tone tight, barely keeping his composure.

“the greenhouse?” jake echoed, his disbelief momentarily cutting through the tension. “what the fuck are we gonna do in the greenhouse?”

"just... trust me," jungwon snapped, his eyes locking onto each of them in turn. you could see how hard he was fighting to hold it together. "we can’t stay here. it’s only gonna get worse."

the words hung in the air, the tension thickening. for a moment, no one moved, uncertain. the greenhouse was isolated, quiet, but why take everyone there now?

reluctantly, they exchanged looks. the tension was unbearable; staying here was a risk. one by one, they followed jungwon out of the common room, frustration simmering beneath the surface, but trusting his judgment enough to go along.

jungwon glanced at you, his voice softer now. "come on." something flickered in his eyes—something unreadable.

your heart pounded, but you nodded, taking a shaky breath as you followed, unsure if leaving would ease the tension—or make it worse.

as you all walked, the silence stretched out between you like a taut wire. no one spoke. the only sound was the soft echo of footsteps through the narrow corridors. they kept their distance, eyes focused ahead, but you could feel the weight of their gazes trailing after you, their restraint barely holding.

your legs trembled with every step, the cool air brushing against your exposed skin only sharpened the sensations, your torn uniform clinging to your damp body.

you were still soaked, your thighs slick and uncomfortable, the heat between your legs impossible to ignore.

would the greenhouse ease the tension? or was this just delaying the inevitable?

as you stepped inside, the usual peace of the greenhouse was lost on you. the soft glow of the lights and the lush plants that surrounded you faded into the background.

all you could focus on was the pulse between your legs, the tension hanging thick in the air between you and the others. each of them was fighting their own battle, their barely-controlled desire palpable.

you all spread out, keeping a foot of distance between one another, but it felt pointless.

no one spoke. jungwon moved to the far end, his back turned to the group, hands fumbling through the drawers, the soft clink of metal breaking the silence.

you watched him, trying desperately to focus on anything but the ache inside you. every second that passed felt like an eternity.

his fingers brushed over something soft—a silky texture—and he froze. you saw his posture stiffen, his jaw clench, and you didn’t need to see what he was holding to know it was something dangerous.

it was a baby pink silk restraint. his hand lingered on it for a moment, his breath catching before he muttered a curse under his breath.

god, it would look so good on you, he thought, frustration flickering across his face as he bit back whatever dark thought had formed. but not yet. his fingers slid past the restraints with a clenched jaw, reaching for something else.

he grasped a vacuum-sealed pack of leaves, pulling them out carefully. your breath hitched, mind racing with questions, but you stayed silent. then, he grabbed a small glass test tube, snapped the ends off, leaving tiny holes on both sides. what the hell was he doing? there was a clinical precision to his movements, but the tension in his body told you he was just as affected as everyone else.

“this should help,” he muttered, mostly to himself. his voice was tight, strained. though he wasn’t looking at you, his clenched jaw and white-knuckled grip on the glass were telltale signs he was barely holding it together.

his words hung in the air, and something about them felt wrong. the room froze, confusion settling over everyone as they glanced between him and the odd supplies he was handling.

“fucking weed?” jake’s voice sliced through the tension, disbelief and frustration spilling out. his glare locked onto jungwon. “you had weed this whole fucking time?”

the already thick atmosphere tightened further. all eyes turned to jungwon, their shock mirrored in expressions of disbelief.

“you’ve been sitting on this while we’ve been going insane?” heeseung scoffed, his restraint unraveling as anger simmered in his voice. “what the fuck is wrong with you?”

“what the hell, jungwon?” jay muttered, pacing furiously, running a hand through his hair. “you had something that could’ve helped while we’ve been losing our goddamn minds?”

jungwon, still focused on the leaves, barely glanced up. “you think i was sitting on this for fun?” his tone was tight, laced with frustration.

“this isn’t some regular plant. it’s from an alien planet. i had to be sure it wouldn’t mess with whatever experimental crap they pumped us full of.”

sunghoon, who had been unsettlingly silent until now, stepped forward, his eyes burning with fury as he glared down at jungwon. "so you waited until we’re this close to tearing each other apart to bring this up?" his voice was low, dangerous, barely restrained.

“it’s not that simple,” jungwon snapped, holding up the plant like it was a fragile artifact. “this thing could either help or completely screw us if it reacts badly.”

“you could’ve fixed this sooner,” jake growled, his fists clenched at his sides, stepping closer, frustration boiling over. “what the hell were you waiting for? an invitation?”

jungwon didn’t flinch. his eyes were sharp, jaw tight as he stood his ground. “you want to keep losing your shit?” his voice cut through the tension, hard and challenging.

he scanned the room, meeting each glare with a look that dared them to push further. the silence stretched between them, thick with unsaid threats. no one spoke, but the air crackled with tension.

the anger that had been fueling them all seemed to hit a wall, the realization settling in that despite their frustrations, they had no choice but to trust jungwon. the weight of it hung heavy in the air, no one willing to admit it out loud, but the decision had already been made.

“fine,” jay muttered darkly, glaring at jungwon. “but if this doesn’t work, you are the first one we’re coming after.”

the room was still buzzing with tension, but it seemed like, for now, they were willing to let jungwon do his thing.

you let out a small sigh, rubbing a hand over your face. “i’d kill for some indica right now,” you muttered under your breath, not realizing it until the words were already out.

there was a pause before a chorus of chuckles broke the silence. jake raised an eyebrow, a smirk tugging at his lips as the tension finally eased, just a little. even jay, still pacing, let out a low, reluctant laugh, shaking his head.

“never figured you for a stoner, y/n,” heeseung chimed in from his spot, leaning back with a hint of amusement in his voice. his eyes flicked to you, playful, though the tension between you wasn’t entirely gone.

"guess there’s still a lot we don’t know about her," jungwon muttered, a smirk tugging at his lips as he glanced over at you, the dark intensity in his eyes softening into something more amused.

your comment had loosened the grip of tension that had everyone on edge, even if only for a moment. everyone seemed to breathe a little easier, their anger simmering into something manageable.

“indica, huh?” sunghoon finally spoke up, shaking his head with a slight smirk. “figured you’d be more of a sativa type, to be honest.”

“nah,” you replied with a half-hearted shrug, feeling more at ease as the mood shifted. “i like to be relaxed, not bouncing off the walls.”

jake snorted, running a hand through his hair. “well, let’s hope jungwon’s got the good stuff, or we’re all fucked.”

jungwon rolled his eyes, his hands still working quickly on the mixture, though you caught a flicker of a smile at the corner of his lips. “if this works, you’ll all be thanking me soon enough.”

heeseung leaned forward, his eyes sharp as they locked on jungwon. “so what, you haven’t tried it yourself?”

jungwon didn’t look up from his task, fingers deftly moving, but the brief pause before he answered brought the tension creeping back into the room. “no, not exactly.”

jake’s eyebrow shot up. “not exactly? the hell does that mean?”

jungwon sighed, the annoyance clear in his voice. “i’ve done the research. i know the compounds, and it’s designed to counteract the enhancement drug they’ve been giving us. i just haven’t had a reason to use it yet.”

“so we’re the fucking guinea pigs now?” jay scoffed, his frustration bubbling back to the surface.

jungwon huffed, his voice edged with irritation. “i haven’t smoked a day in my life, alright? but i’m smart enough to know it’s got the compounds to calm us down.”

the room fell silent for a beat before jake let out a disbelieving laugh, shaking his head. “so you’ve never smoked, and now we’re trusting you to dose us with some alien space weed? you’ve gotta be kidding me.”

sunghoon, arms crossed, still fuming, shot jungwon a glare. “so, what? we’re supposed to just hope you don’t screw this up?” his voice was sharp, dripping with irritation. “you really think we’re gonna go along with this when you don’t even know if it’s gonna work?”

jungwon’s jaw clenched, eyes flicking between them, clearly over their shit. “do any of you have a goddamn degree?” he snapped, not even looking up as his hands worked swiftly.

“because last time i checked, i’m the one with a background in biochemistry. so unless you’re secretly holding out on some phd in alien botany, shut the hell up and let me do my job.”

sunghoon's glare didn’t waver, but the sharp edge of his frustration dulled for a moment as jungwon's words hit. there was a flicker of acknowledgment in the silence that followed.

jake, however, wasn’t ready to let it go so easily. “yeah, well, last time i checked, your degree didn’t come with a guarantee this alien weed won’t mess us up even more,” he quipped, arms crossed, but there was a slight grin tugging at his lips.

jungwon rolled his eyes, finally looking up, clearly done with their bullshit. “you want to keep arguing, or do you want to get out of this without tearing each other to pieces?” he shot back, his patience visibly thinning. “because i’d love to stand here and debate this, but we don’t exactly have time for a fucking TED talk.”

heeseung, who had been watching from the sidelines, let out a low chuckle.

“fine, doc. we’ll shut up and let you save the day with your alien potions. but if this goes sideways…”

jungwon cut him off, deadpan. “yeah, yeah. you’ll all come for my ass. i’ve heard it. now, can we get on with it?”

sunghoon’s jaw tightened, his eyes narrowing on jungwon, but he didn’t push any further, taking a step back with a begrudging sigh. “just don’t screw this up.”

jungwon stayed focused on his task, ignoring their complaints. "if we get through this without killing each other, it’ll be a miracle," he muttered, his hands working swiftly over the alien plant like it was routine.

jake snorted, watching jungwon carefully, though some of the tension had eased. "if we do, you’re never living this down."

jungwon shot him a quick glare. "good thing i don’t give a shit about your approval, huh?"

the room remained thick with tension as jungwon sealed the mixture and set it aside. everyone was on edge, eyes shifting between you and jungwon, frustrations bubbling just beneath the surface.

sunghoon’s arms tightened across his chest, his jaw clenched. "so what now, jungwon? gonna roll it up and hope it works?"

jungwon shot him a sharp look, pulling out a small device. "no rolling. we’re vaporizing it. faster, cleaner. you’ll feel it in minutes." his voice was steady, but the tightness in his posture showed he was feeling the strain, just like the rest of you.

heeseung chuckled under his breath, his foot tapping against the floor. "minutes, huh? guess we won’t have to wait long to find out if it works."

jay, who had been pacing, paused, his eyes narrowing as he turned toward you. "what about you, y/n?" he asked, his tone pointed. "you trust jungwon with this? or are you as skeptical as the rest of us?"

you swallowed, your voice quieter than you intended. "i don’t know," you admitted, glancing at jungwon. "but we don’t have any other options."

sunghoon grunted from his spot against the wall, his gaze sweeping over you. "yeah, well, this better work. because if it doesn’t, i don’t know how much longer i can keep my hands off you." his voice was low, frustration and desire mixing into a dangerous edge.

jake, still glaring at jungwon, crossed his arms. "let’s just get this over with."

jungwon nodded, his movements precise as he set up the vaporizer. the tension thickened in the room, each second stretching as everyone waited for the first hit, anticipation hanging in the air like a storm about to break.

finally, jungwon took the first hit, exhaling slowly as the vapor filled the room. “one at a time,” he said, passing it to jake. “just try not to lose control yet, alright?”

jake inhaled deeply, his eyes flicking toward you, though his expression remained hard. the vapor passed through the group, each taking their turn as the scent thickened in the air.

when it reached you, you hesitated before lifting the device to your lips. the warm vapor filled your lungs, and for a moment, nothing changed.

then, you felt it—a subtle shift.

the tension in your body eased slightly, the tightness in your chest loosening. the ache in your core dulled just enough for you to breathe easier. you exhaled, the weight still there, but lighter.

"anyone feel anything yet?" jungwon asked, scanning the group, his own face showing a bit of relief.

jay leaned back, exhaling. "not gonna lie, jungwon. if this works, i’ll take back all the shit i said."

sunghoon, his eyes still locked on you, let out a low breath. "it’s working… but this is just the beginning, isn’t it?"

heeseung, now more relaxed, nodded slowly, the relentless tapping of his foot finally stopping. "yeah… it’s taking the edge off, but it’s not gonna keep us from snapping completely."

jungwon’s jaw tightened, but he gave a small nod. "it’ll help us hold on. that’s all we need for now."

as the minutes passed, the atmosphere in the room began to shift. the sharpness of desperation started to fade, replaced by a warmth that slowly spread through your body, relaxing muscles that had been tight for what felt like hours. the effect settled in like a haze, making everything feel slower, softer.

sunghoon, who had been rigid with frustration, let out a low chuckle, leaning his head back against the wall. "shit... this actually feels kinda good," he muttered, a hint of surprise in his voice.

jake, still leaning against the table, blinked a few times, his frown fading into something more relaxed. "yeah..." he murmured, a lazy grin forming on his face as he glanced around. "this is... better."

heeseung, who had been sitting tensely moments before, now leaned back in his chair, a slow, amused smile spreading across his face. "jungwon, man... you actually did something here," he said, his voice lighter, a bit dazed. the others were clearly feeling the high too.

jay, who had been pacing earlier, was now casually leaning against the wall, his usual dark intensity replaced by a half-smirk. "yeah, i’ll admit... didn’t expect this. i feel... fucking mellow." he laughed, running a hand through his hair as if he was still trying to process it.

jungwon, the most tightly wound of them all, finally looked up from his seat, his expression softening with a mix of relief and satisfaction. "it’s working," he said, his voice low and smooth, clearly feeling the effects himself. even his usual controlled posture had relaxed, his eyes slightly glassy.

you felt it too—the pressure that had been suffocating you for days seemed to melt away, replaced by a warm, buzzing sensation under your skin. the tension that had gripped your body so tightly was gone, and you were undeniably high. the lightness in your limbs was intoxicating.

sunghoon chuckled again, his gaze shifting to you. "you look like you’re finally not about to explode," he teased, his voice softer, the sharp edge gone. "how’s it feel, y/n?"

you couldn’t help but let out a breathy laugh, the tightness in your chest loosening. "better," you admitted, leaning back, feeling their eyes on you, but without the suffocating intensity from before. "a lot better."

jake grinned lazily, his shoulders slumping as he settled into a more comfortable stance. "so this is what it feels like to not be two seconds away from losing it," he muttered, more to himself than anyone.

heeseung stretched out in his chair, his foot tapping finally still. "yeah, i could get used to this," he drawled, a slow grin spreading across his face. for the first time in days, he wasn’t on the verge of snapping.

jungwon, who’d been quiet, looked over at you, his eyes softer, the tension gone from his voice. "told you it would help," he said, a small smile tugging at his lips.

jay chuckled, shaking his head. "fuck, jungwon, you really had us doubting you. might be the best idea you’ve had."

sunghoon, still watching you, smirked lazily, his gaze no longer sharp but relaxed. "we should’ve gotten high sooner. would’ve saved a lot of trouble."

the room felt different—lighter. the tension that had suffocated everyone for days was replaced by a calm that had been missing. it wasn’t completely gone, but the edge had softened, smoothed out by the haze now filling the air. for the first time in what felt like forever, you could breathe.

"shit, we’ve got weed in space," jake muttered, laughing under his breath, his words slurred slightly. "if this ain’t the best thing ever... how the hell are we supposed to work now?" he leaned back against the table, a lazy grin on his face. "i don’t even want to touch a holo-pad."

jay chuckled again, his body loose as he glanced around. "yeah, fuck the mission for a second."

you caught jay’s eyes lingering on you, his gaze soft but still intense. he smirked, pushing off the wall, taking a slow step toward you, his eyes locked on yours. "shit, y/n... you look real pretty right now," he murmured, his voice dropping into a low rumble, the high relaxing him completely.

heeseung chuckled, nodding in agreement. "he’s not wrong... the weed’s hitting, and damn, you’re glowing." his voice was smoother now, the usual restraint gone, replaced with easy confidence.

sunghoon leaned in slightly, a slow grin spreading across his face. "yeah, this is... nice," he muttered, his gaze heavy with the haze but carrying a new kind of appreciation.

jungwon, clearly struggling to keep it together, was out of his element. his lips kept twitching, fighting off a laugh as his eyes darted around the room, wide and a little glassy, trying to maintain his usual calm demeanor.

you watched him press his lips together, body stiff as he fought the high. but when jake caught sight of him, it was over.

"holy shit—jungwon’s gone," jake laughed, loud and carefree. "look at him! man’s trying so hard not to fucking giggle, it’s killing him."

jay doubled over, slapping the wall as he tried to stay upright. "oh my god, he’s losing it," he gasped between laughs, pointing at jungwon, whose face had turned pink.

sunghoon shook his head, chuckling low. "dude, just let it out," he teased, enjoying watching jungwon squirm.

jungwon couldn’t hold back anymore. with a breathless laugh, he broke, his shoulders shaking as he buried his face in his hands. "fuck," he muttered, still laughing. "this is ridiculous."

everyone in the room joined in, the tension that had been building for days finally shattering. heeseung leaned back, laughing with the rest as jungwon gave in to the high.

"beginner’s luck, huh?" heeseung grinned, wiping a tear from his eye. "never thought i’d see you like this, jungwon."

jungwon, still giggling, waved them off. "shut up," he managed, his voice cracking with amusement. "this wasn’t supposed to go like this."

laughter filled the greenhouse, the heavy atmosphere replaced by a much-needed sense of relief. it was messy, chaotic, but for the first time in what felt like forever, it didn’t feel like everything was falling apart.

"so... i gotta ask," you said, breaking through the haze of laughter, your tone teasing. their attention snapped back to you, giggles fading as you continued.

"i get you guys hella horny, don’t i?" you grinned, the boldness of your words catching them off guard, a smirk spreading across your face. "when did it start?"

the room fell silent for a split second as your bold question lingered in the air, their eyes widening, expressions shifting from shock to amusement. the haze of the high made the moment even more surreal, everyone too relaxed to hide their reactions.

heeseung, the first to break the silence, let out a low laugh, stretching lazily in his chair. “damn, y/n, you really don't hold back with the questions,” he shot you a smirk, his tone dripping with that lazy confidence that came from the weed.

“but, i'mnot gonna lie, it’s been a while. you walking around like that didn’t make it easy either.”

jay, still leaning against the wall, raised an eyebrow at you, his lips curling into a mischievous grin. “yeah, we’ve been dealing with this shit for a minute,” he admitted, his voice smooth and casual, but there was no mistaking the way his eyes raked over you. “you’re not exactly easy to ignore.”

sunghoon, always the one to speak his mind, leaned forward, his smirk matching jay’s. “she’s asking for specifics,” he teased, his voice low, playful.

“when did it start? if you really want to know... it’s been there since the beginning.” his gaze softened as he added.

jungwon, still recovering from his laughing fit, cleared his throat, his face a little pink, though he tried to play it cool.

you laughed, the sound bright and a little tipsy from the relaxed atmosphere. “oh, so that’s why all the frustration, huh?”

heeseung leaned back in his chair, the high loosening everyone up as he sighed, grinning lazily. “alright, fine, didn't think i'd ever admit this but...” he said, voice more serious but still playful.

“if i'm being completely honest, I’ve been watching you a lot longer than I’d like to admit.” he looked directly at you, his grin softening. “a bit of a... peep show, you could say.”

the room went dead quiet. your breath hitched, his confession sinking in. even the others, lost in their own buzz, snapped their attention to him in surprise.

“what?” jake muttered, wide-eyed.

heeseung shrugged, completely unbothered. “not proud of it, but yeah. i’d see you in your room, getting ready... lingered a little longer than I should have.”

you felt your face flush, heart racing as his words hit. heeseung had been watching you all this time. how?

“wait, you were spying on her?” jay’s voice held surprise, but no judgment.

heeseung nodded, no shame in his voice. “yeah, guess you could call it that. but y/n didn’t exactly make it easy.” his eyes glinted with that dark intensity again. “you were always right there, looking so damn good, almost like you wanted me to watch.”

sunghoon let out a low whistle, shaking his head. “so that’s why you’ve been extra wound up around her, huh? then avoiding her like the plague.”

heeseung chuckled, running a hand through his hair. “you have no idea.”

your stomach flipped, a swirl of shock and something darker, more thrilling, stirred inside you. “how long?” you asked quietly, the words slipping out before you could stop them.

heeseung met your gaze, his playful facade dropping for a moment. “long enough to know you’ve been driving me insane.”

"but i thought," you stammered, "wow, so from the start you've been trying to keep yourself in line. not like jake." you glanced at jake, who just smirked, shrugging.

heeseung chuckled, a deep sound that made your pulse spike. "that’s what i wanted you to think," he said, leaning back with a smug grin.

"i was careful. unlike jake—" he threw a playful glare at jake—"i didn’t let it get to me. well, not until recently."

“oh, come on,” jake muttered, clearly amused. “don’t act like you’re better than me. at least i didn’t spy on her.

jungwon, watching quietly, raised an eyebrow but stayed silent, observing.

your face burned as the puzzle pieces clicked into place. "so, all this time, you were just watching me? waiting for what?" your voice came out breathless, his confession settling heavily in the air.

heeseung’s grin widened, eyes darkening. "waiting for the right moment," he said smoothly. "waiting for you to realize none of us are as in control as you think."

"is this what people do when they’re high?" jungwon muttered, still sounding dazed, his wide eyes darting between you, heeseung, and the rest of the guys, struggling to keep up with the shift in mood.

jake snorted, rubbing his face as he tried to contain his laughter. "nah, man," he said, still chuckling, "this is what happens when we’ve been stuck in space too long, high as hell, and all our secrets start spilling out."

jay leaned against the wall, grinning. "welcome to the party, jungwon," he teased, giving him a playful nudge. "this is when shit gets real."

jungwon blinked rapidly, shaking his head like he couldn’t believe the conversation had shifted from calming down to confessions about spying and hidden desires. "i thought this was supposed to relax us, not... this," he mumbled to himself.

heeseung just laughed, clearly enjoying jungwon’s confusion. "nah, this is what happens when people get too comfortable. all the bottled-up shit comes out," he said, his gaze sliding back to you, still carrying that dark intensity. "and trust me, there’s a lot more to spill."

you smirked, leaning into the playful mood. "oh, we’re spilling secrets now? anyone else got something to confess while we’re riding this high?" your eyes gleamed with curiosity as you turned to jungwon. "how much of that stuff you got, jungwon? ’cause we could always smoke more."

jungwon stood up slowly, his posture loose, movements smooth. he looked so good right now, and you knew you weren’t hiding your thoughts well. your eyes traced the line of his shoulders, the easy way his body moved, and the heat of your gaze didn’t go unnoticed.

he caught your stare, but instead of calling you out, he just smirked, his eyes meeting yours with a knowing look that sent a shiver through you.

"you wanna know how much we’ve got?" his voice low and playful as he walked over to a small section of the greenhouse, gesturing to a tree standing tall with thick, lush leaves. "we’ve got a whole fucking tree."

the room went still for a beat before jake broke the silence with a disbelieving laugh. "you’ve been sitting on that this whole time?"

jay’s jaw dropped. "holy shit."

sunghoon ran a hand through his hair, laughing under his breath. "i thought this place was for ‘essential’ plants. guess that counts now, huh?"

jungwon shrugged, unfazed. "it’s part of my research. i made sure it’d be ready if we needed it." his gaze lingered on you a moment longer, his eyes dark, playful, and filled with quiet intensity.

you leaned back in your chair, laughing softly. "so we’ve got enough to keep this going?"

jungwon smirked, glancing back at the tree. "more than enough."

the room settled into a calm silence, everyone processing the absurdity of the situation—weed in space, a secret tree in the greenhouse, and a group of high, frustrated guys finally letting their guard down. It felt like something was about to break, but for now, it was almost... fun.

"so, what was in that vial you hid from me when i grabbed my kit?" you asked, narrowing your eyes at jungwon. the playful tone lingered, but curiosity slipped in. "i saw you stash it."

jungwon froze for a second, his eyes flickering with something unreadable. Instead of deflecting, though, his smirk grew wider, and he leaned against the wall, his gaze locking onto yours.

"smart girl," he said, his voice lower, more intimate. "no wonder i think about you more than i should." his eyes sparkled with something darker, sending a shiver down your spine.

the others groaned, rolling their eyes.

jake snorted. "finally, he flirts back. thought we were in for another lecture on compounds or some shit."

jay crossed his arms, shaking his head with a grin. "dude’s trying so hard to play it cool, but look at him—he's all grown up i'm gonna cry."

sunghoon leaned against the wall, laughing quietly. "guess even jungwon can’t resist."

jungwon shot them a glare, his smirk faltering for just a second before he composed himself, eyes flicking back to you. “don’t listen to these idiots,” he muttered, standing a little straighter. “but yeah… I might’ve kept that vial out of sight for a reason.”

you raised an eyebrow, curiosity spiking. “oh? and what’s in it?”

jungwon’s voice dropped, smooth but with a darker undertone. “did you really think i was that innocent?” he asked, tilting his head as he watched you closely. “i gave off that vibe from the start, didn’t i?”

you nodded, biting your lip, a shiver running down your spine. jungwon had always seemed so calm and composed—safe. but after that episode when he spanked you in your quarters you were already convinced he could be dangerous.

he leaned in just enough, voice low but loud enough for everyone to hear. “if we’re being honest, all i’ve been wanting to do is drug the fuck out of you and—” his lips curled into a wicked grin, “do whatever i want.”

the room froze.

every pair of eyes widened in shock, caught between disbelief and something darker.

“damn,” jake muttered, running a hand through his hair. “the fuck, jungwon?”

jay blinked, raising an eyebrow. “wow. didn’t expect that from you.”

sunghoon let out a low whistle, shaking his head, though a soft laugh escaped him. “we all knew you had some dark shit in you, but i didn’t think you’d just... say it.”

jungwon just shrugged, far too relaxed for someone who had just confessed something twisted. his eyes flicked back to you, heat radiating behind them, making your heart pound.

“so,” he said, smirking, “are we going to tell her we’ve been low-key scheming, or did you figure it out, y/n?” his voice was sharp, playful. “you’re smart—did you really buy my ‘nice guy’ act?”

sunghoon’s grin widened. “yeah, you didn’t think jungwon was that innocent, did you?”

you rolled your eyes, teasing. “i mean, the checking me out part was obvious—you guys didn’t even try to hide it. i just figured you were all perverts.” you paused, letting a smirk play on your lips.

leaning back in your chair, the tension in the air grew thicker, electric. “to be honest, though,” you added, voice light, “i liked knowing i could get you hard. it was fun.”

the room went dead silent again. shock, amusement, and lust mingled on their faces. they hadn’t expected that.

heeseung let out a low chuckle, his eyes darkening as he leaned in slightly. “well, at least you’re aware of your effect on us.”

jay raised his brows, a grin spreading as he ran a hand through his hair. “damn, y/n, didn’t think you’d just come out and say it like that.”

jake, unable to hold back his smirk, leaned forward. “so you like getting us worked up? that’s what all this teasing’s been about?”

sunghoon chuckled under his breath, though his gaze remained intense. “guess we’re getting more than we bargained for tonight.”

“yeah,” you replied confidently. “it was fun watching you squirm.”

the tension in the room was heavy now, thick with unspoken desire. you could feel the weight of their eyes on you, and it only made your skin tingle more.

"wow, this weed is definitely making it worse," you muttered, feeling the heat build inside you, the haze thickening the air around you. "sure, i don’t wanna fuck everyone’s brains out right now, but..."

your gaze drifted over them, the anticipation swirling in your stonmach. "it’s definitely getting me horny."

the atmosphere shifted, your words hanging in the air, making the tension in the room palpable. their reactions were instant—a flicker of barely-contained desire across their faces.

jake let out a low groan, leaning back against the table, eyes darkening. "you’re killing me, y/n," he muttered, rubbing a hand over his face, frustration clear. "you have no fucking idea."

jay chuckled, shaking his head. "we’re all barely holding it together, and you’re just sitting there, getting off on it?" his voice strained, fists clenched. "damn."

“gimme another hit, won,” you said, your voice dropping, teasing as you looked over at jungwon. your eyes locked, and the room seemed to still. the tension thickened, nearly unbearable.

jungwon blinked, not expecting your bold request, but his smirk quickly returned, eyes darker now. "you sure you can handle more, y/n?" his voice low, teasing but laced with warning. “we’re all on edge already.”

"yeah, i’m sure," you replied, holding his gaze. "let’s see if i can handle it."

the others watched with clear interest. jake raised an eyebrow, smirking. "shit, she’s going for more? that’s either brilliant or dangerous."

jungwon stepped closer, pulling out the vaporizer, his movements deliberate. “if you’re so eager,” he muttered, holding it out to you. your fingers brushed his as you took it, the brief contact sending a shiver through you.

you inhaled deeply, the warm haze filling your lungs, intensifying the heat and desire already coursing through you. the high hit harder this time, amplifying everything—the room felt hotter, the tension thicker.

“fuck,” you whispered, feeling the warmth spread through your body.

jungwon’s eyes never left you. "better?" he asked, voice tight like he was barely keeping it together.

you nodded, a smirk tugging at your lips. “yeah... but this,” you gestured at your ripped pants with a teasing grin, “this is uncomfortable.” your voice was thick with desire as your gaze drifted over the guys, taking in their reactions.

the room had grown unbearably hot, tension coiling tighter by the second. you sighed playfully, tilting your head. “mind if i strip a bit, boys?” you teased, not really waiting for permission, fingers already at the hem of your shirt. “love the gift, sunghoon, but it’s gotta go.”

sunghoon’s eyes widened, breath hitching as he leaned forward, gaze locked on you. “shit, y/n,” he muttered, voice trembling slightly. “you’re really doing this?”

jake groaned again, rubbing his face, clearly struggling. “fuck, she’s serious,” he muttered, voice thick with lust.

jay leaned back, eyes darker now, smirk still on his lips as he watched with a mix of hunger and amusement. “go ahead,” he drawled, voice low. “it’s your show.”

heeseung chuckled, watching as you slowly peeled off your clothes, revealing more skin. “well, this just got a hell of a lot more interesting,” he muttered, voice dripping with desire.

you felt their eyes on you, tracking every movement as you slipped out of your uniform, the cool air hitting your heated skin. the tension was almost suffocating as they watched, captivated by every inch you revealed.

“much better,” you teased, letting your clothes drop, now standing in just your shirt and underwear. their stares were heavy with unmistakable hunger.

"how many more hours we got?" you asked, voice laced with anticipation, your gaze flicking between them, all barely holding on.

heeseung glanced at the time, his eyes never leaving you. “twenty hours,” he muttered, voice rough with frustration.

jake groaned, his head dropping into his hands. “twenty more hours? we’re not gonna fucking make it.”

sunghoon’s eyes were glued to you, his breath shaky. “twenty hours... and you’re already stripping? how the fuck are we supposed to keep it together?”

jay chuckled, but his eyes were dark with desire. “shit, we barely held out this long, and now you’re making it harder—literally.”

you smirked, still buzzing from the high, their heated stares making your pulse quicken. “just wanted to make things... interesting,” you said, your voice dripping with challenge. “let’s see if you can last another twenty hours.”

"pass it," jake muttered, finally caving, knowing they needed something to take the edge off. his voice strained, tension clear as he reached for the vaporizer, his fingers brushing yours.

sunghoon groaned. "give it here,” he growled, rubbing his neck, clearly struggling for control. “if we’re stuck like this, might as well get fucked up.”

as the vaporizer made its rounds, the atmosphere shifted again. the weed wasn’t dulling their desire—it was amplifying it. their eyes lingered longer, the raw need in the air thickening.

you watched them, heart racing, body humming with anticipation. “looks like it’s gonna be a long night,” you murmured, your voice soft but full of challenge, daring them to hold on.

heeseung took a slow hit from the vaporizer, holding it in as he watched you, mischief glinting in his eyes. with a smirk, he leaned forward, voice low and teasing. “wanna shotgun?”

the room went silent, everyone’s attention snapping to you and heeseung. his suggestion hung in the air, thick with tension and curiosity.

your heart skipped a beat, the heat of his offer rushing through your veins. he was testing you, and they were all watching.

jake raised an eyebrow, leaning in, his grin widening. “shit... are we really doing this?”

sunghoon chuckled darkly, his eyes locked on you. “she’s not saying no.” jay’s smirk grew, arms crossed as he leaned back, watching.

you bit your lip, locking eyes with heeseung. “fuck it,” you said, your tone matching his. “let’s do it.”

heeseung’s smirk widened, and he moved closer, taking another slow hit from the vaporizer. without breaking eye contact, he leaned in, his face inches from yours, the heat between you nearly suffocating.

you closed the distance, taking the smoke from him as he exhaled. the proximity made your pulse race, the moment electric, charged with a new kind of tension.

as you finished inhaling, heeseung didn’t hesitate. his lips crashed against yours, his tongue sliding past your lips in a kiss that was hungry, overwhelming. a low, sensual groan escaped you, the heat of the moment making your body buzz, his mouth moving against yours with a fiery intensity.

his hands gripped your waist, pulling you closer, his body pressing into yours. but after what felt like both too long and not nearly long enough, he pulled away, his lips hovering close to yours as he caught his breath, his chest rising and falling rapidly.

you let out a breathless laugh, eyes half-lidded, a lazy smirk playing on your lips. "feels like i’m back in college," you teased, voice rough, dripping with satisfaction.

heeseung wiped the corner of his mouth with the back of his hand, his thumb brushing your bottom lip before pulling back. “shit, y/n,” he muttered, breathless. “you’re making this so fucking hard.”

the tension in the room spiked as the others watched, eyes glued to the aftermath of the kiss. everything had shifted—the air heavier, pulses quickening.

jake shifted in his seat, swallowing hard, a raw edge to his voice. "fuck... i’m jealous," he muttered with a grin, though it didn’t hide the need in his gaze. "you always go that hard?"

jay leaned forward, shaking his head, still clearly amused. "that was fucking hot."

sunghoon, his eyes dark and locked on you, clenched his jaw and let out a low laugh. "heeseung’s got some balls. damn."

jungwon, who had been quiet the whole time, finally spoke, his gaze still fixed on you, voice low. "that was… something," he muttered, eyes half-lidded, filled with curiosity and intrigue.

you smirked, glancing at sunghoon, voice laced with a teasing challenge. "you’re not mad, sunghoon? i mean, you’ve always had that possessive streak."

his jaw tightened, eyes narrowing as a low chuckle escaped him. there was nothing playful in it. "mad?" he repeated, his voice rough, gaze intense. "nah, y/n... not mad. but you’re definitely pushing it." his eyes flicked down to your lips, still swollen from heeseung’s kiss. "you know exactly what you’re doing."

heeseung leaned back, clearly pleased with himself, enjoying the tension. "what can i say? she’s hard to resist."

sunghoon didn’t break eye contact, his smirk turning wicked. “resisting’s not the problem, heeseung.” his voice dropped, almost a growl. “i just don’t like to share. and you—" his eyes raked over your body—“you’re making this a lot harder than it needs to be.”

jake chuckled under his breath, shaking his head. “possessive doesn’t even begin to cover it.”

jay raised an eyebrow at sunghoon, smirking. “jealousy’s not a good look on you, man.”

sunghoon shot a glance at jay before focusing back on you, his voice dropping. “you enjoy getting a rise out of me, don’t you, y/n?”

your smirk grew as the heat in his voice made your skin prickle. "maybe," you murmured, tilting your head. "or maybe i like seeing how far i can push you."

sunghoon’s eyes darkened further, his voice low and dangerous. "try me one more time, and i’ll fuck you right here in front of everyone."

the room went dead silent, the intensity of his words hitting you like a wave. the boldness of his threat—or promise—made the air in the room feel heavier, the tension suffocating.

heeseung raised an eyebrow, a lazy smirk tugging at his lips. "well, shit. things just got serious."

jake let out a low whistle, leaning forward. "not sure if that’s a threat or a promise."

jay, his tone laced with amusement, chimed in, "honestly, I’m not into sharing either. but the weed?" he chuckled, his eyes flicking between you and sunghoon. "it’s making me reconsider."

all eyes shifted to jay, the tension only thickening as he leaned back, crossing his arms with a growing smirk. “maybe just this once... i’d be willing to let it slide.”

heeseung chuckled darkly. "seems like we’re all reconsidering a lot right now."

jake grinned. "the weed’s making everything seem like a good idea."

sunghoon, jaw still tight, shot a glance at jay, but the playful tension between them was undeniable. "you’re lucky you’re even part of this conversation."

you felt the shift in the room, heart pounding as you caught the exchange. the energy was only growing, and none of them seemed willing to back down.

“so, jay,” you teased, eyes locking on his, “you’re saying you’d share if it came down to it?”

jay leaned forward, his eyes meeting yours, a slow smile spreading across his face. “yeah,” he said, voice low, deliberate. “but only because i think you’d be worth it.”

your breath hitched, the heat inside you building as the high took hold. “if it wasn’t for this wait,” you breathed, the words slipping out, “i’d already be knocking on your doors... though not without putting up a fight.”

their eyes darkened at your confession, the room buzzing with unspoken desire.

jungwon, trying to play it cool, took another puff from the vaporizer and immediately choked, coughing hard as the smoke hit him wrong. the sudden noise shattered the tension in the room, all eyes turning to him as he struggled for breath, his face flushing both from the smoke and embarrassment.

“shit,” he muttered between coughs, trying to compose himself, eyes watering as he glanced up at you, shaking his head. "fuck, that was... rough."

everyone burst into laughter, the momentarily serious atmosphere lightening just for a second.

"you good, won?" jake asked, grinning as he slapped jungwon’s back.

jay shook his head, still chuckling. "man, you really don’t know how to smoke, do you?"

jungwon shot them a glare, still coughing, but a sheepish smile pulled at his lips. "shut up," he grumbled, rubbing his chest as the smoke finally cleared.

you couldn’t help but laugh, the high making it all feel even more amusing. "you alright, jungwon?" you teased, watching him recover.

jungwon finally caught his breath, cheeks still flushed as he met your gaze. “yeah, yeah,” he muttered, still a bit winded. “just... wasn’t expecting it to hit that hard.”

heeseung smirked, leaning back in his chair. “looks like even the doctor’s not immune to getting messed up.”

sunghoon chuckled, shaking his head. “it’s always the quiet ones who end up the most fucked.”

the laughter faded, but the weight of their gazes didn’t. their eyes followed the rise and fall of your chest, the sheen of sweat on your skin, and the slight shift of your legs as you tried to get comfortable. it was like they were all waiting, their patience thinning by the second.

you could feel their stares burning into you, the intensity of it making your skin tingle. each glance felt heavier, more deliberate, and your pulse quickened under the heat of it.

exposed as you were, the sensation was electric, the mix of weed and desire making everything feel heightened, sharper. the room felt like it was spinning, but you couldn’t tear your eyes away from them either.

heeseung, who had been the most composed, broke the silence, his voice rough and low. “fuck, y/n,” he muttered, his eyes darkening as they trailed the movement of your legs. “you look incredible like this.”

sunghoon's gaze was sharp, tracking the sheen of sweat on your skin, the rise and fall of your chest with each shallow breath. “we’re all trying to hold it together,” he growled, voice thick with restraint. “but you? you’re not even trying. it’s like you’re begging to get fucked.”

jay, lounging back with his eyes glued to you, let out a low chuckle. “yeah, why don’t you just spread those legs for me, honey? no harm in giving it a shot, right?”

jake swallowed hard, his eyes burning into you, voice strained with frustration. “this... it’s fucking torture.”

jungwon, having finally regained his composure after his earlier coughing fit, stayed quiet, but his eyes roamed over your body. despite his silence, the tension in his posture made it clear just how much he was struggling.

the silence that followed was suffocating, heavy with need. you could feel their eyes on you, feel the way their breathing deepened, slowed. they were getting hard, and none of them bothered to hide it anymore.

heeseung’s gaze darkened, his chest rising and falling faster, desire burning in his eyes. his lips parted, and you saw his hand shift in his lap, trying to find some relief without being too obvious.

sunghoon, once composed, now clenched his jaw, eyes locked on you like a predator ready to pounce. his fists tightened, muscles flexing as he struggled to keep control.

jay’s smirk faded, replaced by raw hunger. he leaned forward slightly, eyes trailing down your body. “fuck, y/n... stop looking at us like that,” he muttered, voice thick with barely restrained lust.

jake, who had been leaning back, was now sitting up, legs spread, his breathing heavier. “i’m... done hiding it,” he admitted, voice raw, frustration laced in every word.

jungwon, quieter than the rest, couldn’t tear his eyes from you. the flush spreading across his face and the way his hands flexed at his sides said everything. he was barely holding it together.

the weight of their desire pressed down on you, thick in the air. every lingering look, every breath they took, felt like a pressure building between all of you. your heart raced, heat pooling low in your belly, the tension almost unbearable.

“it’s not like we can’t do something, right?” you teased, voice low and filled with anticipation. your eyes flicked between them, watching their expressions shift as your words sank in. with a wicked smile, you let the next part slip, “just... don’t cum inside.”

heeseung groaned, deep and guttural, his grip tightening on the arms of the chair so hard his knuckles turned white. “fuck,” he muttered, breath hitching. “you really don’t know what you’re asking for, y/n.”

jay’s eyes darkened, jaw tense as hunger overtook his gaze. “you’re terrible,” he growled, voice shaking with raw need.

jake groaned, nearly doubling over as his hand dragged across his face. “shit... don’t say that,” he muttered, voice hoarse with desperation, his body visibly tense as he stared at you, gaze burning with want.

sunghoon’s fists clenched, breath coming in uneven bursts. “you really want it, don’t you,” he growled, voice low, rough, his eyes fixed on you, every move you made driving him closer to breaking.

and then there was jungwon. quiet, soft, but somehow the most intense. his voice barely above a whisper, filled with a desperation that sent a shiver down your spine. “can you show us your pussy?”

his words hung in the air, freezing everything for a second. the raw hunger in his voice shattered the last bit of restraint in the room.

heeseung’s breath hitched, shifting in his seat, eyes glued to you with frustration and need. “fuck, jungwon,” he muttered, running a hand through his hair, clearly on the edge.

jay leaned forward, chest rising and falling with heavy breaths, voice rough with need. “we’re all fucking done for.”

their eyes stayed locked on you, waiting. the tension suffocated, every breath thick with anticipation. your heart raced, heat building inside you as you reached for the vaporizer. taking a slow hit, you held it in, teasing them with every second before exhaling, the smoke lingering between their stares and your slow, deliberate movements.

you leaned back, spreading your legs, slow and deliberate. the sight of you, open and ready, had them all teetering on the brink. the air felt electric, like it was going to snap at any moment.

“jungwon,” you murmured, voice low, teasing, “you’ve already got all these plants. probably made something to drug me, right? so is something to stop pregnancy really that impossible?”

your fingers toyed with the waistband of your panties before sliding them aside, revealing how wet you were. their eyes darkened instantly, locked on the slickness between your legs.

jungwon’s eyes flicked to yours, the realization hitting him hard. without a word, he stood up, his movements clumsy from the high but filled with purpose. stumbling slightly, he caught himself, already moving toward his workstation. the idea you planted was too tempting to resist.

the room went silent, all eyes on jungwon as he started pulling out plants and supplies with a renewed intensity. heeseung raised an eyebrow, a smirk tugging at his lips. “shit, she’s really got him thinking.”

jake leaned back, crossing his arms, shaking his head. “leave it to y/n to get jungwon of all people worked up like this. he’s high as fuck, but he’s still about to whip up some shit.”

sunghoon narrowed his eyes, clearly intrigued by the sudden change. “what are you cooking up, jungwon?”

jungwon ignored them, his hands moving with precision as he mixed different plants, despite the haze clouding his mind. “if the alkaloid levels are stable… should interact well with the pseudo-estrogens from the herb…” he muttered under his breath, eyes narrowed in concentration. "can’t have the phyto-progestins canceling out the contraceptive properties..."

you watched him, your heart racing at the realization of what you’d set into motion. “jungwon, are you really—”

he shot you a look, a smirk playing at the corner of his lips, hunger burning in his eyes. “you gave me an idea, and now i can’t stop thinking about it.”

heeseung’s voice dropped, “so?”

sunghoon growled in frustration, his patience wearing thin as he took another deep drag from the vaporizer, his body rigid.

“can you fucking make it or not?” he snapped, glaring at jungwon, who was still meticulously checking his data, mumbling shit only he understands and adjusting his tools, as if the urgency in sunghoon’s voice was nothing but background noise.

jungwon, annoyingly calm, ignored the outburst, his fingers tapping away at his device, double-checking every detail. the deliberate slowness was starting to grate on sunghoon’s nerves, his agitation growing with every passing second.

“jungwon,” sunghoon growled again, louder this time, his voice sharp with irritation, “quit fucking around.”

jungwon finally looked up, raising an eyebrow at sunghoon’s growing frustration. taking his time, he wiped his hands on his pants, the calm smirk never leaving his face despite the tension in his eyes.

“yeah,” he said coolly, letting the moment hang in the air for a beat longer than necessary. “you guys can start.”

the room exploded into motion. sunghoon reached you first, his grip on your ankle firm and commanding, sending a jolt through your body. with one strong tug, he pulled you onto his lap, your legs straddling him, your body pressed flush against his. the sudden intensity made your head spin, his touch overwhelming.

before you could catch your breath, sunghoon’s hands gripped your hips, pulling you closer as his lips hovered inches from your neck. “you wanted this, didn’t you?” he growled, voice rough and thick with the hunger he had barely been holding back.

the sudden friction of sunghoon's clothed, rock-hard member rubbing against your soaked panties made your breath hitch. the heat between your bodies was unbearable, and the thin fabric only heightened the sensation. every inch of him pressed hard against you, his grip on your hips tightening as he ground into you with a low growl.

“fuck, you weren’t ready for that, huh?” sunghoon’s voice was rough, his breath hot against your neck as his hips moved in slow, deliberate thrusts, the friction sparking pleasure through you.

a moan escaped your lips, your body trembling as the sensation hit you, your hands instinctively grabbing his shoulders for support. sunghoon’s desperation was clear in the way he held you down, grinding into you with an intensity that left you breathless.

as your body rocked against sunghoon’s, the desperation in the room thickened even more. heeseung’s warm breath trailed up your neck, his tongue drawing slow, deliberate strokes along your skin, sending shivers through you.

the heat from both of their bodies radiated against you, with jake stepping in next, his hands sliding under your shirt, pushing it up and exposing your skin.

jake groaned low in his throat, his mouth closing over your nipple, sucking hard while his other hand kneaded your breast like he couldn’t get enough. his tongue swirled around your nipple, his breath ragged as he whimpered against you, each lick and tug driving you closer to the edge.

heeseung chuckled darkly against your ear, lips brushing just below your jaw. “she likes it when we’re all over her like this,” he teased, his fingers pressing into your waist, keeping you anchored between them.

jay, now half-naked, his eyes dark with lust, growled low in his throat as he kicked off his pants, his hand wrapping around his thick cock, stroking it slowly as he watched the chaos unfold. his gaze locked onto you like he was waiting for his turn, lips parted as he breathed heavily.

“don’t keep her all to yourselves,” jay muttered, his voice gravelly as he stepped closer, his hand tightening around his cock, eyes fixed on you like a predator.

he crouched down next to you, the heat of his body radiating against your skin. he gripped your chin firmly, tilting your face toward him, his voice thick with need. “open up for me, sweetheart,” he growled, the tip of his cock brushing against your lips.

with sunghoon grinding relentlessly into you and jake’s mouth on your chest, your body was on fire. your lips parted instinctively, and jay wasted no time, pressing the head of his cock onto your tongue.

“that’s it,” jay murmured, his voice low and commanding as he slid deeper into your mouth, his hand tangled in your hair to keep you in place. the weight of him filled your mouth, the stretch in your jaw immediate as you moaned around him, the sound vibrating through him.

heeseung’s raspy voice came from behind you, his hands roaming down your waist, tugging at the waistband of your panties. “fuck, look at her take it,” he chuckled, the sound vibrating through his chest as his fingers slipped between your thighs, brushing against your soaked entrance.

sunghoon growled in frustration, his grip tightening on your hips. “don’t just tease her, heeseung. get her ready for my cock.” he ground against you harder, making you whimper around jay’s cock, the heat between your legs becoming unbearable.

“you heard him,” jay muttered, his hand guiding your head as he thrust into your mouth. “get her dripping for us.”

heeseung didn’t waste any time, his fingers slipping under the soaked fabric of your panties, brushing over your sensitive folds. he hissed softly, biting his lip as he felt just how wet you already were.

“damn, you’re ready for us,” he muttered, his voice thick with satisfaction as his fingers slid up and down your slick heat, teasing you, spreading the wetness with each slow stroke. every touch sent jolts of electricity through your body, making you clench around nothing.

sunghoon’s grip on your hips was bruising now, his frustration evident as he tried to hold back, shimmying out of his pants and positioning himself right at your entrance.

he let out a strained whine as the tip of his cock nudged your hot, dripping pussy, the heat from your body scorching. pre-cum was already leaking from him, but he wasn’t about to give in so easily—he wanted to hear you beg for it.

you were on the verge of losing it, overwhelmed by the sensation of jay’s cock sliding in and out of your mouth, sunghoon’s hard length grinding against you, and heeseung’s fingers working their magic on your dripping core.

your moans vibrated around jay’s cock, sending shivers through his body. his head tipped back slightly, jaw tight as he thrust deeper into your mouth, the slick sound of him fucking you filling the room.

jake, still sucking and licking at your chest, pulled back just long enough to glance down at the mess between your legs. “heeseung, move over,” he ordered, his voice low, commanding in a way that surprised you with its authority. “i’m gonna taste her.”

sunghoon reluctantly backed away, giving jake room as he pumped himself, his jaw slack as he stared at you. his eyes roamed over your body, the glistening heat between your thighs, the way your mouth wrapped around jay. “fuck, you’re perfect,” he breathed, voice rough with need.

jake wasted no time, lowering his head between your legs, his breath hot against your soaked folds as he took his first taste. the moment his tongue met your skin, your back arched, a sharp cry escaping around jay’s cock as the intensity hit you all at once.

your body was losing all control, shaking uncontrollably as jake’s tongue worked you into a frenzy. he sucked harder, lips wet and relentless, saliva mixing with your slick juices as heeseung's fingers curled expertly inside you, hitting that perfect spot again and again. the moans you tried to suppress around jay’s cock were still loud enough to drive them wild.

each jerk of your body was involuntary, the pleasure so overwhelming that it was impossible to stay still. jake’s grip tightened on your thighs, holding you in place as he devoured you, his tongue flicking and sucking in a rhythm that had you teetering on the edge.

every stroke of his tongue was more intense than the last, and your hips bucked against his face as he pushed you higher and higher.

heeseung chuckled low in your ear. “fuck, she’s dripping all over my fingers,” he murmured, his voice thick with lust.

“jake’s eating you out so good, isn’t he? you fucking love it, don’t you? love it when he fucks you with his tongue?” his breath was hot against your skin as his fingers twisted deeper inside you, curling just right, making you tremble uncontrollably. “just let go, baby. come all over jake. we’ve got you.”

jay’s grip in your hair tightened as he thrust deeper into your mouth, his cock hitting the back of your throat. “fuck, yeah… just like that. you’re gonna make me come, shit,” he groaned, his pace quickening, his hips slamming forward.

your spit dripped down your chin, mixing with the sweat covering your skin, the heat of the moment building to an unbearable level.

the sensations were too much—jake’s tongue on your clit, heeseung’s fingers inside you, jay’s cock filling your mouth—your mind was spinning, body on fire, the pleasure crashing over you in waves so intense you thought you might shatter.

your moans vibrated around jay’s cock, and you felt him twitch in your mouth, so close to release.

“fuck, give it to me, cum all over my mouth,” jake growled, his tongue circling your clit faster, sucking harder as his fingers dug into your thighs, pulling you impossibly closer. he didn’t stop, didn’t slow down, even as your body began to convulse, your release imminent. you couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think, as the pleasure hit you like a tidal wave.

and then it hit you—your climax tearing through you with such force that your vision blurred, your body shaking uncontrollably as the pleasure overtook you.

you squirted hard, soaking jake, who groaned with satisfaction, eagerly lapping at the juices spraying from you. your walls clenched tight around heeseung’s fingers, hips bucking uncontrollably against jake's mouth.

the moans that escaped your throat were muffled by jay’s cock as he let out a deep groan, thrusting one final time into your mouth before spilling a thick, overwhelming load down your throat, making you choke. you swallowed, but the struggle was clear, tears streaming down your face as you gasped for air.

that sight—your tear-streaked face, struggling to breathe—ignited something primal in sunghoon. pure possessiveness blazed in his eyes, and suddenly, he was on you. his aggression startled everyone as he shoved jake and heeseung aside, eyes locked on you, filled with a mix of rage and desire.

the impact of your back hitting the floor knocked the breath out of you, the pain only fueling the heat coursing through your body. a low moan slipped from your lips, making the corner of sunghoon's mouth twitch in satisfaction.

he towered over you, his hand gripping his cock as he slapped it against your soaked pussy, the slick sound cutting through the heavy air. “fuck,” he growled, his voice thick with lust. his eyes, dark and wild, locked onto yours as he hovered closer.

"shit, y/n… tell me you want it," he demanded, his voice a low, dangerous growl. "beg for my cock, or you’re not getting it."

his words sent a shiver straight down your spine, the dominance in his voice making your core clench with need. sunghoon’s hands gripped your thighs hard, spreading you wide as his cock teased your entrance, never giving you what you were so desperately aching for.

the tension rolled off him in waves, every muscle in his body coiled tight as he waited—needing to hear you beg.

your breath came out shaky, your body trembling beneath him, utterly at his mercy. “please… please, sunghoon,” you whimpered, your voice barely more than a whisper, but it was enough to push him closer to losing control.

“louder,” he growled, his cock slapping against your soaked pussy again, the contact sending sharp jolts of pleasure through your body. "beg for it like you fucking mean it, y/n."

“fuck, sunghoon, please… i need your cock, i need you inside me,” you cried out, your desperation clear, your back arching toward him as your body begged for more.

"try harder," he snarled, his words making your need even more urgent. without thinking, you hooked your arms around his neck, pulling him into a messy, heated kiss, your lips crashing against his as you mumbled desperate pleas between each kiss.

you couldn’t stop the whimpers that escaped, each one sounding more needy than the last as your tongue tangled with his, his growl vibrating through your body.

“fuck, y/n,” sunghoon rasped against your lips, the taste of your desperation driving him wild. you could feel him trembling as he finally let go of whatever restraint he had left, his cock pushing into your needy hole.

his control vanished in an instant as he thrust into you without any mercy, his cock burying itself so deep that it ripped a sharp gasp from your throat. the stretch was sudden, raw, and perfect. your body trembled, overwhelmed by the intensity, as sunghoon’s grip on your thighs tightened, his fingers digging into your skin while he pounded into you with a brutal, relentless rhythm.

“fuck, your pussy’s squeezing me so tight—shit,” sunghoon whined, his voice rough with need. each thrust came harder than the last, your slick walls pulling him in, wet and hot. it felt like heaven, and sunghoon was completely lost in it, knowing that every second of this was worth it.

“so fucking eager to be fucked, huh? such a slut for cock,” he growled, his hips slamming into yours with every word, each stroke harder, more punishing than the last, making your body rock beneath him as the pleasure and pain intertwined.

“told you i was gonna fuck this pretty pussy first,” he grunted, his hips snapping into yours with a ferocity that left you breathless, unable to do anything but take it.

“this is what you wanted, isn’t it? wanted me to ruin you.” his voice was dark, filled with satisfaction as his eyes bore into yours, the twisted pleasure on his face only fueling the fire inside you as he watched you fall apart beneath him, your moans spilling out uncontrollably, pushing him to fuck you even harder.

he leans down, lips brushing your ear as he growls, “say it—say you're mine. this pussy is mine. gonna let me fuck you whenever i want, huh?” his hand wraps around your throat, not too tight, but firm enough to make your breath hitch.

his other hand grips your hips, pulling you harder onto his cock with each brutal thrust. “you’ll just take whatever i give you, won’t you?”

your body trembles beneath him, his cock slamming deep inside you, hitting spots that made you see stars. “yes," you gasp out between moans,

"fuck, hoon... you're fucking me so good—god, you’re so good,” you cry out, barely able to form the words, overwhelmed by the sensation. your hands claw at his back, desperate for something to hold onto as he wrecks you, his pace merciless.

“shit, listen to you, moaning like a—” he growls, cutting himself off with a hard thrust, his grip tightening around your throat, just enough to make you gasp.

“this is my fucking pussy, got it?” his words send a jolt of arousal through you, your walls clenching tighter around him as he drives into you with reckless abandon.

his cock drags against every inch of your walls, the friction intense, almost too much to bear. the pressure inside you builds fast, unbearably tight.

"fuck, you're close, aren’t you? i can feel you squeezing around me," he hisses, his voice dripping with lust. "swallowing my cock so good... told you i'd fuck you first."

his filthy words push you over the edge, your orgasm ripping through you with blinding intensity. your body seizes beneath him, walls clenching hard around his cock as you scream his name, your mind going blank as the pleasure consumes you.

“that’s it... that’s my girl,” sunghoon groans, his thrusts becoming erratic as he chases his own release, your tight, pulsing walls pushing him to the brink. “gonna fill you up with my cum, fuck—gonna make sure you’re full of it. no one else gets to fuck you like this.”

heeseung kneels beside you, his dark eyes locked on sunghoon for a brief second before they settle on you, hungry, possessive. his lips curl into that signature smirk as he leans in, his face just inches from yours.

before you can catch your breath, he crashes his lips against yours—rough, demanding—cutting off your moans as sunghoon continues to pound into you. his tongue slides against yours, greedy and insistent, before pulling back slightly, just enough to make you whimper at the loss.

"don’t listen to him," heeseung murmurs, his lips barely brushing yours, voice thick and low, like a promise of more. "we’re just getting started, baby. he’s just getting carried away." his words hit you like a shockwave, your body already trembling under sunghoon's relentless thrusts, but your eyes flicker up to meet heeseung’s, drawn to him like a magnet.

your lips part, jaw slack, as your tongue slips out in a silent plea. heeseung's gaze darkens, and he hisses, gripping your chin firmly. "mmh, look at you," he breathes, his lips hovering just above yours, teasing. "such a good girl."

sunghoon's pace is unforgiving, every thrust making your body jerk, your mind spiraling from the overload of sensations, but heeseung’s grip keeps your focus locked on him. he watches you like you’re the only thing that exists, and the control he holds over you makes his smirk deepen.

he leans in, gathering saliva in his mouth before letting it drip slowly down onto your tongue. the moan that escapes you is immediate, uncontrollable, as your body arches, savoring the taste. your eyes roll back, completely lost in the moment.

"fuck, you're filthy," heeseung growls, his thumb brushing over your wet lips. his other hand moves to your neck, fingers lightly tracing the sensitive skin before shoving two fingers into your mouth, making you gag instantly. the obscene sound that comes from you makes both him and sunghoon lose it.

"yeah, keep making those sounds," heeseung seethes, his fingers pushing further down your throat, the guttural, erotic noises you make driving him wild. "you're gonna drive us insane." his fingers press deeper, and you choke, gasping, your body shaking under their control.

sunghoon’s rhythm grows erratic, each thrust harder, more desperate as he watches you gag on heeseung’s fingers. his breath hitches, his body trembling as he slams into you with everything he’s got. the intensity sends your back arching off the floor, every nerve lit up.

jay wastes no time, moving behind sunghoon. his hands grip your hips as he lines himself up, sunghoon now fucking you even deeper. jay’s rough hold keeps you steady, the pressure leaving you breathless as sunghoon drives into you with brutal precision.

sunghoon’s moans turn desperate, guttural, his body on the edge, trembling as he loses himself in the sensation. "shit- what the fuck, you're so good." he groans, his hips snapping against yours, everything about him focused on drawing out every bit of pleasure before he explodes.

and just when you think you’ve hit your limit, jay’s tongue flicks against your ass, teasing, prodding. the sensation rips through you like lightning, and you gag into heeseung’s mouth, unable to stop the filthy, wrecked sounds pouring out of you. heeseung’s fingers tighten on your chin, holding your mouth open, making you choke on the pleasure as he kisses you harder, rougher, more possessive.

"shit, you gonna let jay fuck your ass, baby?" heeseung hisses against your lips, his eyes blazing with lust as he watches you completely unravel beneath them. "gargling on my spit while they fuck every inch of you... you're perfect, aren't you?"

you were a trembling mess, body taken over like a doll for them to use, while jake stood nearby, stroking his cock, eyes glued to the scene in front of him. his hand pumped faster, the slick sound of his own arousal filling the room as he watched sunghoon, jay, and heeseung ruin you.

"y/n, you make me so hard," jake muttered, his voice strained, hand moving quicker. "can't wait to fuck that used-up pussy…"

the moment you gargled around heeseung’s fingers, jay slipped his fingers into your ass, spreading your cheeks wide to give himself better access.

the weed had already relaxed your body anyway, and his fingers moved with ease, stretching you out for what was coming. his groan was low, almost animalistic, feeling how tight you were.

he slapped your ass hard, his voice gruff. "been wanting to stretch this ass wide open. fuck, you can take both of us, right? yeah, you fucking will."

without warning, jay yanked his fingers out and lined himself up, thrusting inside you in one swift motion. your body jolted at the sudden fullness, gasping as your ass clenched around his thick cock. the stretch was intense, so overwhelming tears welled up in your eyes. you tried to shake your head, but heeseung’s grip held you in place, forcing you to take it.

heeseung's fingers slid out of your mouth just as you gasped, your throat raw from the obscene sounds you couldn’t stop making. "oh fuck… jay… shit!" you cried out, voice trembling, body barely able to handle the intensity.

jay moaned loud, hips rolling deeper into you, feeling you clench around him. "shit, it's like you wanna rip my dick off," he growled, hands digging into your hips hard enough to bruise. "fuck, you guys gotta try her ass."

the room was filled with moans, the wet slap of skin on skin, heavy breathing surrounding you. sunghoon never stopped, still pounding into your pussy while jay was deep in your ass. you were stretched so full, every nerve lit up, your body struggling to keep up with the pleasure.

jay and sunghoon moaned together, their voices blending as they fucked you, their cocks rubbing against each other through the thin wall inside you. it was driving you crazy, overwhelming you, pressure building so fast it felt like you were going to burst. you gasped, breath shaky, tears spilling over as you choked out the words, "oh god, hee… please… fuck my mouth."

heeseung sneered, gripping your jaw roughly, forcing your mouth open wider. your tongue hung out, drooling, and the sight of you—wrecked, desperate—made them all groan.

"greedy little slut," heeseung hissed, slapping his cock against your tongue, smearing your spit all over. "you’d let us stuff every fucking hole, wouldn’t you?"

you couldn’t respond, only whimpering, mind fogged with pleasure as tears of frustration ran down your face. jay’s hips snapped harder into your ass, his cock stretching you so much your eyes rolled back. "fuck her mouth, give it to her," jay groaned, his grip bruising as he fucked you like he owned you.

sunghoon wasn’t gentle either, his thrusts deep, punishing. "you love this, don’t you?" he growled, voice thick with lust as he drove into you. "being stuffed like the filthy whore you are? fuck, you’re made for this."

you whined around heeseung’s cock, mouth stretched wide as he shoved himself down your throat without a shred of mercy. he laughed darkly, watching you struggle, gagging on him. "slut," he spat, "just a toy for us to fuck. that’s all you are."

sunghoon’s thrusts became erratic, his grip on your waist tightening as he groaned through clenched teeth. with a final, brutal slam, he moaned loudly, pumping his load deep inside you. the hot cum spilled from your pussy, dripping down to slick jay’s cock as he continued fucking your ass.

sunghoon collapsed to the side, his body spent, but jay never stopped, thrusting relentlessly into your dripping cunt. he yanked you by your weak arms and pulled you to his chest, his cock still driving into you without pause, your tits bouncing in his face as he groaned in your ear, the mess between your legs only adding to the filthy sensation. your body was a mess of pleasure, full and dripping, as jay made sure to keep you stuffed, switching between holes with no hesitation.

jay pulled you into a sloppy, messy kiss, lips crashing against yours, tongue forcing its way in as both of you moaned into each other. the room was filled with the obscene, wet sounds of bodies moving together, relentless, as jay continued fucking you without pause.

"fuck, you're so full of his cum," jay groaned, his hands digging into your hips, pushing you down harder on his cock, the stretch making you cry out.

he spread your ass wider, lips brushing your ear as he hissed, “come on, hee... fuck her ass. she's already stretched, she can take it.”

heeseung wasted no time, moving behind you as sunghoon laid on the floor, spent and panting. his hands gripped your hips hard, cock teasing your ass, still slick from jay. without hesitation, he pushed the tip inside, groaning at the tightness as he worked deeper. “mmh, you're still tight after jay stretched you out,” he growled, voice thick with lust. “you're gonna take every inch of me, aren't you?”

heeseung started fucking your ass with hard, deliberate thrusts, and jake stepped in front of you, his fingers roughly tangling in your hair. he yanked your head back, breaking your kiss with jay, forcing you to look at him, annoyance clear in his eyes. “don't ignore me,” jake snapped, tone low and teasing. “use that mouth, or do i need to fuck your throat to get your attention?”

he tugged harder, guiding your mouth to his cock. “suck,” he ordered, his other hand stroking himself slowly, teasing the tip against your lips. “you're gonna suck me off while they fuck you full.”

your body trembled, struggling to keep up. heeseung pounded your ass, jay still buried deep in your pussy, leaving you breathless. you parted your lips, taking jake’s cock into your mouth as he gripped your hair tighter, pushing deeper. “that’s it,” jake groaned, his hips starting to move. “fuck, my cock tastes good, doesn’t it? been dreaming of fucking your mouth—shit.”

they didn’t let you catch a breath. every gasp, every muffled cry was swallowed by the pace they set, fucking you from every angle. jake’s cock stretched your throat, obscene sounds escaping as heeseung brutalized your ass, and jay fucked your pussy with every snap of his hips, their hands gripping you like they owned you.

jake’s head fell back, a guttural moan escaping his lips. “fuck, your throat’s just as good as your pussy,” he groaned, voice rough.

jake chuckled darkly, tightening his grip on your hair as he thrust deeper into your mouth. “look at you,” he rasped, watching the tears stream down your face as you gagged. “you look like you’re gonna pass out baby, but no chance. i'm not done with you.” he snapped his hips, making you choke, not caring as your throat tightened around him.

heeseung was relentless, fucking your ass with a brutal pace, hands digging into your hips, bruising them. “we're gonna ruin you for anyone else,” he growled, breath ragged. “no one else is ever gonna fuck you like this.”

your body convulsed, another orgasm tearing through you, muscles trembling as you shrieked around jake’s cock. tears streamed down your face, eyes rolling back as the euphoria hit. it felt like your body might break, the pleasure so intense that for a brief moment, you didn’t care if it did.

jay’s hands tightened on your breasts, squeezing hard as his thrusts grew erratic, desperate. “fuck, fuck, fuck!” he screamed, slamming into you one last time, spilling himself deep inside.

his hot release filled you, and his grip on your chest never eased as the aftershocks hit. “fucking take it,” jay growled, slapping your tit hard enough to make you gasp.

as he finally pulled out, panting heavily, thick cum dripped from your pussy, pooling beneath you. your body, completely used, trembled from the lingering sensations, and your mind flickered to jungwon’s concoction, hoping it could handle how filled you were. but you knew there’d be no rest—no, they wouldn’t allow it yet.

as jay shuffled away, completely spent, jake pulled out of your mouth, leaving you gasping for air, your jaw sore, but it wasn’t over. not even close. heeseung pulled you up against his chest, his cock still deep in your ass, your back arching as he adjusted his grip.

his arms wrapped around your trembling, sweat-slick body, holding you tightly against him, your back pressed to his chest. the shift made your tits bounce, your entire body shaking with every breath as heeseung’s lips found your neck, sucking hard, intent on leaving his mark. deep, dark hickeys bloomed on your skin—reminders of his claim.

each time heeseung thrust into you, it felt like he went even deeper, hitting that spot inside that had your vision blurring, moans spilling from your lips uncontrollably. you knew you wouldn’t have a voice left after this. his teeth scraped along your neck, leaving sharp stings followed by the heat of his mouth as he groaned against you.

"baby, you’re wrecking my cock," he growled, voice rough with lust, hips driving into you with brutal precision. "like that? bouncing like a fucking toy, taking all of it."

your body jerked with every thrust, tits bouncing, sweat and cum covering your skin as his grip tightened around you, locking you in place, making sure you felt every inch of him inside, the way he destroyed your ass with every stroke.

heeseung groaned, the sound heavy with need, slamming into you harder. "i’m not stopping until you’re completely fucking ruined."

your knees ached from the hard surface beneath you, your body struggling to stay upright with the relentless pounding. you were overstimulated, mind hazy with exhaustion and pleasure, but jake wasn’t done.

dropping to his knees in front of you, his mouth latched onto your breast, sucking hard enough to make your nipples throb. you cried out, hands gripping his hair, your body shaking, but jake didn’t stop. his mouth trailed down your cum-soaked skin, licking every drop until he reached your pussy.

“fuck, jake, you’re insane,” you moaned, voice breaking as his tongue pressed against your swollen folds. he devoured the mix of cum left behind by sunghoon and jay, his mouth slurping loudly as he cleaned you out. the filth of it sent another wave of pleasure ripping through you, making you shudder.

he was gone—completely lost in eating you out, his moans vibrating against your clit as he licked and sucked with reckless abandon. his hands gripped your thighs, holding you in place as he devoured you, his own cock throbbing against the floor, neglected but hard. he hadn’t even fucked you yet, but he was already a mess, moaning and trembling as he tasted you.

"your pussy tastes so good, look at all that..." jake groaned, his voice muffled as he buried his face deeper, his tongue swirling around your clit before dipping back inside, trying to get every last drop. his desperation was clear, his moans louder, pre-cum was dripping from his cock, smearing against the floor as he rutted slightly, completely lost in you.

he didn’t even register what he was doing when he slid his tongue lower, chasing every inch of you, savoring how soaked you were. your scent, the taste of your cum, the slick warmth—he was drunk on it.

and when his tongue accidentally brushed against heeseung’s balls as he pounded into your ass, jake didn’t hesitate. he licked them, making heeseung hiss and shudder.

"fuck, jake," heeseung’s voice was low, half a growl, surprised but not stopping, his thrusts not slowing for a second. normally, shit like this would piss him off, make him snap, but not now. it actually felt fucking amazing.

"sorry, shit," jake mumbled, barely pulling away from your pussy, his breath hot against your skin. but he didn’t stop, didn’t even slow down, too caught up in everything—your taste, heeseung’s reaction, the way you were trembling beneath him. everything.

"don’t… fuckin’ stop," heeseung groaned, voice rough, almost a growl, his thrusts hitting deeper, harder, his grip tightening around your waist as jake's mouth teased both of you again.

he wasn’t just fucking you now—he was commanding the moment, taking control. his fingers dug into your skin, keeping you pressed against his chest, as he forced jake closer.

and so he did—jake didn’t need to be told twice, but this time, he wasn’t holding back. his tongue worked faster, more deliberate, not just for you but for both of you.

as heeseung kept pounding into you, his movements relentless, he shifted his grip—one arm locking you tight to him, the other burying itself in jake’s hair, gripping it hard.

heeseung tugged with a roughness that made jake moan, the sound desperate, his body shaking as he continued, his sobs of pleasure muffled against your soaked pussy.

heeseung yanked jake's head roughly, pushing him deeper, controlling his pace, and the sharp tug sent jolts of pleasure through jake’s body as he obediently worked his tongue faster, a shudder running through him with every sound you made.

this obviously took jay and sunghoon aback, lounging with jungwon as they watched the scene unfold in front of them. even though they were completely spent, bodies still glistening with sweat, neither of them could tear their eyes away.

they didn’t even find it disgusting—no, it was the opposite. it was captivating in a way they couldn’t explain, something raw and primal that kept them glued to the sight of jake sobbing in pleasure as heeseung fucked you relentlessly.

sunghoon leaned back, his chest rising and falling steadily as he watched, a hint of a smirk playing at the corner of his lips. "fuckin’ hell, didn’t expect that from him," he muttered, voice still hoarse from earlier. jay, on the other hand, stayed quiet, his eyes locked on the way jake's body shook, almost in awe of how intense everything had gotten.

"need to fuck you now please, can i?" jake growled, pulling away from your pussy only to crash his lips against yours, the taste of cum still lingering on his tongue.

you were completely sandwiched between them now—heeseung fucking you from behind, his cock buried deep in your ass, and jake pushing his way into your pussy. the overwhelming sensation had your walls clenching around jake, both of you letting out a moan that filled the room.

you couldn’t think, your mind clouded with nothing but pleasure. jake kissed you again, forcing the taste of cum into your mouth as he rocked his hips into you. "tastes good, baby?" he mumbled, voice rough against your lips.

"that came from your pussy… fuck, you’re such a cum dumpster. gonna take my cum now? let me fill you up too?" his words slurred, babbling as he thrust into you, his hips moving desperately. "shit… you feel.. so fucking good."

jake's forehead pressed against yours, his breath hot and heavy as your moans mixed, mouths barely breaking apart. your eyes fluttered open, desperate to see his face, to see the wrecked look you knew would be there. but as you glanced to the side, your breath hitched in your throat at what you saw.

jungwon stood across the room, casually leaning against his workstation, his hard-on straining painfully against his pants. his face was unreadable, but you could feel the tension radiating off him, simmering just below the surface.

his eyes were locked on you, watching every movement, every moan, like a predator waiting for the right moment to pounce. you could already imagine the possessive thoughts racing through his head, the silent promise that when it was his turn, there’d be no sharing.

but it wasn’t just his stare that had you frozen—it was the objects in his hands. a vial of green liquid in one, and a soft pink silk restraint in the other. the realization hit you hard, your stomach tightening as your gaze flicked to the vial. jungwon noticed the recognition in your eyes, and his lips curled into a faint, eerie smile, almost psychotic, before disappearing just as quickly. it sent a shiver down your spine.

the vial glinted ominously in his hand, that twisted smile still playing on his lips as he stood there, patient and watching.

before you could fully process the threat that hung in the air, jake grabbed your chin roughly, forcing your eyes back to him. "i’m the one fucking you right now," he growled, his voice sharp, possessive.

"look at me." his lips crashed against yours, biting down hard on your bottom lip, as if punishing you for daring to focus on anyone else. his hips snapped harder into you, the brutal force of it making your body jolt, your pussy clenching around him involuntarily.

"focus on me," jake muttered against your lips, his words slurring as he drove into your overly sensitive pussy. "i’m tired of you looking at everyone else... you wanted me first, didn’t you? this tight little cunt is mine right now. you feel that? feel how fucking deep i am?" his hand slid down to your waist, pulling you harder onto his cock, making you gasp. "don’t even think about him, you hear me?"

his voice was rough, a snarl on the edge of breaking as he babbled, his need for control overwhelming. every thrust was possessive, reminding you that in this moment, jake owned you, and he wanted every inch of you to know it.

"do you want it? want my fucking cum?" he groaned, his pace growing desperate, each snap of his hips more erratic than the last.

"holy shit, she's squeezing me," heeseung panted behind you, his voice tight with strain as your ass clenched around him. he was close, but he wasn’t ready to let go yet.

there was an unspoken agreement between them all—no one would leave your pussy empty when they came. with a growl of determination, heeseung suddenly pulled out, leaving you trembling, whimpering at the sudden emptiness.

what he did next knocked the breath out of you.

"oh no—fuck, heeseung, you’re not serious," you gasped, your voice hoarse from overstimulation and exhaustion. tears welled in your eyes as he lined himself up next to jake’s cock.

and before you could brace yourself, he pushed inside alongside jake, both of them filling you at once. your walls stretched impossibly tight around their cocks, the heat of their bodies overwhelming, their movements rough and synchronized.

"she feels even better like this," jake groaned, his head falling back as the two of them moved together, their cocks rubbing against each other inside you. the stretch was unbearable, the sensation of being split open making your body writhe in overwhelming pleasure and pain, your voice cracking as you gasped for air.

"fuck, you're ripping me," you cried, your body convulsing, caught between pleasure and agony as they took you to your limit. each thrust was deeper, rougher, their hands gripping your body like they owned you completely.

"you can take it," heeseung growled, his fingers digging into your hips, pushing himself deeper. "fuck, yeah." his voice dripped with satisfaction, his eyes rolling back as your pussy clenched around both of them, your body greedily taking every inch. beside him, jake’s thrusts became more frantic, hips jerking as he fucked you with reckless abandon, lost in the overwhelming heat and tightness.

the room was filled with the wet slap of skin, their heavy breathing, and your broken cries as they used you, driving your body to the edge over and over again. they weren’t going to stop until you were completely, utterly ruined.

"mmh, fuck-" jake shudders as he gasped, "i can't—fuck, i think i'm gonna—" jake's words faltered, his body trembling violently as he teetered on the edge, completely overwhelmed. his movements became sloppy, his mind clouded by nothing but lust, barely able to keep pace.

heeseung noticed immediately. his hand shot out, wrapping tightly around jake's throat, choking him hard. "don't fucking stop now, keep fucking her," heeseung commanded, his voice dripping with authority as jake gasped, eyes wide as the pressure cut off his air. instead of pulling away, jake’s body reacted, cock twitching inside you, the choke sending him deeper into a haze of raw, lust-fueled pleasure.

you moaned, voice ragged, as you watched jake gasp for air, heeseung’s grip firm around his throat. the sight alone fueled the fire inside you, every part of you spiraling into filthy ecstasy.

"shit, jake, you like that? heeseung choking you? you slut." you teased, barely able to get the words out between your own desperate moans.

before you could say more, jake’s hand flew up, slapping you sharply across the face—not hard enough to hurt, but enough to send a stinging heat across your skin. your head snapped to the side, the sharp pain blending with the overwhelming pleasure, your walls clenching around them as you cried out, feeling the wetness dripping down your thighs.

his fingers gripped your chin roughly, pulling your face back to his, eyes blazing with an almost feral intensity. "open," jake growled, voice dark and commanding. without hesitation, you opened your mouth, tongue out, trembling as your body rocked between their brutal thrusts, completely at their mercy.

he leaned in closer, breath hot against your lips as his gaze bored into yours. "who’s the slut?"

"wanna say that again?" jake sneered, his grip on your chin tightening, his face inches from yours, daring you to challenge him. the heat of his breath mixed with the raw intensity in his eyes, made your heart pounded in your chest as you struggled to catch your breath.

but you couldn’t resist. a smirk tugged at your lips, defiant even as you quivered between them. "yeah, you're still a slut," you spat out, voice breathless but full of challenge.

jake’s eyes darkened, the tension thick as he held your gaze for a moment, a dangerous smirk spreading across his face. without a word, he grabbed your hair, yanking your head back, exposing your throat to him.

"you’re gonna fucking regret that," he hissed, his free hand sliding down your body, nails digging into your skin as heeseung’s relentless thrusts had you seeing stars.

jake’s grip on your hair was ruthless, pulling your head back to the point where your neck ached, but the pain only heightened the intensity coursing through you.

his words dripped with menace, sending a shiver of excitement straight through your core. you couldn’t help the gasp that escaped your lips, the sharp pain mixing perfectly with the pleasure as your body responded to both of them in ways you couldn’t control.

"regret it?" you managed to rasp out, voice shaky, taunting. "i fucking doubt it."

heeseung chuckled darkly behind you, his chest pressed against your back as his thrusts grew harder, slamming into you with a brutal force that made it impossible to stay quiet.

"she’s got a mouth on her," heeseung growled, his voice low and rough in your ear, his fingers digging into your hips, making sure you couldn’t move, couldn’t escape from the relentless pleasure he was giving you.

jake’s hand slipped from your chin to your throat, squeezing just enough to make your breath catch. his other hand slid down your body, fingers finding your clit, rubbing it in slow, teasing circles.

the combination of his choking grip and the overwhelming sensation between your legs made your mind go blank for a moment, all coherent thought replaced by the raw heat of ecstasy.

"we’ll see how long that attitude lasts," jake growled, fingers pressing harder on your clit, sending jolts of pleasure that had you twitching, your body betraying you.

you tried to hold back the moans, to keep some semblance of control, but it was useless. between the two of them, you were at their mercy, every nerve ending on fire, pushing you closer and closer to the edge.

heeseung’s breath was hot against your ear as he leaned in, voice dark and teasing. "let’s see who’s the slut now."

jake's hand tightened around your throat, cutting off your air just enough to make your pulse race even harder. his eyes were wild, almost crazed as he watched you struggle to hold back the moans that threatened to spill from your lips.

"go ahead," he taunted, his fingers still working your clit mercilessly. "i want to hear you beg for it."

your breath came out in shaky, broken gasps as you fought for control, but the pleasure was too much.

heeseung’s brutal thrusts from behind were relentless, hitting that perfect spot deep inside you with every thrust, driving you closer and closer to the edge. you could feel the heat building in your stomach, spreading through your entire body like wildfire, your legs trembling beneath their assault.

"fuck, she’s close," heeseung grunted, his voice rough, his grip on your hips so tight it was sure to leave bruises. "you feel that, jake? she’s struggling." god, the way they were talking to each other made you moan, it's like

"yeah, se's close," jake growled, loosening his grip on your throat just enough to let you gasp for air before squeezing again, making your head spin. "but i want to hear her say it."

jake’s grip tightened just enough to make your breath falter, his eyes locked on yours, daring you to disobey. "say it," he hissed, his voice low and dangerous. "say you’re a fucking slut."

your body trembled, so close to the edge that every part of you ached, desperate for release. but you bit down on your lip, holding back the words, refusing to give him what he wanted, like the brat you are.

heeseung’s chuckle against your ear was dark, mocking. "stubborn, huh?" his thrusts grew sharper, harder, sending jolts of pleasure through you that made your legs weak. "you’re gonna break sooner or later, baby. might as well just say it."

jake’s fingers worked relentlessly on your clit, teasing you, pushing you further into the haze of pleasure and pain. "we’re not letting you come until you say it," he taunted, his voice thick with lust. "tell us what you are."

tears welled in your eyes, the overwhelming sensation of their touch and the relentless pace of heeseung’s thrusts making it harder, you could feel yourself about to explode, every nerve on fire, the knot in your stomach was almost painful.

"come on," jake pressed, his grip on your throat loosening enough to let you catch your breath before squeezing again. "say you’re our slut. say it."

the tears finally spilled over, your body trembling violently between them, unable to hold back anymore. your voice came out broken, shaky, and desperate. "i’m… i’m your slut," you choked out, barely able to get the words past the sobs wracking your body.

"louder," heeseung demanded, his thrusts slamming into you with brutal force, making you cry out. "fucking mean it."

"i’m your slut!" you cried, voice hoarse, tears streaming down your face as you gave in completely, the shame and desire mixing into one overwhelming sensation. "please, i’m your fucking slut—just let me come, please!"

with one harsh grip to your chin, jake forced your jaw open, eyes dark with lust as he spat into your mouth, just like heeseung had done earlier. the warm sensation hit your tongue, and instead of recoiling, a wicked grin tugged at the corners of your lips.

you swallowed it down without hesitation, staring up at him, that filthy smile only growing wider, more dangerous. it drove jake wild, his lip caught between his teeth as he fought back a groan.

it drove jake fucking insane. his lip caught between his teeth as he tried to stifle a groan, but it escaped anyway, raw and guttural. "fuck, hee, did you see that?" he growled, his eyes burning with something darker as he looked over at heeseung. "she fucking loves it. look at that smile—one dick ain’t enough for her."

jake’s fingers tightened around your chin, his dark gaze never leaving yours. "she’s fucking gone," he hissed, voice desperate as his cock plunged in and out of you, the wet sounds of their bodies pounding into you echoing around the room. "she can’t even think anymore."

"gonna fuck your brain into mush," heeseung groaned, without hesitation, his teeth sank into your skin, biting hard, sending sharp waves of pleasure-pain through you. the mixture of sensations—his bite, jake’s relentless thrusting, the overwhelming pressure—had you completely at their mercy, body trembling uncontrollably.

jake was no gentler, his hands rough as they grabbed your tits, squeezing before biting down harshly on one, sucking with a feral need. "shit, shit—you’re sucking me dry," he moaned, words slurred as his movements grew more erratic, nearing his breaking point.

their cocks drove into you in a perfect, punishing rhythm, every thrust slamming deep, pushing you beyond your limits you could feel your walls breaking.

your body shook with overstimulation, every nerve ending on fire as they chased their own release, using you for their pleasure. heeseung’s grip on your hair tightened, his breath hot against your neck, his thrusts becoming harder, more frantic.

"spoiled brat," jake growled, his voice thick with lust as he slammed into you, hands gripping your hips hard enough to leave bruises. "you gonna cum again, huh? you wanna fucking cum? do you even deserve it?"

"jake- yes! please—i’m gonna—oh god, fuck!" you cried out, voice a broken, desperate moan, your body trembled violently, overwhelmed, your mind drowning in the pleasure completely. your climax building impossibly high, threatening to tear you apart.

"oh fuck, baby, you're gonna make me—" heeseung groaned, his voice shaky as he lost control, hips slamming into you with brutal intensity.

jake came first, his body jerking violently against you as his thrusts grew erratic, his release flooding your already overstimulated pussy. his mouth hung open, eyes rolling back, groaning loud as pleasure overtook him.

"fuck—i’m cumming, shit, y/n," he panted, his hips stuttering as he emptied himself into you, the heat of his cum filling you completely.

as jake lost himself, heeseung was right behind. a harsh, guttural sound tore from his throat, raw and animalistic, sending shockwaves through you. his hands gripped your hips with bruising force, your body jerked violently between them.

heeseung’s hand clamped over your mouth just as the loudest, most desperate scream escaped your lips, making your body thrash beneath them. but he held you down, his other hand gripping tightly as both he and jake filled you, their cum mixing and spilling out, hot and thick. the sensation of being so completely used, so utterly claimed, sent your mind spiraling into a haze.

even when they stopped thrusting, both of them still buried deep inside you, your body kept trembling. your eyes remained shut, your chest heaving as small, broken whimpers slipped from your swollen lips. you were wrecked, every nerve buzzing with overstimulation, your mind lost in the pleasure and exhaustion of being used.

jake and heeseung stayed still, panting heavily, their bodies pressed against yours as they soaked in the aftermath. you lay limp between them, your pussy pulsing around their softening cocks, completely spent.

"shit, heeseung, look at her," jake muttered, his voice hoarse, hand trailing down your trembling body. "so pretty." the room was heavy with the scent of sex and sweat, your body quivering as you slowly came down from the high, too exhausted to even open your eyes.

they both carefully pulled out of you, slow and deliberate, but the second they did, thick streaks of cum spilled from your overstretched pussy, dripping down your thighs in a messy display of just how ruined you were. your body collapsed back into heeseung’s lap, legs trembling, trying to catch your breath.

barely conscious, your eyelids fluttered, blinking through the fog of exhaustion. jake, equally drained, toppled over you, pressing his weight down, letting out a satisfied groan. heeseung chuckled, the sound raspy and low, wrapping his arms around your waist, holding you both close.

“you two are gonna kill me,” heeseung murmured with amusement, burying his face in your neck, breathing in the scent of sweat and cum. jake snuggled against you, his face nuzzling into your chest, his breathing slowing, completely spent and content.

"fuck, that was insane," jake muttered sleepily, his voice barely a whisper, still pressed against you. heeseung hummed in agreement, his grip tightening around you both.

the three of you lay there, bodies tangled, sticky and sweaty, but none of it mattered.

or maybe it did matter—for jungwon, who had been watching from the sidelines, his brain already plotting, imagining how he would reduce you to a moaning mess next. they already gave quite the show, and his eyes had been glued to you the entire time, impressed at how you’d managed to take almost all of them. but jungwon had more in store for you, much more.

jay, sensing the moment was winding down, had slipped away during the chaos, only to return with pillows and a blanket. his usually cocky demeanor was softened by the care he took in handling them.

"got you these," jay murmured as he carefully slid the pillows under your head, draping the blanket over your exhausted, sweaty body, covering both you and the guys who clearly had no intention of pulling away yet.

his movements were unexpectedly gentle, the usual edge in his demeanor replaced with something softer, more tender. you managed a quiet, breathless "thank you," eyes fluttering shut as a content sigh escaped your lips. he ruffled your hair lightly, the gesture almost foreign coming from him. you looked up at him, half-surprised, and for a moment, you could swear there was a faint blush creeping up his cheeks as he grew sheepish under your gaze.

before you could process it further, sunghoon, who had been quietly watching from the sidelines, knelt beside you. his movements were slow and careful as he wiped you down with a warm cloth, the sensation soothing on your overworked skin. his touch was so light, deliberate, as if he was afraid to overwhelm you after everything you’d been through. "you did amazing," he whispered, his voice calm and reassuring, his fingers brushing delicately over your skin.

but he couldn’t help the subtle roll of his eyes when he glanced over at jake, who had practically buried himself deeper into your chest, looking completely content. "always the clingy one," sunghoon muttered, though there was a soft smirk tugging at his lips as he continued to clean you up, the contrast between jake’s possessive hold and his own quiet attentiveness making the moment feel almost too surreal.

jake, still nestled against you, let out a soft laugh, his arm draped lazily over your waist. "how’re you feeling?" he asked, voice playful, but his eyes betrayed genuine concern as he looked up at you, his face soft and a bit unsure.

"fucked—literally," you mumbled with a small, tired smile. "but in a good way."

heeseung chuckled behind you, his chest pressing against your back as he held you close, his breath steady. “yeah, we didn’t go easy on you, did we?” he teased, placing a soft kiss on the back of your neck. "but you took it like a pro."

sunghoon, still gently wiping you down, smirked at your response. “we’ll go easier next time,” he promised, though the gleam in his eyes made you highly doubt that.

jake, his cheek pressed against your chest, suddenly tensed, his smile faltering. "hey… uh, about what i said earlier," he began, his voice softening, the playful edge gone as he looked up at you.

"i didn’t mean it like… like you’re actually a slut. i just—" he stammered, the flush in his cheeks deepening as he scrambled to explain himself. "you know what i mean, right? like, you’re not literally—"

you couldn’t help but smile at how flustered he was getting, his usual cocky demeanor replaced with a rare moment of awkwardness. "i know, jake," you reassured him, running your fingers through his hair, trying to ease the tension.

"yeah, but you are… i mean, you were… in that moment," jake continued, still stumbling over his words, his face reddening more as he tried to justify himself.

your brow quirked up, amusement dancing in your eyes. "really, jake? now you’re shy? when you’ve been trying to fuck me this whole time?" you teased, running a hand lazily through his hair. "where’s all that cocky energy gone?"

jake groaned, burying his face deeper into your chest, clearly embarrassed. "shut the fuck up," he mumbled, his voice muffled against your skin, his fingers gripping your waist a little tighter.

"it just feels different, alright?" his words came out in a rush, like he was annoyed with himself for even having this conversation.

he shifted again, still holding you close, and you could feel the tension melt away as he relaxed into your embrace. "fuck," he muttered, almost to himself, his voice quieter now.

"i dunno why, but it just… i just really fucking like this." he sounded so out of character, the way he was practically clinging to you, like he couldn’t get close enough.

you smirked, amused by his sudden vulnerability. "so, you’re saying you’re soft now?" you teased, brushing your fingers against his jaw, making him groan again, clearly frustrated.

"shut up," jake repeated, this time more flustered, his face buried against you. "it’s not like that. i just—shit, i don’t know." he sighed, his voice dropping lower, almost vulnerable. "just… don’t fucking move, okay?"

heeseung, hearing all of this, chuckled softly against your ear, his grip still firm around you. "guess the tough guy act’s wearing off," he teased, making jake groan louder, his face buried against your chest, clearly embarrassed but unwilling to let go. you could feel jake’s heart pounding against you, his arms tightening as if he needed the comfort of your warmth.

jungwon, still standing by the counter, had been watching the entire interaction with quiet intensity. there was something heartwarming in his gaze, but it was masked by a slight irritation that he couldn’t shake—he’d been pent up, just like the others, but every single one of them had managed to get their turn with you while he was left waiting. he let out a low hum, his eyes meeting yours for a brief second before he pushed off the counter and approached with slow, deliberate steps.

“don’t worry,” jungwon said, his tone calm but laced with a sharp edge. "i’m not evil enough to fuck you after all that." despite the reassuring words, there was an unmistakable intent in his voice, something that made your pulse quicken even in your exhausted state.

"but first..." his gaze flickered down to the vial he’d been holding this whole time, the faintest of smiles tugging at his lips. "there’s something we need to take care of."

"open," he instructed, his voice commanding, impossible to ignore. despite your body’s exhaustion, your lips parted as he stepped closer, the small green vial gleaming in his hand. before you could protest or question what it was, he tipped the vial to your lips, forcing the bitter liquid into your mouth.

the moment it hit your throat, you gagged, instinctively trying to reject the sharp, acrid taste. but jungwon’s hand was firm, cupping the back of your head as he tilted the vial further, making sure you swallowed every drop.

"you’re not wasting a single bit, unless you wanna have problems guessing who the father is," jungwon murmured, his voice smooth but unyielding as you coughed, struggling to swallow the rest. the bitterness clung to your tongue, your eyes watering from the taste, but jungwon didn’t release you until he was sure you’d swallowed every last drop.

as you gasped for air, wiping at your mouth, jungwon’s gaze stayed locked on yours. "good," he murmured, his thumb brushing over your lower lip to catch a stray drop of the liquid. "you’ll thank me later."

the frustration on his face made you feel guilty, and you frowned, seeing how tense he still was.

"shit, won... sorry i couldn’t—" you started, your voice weak and shaky, but jungwon shushed you softly, his expression softening.

his fingers gently swept your messy hair away from your face, brushing it back with unexpected care. "it’s okay," he murmured, voice calm as his fingers tucked a strand behind your ear. "take a break. you’ve done enough."

then, just as you began to relax, jungwon leaned in closer, his breath hot against your ear. his tongue slid sensually along your earlobe, sending an unexpected shiver down your spine. his voice, low and dangerous, whispered only for you to hear, "because you’re gonna fucking need it."

the shudder that ran through your body was involuntary, your mind racing at the implications. "i’ll take care of the rest," jungwon added, his thumb brushing over your cheek in a rare show of gentleness. the commanding edge in his voice had faded, replaced by a calm so unnerving it almost felt like a warning.

he wasn’t done with you yet, not even close.

“y’all still smoking?” you asked, your voice hoarse, eyes drifting toward jay and sunghoon. only now did you notice just how high they were, both of them lounging in their own hazy world. it made sense why they’d been so gentle while taking care of you—they were absolutely fried.

their movements were slow and lazy, the drugs in their systems clearly still working through them. but as your gaze shifted to jungwon, it became clear he was just as high, though he tried harder to hide it.

his posture was tense, grip still tight around the pink silk restraint in his hand—he hadn’t let it go once. the sharpness in his eyes was slightly dulled by the haze, like he was trying to stay in control despite the obvious hit he’d taken.

heeseung sighed, gently trying to move jake off you, but the weight of both you and jake had him pinned. he could feel a low jealousy bubbling up, watching jake nestled so peacefully against your chest, completely oblivious to everything else. heeseung muttered, “come on, man,” his legs starting to go numb.

“sorry,” you mumbled, shifting slightly, and immediately, the soreness between your legs made you wince. your pussy throbbed from the earlier overstimulation, and the sticky remnants of their cum clung to your skin, making the discomfort impossible to ignore.

jay, noticing your wince, shot you a lazy grin. “didn’t want to clean you up just yet, considering jungwon still has plans…” his voice was casual, but the implication hung in the air, sending a shiver down your spine.

jungwon stood nearby, taking a long drag from the vaporizer. despite how new he was to it earlier, he seemed way too comfortable now. his brows furrowed slightly, deep in thought, though his eyes flickered toward you with a sharp, unreadable look.

“it’s fine,” jungwon finally said, voice calm but with an edge that sent a shiver down your spine. “i can wait… as long as she can handle what’s coming next.” his lips curled into a tight smile, a contrast to the calmness in his voice, and the anticipation in his words made your heart race.

sunghoon, moving slowly like he was floating, took the vaporizer from jungwon and inhaled deeply. without a word, he walked over to you, his hands gentle as he helped you sit up despite the soreness.

before you could react, he leaned in close, pressing his lips to yours, shotgunning the vapor into your mouth. the warm, calming sensation filled your lungs, and your body immediately began to relax, melting into the moment.

“there we go,” sunghoon murmured softly, brushing a strand of hair from your face. your head tilted back as the tension drained from your muscles. “thought it would help.”

you managed to raise an eyebrow, despite the glossy haze in your eyes and the lazy smile spreading across your lips. "what’s gotten into you guys?" you asked, voice soft and teasing, "i swear, i’m not used to this."

"you just gave us the best fucks of our lives," sunghoon replied, his voice low and teasing as he leaned back slightly, watching the lazy smile play on your lips. his eyes held that same mischievous glint, but now, they were filled with something more, something raw and satisfied.

he trailed his fingers gently over your thigh, his touch soft but deliberate. "you didn’t think we’d just let you crash after that without making sure you’re taken care of, did you?"

the vapor worked quickly, easing the aches and discomfort from your body. you felt your mind fog over slightly, the haze blending with the lingering exhaustion.

“water?” heeseung’s voice broke through the haze as he knelt beside you, holding a bottle out. his gaze softened as he unscrewed the cap. “slow sips,” he urged, bringing the bottle to your lips.

you nodded weakly, the cool water sliding down your throat, refreshing and soothing.

“better?” heeseung asked gently, his hand resting on your back, his touch careful.

“i’m really loving this attention, not gonna lie,” you teased, a tired smile pulling at your lips despite the exhaustion weighing on your body.

heeseung chuckled softly, handing you the bottle. “you earned it.”

jay, lounging nearby, gave you a playful wink, while jake, who was sprawled out next to him, laid face down on the one and only sofa in the station, his hands dangling over the edge, completely zonked out.

sunghoon, still close by, smiled at you, leaning in slightly. “you love being spoiled, huh?”

you laughed softly, feeling the tension in your muscles start to ease. “who wouldn’t?” you replied, the warmth of their attention slowly pulling you back from the brink of exhaustion.

then jungwon’s voice cut through the light atmosphere, drawing everyone's attention. “i…” he began, like he wanted to say something but held back, taking another slow drag before exhaling.

“nevermind, rest for now,” he continued, eyes locking onto yours. “the concoction i gave you will work, so don’t worry about getting pregnant. you were smart for thinking ahead about that.”

he paused for a moment, his gaze lingering on you, lips curling into a small smile that hinted at something more. “but you’ve got an appointment with me tomorrow.”

the casual tone of his words did little to mask the seriousness behind them. the others exchanged glances, the atmosphere shifting as curiosity and anticipation filled the room.

“i’ll make sure everything’s taken care of,” jungwon added, taking another drag, eyes never leaving yours. “so just rest… for now.”

“you’re smoking a lot,” you murmured, eyeing the vaporizer in his hand as he took another slow drag. despite his calm demeanor, the bulge straining in his pants told a different story.

jungwon leaned back, exhaling slowly, his eyes flickering over you with a casual intensity. “i have to,” he replied simply, though the tightness in his voice betrayed his calm exterior. his arousal was impossible to ignore, his hard-on evident.

you could feel the tension building again, though it was clear jungwon was holding back—for now.

if only you knew what he had in store for you next.

the peaceful moment was shattered by the sudden crackle of the intercom, piercing through the haze and making everyone jolt in place. the lazy, satisfied calm that had blanketed the room instantly vanished, replaced by the cold slap of reality.

"attention crew, this is HQ,” a stern voice announced, cutting through the tension. “we’ve detected irregularities in the ship’s systems. a team inspection is required immediately.”

you blinked, still dazed, trying to process the situation, your sore body sinking deeper into the blankets. sunghoon, high as fuck, let out an exasperated groan, rubbing a hand over his face as he sat up, his previously calm, gentle demeanor turning sour.

“fuck, can’t believe i have to steer while i’m this baked. they’re gonna get us all killed.” his eyes were still half-lidded, the effects of the vaporizer clearly not having worn off.

jay, equally stoned, gave a lazy grin, though it faltered as the weight of the announcement settled in. “of course this shit happens right now,” he muttered, leaning back and stretching, trying to look more alert than he actually was.

heeseung sighed, shifting carefully to disentangle himself from you and jake, his legs long gone numb from holding both of you. “yeah, well, it was good while it lasted,” he grumbled under his breath, rolling his shoulders as he got up.

"fuck reality," jake muttered, still half-asleep, his face nestled in your chest, clearly unwilling to move. “i was finally getting comfortable.”

“right?” sunghoon groaned, reluctantly pulling himself to his feet with exaggerated slowness. “i swear, if i have to fly this ship while feeling like this, we’re definitely crashing into the moon. and then what? i die high as shit.”

jay snorted, rubbing his eyes. “well, at least you'd go out happy. i have to figure out diagnostics, and i’m still seeing stars.” he dragged a hand through his hair, clearly unenthused about the sudden shift from relaxation to responsibility.

jungwon, still leaning against the wall with the vaporizer in hand, took a slow, deliberate drag, his grip tightening slightly on the pink silk restraint he hadn’t let go of. despite the haze still lingering in his gaze, his sharp intensity remained. “can’t we just pretend we didn’t hear them? five more minutes?” he suggested dryly, a small smirk pulling at his lips.

heeseung rolled his eyes, already slipping back into commander mode despite the lingering effects of the smoke. “nope. get your shit together. sunghoon, you’re at the helm. jay, diagnostics. jake—wake up and run an external scan. jungwon—" he paused, catching jungwon’s focused gaze and the subtle smirk on his face. “you know what to do.”

jungwon exhaled slowly, blowing smoke from his lips as he pushed off the wall. “yeah, yeah. i’ll check the power core,” he said smoothly, though the hint of frustration was clear. his eyes flicked to you, the heat still simmering beneath his calm exterior. he pocketed the restraint, a silent promise that this wasn’t over. “you’ll rest, i’ll make sure everything’s handled.”

jay let out another exaggerated sigh, shaking his head. “of course. i was this close to being fully horizontal again.” he gestured dramatically, the high still evident in his sluggish movements. “and now i gotta go pretend i know how to fix shit.”

sunghoon nodded toward him, snickering. “at least you’re a scientist. i just push buttons and hope for the best.” he stretched out his arms lazily.

you laughed softly, wincing at the soreness but feeling comforted by the banter. “well, if you guys need me... you can call,” you offered, your voice still raspy but sincere. even though your body felt like it had been through the wringer, you didn’t want to leave them to deal with everything alone. “i mean, not that i’ll be much help right now, but...”

heeseung, now fully in command mode, shot you a soft smile as he bent down to brush a few stray strands of hair from your face. “we’ve got it covered,” he reassured you, his voice calm but firm. “you rest, okay? we’ll handle it.”

jungwon, still lingering near the door, shot you a knowing look. “besides, you’ve got bigger things to worry about,” he said with a sly grin, his fingers tapping the pocket where the pink restraint was tucked away.

the teasing glint in his eyes made your heart race, but you couldn’t help the tired smile that crept onto your face.

"i’ll worry about that later," you muttered, your body finally starting to relax as the exhaustion took over. jungwon’s smirk lingered in the back of your mind, but the soft sheets and the warmth of the blanket wrapped around you pulled you deeper into comfort.

as the sounds of the others prepping for the inspection faded, you let your eyes close. despite everything, you felt a sense of calm knowing they had it covered. and as the weight of sleep slowly settled over you, you realized that whatever jungwon had planned... it could wait.

your breathing slowed, your body finally giving in to the much-needed rest, that sly grin of his the last thing etched in your mind before sleep finally took you.

── .✦⸝⸝ 𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

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[m3l0nfl0at]

Hi, I just wanted to say I enjoy reading ur Kuroo’s stories, the way u portray him is so accurate and y/n is very relatable. I don’t know if u take requests but here’s an idea, what if y/n’s sister has a kid and Kuroo and y/n is babysitting.

And after they finished babysitting they’re having a late night pillow talk about their future domestic life.

juno - t. kuroo

kuroo x f! reader ; fluff, angst, hurt/comfort, no y/n used, reader has a niece, playful teasing, kuroo gets suggestive for like a second but nothing major, future hints for just say yes! timeline, k words

summary ; your sister asks kuroo and you to babysit your niece for the night, which leads to you thinking about the future of your relationship

melons recommended melody ; may you never forget me - temachii

links ; just say yes masterlist and taglist request

Answering your sister’s call was the last thing you expected to do today. Only for her to explain that she wanted you to babysit for a couple of hours. It’s not like you’re not good with children, it's just more that you’re not really the playful type. In what other children at your age had lacked in education, you lacked in imagination. Every time your niece wanted to play you felt guilty for not playing along. Yet for some odd reason your niece loved you? Every time you saw her at your sister’s house she always came running to you like some magnet. However, you hadn’t introduced her to Kuroo just yet. Due to him feeling “an enormous pressure” with you being her favorite and something along the lines of he can’t take your place. You always laughed at his snarky comments like sure, he could take your place as the favorite relative? Yeah right.

“Can I come with you?”, you look over at Kuroo questioningly. You both give each other a blank stare, you confused and Kuroo thinking you didn’t hear him. “Yeah, I thought you were coming with me this whole time?” Kuroo nods unaware that he made that decision. You wave him off, remembering him making a remark yesterday about he’s going to replace you and be the best relative. Kuroo slides right next to you on the couch, kissing your cheek before laying his head on your lap. “I’m kind of scared, your niece seems to effortlessly love you. I think I might have to bribe her to take your spot.” You laugh at him wanting to bribe your niece, truly a conman aura. You start playing with his hair, “Well my niece loves anything I love, so I’m sure she’ll love you too.”

Upon arrival at your sister’s, Kuroo's nerves never once faltered; he knows you talk highly of your niece. What’ll happen if he doesn’t impress her or even worse makes her cry on instinct? Will you break up with him? Realize he’s terrible with kids and then break up with him? Glancing over to Kuroo in the passenger’s seat you see him fiddling with his fingers, a habit he picked up from you. Knowing the feeling all too well you grab his hands, “No need to be nervous we’re just watching my niece. Don’t worry, she’s really well behaved and super smart for her age.” Kuroo nods knowing if anything happens you were right beside him, you laugh. “And you really thought you were going to replace me looking like a nervous wreck? You have a lot to learn my love.”, kissing his cheek as you hop out the car.

Knocking on your sister's door, hearing footsteps and her animals patter beyond the door. Her husband opens the door greeting you and Kuroo before you hear your niece’s footsteps running down the hallway. You bend down as your niece greets you in a big hug, “There she is! Did you miss me?” Kuroo’s heart clenches at the sight of you with your niece. “I have so much to show you and tell you! I got student of the month and I also did this art of me and-“ your niece glances behind you. “Um, who’s that?”, you laugh looking back at Kuroo nodding in his direction letting him know to introduce himself. “I’m Kuroo, I’m your aunt's boyfriend.”, he extended his hand out so she could shake it. She slowly takes steps to him before grabbing his finger and shaking his hand suspiciously.

“Auntie, can he play with us?”, you tap your finger against your chin. Kuroo coughs, interrupting your thoughts, “I guess so.”, you both stick your tongues out at each other. “Alright sis, the dog and cat are fed so just keep an eye on them. Don’t give them any more treats please!”, she glared at you knowing you often bribed them. “As for her, bedtime is at 9:00 since it’s the weekend.”, your niece huffs as you ruffle her hair. “We’ll be back in a couple of hours, thank you both for agreeing to watch the house.”, you nod as you walk your sister to her front door, locking it for safety. Turning around to see Kuroo and your niece staring at each other, you could just feel the awkwardness in the air. “Ok you two, what do you want to do first?” Kuroo looks at your niece shrugging. “Let’s go play in my room!”, you grab Kuroo shaking the nerves out of his shoulders as you follow your niece to her room.

Walking to your nieces room you feel yourself deflate, you hate playing pretend. How could you possibly be so bad at something that wasn’t even real? Your niece grabs multiple character toys before handing some to Kuroo and to you. As she tells you the narrative for her pretend play you look over at Kuroo, seeing him listening intently even wanting to add some plot points. You smile, for someone who was a nervous wreck a couple of minutes ago, he suited this role nicely. Kuroo was always so attentive and patient you knew he would get along nicely with your niece. “Auntie! Are you listening? Stop looking at your boyfriend.”, Kuroo laughs as you look away guiltily, apologizing.

“Ok, now that you’re focused auntie! You’ll be the fairy cat, while Roo is the DJ cat, and I'll be Gabriella, the human.” Kuroo looks at the toy your niece handed you, poking at its feet, giggling. Halfway through playing you decide you were going to excuse yourself to the bathroom. It wasn’t till your niece heard the door click that she put down her toys and looked at Kuroo. “Roo, I think auntie doesn’t really like playing pretend but you’re really good at it.”, Kuroo smiles before he decides to backtrack. “Why do you think that is?”, your niece pulls him closer before whispering in his ear. “She says it’s a secret but I think she just doesn’t know how to pretend.”, she pulls away from Kuroo’s ear before grabbing her toy once again. “But she tries, that’s why she’s my favorite.”, Kuroo takes a mental note to ask you what the secret is later. Ruffling your niece’s hair, “Well thank you for trusting me enough to tell me that.”. She giggles at Kuroo and continues to play pretend with him.

As you go in the bathroom you feel yourself relax, hearing your niece giggling felt somewhat rewarding. Knowing she finally had someone interesting enough to play with was a relief. You knew she would get attached to Kuroo, I mean he often worked with children due to his job. Feeling appreciative for him, you decide to take this time to update your sister on how everything is going so far. Opening the door to go take a picture of the fur babies but instead are met with the sight of Kuroo dramatically playing with your niece. Snapping a picture of that instead, making sure to make it your lock screen when you have time. Watching them from afar, thinking of how your future with Kuroo might look. Taking a moment to imagine a mini combination of you and him walking around your apartment. Thinking of moments like Kuroo holding a baby, Kuroo teaching your kid volleyball, or watching him play with your child from afar. You feel yourself fall deep into the comfort of the moment, just watching how amazing your partner was and continues to be.

Slowly walking away forgetting the task at hand, you softly head downstairs. Kuroo turns around to find your back turned to him and all he can think of is that he hopes you're okay. Snapping back into the moment with your niece as he hears you continuing to head downstairs. You find your sister's black cat laying in its cat tower, giving it strokes on its back. Looking around to find her pet beagle, only to find it also resting in its pet bed. Sending pictures and a text to her, reassuring her to continue having fun because everything was going swiftly. Walking around her house you see a picture of your sister and you as children in her hallway, you falter seeing your parents behind you in the picture. You touch the frame baffled how long ago this picture was from, thinking back to the day. Your parents were fighting but your sister paid them no mind, she was always such an independent thinker. You remember her telling you that they were just dumb adults and to only focus on her and taking a beautiful picture. To end up so different from her, you wonder what went wrong, why you were so…different?

“Auntie! Kuroo says you make the best smoothies! Can you make me one?” You and the pets are disturbed by your niece's booming voice traveling through the house. “Oh did he? You know what since he said that he has to help me make it now!”. Kuroo keeps a pace behind your niece while you stand in front of the staircase, for safety reasons. You peck Kuroo on the cheek, “Which smoothie are you talking about? You’re the one who usually makes me smoothies, handsome.”. Kuroo hugs you from behind as you start looking through the cabinet for a blender. “I’m talking about the chocolate banana one you make for me, when I want a sweet treat.”, you nod remembering that one time you made it for him when he got home from work. To be fair though, chocolate made anything taste good but hearing Kuroo brag about it as if it was the first smoothie he ever had in his life, made your heart beat ten times faster.

“Ok lovie, I’m going to look for the ingredients but when I say cover your ears-”, you demonstrate. Even though she knows how to do an action so simple, you don’t want her to feel alone. “Make sure you cover them because the noise is really loud, okay?”, she flashes you a thumbs up heading to sit down at the table. Kuroo pulls out a chair for her, leaning on the counter top so he can monitor you both at the same time. Your niece gets up to look at all the artwork displayed on the fridge, looking for a specific piece. “Here it is! Look auntie! This is the one I did in class, it’s us!” You stop chopping for a second to look at the artwork she’s showing, bending down to her eye level. “This is such a well drawn picture, lovie. I see you drew my hair nice and pretty!” pointing to the picture, letting her know you understood it. “Oh! You even added little cat ears to us like your toys! I love it, can I take it home with me?” She nods as you give her a hug. Kuroo smiles to himself so hard it hurts, you were so easy to love it was effortless. From your kind personality to your adoring smile, he would never doubt his ability to love you.

You hand the drawing to Kuroo so he could place it by your phone, remembering to take the drawing home with you guys. Kuroo drags your niece to the living room, asking her if she wanted to watch anything as you finished chopping the remaining smoothie ingredients. “Ok lovie, cover your ears!”, you watch your niece cover her ears but unexpectedly you see Kuroo covers his as well. As you start blending, you watch Kuroo get up and place his elbows over your ears. Laughing at how considerate and ridiculous your boyfriend was. Flashing a thumbs up to signify that you finished up blending, Kuroo let’s go setting up three glasses. “Ok lovie, order up!”, your niece comes running to get her smoothie. “Wow, so good! Roo was right, it's delicious!”, you smile looking at the clock seeing it was almost time to put her to bed. “Thirty minutes till someone has to go to bed!”, you pinch her cheek before giving it a quick kiss. “No fair! I felt like I spent no time with you!” you look down sadly, seeing her pout. “Well, I can read you a bedtime story and we can do your night time routine together! Just you and I, no stinky Roo there.” she laughs as Kuroo rolls his eyes.

Making sure to do her whole routine with her as she talked about various topics to the episodes she watched to the things she learned in school. As she’s talking you start to comb her hair, braiding it. You see her in the mirror yawning as you tie off her braid. You help her dust the bed before tucking her in. “Auntie, can you read me something with Roo?” you stop before kissing her head. Nodding, going to go call Kuroo, “My love, I think you’ve officially taken my spot…”, Kuroo grins pulling you into a side hug. “Welp, I told you this would happen. Nothing lasts forever baby, let’s go.”, you tell Kuroo to go ahead while you pick her favorite book. Entering the room hoping you chose correctly. “I know I haven’t read to you in a while lovie, I hope this is still your favorite.”, you pull out the book behind your back. She nods excitedly, “Well it’s my favorite when you read it to me.”. You start getting embarrassed realizing why she liked this book so much, hiding behind the book. “Roo, auntie reads this book the best she does these voices and makes the sound effects and everything!”, Kuroo looks over at you grinning. “Oh does she now? Well I can’t wait to hear it. I’ll hold the book while you read babe.”

You cough, clearing your throat while you shakily read the title. “Auntie, you’re not doing the voice…”, she pouts. Kuroo looks at you seeing how embarrassed you are, “No need to be embarrassed auntie! Please Roo needs to see how awesome of a storyteller you are!” Deciding to put your pride aside you start reading with the voice, hearing Kuroo chuckle at how bizarre you sound. Making sound effects and all, Kuroo thought you were incredibly dorky in an affectionate way. As you finished reading, you saw your niece slowly starting to drift off to sleep, telling her softly goodnight. Lighting up the room with her night lights before exiting her room, shutting the door. As one door closes another one opens, “We’re back! Sorry for coming a bit earlier than expected, we were tuckered out.”. You wave your hands, telling her that it was no problem. You bid each other a goodbye before getting in your car heading home.

Getting home you immediately feel exhaustion take over you, changing clothes and getting ready to sleep. Coming out of the bathroom you see Kuroo dusting the bed, getting ready as well. He meets you halfway before lifting up his hand, expecting a high-five from you. You laugh as your hands meet, “We’re the best relatives ever!”. He grabs you, pulling you into a hug, laughing at his exclamation. Shaking your head and going to lay down on your side, “Tetsu can I be honest with you?”. Kuroo bobs his head, “How bad did I give you the ick while reading that book?”, he laughs and you suddenly feel the urge to crawl in a hole. “I KNEW IT!”, you hid under the covers not wanting to see any sign of life. Kuroo lightly pulls the covers down, “You didn’t give me the ick per say. More like “I got with a major dork.” but I knew you were a dork when we met so I wasn’t too phased.” He kisses your head before pulling you into a cuddle, “You know I think because you’re such a dork that’s why your niece favors you so much.”. Your fingers dance around his chest feeling guilty about getting so much love from your niece. “You know, till this day I really don’t know why I’m her favorite. I can’t even play pretend correctly.”, Kuroo remembers what your niece told him earlier that night. “You know your niece said you had a secret. Care to tell me what it is…?” you look up at him, raising a brow. Trying to think deeply about what secret you told her, only to reach a blank. “Tell me more about this said secret Tetsu?”, Kuroo starts petting your hair.

“She said you had a secret about why you don’t like playing pretend with her.”, you sigh, shaking your head. “I used the word “secret” as an excuse not to dump my trauma onto her.”, still Kuroo starts nudging you hoping you would take the hint to open up. “My parents didn’t really allow me to be a “kid” so I don’t really know how to pretend. I just get a little insecure about it, I mean how does one not know how to play pretend? It’s not even real!”, you laugh at how frivolous it all sounds. Kuroo takes in what you’re saying thinking about your… strange parents. Feeling sympathetic towards you, knowing his parents allowed him some sort of kid-like innocence. Even though his parents had a rocky relationship they never included him, allowing him to focus on friendship and sports. “You can play pretend, that is how we got together in the first place baby.”, you bump his chest playful. “That was a life or death situation, not the same.” You both laugh remembering how you both were so entranced on selling yourself as a couple, years ago. “Don’t think too hard, loving someone like you isn’t complicated. You’re a very caring and nurturing person. Everyone is attracted to a beautiful soul like yours, especially me.”, you roll your eyes.

“You know Tetsu spending today with my niece made me think about us… about having…” Kuroo’s heart stops with each break you take, are you about to say what he thinks you’re going to say? “About having a possible child together someday?” Kuroo felt his heart burst out of his chest, seeing you with your niece being a dork but being oh so kind, he couldn’t help but think of you being a mother. A mini version of each other walking around? Get him a defibrillator, stat. “I mean I know we haven’t gotten married yet and maybe it’s too soon to have children but having a child would be something to start thinking about.” hearing Kuroo’s heartbeat increase as you continue talking. “If it’s a boy, it’ll have your crazy hair or if it’s a girl it’ll have my nose, it makes me think how badly I want that. With you.” You look up to see Kuroo’s face blank, you laugh thinking you’ve broken him. “I know that I don’t come from the best family but I want to be able to give my child an opportunity that I didn’t have, a loving family.”, Kuroo pulls you into a bone crushing hug feeling your sentiment deeper than you could ever know. A loving family, you and him together creating another beautiful life, what more could he ask for? He settles into your shoulder, speech coming out muffled. “You’d be the greatest mother. Seeing you with your niece, I’d never doubt your motherly abilities. You love people so seamlessly and that’s exactly what a child needs.”, you tear up in his arms feeling a sense of peace wash over you. The man you loved, who grew with you these past few years, never once doubted your ability to be a mother.

“So, when do we get started?” you laugh. “No way! You have to marry me first Tetsu.”, Kuroo lifts his eyebrows. “That’s manageable. Expect it soon, always be ready!”, he pecks your lips before you both fall asleep. Kuroo knew he had the ring stashed away in his closet dresser beneath the million novelty ties you got for him each holiday. Truth be told he got that ring after your first official month living together. Living together showed him that he didn’t want to do this life with anyone else but you. This one joke between you was sooner than you think.

divider credit to @/vase-of-lilies, @/bunnysrph, and @/thecutestgrotto

˚ ༘ ೀ⋆｡˚ melon's marginalia: tysm anon for requesting! i try to portray kuroo as accurate as possible so tysm for the reassuring words! i hope all my readers find comfort in my kind of weird girl character because we all deserve some kind of rep. request for just say yes time line are open please consider requesting just like this lovely anon!

taglist: @0tsukie

@m3l0nfl0at on tumblr. All Rights Reserved. Do not steal, copy, or translate any of my works.

[alittlebitofloveliness]

Grew in my Heart

It's finally done you guys!!!! This is my take on a foster Pony au, loosely based on this idea from @freak-l0rd-certifed. It's currently unedited but I'll post it here anyways, and then cross post an edited version on my ao3. @pepsicurtis asked to be tagged when it was done based on a snippet I posted earlier, so here you go. This is part 1, part 2 is fully written and will be up tomorrow.

***************

The lady on the other side of the room is watching him.

That’s okay though. Ponyboy is used to people watching him. Social workers, foster parents, group home staff, police. Everyone watches him all the time but nobody cares, cares for him or about him, so Ponyboy doesn’t mind this lady joining in. He knows he looks weird, with his sticky out ears and the patchy haircut Mr. Fuller gave him and the bruise around his eye. So he understands why this lady is watching him, and doesn't begrudge her for it.  Besides, she looks like a nice lady. Nice ladies don’t usually watch him. If they do they don’t usually look at him with the kindness glowing in the woman’s shining green eyes.

The lady smiles at him and he ducks back into his book, ears burning. She wasn’t supposed to catch him looking.

When he peeks over the top of his copy of Great Expectation a minute later, she’s still watching him, smiling in a way Ponyboy would call amusement if he didn’t know better. He quickly hides again, cursing himself for drawing notice. It’s never a good thing. Never. Better he stay quiet, stay invisible. Invisible kids didn’t get hurt.

He hopes Ms. Summers will come back soon and take him to wherever he’ll be staying next, if only so that he can leave the waiting room, escape from where this nice lady and her nice family are no doubt waiting for them to bring a brand new baby to adopt. Probably one only a few days old, something sweet and cute and new they could love and pamper. Nice people only ever came to the child services offices to pick up babies. Anyone who came to pick up kids was usually about as nice as the people who dropped them off. 

He goes back to his book. Usually it’s easy to escape into the story where he can pretend to be a knight or a hero or anything but stupid, small, unwanted Ponyboy Hewitt, but he can’t seem to concentrate today. It’s not just because of the nice looking lady with the green eyes who keeps watching him, keeping an eye on him the same way she’s been keeping an eye on the three boys who came in with her. His head is also aching something fierce. That last knock from Mr. Fuller was kind of hard. 

Hard enough Ms.Summers thought he should move again anyway.

“Quit fidgeting, Soda,” an authoritative voice from the other side of the room says, and Ponyboy can’t help but glance over. He tells himself it’s because the speaker was kind of loud, but he knows deep down that’s not the case. It’s not because the boy is loud, it’s because he’s cool. He’s a lot bigger than Pony is, and older too, with wavy brown hair and broad shoulders. He could probably look Mr.Fuller square in the face and never be scared, not ever. “We have to show we’re the perfect family or they won’t let us keep Johnny.”

“Really?” The boy who answers has golden blond hair and rosy cheeks with a dimple high in one corner. Pony never really understood what books meant when they talked about eyes twinkling until the boy had pranced into the office a few minutes before, looking like a prince straight from a fairytale. His eyes aren’t twinkling now though: instead, they’re shining with worry. His shadow, a smaller boy with jet black hair and tan skin, looks the same, eyes wide and terrified in his peaked face. “They can’t do that just ‘cause I’m sittin’ wrong, can they mom?”

He turns anxiously to the nice lady who smiles and smooths down his hair.

“Of course not honey,” she soothes, “we don’t gotta prove we’re perfect to keep Johnny, we just gotta prove we love him. And we do.”

She turns her smile on the dark haired boy who flushes and ducks his head shyly, looking unfathomably pleased. Ponyboy swallows hard and looks away, his own ears reddening. It’s not fair for him to hate the dark haired boy, he knows it isn’t, but it doesn’t matter. In that moment, he kind of hates him anyway. 

The woman’s gentle smile has confirmed what he suspected all along. She’s a nice mom, the kind he’s only ever read about in storybooks. She probably kisses those boys goodnight- even the big one, even if he pretended it wasn’t cool- and probably smells like cinnamon and bakes birthday cakes sometimes, puts bandages on cuts, and never slaps them, not ever. 

He wants Ms. Summers to come back. He wants to leave. He doesn’t want to sit here and watch a boy his own age get adopted by the kind of family he wishes he could have more than anything in the world. 

The blonde boy sticks his tongue out at the cool one and makes a fart noise.

“See Darry? They ain’t gonna take Johnny! You’re stupid and wrong!”

“Sodapop Patrick Curtis!” A man Ponyboy assumed must be the nice lady’s husband and the boys’ father boomed, “What have I told you about using that kind of language towards your brother?”

“That it's not how we speak to our family,” the blonde boy, Sodapop, says like he was reading off a teleprompter. Clearly, this was not the first time he’d heard that particular reprimand, “but dad, I was only defending my other brother.”

“Be that as it may,” Mr.Curtis said, “I don’t want to hear that language from you any more.” He sounded stern, but his eyes were still glinting proudly and there was a smile hiding somewhere near the corner of his mouth. Not a scary dad then. A good one.

“Yeah Soda,” the older boy, Darry, grinned, seeming unperturbed by the insult. He was real handsome, Pony thought. If he was Sodapop he’d never call that Darry boy stupid, not ever. “Save that language for socs. Or Two-bit when he’s playin’ poker against Dally.”

Sodapop laughed then, any traces of animosity disappearing, Johnny grinning quietly beside him. 

Ponyboy decides he’s done watching them be happy, and goes to the washroom.

He does his business, standing on tiptoe to reach the sink when he’s done because it’s meant for adults not for kids and there's no footstool. He can’t reach the soap, even when he jumps, so he just settles for rinsing extra long. The paper towel dispenser is also too high to reach so he dries his hands on his pants and goes back to the waiting room. 

“Oh honey, wait,” he doesn’t realize the nice lady is speaking to him until she’s kneeling in front of him, tugging his shirt from where he hadn’t noticed it had gotten twisted and tucked into his pants, pulling it out and smoothing it down nicely, “there you go. All handsome again.”

She smiles, looking like sunshine incarnate, and Ponyboy kind of wants to die.

“Thank you.” He mumbles, sure he must be redder than a tomato, then flees back to his chair on the other side of the waiting room. They’re all watching him now, the nice lady and her nice husband, and the three boys who are now all sitting in a circle on the floor, playing a game of cards. 

He opens Great Expectations to a random page and stares at it hard, trying very hard not to cry. He’s almost seven years old, he’s not a baby anymore. He will not cry just because one lady was nice to him and now her perfect family is staring at him. He won't. 

“Hi!” Suddenly, blonde, beautiful Sodapop is in front of him, grinning like Ponyboy is the best thing he’s ever seen ever, “I’m Soda. Wanna play cards with us?”

He wants to, more than anything, but he knows if he does it’ll just feel worse when they leave and he doesn’t go with them , or when Ms. Summers comes to drag him away to whoever will bother keeping him for the next few weeks, so he can’t.

He shakes his head, unable to actually say no, and Soda deflates, eager grin melting into an unhappy pout, shoulders curling forward, and the twinkle in his eye dimming. He looks like Pony just ruined his whole day with one shake of his head. 

“Ok,” he sighs, dramatic and world weary, and it would seem like an act if his eyes weren’t entirely genuine, “if you change your mind, you can c’mon over anytime. It would be so much more fun with another person.”

He rejoins the other two boys who shoot curious looks Pony’s way, but he ignores them, looking back at his book. He’s not reading though. He can’t. Instead he’s listening to the boys playing cards, wishing more than anything that he could join them.

“I win.” Dark haired Johnny proclaims for the third time and Soda throws down his cards with a dramatic groan, while Darry just laughs. He seems real nice, not like the big boys at the group homes who liked to steal Pony’s books and shove him around. He hadn’t gotten mad at Soda or Johnny even once, not even when they were playing Go Fish and Soda cheated by peeking at his cards. 

“You little shark,” Darry ruffled Johnny's dark hair, the smaller boy flinching a little before leaning into the touch, “how do you keep doin’ that, huh?”

Johnny shrugged. “It’s a secret.”

“You’re cheatin’!” Soda accused.

“Am not!”

“Are too! No one wins as much as you.”

“I’m just good at cards without cheatin’.”

Soda huffed. “You’re lucky you’re my brother now or I’d fight you.”

“I’d win.” Johnny boasts, and suddenly he looks fierce, chin jutting and eyes fiery, like every kid in every home who fought grownups and just ended up beaten down worse. 

“That’s enough,” Darry pulls the two apart, practically picking them each up with one hand, “quit arguin' or I’m putin’ the cards away.”

“No!” Soda throws himself to the ground, arm draped dramatically across his forehead, “I’ll die of boredom!”

“Then sit up and be good,” Darry tells him, and Soda scrambles to do as he’s told. Pony feels his own spine straightening. It’s just because he’s tired, he tells himself.  It has nothing to do with wanting Darry to look at him with the same approval he looks at Soda and Johnny with. He needs to stretch out a bit, that’s all.

“Y’know,” Darry says, disarmingly casual, easily shuffling the cards the way Pony always wanted to but could never manage, the movement too deft for his clumsy fingers, “there's so many more games we could play with four players.” 

If he didn’t know better Pony would swear Darry was looking at him sideways as he said it, grinning conspiratorially like they were sharing a joke. 

“Euchre…gin rummy…spades…signals…”

Pony’s heart jumped. He loved signals. 

It was practically another invitation right? And Soda had said he could join anytime if he changed his mind…surely one game wouldn’t hurt. 

He scoots forward a bit on the chair, considering. 

“Well?” Suddenly Darry- handsome, cool Darry- is grinning right at him, one eyebrow raised, “You in or not?”

And well….that was an actual invitation. From a big boy no less! Usually boys like Darry wanted nothing to do with him.

Pony could feel what was surely a far too eager grin spreading over his face and he nodded, quickly taking a spot on the floor in between Soda and Johnny. Darry’s grin turned triumphant, like he was the one who’d just been invited to play cards by a cool stranger. 

“Nice. What’s your name kiddo?”

“Ponyboy.” He mumbles, bracing himself for laughter that never comes. Instead Darry just nods, starting to deal cards with ease. 

“Tuff name. I’m Darry, and this here’s Johnny.” 

Pony offered a shy smile in response to Johnny’s friendly nod, earlier vitriol forgotten. It wasn’t Johnny’s fault he was lucky. Pony shouldn’t hate him for it. 

“You already met Soda.”

Darry gives Soda a fondly exasperated look, and Pony focuses very hard on the cards being dealt so he won’t have to look at their faces.

Unsure of what to say, he just nods. Luckily, Darry keeps talking.

“Well Ponyboy, I reckon since you just joined you get to pick the game.”

“R-really?”

“Sure.” Darry smiled kindly. Golly he was nice. “We’ll play a few rounds and then switch it up if any of us are getting bored.”

“Can-” Ponyboy hesitated. Darry nods, encouraging him to continue, “can we play signals?”

“Sure. You okay to be on a team with me?”

“Yes,” Pony could hardly believe his luck. Not only were they playing his favourite game, but Darry wanted to be on a team with him!

“Ok,” Soda chirped, “me’n Johnny are going over there so you don’t listen to us pick our signals like cheaters!”

“Soda!” Mr Curtis warned.

“I’m bein’ nice!”

Pony giggled. 

“Ignore him,” Darry advised, scooting over to sit beside him, “I wish I could say he’s just bein’ crazy ‘cause he’s excited, but the truth is he’s always like that. He ain’t really mean though, just has too much energy.”

“I know,” Pony tells him, “I seen mean before. He ain’t it. If he was mean he’d have taken my book or followed me to the bathroom and put my head in the toilet.”

A horrified gasp makes him jump. He’d momentarily forgotten all about sunshiney Mrs.Curtis, but now she’s staring at him in horror, eyes filled with rage. 

What did he do? Did she not want him to be telling her nice golden sons about stuff like that? 

“I-I’m sorry I-” he can feel his ears burning and wishes more than anything he’d stayed on that hard plastic chair where he was safe instead of getting drawn in by the light of the family in front of him. 

“Whoa, hey,” Darry catches him by the arm before he can scramble to his feet, grip not bruising like he’s used to but gentle, reassuring, “where are you going? We haven’t picked a signal yet.”

His smile is so hopeful. Hesitantly, Pony settles back down. 

“Ok.”

“Well?” Darry nudges him gently, carefully. It seems to Ponyboy that someone so big shouldn’t be able to do that and not hurt him just a little bit, but somehow Darry manages it. “What signal do you think we should do?”

Pony glances across the room at where Soda is gesturing exaggeratedly and talking at Johnny a mile a minute.

“Something small,” he decides, “something they won’t notice.”

“Good thinking,” Darry’s approval feels like sitting in the sunshine and eating ice cream and reading a book all at once, “how about…rubbing our noses?”

He demonstrates, rubbing a finger under his nose like he’s scratching an itch and Ponyboy nods, copying the action. 

“Perfect.”

He raises his left hand then. Taps his ear. Waits a few seconds. Taps his ear again.

“What are you doing?” Darry wonders. 

“I have a trick,” Ponyboy informs him.

“Oh?” Darry’s raising a single eyebrow again, looking intrigued. A swell of unearned pride starts in Ponyboy’s chest. 

“Yep,” Pony nods, “they’re watching us right now.”

Darry follows his gaze across the room to where Johnny is watching them out of the corner of his eye, while acting for all the world like he’s still focused on Sodapop. 

“So,” Ponyboy continues. He taps his ear again, “if we do a fake signal now, like we’re practicing, and then do it while we’re playing they’ll call signal and get themselves disqualified and we’ll win.”

“Huh,” Darry reaches up and taps his own ear, “good thinkin’ kid.”

Pony glows.

“We’re ready,” Soda announces a second later, dragging Johnny behind him, “and we have the best signal ever. You’ll never guess it.”

“We’ll see.” Darry challenges, flipping the first card off the deck, and the game begins.

Pony checks his own hand. Two jacks, a two, and a seven. Deciding to go for jacks he passes the two facedown and slides it left to Johnny, picking up the ten Soda placed down for him on the other side.

He passes and trades cards for a few seconds, managing to pick up a third jack on the way. When it’s been long enough it’s not suspicious, he reaches up and taps his ear, trying to make it seem like he’s scratching an itch.

The trick works. 

“Block!” Johnny cries triumphantly, pointing at him and Pony grins, shaking his head. 

“Nope!”

“What?” That’s Sodapop, “We’re out? But-but I’m with Johnny! Johnny always wins!”

“Guess not this time,” Darry grins, raising a hand. It takes a second for Pony to realize he’s reaching out for a high five instead of to cuff him, but when he does he reaches out eagerly, tapping Darry’s palm with his own.

“How did you do that?” Johnny wonders, head tilted in confusion, “I saw you tapping your ear earlier when you were making your signal.”

“It was a trick!” Pony grins. Darry is pleased, and they just won a card game, and no one here has gotten properly mad at him at all. 

Johnny shakes his head, grinning ruefully. “Well it was a good one.”

Soda declared he wanted a rematch, so they played a few more rounds, until Johnny figured out their trick and then both teams had so many fake signals and everyone was too scared to block anyone and could hardly remember their real signals from their fake ones. Darry was just proposing they switch to playing crazy eights when Ms. Summers hurried out of the office, looking harried as usual.

“Oh! Ponyboy,” She looks surprised to see him sitting on the floor, “don’t go botherin’ these nice folks now. I know you’ve had a long day, and I promise I’m workin’ as hard as I can to figure things out so just sit tight and be good a few minutes longer. I just got a few more calls to make and I’ll get you some lunch, alright? C’mon and sit properly now, that’s a good boy.” 

She pulls him to his feet, not roughly exactly, but carelessly, the way he’s used to, and he ducks his head, shoulders curling automatically as she frog marches him back to the plastic chair in the corner of the waiting room she’d parked him in at seven o'clock this morning.

“He ain’t botherin’ us!” Suddenly Soda is on his feet, glaring at Ms. Summers. “We invited him to play. We’re havin’ fun.”

“He’s really no trouble,” Mrs. Curtis smiles, placing a hand on her son’s shoulder. Her voice is as sugar sweet as ever but there’s something hard in her eyes nevertheless as she stares Ms. Summers down, “the boys are all havin’ fun playing together and I have no problem keepin’ an eye on him for you. He’s a good boy, like you said.”

She turns the full force of her smile on him, her eyes suddenly all softness, and Ponyboy finds himself wondering what it would be like if somebody looked at him like that every day, like he was something instead of nothing.

“Well, if you’re sure, I suppose that's fine. You be good Pony,” Ms. Summers says, and then she’s gone again, back into the office, back to making phone calls to find someone, anyone, willing to take him in.

Pony stands where she left him, half dragged across the room, lost in the waiting room he’d spend what felt like half his life in.

“That lady,” Soda says, “was a bitch.”

Darry’s eyebrows shoot up, and Soda grins cheekily over his shoulder in a way that says he fully expects a reprimand, but to Ponyboy’s surprise Mr.Curtis just nods slowly.

“Y'know son, I think in this case you might be right.”

“Don’t encourage him,” Mrs. Curtis says, but it’s so half-hearted even Ponyboy can tell. Her eyes are fixed on Ms.Summers’ door, lips pressed into a thin line, and Pony gets the feeling she’s real mad but hiding it real well.

“She don’t know what to do with me,” Pony finds himself defending his social worker. She ain’t mean really, ain't even a bad person. She’s just busy. Too busy to really care. “It ain’t her fault. I cause her a lotta problems.”

“I have a very hard time believing that,” Mrs. Curtis says, “I don’t think you could cause problems if you tried.”

He could. He wasn’t like Curly from the group home, who did everything he possibly could and then some to cause problems, but Pony did create them sometimes. One time he’d burned Mrs.Delvine’s sheets when he was ironing because she hadn’t given him dinner the night before. And he’d put half a shaker of salt in Mr.Fuller’s soup after he gave him this stupid haircut. But he never tried to cause problems for Ms. Summers and he still caused them anyway.

He shrugs. “No one wants me. It’s her job to find someone who’ll put up with me. I can’t blame her for bein’ tired.”

“You’re still a little boy,” Mrs.Curtis shakes her head, and usually Ponyboy hates being called little but he finds he doesn’t mind too much when she says it, “she shouldn’t be takin’ any of her frustrations out on you.”

Pony wants to tell her that his own mother didn’t want to be stuck with him so he can hardly blame his social worker for feeling the same way. He wants to tell her about how tired he is and how much his head hurts and how hungry he is. He wants to tell her a lot of things. He doesn’t.

“Oh honey,” he doesn’t even realize he’s crying until he’s wrapped in a warm hug, held protectively against Mrs. Curtis’ chest, his sobs muffled against the stretched collar of her pretty yellow dress. He’s sure he must be getting snot on her, but she doesn’t seem to mind, holding him closer when he starts to squirm away and apologize, cooing to him until he settles down, “oh honey.”

She scoops him up then, because she’s a grown up and he’s still pretty small for six years old, and she sets him on her knee and kisses his forehead, and even if it won’t last and he will never feel this again after today, for once he knows what it’s like to be comforted and loved by a mother. 

Golly he’s tired.

“You just have a sleep now,” she pulls his head down to rest against her shoulder, running a gentle hand through his shorn off hair, “you just have a good sleep and don’t worry about a thing.” 

He feels his eyelids drooping. She drops a soft kiss on his forehead, her fingers never ceasing their soothing motions in his hair.

“Everything’s gonna be okay, baby,” he hears her say as he drifts off, “I promise. Everything’s gonna be just fine.”

He sleeps.

[completeoveranalysis]

[4]

HUGE FAN of tiny Sakura trying to make that connection between her and Lava Lamp. Shyly asking if they can hold hands after the ceremony is done, which is ADORABLE and, because this is Tsubasa, means that this absolutely will not happen. Their outstretched hands will ONCE AGAIN fail to meet in the middle, just like always - but different this time, since this is the FIRST. 

And extra hello to Lava Lamp’s giant distorted shadow looming underneath him! The disproportionately huge shadow his presence is casting! The dark fate spreading out before him just by being here! The alternate versions of himself that will spread into the future!

I love that this Sakura, in her love for water and the water’s love for her, is characterised by bubbles floating around her instead of feathers. And that Lava Lamp hopes that they can be together. And that this tiny child’s hope MAY OR MAY NOT be the match that sets so many other things in motion.

It's just two children wanting to be friends! And SO MUCH goes wrong!

[chirpsythismorning]

I finally got around to watching @lesbianmindflayer’s Top Ten Hints Mike is Gay video… The Snow Ball one added a whole other layer of context to those scenes that didn’t really click for me until now—

[aroaessidhe]

2023 reads // twitter thread

The Sun and The Void

Venezuelan inspired high fantasy

follows a young outcast swordswoman taken in by her grandmother, the dark sorceress for a noble family, who relies on the magic to keep her alive after being attacked by monstrous creatures

and a young noblewoman who’s the shame of her family because of her mixed heritage and desire to use magic

both are manipulated by those with more power than them into a plot to free an ancient evil god

mineral based magic, politics, nonhuman MCs

[steelycunt]

getting my hair cut today also : ^ ) nothing exciting but it is my first haircut in like four/five years…going to finish reading my book…also on the [redacted] front ive almost planned it all out we’re 4/5 chapters plotted : ^ )

[livwritesstuff]

i went on a deep dive of the Steve & Hopper ao3 tag yesterday and and it got me thinking about what would happen if Chief of Police Hopper ran into Steve and Eddie while he was on patrol after pseudo-adopting Steve, and it’s been long enough that Hopper is sort of a safe-person for Steve so Steve goes into full-fledged bitch mode when Hopper tries to pull cop stuff on them, and Eddie (who knew about none of this because Steve is a chronic under-sharer) is so totally baffled.

He’d spent years watching Steve sweet-talk his way out of trouble. Even before they started hooking up it used to drive Eddie goddamn insane, because if (when) Eddie pulled any of this shit Steve gets away with, he’d be totally screwed, but all Steve has to do is flash a sheepish grin and run a hand through his hair once or twice and say, all baleful, “I really didn’t mean any trouble,” and he’s home free.

It has its perks though, or so he's learned during his last few months of hanging around with Steve, so when Steve and Eddie’s make-out session is interrupted by the tell-tale red and blue lights of a cop car pulling up behind where Steve parked the Beemer a few hundred yards down a maintenance road, Eddie’s not all that worried. In fact, he’s got a pretty good amount of faith in Steve’s ability to spin up some story to keep them out of any real trouble, and as Chief Hopper ambles over to them, Eddie prepares himself for a whole show of, “Yes Chief, sorry Chief, it won’t happen again Chief.”

So imagine Eddie's complete and utter surprise when Hopper barks, “Hey, morons! What the hell do you think you’re doing?” and Steve only rolls his eyes and says, “What’s it to you?”

Eddie feels his jaw drop.

“Steve,” he mutters through gritted teeth. He tries to elbow Steve into shutting the hell up, but he misses because Steve has already taken several steps forward to meet Hopper, his face turned up in a kind of defiance Eddie doesn’t think he’s ever seen on him before.

“What’s it to me?” Hopper repeats, glowering at Steve, “It’s midnight. I’m on patrol. You’ve got one of the most recognizable cars in this entire damn town parked in a restricted-access zone with this idiot–” Hopper gestures at Eddie (Eddie didn’t think the pointing or the idiot were necessary, but clearly, clearly, he’s missing something here), “–who’s been dragged into my station more times than I could count.”

“The town line, Hop, is over there,” Steve says, pointing at an indiscriminate spot over Hop’s shoulder that may or may not be part of the Hawkins town line, “We’re not even in Hawkins anymore. You’re totally out of your jurisdiction.”

“You wanna know something about jurisdiction, smart-ass?” Hopper asks, “If my report says shit happened in my jurisdiction, it happened in my jurisdiction.”

“Wow,” Steve deadpans, “Way to not sound totally corrupt. Nice work, Chief.”

Hopper’s jaw twitches for a second, and he’s clearly debating if he wants to keep arguing with Steve who, to Steve’s credit, looks like he’s got debate in him for days. Ultimately though, Hopper decides against it and stalks back over to his squad car.

“If you’re not home by one there’s gonna be hell to pay. You hear me, Harrington?” Hopper yells, “One AM. Hell to pay.”

“Oh, sure,” Steve rolls his eyes, “Totally hear you. One AM. Loud and clear or whatever.”

Steve flips the cruiser both birds as it peels away, which Hopper only flashes his high beams at a couple times before he’s gone, kicking up a bunch of dirt and mulch and leaves in his wake, and Steve is wearing an exasperated expression as he turns to face Eddie again.

“God, he’s so annoying. Let’s just go to my house.”

Eddie gapes at him.

“What the fuck was that?”

“Huh?”

“What the fuck was that?” Eddie repeated, gesturing wildly towards where Hopper’s car had just been.

“Wha– you mean with Hop?”

“Uh, yeah?!?”

Steve just brushed him off, “Whatever, just ignore him. He’s basically my dad.”

“What?”

[flightlessangelwings]

Being inclusive with your reader insert fic is a kindness. It tells people of color (poc) that you are considering someone who does not look like you in your fic. It shows love and dedication to our craft. It tells poc that they belong here too and they can see themselves in your story.

Poc aren’t look for activism in fic, we know fandom isn’t that serious, but we should be able to have that same level of escapism when we turn to fic and fandom. We belong here too. This space is for everyone, not just one group of people.

Just to give a few examples of how simple it can be: say “skin warmed” instead of blushed, say “cradled your head” instead of running fingers through hair, say “angles yourself to kiss” instead of standing on tiptoes, use italics to indicate Spanish to take out a throwaway line of “you didn’t understand Spanish” things like that. Small changes that do not impact the fic at all but make a world of difference in inclusivity!

And for anything you can’t/don’t want to change, simply add warning in the beginning. Things like hair descriptors, anything reader might wear, some backstory for reader (especially involving family or where the story is set), readers job, things like that. A lot of times just having that heads up before the fic makes a world of difference!

And one example of kindness we as writers always worked to change: until recently (just a couple years ago) it wasn’t common to label the gender of the reader. But those who aren’t female asked writers to label it so they know which to read and which to avoid, and now it’s common to label the gender/pronouns of the reader. So it is possible! It just takes effort! And I’m a writer myself so I know it can be done!

We can pretend to be a bartender or a bounty hunter or an actress or anything else. But we shouldn’t have to imagine we’re a white one.

[capslocked]

PASCAL

male reader x karina & irene

part 1 of two roses, by every other name

28k words

It goes without saying that Karina’s reputation is flawless. 

Irene’s is remarkably not.

You're not even staunchly a romantic or anything. You just can’t be assed to manage the distinction between desire and distance. So when the dust settles, the best case scenario is the three of you going around telling people, "all of this is actually a true story by the way."

-

You don't need the extra helping of moody and foreboding, but the wind picks up enough to chill you to the spot.

It blows some of the longer, darker strands of Irene's hair into her eyes and she shivers, too, against the cold as she tucks it behind her ears. You’ve got both hands balled into your coat pockets, watching her pretend like she isn't about to say something you absolutely do not want to hear. Then, a sigh - the length of which is probably unwarranted. You can feel the frost on the air burning through your teeth as you face back out toward the taxi stand. 

It’s gotten late and you're still waiting on an empty cab - you’re realizing there was never a conversation to be had in the first place.

“For what it’s worth,” Irene says, and there’s an indecent proposal just in the way she glances at you. “I had my eyes on her first.”

It’s all on account of some sort of moral quandary, or whatever nonsense Irene pretends to believe every time it comes up. A gross power imbalance; an issue of innocence and entitlement; a threat of abuse. Something, another thing, patriarchal expectations, blah, blah - she fudges around the details, but never ever cares who gets hurt. Not really.

And it’s doubtful Irene believes what she says, not to mention she’s skeptical anyone is even capable of zipping their way down Karina’s denim, working a pair of hands up the contour of her long legs, and making her pant and gasp hard enough that she forgets to breathe.

Well, supposedly - that is anyone, save the two of you. Nevermind the fact she’s always, always been off-limits.

The bottom line is she's a whole decade younger than either of you. This just for starters - only legal for alcohol by some narrow margin. Because between you and your fiancée there are all these rules: no coworkers, no labelmates, no close mutual friends, no personal assistants, no jealous ex-lovers, and absolutely none of her juniors. It’s in poor taste, among other things.

Also, just as straightforward: crossing any number of those lines has its own kind of appeal.

"Okay,” you say, “then maybe you should be the one to tell her we’re taking her home."

Irene's arching her eyebrows at you like a silent rebuttal. She smiles after a laugh, quick and easy, because it's what she's good at. It's what she knows. “Like you weren’t hoping she’d be here, too."

The ash Irene taps off the end of her cigarette falls to the ground like snow. Hitting the pavement as if it might punctuate the thought. That's a rare first mistake from someone like you, and then a second one from her: she thinks she’ll need to defend herself with an explanation, like she’d ever need to justify anything to you.

“Besides, she’s not waiting for me to ask.” There’s a curl to her mouth - and then, she adds, for your benefit, "she'd follow you anywhere."

The twisted irony is that the two of you could pick up any woman, anyone at all.

"I think it’s a discussion for another day," you tell her, serious. She laughs out loud.

"Which one? Who Karina wants, or that you're aching every bit as much as I am to spread her out on our bed and fuck her? Because I'm pretty sure we can both agree that at this point-"

Your palm curls around the nape of her neck with a touch of on-your-feet-thinking: one of these moments that lets Irene sit with the knowledge of how small she really is against you, her head against the collar of your coat, chin angled just so to look up at your face. And there's only a beat that passes between your fingers in her hair, tugging gently as her hand releases to your waist, her teeth clipping against the press of your lips, before a cab pulls up right next to you. You kiss her hard. It probably looks cinematic.

If for nothing other than to give Karina one less thing to overhear when she comes back outside to join you.

"Really not the time," you whisper right into the subtle twist of her grin. Her cigarette's gone out in the snowy mess, but Irene smirks deeper in response before throwing it onto the wet concrete. She grinds it beneath her boot like a reminder, her hand still firm on your hip.

"What, you don't think it’d make her day? Don’t think she'd want to hear all those kinds of thoughts running together through our heads?"

You pull Irene in closer. “She’s not you.”

-

For context - only so you’re aware how it all starts - it wasn’t actually New Year’s Eve, even though everyone had been drinking like it were.

Also for context, it’s not something you were strictly invited to either. Irene’s company holds this holiday party at the end of every year where all of their employees show up (read: idols; Irene likes to argue about work sometimes - to which you have never contested the value of her labor - but your brain tends to fuzz out in the middle, and instead you mostly just watch her pretty mouth in motion). All of the high-up executives and department heads bring their uptight wives and girlfriends to some restaurant ballroom for a cocktail reception that only really functions for name dropping, or influencing the media, or placing side bets on who is sleeping with the CFO - or whose mistress might show up unexpectedly and meet someone's wife face-to-face for the very first time.

It happens to someone Irene knows, once. You pray every year it will happen again.

Be that as it may, there are a plethora of other terrible ways to spend an evening and a half, but it’s all laid bare in Irene's contract - attendance being mandatory; enjoyment excessively optional.

And sure, it’s taken time, but you have gotten used to it: the industry, all of its excess, the inevitable display, the million and one things required of Irene that you, on the other hand, will simply never be able to relate to.

The machine’s so fine-tuned and tightly wound, like clockwork.

"Yeah, whatever," she had said, leaning her hip against your bathroom sink earlier in the day. Her dress laid out neatly across your bed, already pressed, set with her heels and jewelry, everything set on schedule to the point of absurdity.

And so it goes.

You can hear her brushing her teeth through the open door - and see her profile through the hand-swiped-fog on the mirror. She drags the toothbrush to the corner of her mouth: "And before you even ask, yes, you have to come. That's the deal. That's always been the deal - bored, or busy, or trapped talking to some social climbing board member who’s realized the liquor flows fast and free - I don’t wanna hear about it. You’ll be there."

"Uh-huh," you say, eyes fixed on her reflection in the mirror.

"Look, I hate to be the bearer of bad news,” she adds, spits, and lets the faucet run, “but this one’s shaping up to be a really long night.” 

You watch the meticulous effort to pull her dark hair back into a low, neat bun as she turns and comes back into the bedroom, tossing her hair clip onto the bed to reclaim later. 

“So I guess, pace yourself or something.”

"Ever the salesman, Irene," you say, facetious.

"Um, saleswoman, thank you." Her words are slightly muffled by a silk tank top pulled on over her head, then down the flat length of her body until it hits the tops of her thighs. 

It’s not a matter of opinion that she'll look gorgeous in the stilettos, the dress - those earrings that catch light wherever it dares touch her. She'll smile her practiced grin. It'll probably taste sour after the hundredth person asks how long it's been and she tells them she can't remember. But then look - Irene here, still perfectly disheveled: her damp-darkened hair sticking to the porcelain skin of her neck, skin washed free of makeup. She’s beautiful. In a plain and simple way, simple-but-good. Even with the tight little scowl she shoots your direction. It’s a look she has to know could launch a thousand ships; could start a real, actual war; though you're far too charming to know how to fight - you’ve never seen the appeal.

Irene's teeth tug at the corner of her lip like she knows you'd probably end up dying in it. She puts forward this unassuming, nonchalant, “hey.”

She muses it right into a laugh. Covers her genuine smile with her fingers.

"Hey," is how you answer, always.

You’re noticing, now, the strap of her top has fallen just down the petite slope of her shoulder. You want to get your fingers beneath it. Maybe get her back in the shower. You’re never too picky.

And here: an unspoken demand, the thing that always gets you about her - while Irene stands in front of you, her finger looped between the top buttons of your shirt to draw you close. The bow of her lip perked ever-so-slightly, this soft pucker - all pretty in pink. "Before I slip into this dress, you’re going to push me against something sturdy and kiss me until I'm dizzy," she instructs, calm and methodical.

"A lot," you continue for her. You nod seriously, for a moment. "Dizzying."

She closes her eyes and leans in, and you lean into her, too. "Yeah, exactly," she ends up murmuring under a hot breath. "So, get to it.”

And so it goes, and so it goes.

-

"Have a drink," someone keeps saying.

As a matter of fact, they all do: four shots together - or one old-fashioned, or two vodka seltzers, or three of these mystery concoctions that come in a tall-stemmed glass you didn’t actually catch the name of, and jesus, it fucking reeks of prosecco. You pace yourself, within reason. You really do.

Irene gets elusive under the surface, which is to say, she doesn't change at all - not even at the edges.

And though everyone is here to be seen, only a few actually do any of the talking. Irene has it covered - you do your time.

Happy New Year, sorta. You wait it out.

-

She tastes like everything sweet, strong on her heels and sharper on her tongue - and sometimes, it’s not the best mix, given all you can manage is the touch and scent of Irene without actually getting at the insides of her thighs or that tempting stretch of skin under her ear, her neck, down to her chest.

This much, and she has no complaint - hardly seems surprised or inconvenienced - to you stepping her into the wall like it's a matter of instinct.

She just sighs, a short huff. "Don't miss these kinds of parties," she then confesses, right into your mouth, her warm exhale filling you whole. The sounds of people laughing and champagne glasses clicking nearby, a new song starting up, it's all an unnecessary backdrop, and Irene isn't distracted by a single bit of it.

Character, setting, scene; it’s all rather textbook, no? 

You know what the sounds mean, the soft hums, the lingering touches, the firm press of your palm into the dip of her waist or the slender line of her back. She knows where all the cameras are because she knows everything that anyone could possibly ever want to know, such as the fact that this empty stairwell is a perfect place to start, that there isn't a real plan as to where this might go - or when it should end.

And you should know where not to press - or bite or grab or leave a mark - not in some liminal space, nor some vacant practice-room, not beneath a desk, not behind a curtain. No, not here, cloaked in shadow and secrecy, another scandal in the making. Not that the knowledge stops you from testing out the lines, from drawing little patterns up Irene's waist, slipping one hand along the barest skin where her dress has hitched up along her thigh. To a boundary, the low pitch of her voice, some suggestion like, "not here, are you serious?" mumbled across your lips like it really doesn't matter what gets said or does not.

She’s pinned so properly, so precisely, that the discord between her gentle coaxing, and your hard, bruising edge - that sheer incongruity between what you should do and what you should not - can make the adrenaline spike.

She kisses you harder - and harder, and harder. She catches the small sigh you let out. She kisses you breathless.

You can’t shake the feeling that you’re wasting an opportunity, given that you’re both dressed to the nines and are usually more homebody than anything else. Isn’t that the irony of fame? You sign up for an escape, and spend your life running away.

Irene eventually sinks back into the soles of her heels, wiping her mouth with the back of her wrist, and she smiles so easy. She tugs at the cuffs of your jacket, sets your collar flat and proper.

"I'm thinking," you hear her say, taking stock for herself, the flush high in her cheeks, the tousled sort-of-curls now bared, "in half an hour, if you feel like leaving early, we could, oh, I don't know - escape?"

Escape to a bed with a door that locks, you assume she means. Irene wants; you deliver - however she'd like.

“Sounds tempting,” you tell her. She laughs against your shoulder. "Are you waiting on someone else to sweep you off your feet, maybe? Another offer?"

"Uh, always," she scoffs. It's the little things, confidence, and certainty, the honest-in-practice; how her palms sit soft and secure, cupping the angle of your jaw, one hand, now, toying with the knot of your tie like she's contemplating just how it might fall off of you later. Irene shrugs, leaning her weight back against the wall.

She taps a finger to her lips. Ends up saying, very solemn: "Thirty minutes."

As if you had any intention of absconding without her.

-

Irene holds true to her word - she catches you on the second to last pass around the banquet room. Some executive with a slack mouth is just launching into what sounds to be a spiel about a merger - it's unimportant, not well-versed, so Irene sidles up to you, and immediately steals your attention. It doesn't bother you in the least. She curls her finger into the cuff of your jacket sleeve, and without really being prompted or asked - and only, probably, due to the clear discomfort she has being there with anyone else - she begins dragging you out of the room; you, her ticket out of hell.

"I'm so sorry," Irene dons the industry smile and is probably charming. It's difficult for you to tell. You follow her blindly. "So sorry," she tells someone else as you exit, just before you both disappear entirely, "We're leaving. But, we'll see you next year, promise!"

A real celebrity.

The two of you suddenly a duo - and for everyone’s safety, the way it should probably always ought to be - here’s how it’s all supposed to go:

You, standing almost amidst a bank of snow gathered at the curb, your coat fanned out around Irene, shivers racking up her slight frame. All hidden just enough that if anyone were to notice where your hand ends up arriving at the narrow of her waist, they might think: 'it's not really any of my business,' and look away.

Her, curled beneath your touch - even the single press of your fingers over the small of her back as a stranger pulls a car up to the curb; or, the pull of you that ensures the driver can't actually see what you're both up to, what you're hiding; the little reach she makes into your pocket for a lighter, smiling appreciatively as she presses her cold face to the crook of your arm, your jaw, the juncture of your neck; a safe space.

“So.” Irene will look up at you, pale moonlight gathered in her lashes. She’ll make another face: this thousand kilowatt grin or her brow raising - sharp, quick, there-then-gone. She'll turn the lighter over in her hand once, twice, and say, “how long has it been since we’ve done anything social?”

You’ll know it’s not what she means, but you’ll offer her the out anyway: "could go downtown - there's a place you've probably never been to. Might even play your style of music, if you're really lucky."

Irene will arch her eyebrow as she raises the cigarette to her mouth, lit up before you know it.

"Is that right?" she'll say, dismissive, a smoky tendril curling up over city neon and catching starlight.

You're no stranger to what’s actually being suggested - an unspoken sort of arrangement. All because Irene sees herself as being above, hiding her intentions in euphemism, tact; in long, slow drags; in lilting lashes - while she's fully and shamelessly aware there's nothing virtuous about it.

Who the hell else could make it sound dignified, pretty even: ménage à trois.

Then, you’ll do your part. You’ll help interpret: another girl, gorgeous and probably unclothed, another bad decision, or two, the three of you finding yourselves back in your apartment where Irene will not hesitate to run her tongue up the side of a sweat-glistened neck, to tilt her head and whisper out a mantra of, honey, sweetie, anybody ever tell you how good you look between a woman’s legs? Or, fuck, let’s get you out of those jeans, let me take you all in, how the fuck have we not gotten our hands on you before?

Which means the question you really ought to be asking sounds more like, “maybe we can invite someone over?”

You’ll meet her eyes as they flick up - a lazy expression, easy to read. "Bingo," she’ll say, blowing smoke and even more caution to the wind.

Almost to a fault, everything she does draws attention. Every fool with a blog and a camera posted outside of an event will have her labeled on-sight. You can already see the headline - because the only thing worse than everyone thinking you're the antagonist is looking the part. The imagery, red carpet, sexy evening dress, sultry, regal. The caption, Bae Joohyun - they use her government name like they really know her - sulking in smoke, or thirty flirty and thriving? below a thumbnail of her holding the cigarette, with your suit jacket draped over her shoulders. She's a total tabloid darling. Irene the temptress, or Irene, ice in her veins, or Irene - "How does she look so fucking gorgeous without makeup?!" or "Do I wanna hate her, or wanna be her? @RedFlavor_ROYAL," or "In every shot I feel like Irene has me staring into her soul."

Add that to the fact the girl’s utterly shrouded in myth.

Everyone running amuck with speculation; she's the girl-next-door, she’s the fantasy-in-real-life, she's someone everyone could see themselves fucking - she’s the heroine they say, the villain, the perfect wife, the one-that-got-away. They never do decide.

Though there’s only one opinion she’ll concern herself with, and only on occasion: yours.

Her fingers will come in the dark to trail feather-light from your collarbone, between the rise and fall of your shirt buttons, before pressing open palmed to your chest to still right there, and she's such a pretty thing in the plain black dress, all yours and very much in the mood - which you'll already have reason to know, in part from having felt your way around her no more than a hour prior, but also just the way Irene's been looking at you from beneath her dark lashes all evening, that subtle predatory gleam in her eyes.

You’ll hold her close. Irene will have the audacity to comment, “love you,” in this delicate little whisper, quiet like it could go either way - affection or gratitude. Maybe a touch of both.

A car will shortly arrive, pulling up to the curb with snow melting under its tires, headlights in your eyes, and then finally, in no particular order, your heart hammering: the click of the lighter, the falling ash, the sweet easy laugh, the crunch of ice under foot as she steps down beside you, the soft sweep of your arm.

You have no complaints about the proposal. A lack of argument or dispute is basically the same thing as consent, isn't it? For all intents and purposes, as a whole, it's really kind of a win-win:

Irene needs variety, which you're well aware of. It's only natural for someone who can have anything they want. And, sure, you happen to be a willing participant when it comes to satisfying the occasional whim.

So - the conversation will follow you right into the backseat of the cab, simply to iron out the details. 

“Tall. Beautiful. Soft, soft, soft - like cashmere, a luxury brand," Irene will have one heel off and her knee braced up into the back seat while the other leg extends across your thighs, fingers running along your coat collar to make idle circles against the exposed skin there. "Or, at the very least, someone with a little more bend to their character - you know how those prim and proper types always get a bit lost in you.”

"And wouldn’t you know."

It’ll sound smooth, probably. Irene will roll her eyes.

“So, okay,” you'll return to her, right after instructing the cabbie how to get to Irene's place. None of the implications here are lost on you. “You have anyone particular in mind?”

"Hm, I’m thinking."

You can picture it, roughly: Irene's whole body sunk into the dark corner of the seat - one leg idling over the other. Her foot bouncing at your thigh. She has her heels in one hand, earrings in the other.

She’ll look wistfully out the window; the intermittent flashes of city lights casting her face in different hues. The curve of her jaw; the stately line of her nose; her thick black lashes - composition and subject. It's this kind of attention to detail that the cameras scramble to pick up. It’d be better if they got it for the right reasons.

You’ll pull out your phone. Start the usual scroll from the top of your contacts. The girls you know, the girls you don't, the ones who might be awake or who definitely are, regardless of time of day or night.

Irene will finally perk up, gleaming.

Someone cute, she might say, only because she'd rather not admit, someone like me. There's limits to her vanity insofar as her taste - in all sorts of things.

But she does like the idea of it. Someone young and pretty and impressionable; someone naive, or tiny and helpless; it's never difficult to find the girl who will fawn over her - all wide-eyed and doe-faced the instant Irene floats her fingers across her collarbone, smirking - when she starts at the zipper at the back of her neckline and says, "we’re going to see how wet I can get you," without missing a beat. Someone who will eventually say please when Irene gets a little stern and tells her, "ask me what I'm gonna do to you," in a rasp so smoky that it would make the cigarette seem blasé.

But that, you suppose, is the nature of Irene. A touch domineering. A little more than just a pretty face.

She always takes, but she takes gently - a push here, a pull there, she knows people will give her anything.

It will be more obvious when there's a small voice trembling between the two of you, twisted up in your sheets and simpering with the gentle sort of affection that Irene deals so expertly: two fingers sliding up, pressing down. Curling, beckoning. Slow and tender, without giving up that she's looking for any soft spot; a weak point. Some vulnerability to exploit.

It'll be right after whichever plaything of the hour pulls her lips off yours, off the length of your fingers - or when she unfastens her mouth from the hard shape of your cock with an obnoxiously loud pop: "do you guys do this kind of thing often?"

And Irene, without even an ounce of hesitation, will rip right into the sheer of her stockings, letting out an aggressively casual laugh. She’ll plant a kiss somewhere deep. Say, "oh, honey," as she nuzzles into the crease of her thigh. "We're pretty new to this too."

Everyone, just - believes her. For the same reason you suppose they believe she's perfect. She’s good, really good at all this.

In the taxi, Irene's foot will continue to tap against your leg, until you're stopping her by covering her knee with your hand. As for now, the evening will remain all but written in stone. You'll run a hand through your hair, you’ll lean an elbow against the window - the whole while, ignoring the sudden itch between your shoulder blades at the thought of something else. At the thought of all the other girls who'll take an instant liking to her. Who wouldn't. 

The light will change. The intersection will empty. The radio will turn to static.

You'll eventually offer up a name like, "Jennie Kim," among others. Moving alphabetically down your contacts list. Taking you a long while to make it through the 'K's.

"Hm." Irene's soft hum of disapproval, non-committal. "Are you asking, or telling?"

The difference won't matter. "I'm suggesting," you'll say.

You’ll watch how Irene turns the name over in her mouth a few times before smiling - how she knows, there's the smallest part of you that has her held in a certain light. "Maybe," she'll say, tapping her phone against her cheek in the contemplation of whether or not this is a tentative no or a provisional yes - when really what she'll avoid an answer with is, "aren’t we a little tired of Jen?"

Tough to say.

Good, sweet, and just naive enough to get twisted up between you, in her case. Oh, Jennie’s the type of girl - you'll stuff your cock in her pretty little cunt while leaning into her, taking her arms and pinning them to the base of her spine, so she can't reach and can't claw and can't make an utter fucking wreck of herself. The two of you have known Jennie for too long, is what will strike you then. And a moment later, the idea of sinking into her ass from behind with your palm flat and warm against her hip and your voice husky and deep in the way she likes, and saying, god, fuck, Jen, you’d let me do anything wouldn’t you, you’d let me cum in here too.

And - she would, really.

She wouldn't even complain. Her face would be pressed so firmly against Irene's thighs, and she would whimper, not beg. Even though you know it’s what Irene might prefer; how it makes her look real cute - cheeks stained crimson as the syllables roll around her tongue before being forced out into the open.

"I think she's great," you might say out loud, lowkey.

And in a voice that is louder than strictly necessary, Irene will cut in: "she lets you finish in her ass, and then not even three minutes later she'll say it was the best lay of her life, of course you do."

It’ll make the cab driver clear his throat.

"What you’re saying is ‘no.’"

Irene will frown, thoughtful, but not conceding anything - perhaps she means hold onto that thought for now. If nothing else sounds particularly enticing, we'll call it a maybe. "I’m saying: Jennie is. I don't know."

You can hear the end of her sentence: not quite good enough. Not this time around, but someday, sure, someday soon.

"And for the record," Irene will follow, casual, with a dismissive hand wave. "Just because you got to her first doesn't mean she's ever liked you more."

The few that fall afterwards will never make the cut. Irene will turn them all down. Jisoo - no, sorry, look, she's so, so pretty, Irene will be trying to explain, gesturing in a way that's hard to interpret. "But a little too stuck up for my tastes."

You've been speaking in code for years. She means: way, way, way too straight.

"The blonde though," Irene will try right after that. “Daisy, or Lily, oh god something or another, what was her name-”

"Um, do you mean Rosé?”

“Yeah.” Irene will sink back into the leather, sipping down a memory or two and shifting her skirt up the top of her thighs.

You'll consider the angle. Your options: Rosé on her knees right inside the foyer of your apartment, Irene's hands wrapped tightly in her hair, controlling the rhythm. The way she gets her fingers spread under Irene's knees and draws her forward, pushing up with her eager, prying mouth - licks and licks, nosing against the heat of Irene's pussy until she’s gasping and locking her hands around the younger girl's head to steady the jerk of her hips.

Then, you'll laugh out loud. Because you know, Rosie isn’t anywhere close to straight enough. 

And the back-and-forth of what-ifs and could-bes will follow. An endless string, a laundry list. Where Irene makes a face for every name, every suggestion: too messy, or too innocent, or too sweet, or too boring, or not nearly shy or gullible enough, or whatever other bizarre caveat she finds to slot between all of her impassioned criticisms. The cabbie will be shaking his head at some point too, because the question hangs over the taxi at large: 

What exact criteria could possibly be good enough for the distinguished tastes and sensibilities of Bae Irene?

-

(The truth is: it doesn’t go like that at all.)

-

Enter then, Yu Jimin.

The run-in starts there, downstairs, out standing in a pool of warm, yellow light. The snow flurrying about in the glow of a street lamp - melting into where her smoothed curtain of jet-black hair spills over her shoulder and trickles down her sleeve. She looks a little cold, but not noticeably shivering. There's a red flush to the exposed length of her legs, between a pair of knee-high boots and the short hem of the coat itself. The stockings underneath offer little in the way of wintery protection - nor do the little bows that rest at the the bands of elastic around her soft, pale thighs - though it's obvious to anyone who's looking why she'd choose to wear them.

An assay into form over function. She's never cared for pragmatism.

But the lines around her are pristine, a clean-cut of shadow and substance; you take a step onto the curb, feeling yourself fall right into the foreground.

Look: you know Karina. You both do. Enough to recognize where it’s calmest before a storm.

Irene eventually calls out her name into the silence, and there is a split-second where her fingers reflexively wrap around the crook of your elbow. Almost possessive.

A car rushes by. Karina turns with her ungloved hand holding her cellphone to her ear and she's fucking gorgeous as can be, always pinning you with these big, unapologetic eyes - strikingly and somewhat deceptively innocent beneath her sharp brows. A breathy huff in response; she's otherwise unaffected.

Her shoulders shrug in easy dismissal; a quirk of the corners of her mouth. She slips her phone back in the pocket of her pea-coat. "Oh, how we all doing?"

Not for long, the question lingers.

"Fine," Irene finally replies, though her voice doesn't rise above a disinterested murmur.

"Easier, right? To fight for breath down here than it is up there," she says, pointing her gaze up high into the rafters of the building, and in a lot of ways, you realize, she's just like Irene - sweet, charming, this uncanny ability to make you think she's close, when she isn't actually looking to share anything. When she hasn't exactly decided that she likes you or anything at all.

You squint slightly. Take in where her silhouette appears darker against the backdrop of city lights, blending with the velvety black, bleeding into the ink-smudged night sky.

"There's certainly something to be said for flying under the radar at these things," she continues, taking one step closer towards you as if for comfort. Or privacy - to guard against anyone who might walk by.

"You've still got it easy," Irene says, "that, and everyone thinks you're too pretty to go after. No one even seems to consider the idea, it’s insufferable."

"Jealous?" Her tone is playful. There’s a smirk she’s suppressing - until she can’t hold it in: an unexpected, stunning smile, dimple and all. This incongruously kind face.

Oh, and listen, no one gets it better than Irene.

"No," Irene exhales, hot. “Not at all.” You can see where the thin plume of her breath hangs over her like a cloud for a moment, thinking, before dissipating against the harshness of a frigid December breeze.

"Really." She smiles at you again. Makes a sound that could be a laugh, you don’t know, the wind takes it, far away.

"Are you out here waiting for someone?" you have to ask. 

"Loaded question." Karina purses her lips for a moment. Her long eyelashes blink once, twice. "Because, I dunno, aren't we all?"

"Some of us more than others." Irene speaks quietly, moreso to herself than anyone else - but somehow her voice carries.

"Cheeky," Karina says, and this time she does laugh. "No. I'm waiting for a cab. I've had one hell of a night, and no interest in spending the rest of it in some rising socialite's bed, doubters excluded, because - look, I'm happy for you guys, I guess? You're gonna get married," she claps slowly, slow and mocking, slow enough that Irene rolls her eyes, "-or, the two of you will make a statement saying that you are - either way it sounds fucking exhausting - congratulations to you both. But seriously, congrats."

This is sorta how you've always known her. 

Faintly-hinted secrets, flirty half-truths. Her love life is an utter wreck, but that’s not something you’re supposed to know. So that's all she gives, which is more or less how everyone knows her. It's the only way to survive, probably, in a world of glitter and glamour, when everyone's vying to look, to feel, to take, and take, and take. Irene knows how suffocating it can be - she doesn’t lie about it, not to you, which is the only reason you're so well-versed.

Point being, no one wants to admit to any cracks in the fantasy; the gold too shiny, the surface too slick, the mirror too smooth for that illusion to slip.

"So go grab a guy with a half-decent smile and get him to buy you a drink about it," Irene suggests, derisive, "arch your back, push your tits out, get creative. I doubt it'll be much trouble at all."

Karina looks down, back up - with a slight chew of her lip, saying, "you just have me beat in all the important ways, I suppose. You got it in the bag, no real competition."

Irene is smiling, but her expression is unimpressed; it doesn’t mean much, really, to be her friend, her colleague, or worse, her opponent. Irene is calm like an evening in July, a low, cool, languid feeling. "I don't mean to be a prick, but, aren't you a little young to be so jaded?"

"Gosh," Karina’s grin doesn’t change, but does turn a touch wicked, like she's biting back. "I'd hate to be around when you do mean to be a prick, but maybe we'll find out - you know, down the line, someday.”

Irene tuts softly. It sounds patronizing. "Please, you'll have to forgive me - for mistaking you for someone more aware of how the rest of us work."

“You're one to talk, Irene."

“Careful,” Irene warns.

"What, you gonna set me straight?"

"Right." The way the word rolls off Irene's tongue, slow, thick, bitter, like molasses; like the coffee she has when she's tired, like the cigarette she swears left and right she’s cutting out and the vodka she needs you to reach for in the upper cabinets, like the person she is after midnight when you've let her keep drinking to find the limits to her inhibition. You understand Irene too well. And no matter what anyone says, you will not have the facts wrong.

There's no kindness to the way she laughs. None.

She tilts her head to you, grinning: an honest grin, her favorite thing - inimitable, unique, and hers alone; her version of cruelty is what will always have them doubting. You hold her gaze as she adds, "of all things, right now - wouldn’t you just love to set her straight?"

-

Depending on who you ask, you’ll get different results.

Irene insists you kissed Karina first, probably out there in the snow - god knows how cliche would that be.

She also insists that it was you who suggested that “there’s a lot more sense in splitting a cab,” and then minutes later, “please, it'd be no trouble, just let us pay. Our place is five blocks that way," and Irene - being Irene - mentioning it's actually quite a bit further, but hey, it isn’t worth splitting hairs over. And it's not worth explaining - she shuts you up with another kiss, pressing her weight hard up against you, the arm she slings around your neck.

Then in a sort of mythologized version of the timeline, it's you who makes the proposition - invites Karina upstairs, with the charm that Irene knows is usually reserved for her benefit alone: that slight tick of the brow, the delicate slant of your mouth, the confidence you seem to have in thinking no one will ever say no, no matter how brusque the invitation-

"You two are unbelievable. Is this really your standard procedure?" Karina asks, once you're through the door, or maybe during a bout of smalltalk in the kitchen. Something flirtatious; and suggestive, and maybe a little offhand. A pointed glance downwards, back up. All it really will take. "You get some girl into your home and they're just so overwhelmed and dazzled and in love, they can't even make eye contact for longer than a second? Because that's quite a line," a soft huff, the exhale that seems to carry the faintest note of a sigh. You could call it wistful. Just this side of romantic; very attractive.

“That’s more or less the gist of it,” you offer.

“You’d be surprised.” Irene is lingering on it, back against the counter beside you, laughing. "Some people are more than happy to be swept off their feet."

"Imagine that. If that's how this is meant to go, then tell me," and Karina lifts her chin, a breath drawn slow and deliberate, "what exactly do prince and princess charming do next?"

Consider that Karina’s interpretation of events is closer to reality: no pretense. She is not drunk, and in this story, she never will be.

But it's the slow-burn thing, the rivals-to-lovers thing, the sexual-tension-through-conflict thing, the white-hot-blistering-rage matter gone awry. Not a series of happy accidents, but a result of intentional circumstance - this slow arc of descent. She knows exactly how Irene is tightly wound, and which thread to pull to make everything start to unravel. She'd flirt with you right under her nose - say things in this obnoxiously girlish tone, pout a lot, lean into so much innuendo it becomes impossible to miss the meaning, or the sincerity behind it.

If you had to guess - Karina’s been pining since forever, since Irene accidentally etched her DNA into the girl upon saying, carelessly, that she’d always seen some part of herself in Karina. Probably around the time Irene wrapped a palm over an expanse of bare thigh, just beneath the hem of her skirt, telling her, you're getting way too pretty for your own good.

Doesn’t matter who you are, that’ll fuck you up for real.

And it's not just how she looks at Irene when she thinks no one is watching either; swings and roundabouts, Karina probably can’t keep the thought of you sprawled out over Irene’s petite little frame, or Irene kissing you hard while wrapped around you tight. Your hand, her hand, intertwined and picturesque, sliding down Irene's stomach. Together - and so very without her - fingertips stroking lightly over Irene’s clit, gently dipping inside her.

Irene is not stupid. She picks up on everything, and there's a lot to unpack:

"Can you believe it? Minjeong just asked me if I've ever kissed a girl before," Karina had said to you once, ages ago, between a workout or dance practice, something or another - she was wearing a loose-fit tank top and very intent on showing off. She seemed then to be taking mental note of the face Irene put on, the look of someone trying to hold in an aneurysm.

“Well,” you played along, because you’re not really without blame here either. "Have you?"

"Oh my god." Karina knew what she awas doing, the playful slap to the chest, the lingering touches she’d have on you every chance she could get - total fucking coquette - anything to get a rise out of you, your fiancée. She hushed her voice down to this strategic whisper that Irene could just overhear: "of course not."

You better believe Irene broke her composure not soon afterwards, after Karina made her exit. 

"Do not fuck her," she demanded, firm, "I don't care how good you think she might be in bed, or what she would probably let you get away with."

You remember the knit of her brow.

“Do not.”

You’re sighing, profoundly. The memory - not to mention its shocking clarity - has put a smug sort of satisfaction into your bones, indulging. The nip to Karina's jaw, a hot, open-mouthed kiss to her shoulder. A hand tracing down the curve of her hips, under the guise of helping her settle between the cushions of the couch. You feel like you catch the color flooding her cheeks. Then, Irene, her pretty little shadow: the steady presence over her other shoulder.

"What." Karina sounds defensive when Irene pulls her lips away, but the hand she has buried in Irene's hair doesn’t appear to be going anywhere. "Are we going to pretend for a minute I don't see the way you're both looking at me right now?"

"Don't be stupid, darling, of course not." Irene leans up close again. Kisses up her neck, behind her ear, and coos, "the two of us, you just seemed like you were needing someone, that's all," and then whispers the words, barely audible: "I mean look, who wouldn't want the three of us right now?"

Karina hums. "Ah, so - you think I deserve to have a little fun."

"Maybe," she draws it out a little longer.

Your hands dip below her knees, running over the silk-slick surface, tugging at the frills lining her thighs - feeling up over the outline of where her body curves under her dress. Over the dark pattern printed across the front.

Karina swallows visibly, her head dropping back against the armrest, the couch cushion; by the way she shudders slightly and starts breathing, you realize that it's probably been a while since she's had much experience being in a position this helpless. You draw your fingers lightly across the bareness of her skin, right as Irene finds that sensitive spot just where her neck slopes to her collarbone. You trace along the fabric until you have her squirming beneath you both.

She sucks in a breath as Irene drags a touch right over the obvious seam, across the expanse of her hip, and despite your fiancée being a tad forward -

"Both of you should know I'm not that type of girl. Who puts out so easily-"

"Likewise," Irene practically sneers, not missing a beat and threading her fingers beneath her jaw, feeling her pulse against the pad of her thumb.

"Yeah, well. If this isn't a setup, then, what-"

“A setup.” Irene breathes the word out, contemptuous, which is almost as if she says yes, you figured it out, and she starts to lean in closer - the distance between the two of them now negligible as her mouth tightens with her derision. "That is awfully conceited of you."

"Ha."

You choose right there to run your palm between her thighs and cup at the front of her pussy through the skirt of her dress, squeezing tightly. There has to be an element of good cop, bad cop to this whole routine, and you'd be remiss not to participate in the former. Irene's glare is starting to become pretty intimidating.

"The way I see it," you begin, and it's so gentle. Easy to slip through, but easy enough to grip - no threat, or indication that she should stop rocking forward to the motion of your fingers, toying idly. "There's no catch. Only: Irene calls the shots. If you end up with a crush, or worse, think you're in love," a light squeeze to illustrate the point, the dig of nails, not too rough, but definitely drawing attention. "You've gotta walk it off.”

Karina just runs her tongue across her lips, sighing.

“No strings attached, no special treatment. Or anything."

"Oh." Karina is looking straight at you, dazed - as your fingers work harder, picking up where her hips started rolling a second before. She licks her lips. "You're telling me that I'm going to get fucked so thoroughly here, that it's gonna be a problem."

"Actually," you pull away, pushing her dress up so you can touch up ever higher this time. Rooting between her soft thighs. "I can't make any guarantees. You'll need to convince us first."

There's a laugh, from a spot inside her diaphragm - and yeah, there's no denying the reality here. She's nervous; or excited; or nervous-excited. Karina just lets it pass, an exaggerated sound in her throat, before gasping on an exhale of breath: "convince you to fuck me?"

"Between us, we've kissed our fair share of pretty girls in the heat of the moment," Irene supplies.

Karina laughs. Starts saying, "in that case, can I start by confessing that this whole exchange has left me pretty fucking wet-" 

You slip one finger down the rise of her panties, this lacy little number she probably picked out with sordid fantasy in mind. 

"Oh god," she says, voice drowned in her throat, husky, and sultry - it’s really hard not to appreciate the girl, like this - and then she closes her eyes, saying it again, "oh, yeah, like - like that. Okay, thank you."

Irene puts a hot kiss into her lips, and a subjugating silence stills over the living room, softening around her small voice, her breathing. Everything comes together so seamlessly, so effortlessly: 

The click of Irene’s heels against hardwood, these soft sounds of wet tongues twisting and bodies grinding, Karina's face, buried somewhere under Irene's chin, letting out the cutest moan. Irene's helping the rest of the dress up over Karina's ass, then up past her waist, pulling down the scalloped elastic of her stockings. She grabs hold of her hips, feeling the draw of her curves there - you watch how your other half does the thing she does best, the thing where she strips a girl down to nothing like she's doing them a favor.

"Pretty," Irene appraises her naked body - not her face, not her mind, not her ambition or the strength of her determination, or god forbid, something banal like her personality, but, "fuck, look at you, look at this figure," her palm skates along the plane of her stomach, "so pretty."

It could be the insinuation: Irene is ready to reduce the girl down to a heap of jumbled nerves; to tears, probably - given half the chance. Like she's telling her a body as flawless and well-manicured and sweetly receptive to being toyed with as hers needs to get absolutely wrecked, among other things.

(Fucked so deeply, and to the point of utter exhaustion - the point is that she forgets her own name.) 

Irene knows just by looking, her eyes tracing down each and every one of Karina’s curves like they’re taking inventory. It could be as simple as a handprint seared into her ass, a stinging red stain etched into her soft, creamy white skin, marking the insides of her thighs, her beautiful fucking tits - oh, the things the two of you could do.

"How do you want it, exactly?" Irene's eyes are dancing around her face, in her stare, darting down, then back up. "How, baby."

Karina smiles against Irene’s lips like she knows the answer, the perfect one. She must already have the script prepared. It's no stretch of the imagination: "anything, as long as it means you both keep looking at me."

Because maybe it's down to the pure physicality of it all. Something Karina's been waiting to feel, desperate to have, for some time - as you set into action, dismantling any pretense that you weren’t about to devour the heat of her aching cunt, from running touches all over her slick pussy. It’s a strong theory, you figure, from the visceral response you get when you get start to fuck her, when you slide a finger inside: tight and snug, and so unbelievably wet. 

“Oh,” she breathes out, and it sounds sated and needy all at once.

You make sure to glance at her face before pressing another into her. All the way past the knuckles. She looks lost to the feeling, the pleasure; her expression gone hazy-eyed as you start fucking into her with a few steady pumps of your wrist - slow and then faster, then faster again - fucking into her with increasing urgency.

Just to keep her gasping, panting.

Like a woman starved for it.

"God," Irene kisses softly into her mouth. Her hand tangled in Karina's hair, twisting strands between her fingers and tugging just shy of something painful, "you're really sensitive, aren't you?"

Karina nods, slightly. It’s all she can manage.

You have a soft spot for girls who will spread themselves open like they can't wait, but still end up flustered over how your lips ghost across aching flesh. Who can't even form the words - asking for this, and that, and a million little things; and look at Karina - blushing, her eyes fluttering closed, and digging her nails into the couch the moment you finally put your hot mouth on her. Her entire body is drawn taut like a live wire.

"Relax," you coax, speaking more to the muscle - her legs tensed, and knees pulled tightly together. You know just where to place your lips to make her go to pieces, but it's worth suspending pleasure - your own, and Irene's, who won't admit that this sorta turns her on too - so Karina's face might open up, so the tilt of her brow can slack, and the twist of her expression can soften. Like it's the only chance she'll ever get.

When you place your palm across Karina's stomach to steady her and look up, Irene has started peeling off her own clothes, down to nothing but the little panties underneath. That garter-belt thing that makes her ass look like she was sculpted straight out of clay - a reminder she's always worth your time, no matter what mood she's in, or whether or not she'll eventually let you take the lead. She's lifting herself on the couch to throw off the little slip of a dress, the high heels. “Baby," she purrs, teasing, maybe to distract from how she’s gone from dragging circles with her fingernails across Karina’s collarbones to kneading roughly at her tits. And she might even insert something she's never actually had a chance to confess out loud, or even consider much, like: she's been dying to know what Karina's face will scrunch up into, or what her eyes will look like, tears stained across her lashes while you fuck her within an inch of her life. The image you’ll find when you find all those spots that drive a girl wild.

Your mouth drags over the slick, her lips, her clit, and down again - as if to illustrate the point.

"That feels - so," she starts, and bites off the rest of the words.

Irene grabs hold of Karina's hands. Presses their mouths back together, and bites Karina's bottom lip. Kissing the words out of her, the sentences that start in half measures and stifled gasps:

"- so, good, oh. Do - ah, fuck. Oh, god-"

-and vanish somewhere in Irene's mouth.

"-oh, do that again. Oh my god. There. Just - lick- please, keep fucking, exactly that-"

And pay close attention, because here now is how she slips: from the image she maintains for the cameras, the audiences, her admirers, her competition, her detractors, the ones who mean it, the ones who don't mean a damn thing; the girl who shies away from anything overtly sexual, or sensual, or remotely hedonistic; and doesn't act as though she too, just as much as anyone else, needs someone to fuck her stupid - as if it's an eventuality of her own humanity, instead of a concept she's learned to scorn.

Irene picks up on the distinction, all too familiar with the look filling out across Karina’s angelic features.

She ghosts her thumbnail across Karina’s nipple. Tries out: "why don't you make her cum, baby, right here, on the couch.” A look at you, a quick tilt of the chin. Then, her tongue peeking from behind her teeth, and her voice dropping, "just so you can tell Minjeong, or whoever ends up asking - 'you have no idea how good they fuck.'"

And just like that - with Karina’s body laid out beneath Irene’s hands, your mouth - you simply fucking ruin her. 

You both do. 

Until it's only a mess of whines and shuddering limbs and that lovely look: pure agony. So helpless. So utterly exposed.

Karina hiccups something incoherent - you’re doubling down. You’re working your touches through the torrid mess between her legs. Her pussy is shimmering wet and hot and every bit as pretty as she is. Then, the motion of your tongue, the slow, heavy flick back and forth, relentless and constant - dragging back and forth, keeping her right up, riding the wave. Back and forth, back and forth. 

"Oh my fucking god." Karina can only gasp, jaw-slacked open. 

Overwhelmed and blissed-out and suddenly awash in this searing and wondrous sensation that the only real way she's able to make sense of is by twisting her hands in your hair and pulling you flush against her cunt while she cums on your lips.

"Ah - you're fucking kidding me. Please, don't stop, please don't-" Karina has her head turned. Voice pitched right into Irene's shoulder. You fuck her on two fingers until she’s got the heel of her palm pressed firm into her forehead, and she’s starting to jerk her hips into your face. Stutter her breathing, her words: “I, I, I- fucking - what the fuck, you’re making me - jesus fucking christ."

Like some delicate and intricate piece of her had just been irreparably snapped. Broken. You hear her expletive-laden screams - and think, better her, than either of you.

And all the way through every last part of it, cresting, waning, quivering, the tremble of her thighs snapped shut against your ears, the grind of her teeth, and each little choked out gasp-

“I'm… fucking cumming.”

Karina spends the entirety of her first orgasm between the two of you, heaving.

The look on her face alone, just from what parts you can see, has your lower gut clenched - it goes from anguished pleasure, mouth pulled wide and brows wound high and tight, all the way to calm and cathartic, the pretty bow of her lips settling into something manic. Eyes softening with a luster, half-closed. A mask, the afterglow: blissed-out and smiling dreamily.

How anyone could say no to a picture like this, you're unsure. Though not particularly willing to test the theory, naturally.

"That was mean," Karina finally huffs, letting a moment pass to even out her breaths. "Both of you, so mean."

"You said to," is all Irene says, amused. 

Karina looks down; lifts her head just slightly - as you bring your own mouth off her, catching her glance. Not even your palm and your fingers covered with the evidence - it's her lips that give her away, the swollen, pouting, bright pink lips of her pussy, still radiant with her climax.

She breathes, "god. Irene."

It sounds an awful lot like she's begging for mercy.

Irene hums softly. Leans in for a kiss, with her slender hands cupping Karina's face. Manages to say: "you just look so fucking hot when you're struggling. Can’t fault us for that." She reaches down, and digs her fingernail into the line of Karina's cheek - near the center, just short of the outer curve where her dimple naturally settles. She works her lips to a very soft, "ow."

"Listen," Irene says, "is there anywhere else you've been considering going? Because in the event you're looking to stay for the night-"

Karina replies, "only everywhere I still haven't gone."

Her smile looks honest. Her cunt seeping and slick - there's abundant honesty there, too. And you manage to catch the wicked glint in Irene's eye, like she's a bit obsessed with all that glisten, and what it means - that Karina hasn't felt a real, good dicking in ages. Maybe, probably, never. That she's slept with everyone and filled her quota of playing pretend: of someone just going through the motions, dragging their mouth or tongue or cunt along the most obvious, conventional routes.

It’s written all over her face: the girl between you needs to be touched everywhere, and by someone who knows how. Needs it deeper, more. Has to feel the pressure everywhere all over.

Irene asks her, plainly, “how might we get you moaning like that again, hm? We're both dying to know."

She puts her hand under Karina’s chin, tilts her face towards hers, and kisses her long and deep. Until the both of them are having trouble catching any breath. Until they have to break, only so one can take another in: inhale, exhale, and back in her mouth.

"Maybe." Karina lets go of Irene's lower lip. She sounds almost bashful, "you'll need to let me get my hands on that cock of his. Let me get it inside, want it real fucking deep inside. Tell you if I'm just, you know. Really fucking horny. Or maybe I have some hangups about sex I've never told anyone - and we have to work past that," she takes Irene's mouth into her own again.

It's the short consideration of sure, mm, why not? until the next suggestion is: "he should be on his knees, in bed, those hands around my waist, behind the small of my back and pulling me into every stroke."

“Oh,” Irene agrees, “I love that. Should I play with myself while I watch him fuck you senseless? So hard and rough - you'll start seeing stars. I wanna see him completely railing into your dripping pussy from behind, fucking you so goddamn well until you're screaming so loud it’ll wake the neighbors."

Karina sighs. “Well I’d hate to get all the way here and half-ass it.”

You barely catch it, but there's a lovely note in Karina's voice. It’s saying, and don't you dare treat me like glass, like I’m fragile.

All in all, a filthy, filthy way for a girl with virtually no ill-reputation or ill-gotten gains - no record whatsoever - to describe how she wants you to fuck her, until she’s biting down on the consonants in your name, moaning loud and unmistakably clear, and-

“-sorry, whose cock?” Irene has no intention of letting her off easy.

You draw away from the meat of her thigh, licking your lips clean, and insert mid-conversation with a husky-voiced, "hmm?"

Karina just shoots you a sharp-eyed look. "You heard."

"Only," you play dumb. You run a hand between her legs, using your palm as you go, so you can pull more sound out of her throat; the pleased sighs, a hum. Another. "The part where you want it 'real fucking deep inside,' I think I heard."

"I mean, wouldn't you?" Karina looks satisfied with that. Lets out an easy laugh and turns to Irene. "Besides, I need to know if it’s more than just pretty eyes and a handsome smile that you’ve gotten yourself so hung up on."

The tilt of your fiancée’s brow above her is noticeable and apparent. Not a twinge of surprise; more like recognition. It's Irene looking haughty - beyond the usual - wrapped up in the afterglow. It's the confidence, and not at all humbled by the reality that she is no stranger to fucking a girl this downright gorgeous, knowing the danger inherent in allowing that kind of damage, but if Irene has you figured - she's figured Karina even better: someone willing to push through the burn. Someone, she’s betting, with the capacity to handle pain like it's an artform.

“Karina,” Irene says, and she's really leaning into it, "you really ought to be more careful with that smart-mouth of yours.”

It's the absolute worst way to proposition someone; maybe second only to what Irene whispers straight into her ear:

"If I had to guess, it’s your sweet, pretty face that has everyone bending over backward just to let you fuck them, hmm?” 

You’d anticipated this much. You watch how your beautiful wife-to-be eases forward and leaves a slow kiss into Karina's throat, before adding the worst, most awful thing she can manage, “they're eating up this adorable, innocent facade of yours just as soon as you let it slip - letting you straddle their waist, and slide right on, and chase some clout out of oh, she must have this tight little cunt, or how good it would fucking feel to ruin a load just slamming these perfect tits, or. The best of the best, when it comes to pretty things with brains and mouths on 'em: 'fuck, I bet Karina has a face like an angel, she's the kind of girl who probably really, really loves taking it raw - filled and fucked as deep as she can manage'."

“She’s insinuating you’re a slut,” you offer on the next beat, down from between Karina’s knees. “Or something.”

"I put that much together." Karina has that teasingly pragmatic tone in her voice, matching Irene's level. "Your point?"

The joke is that even Irene - after she has the chance to drag her thumb across Karina's lips - looks mildly impressed.

"Sweetheart," the corner of Irene's mouth quips, as if the reason is so, so very obvious, "let’s say you’re just like me, total hypothetical. You're going to have to let us know which part feels better: the praise, or the degradation. I know it’s what makes you tick: all the attention. I know you need it. The same way I know that I could eat this perfect pussy out for hours just to get it slick, and wet, and wanting, and the thing I’m still not sure you’d be ready to learn," she tells her, a light in her stare that flicks upwards, eyes going from Karina's cunt and back to her eyes, her own mouth, and then hers, "the really good sex? Isn’t always pretty."

There isn't room for misunderstanding, let alone any mercy in it. Irene's face is dark; dangerous. Like, seriously. Karina knows better. Everyone does. You know exactly what she's doing. You know what comes next, but this time, you can't shake the feeling like-

Like Karina wants you to look.

She has her fingers on her cunt, spread, presenting - and a small shrug; her response is so fucking coy: "I guess I can't really help it. Besides, it’s common knowledge, isn’t it? The brattiest girls always turn out to be the best fucks. Honest, I get so wet sometimes, you know and then god, I can't think straight.” 

She laughs at the premise. 

“I dunno, what's a girl to do?"

You can feel the room starting to tighten up, just barely: Karina’s breath still heavy, her chest heaving, the way Irene holds her still, how her arm curls across her stomach, palm flat under her tits; that pose in particular, the power to entice.

And maybe it's the fact Irene is still making eyes at you from Karina's shoulder, the cruel bite to her upper-lip, showing how she's working at the soft skin of her neck - a smirk, before pressing into another kiss there. Your insides are running hot, a shudder racing up your spine. There’s no mistaking what she's getting off on, not just some pretty-as-paint newcomer. There’s your Irene, your fiancée - and her beautiful, adorable, awful little shadow.

-

So what if, by some pure hypothetical, this all spirals out of control?

You don't know the consequences of taking home what amounts to a coworker and screwing her with a certain reckless abandon. There’s power harassment, a toxic workplace environment, boundary issues, sexual-fraternization. So on, so forth. It's all relative, but watching Irene and Karina make their way up the stairs and admiring the things that only a woman's hips can do, swaying this way, and that - and, following the path from one tight little ass, the other, all the way up their spines - there are no such qualms to contend with, because there's absolutely zero chance that’s the thing that’ll be keeping you up all night.

Irene laments and hopes in the same breath. 

She has two pairs of panties in one hand, Karina’s fingers laced into the other, explaining with a quick squeeze, "don't tell me, baby, I already know," a wink, a laugh. She’s such a sweetheart when she means to be; charming, wooing, the coy girl Karina seems to have gotten so drunk off the idea of getting mixed up with. And yeah, when she drops them on the floor, and pushes Karina gently against the wall. Traces her finger up her jaw, then her cheek, and leans into the crook of her neck, into that same spot from earlier; yes, Karina can count herself lucky, or whatever.

"So, don't stop now, baby-" Karina's huffing - the line of her throat so taut and exposed. "You should really fucking try harder if you want me to beg."

"Honey," is how Irene responds, leisurely.

There will come a point in their intimacy, in all things considered, where this act no longer plays itself: Irene, the seductress, and Karina, a deft and innocent prey; of course you, the hammer to a nail, pushed and pulled in one direction, the next. The moments in which her lips leave the crescent of Karina's mouth - hot, hazy, and half-wet with their own spit, their tongues twisting, the muted click, and the telltale wet drag of a body pushing and straining up against her own-

Maybe in her bones, she is begging for it. Maybe, Irene hopes, she'll have to: eyes turned up, watering, tears coming hot, streaming down her flushed cheeks as she cries it from her lungs.

"I wouldn't have you beg for anything."

It's true that Irene is ninety-nine percent grace, one percent child-like wonder; she's easy to read when the mood hits her. The lines of their bodies tousling, twisting and tangling in moon-lit-darkness. There's some irony to it, only a few steps away from the bedroom. At the base of the staircase. In front of the tall windows covered with frost that serve, now, primarily to remind Karina that she's in a part of town she could never afford, in an ostentatious apartment she could only dream of; but most importantly, that the woman in front of her - with her fingers dipping down between her thighs and up again, tracing over her navel and the rise of her hip and her cleavage - can have anyone she likes, without limitation.

Karina can't deny it's everything she wants.

"Karina, I'm curious." You're easing into that spot, where the two of them have coiled themselves up - you’ve got your cock in your hand and you’re stepping out of your pants - in the hallway, the frame of the door, a heavy, long shadow cast: Karina has Irene pinned now, a wrist over her head, against the other side of the wall where the white paintwork is starting to run thin. "Didn't you say something before about how hard you wanted it? Raw, deep, I believe was how you put it."

Irene smirks. It's just the slightest sneer, until she has her hands reaching over the curves of Karina's hips and pulling her fingers into her soft ass. Spreading her cheeks. Touching up, then down, back in the same groove, this slow rhythm that builds - like they were both expecting this exact sequence of events.

You watch Irene whisper something into the girl's ear, and - fuck - the light catches her expression at just the right moment, head lolled to the side.

"Hey," Karina drawls. She lets it come out breathy - on the note, the middle and upper registers of her voice, hitting something near a perfect alto. "How about instead of having some heart-to-heart, and making me out to be some naive-ass kid, you stop asking questions and get to fucking the life out of my little pussy."

She ends it so charming.

“Oh,” you tell her, feeling how fucking drenched she is right at the end of your cock - sliding her slick up and down the length of her cunt, and knowing the feeling will likely stick to your skin and drip to the floor, all of it - "well. If that's all."

Your hand arrives on the lithe stretch of muscle between her waist, right along the ridge of her hip bone, your cock pressing onto the heat of her cunt. Karina turns her head over her shoulder so you can see it all in profile: that pout. That look. That everything.

"There you have it." Irene squeezes the flesh she's got cupped in her palms, drawing circles. "If only everyone else got to hear that sweet, sharp edge you've got underneath, hm?"

Karina opens her mouth with some clear quip to needle, but stops herself, a catch in the center of her throat, her brows shooting up. The pull of her voice is somewhere out and over.

“God, fuck-” she can just manage to sputter. “You’re- ah, ah - your fucking cock-”

Oh, it has you cursing too. You're pushing so far into her tight little cunt - the soft airy moan, that pretty sound, riding back on every last stroke until you've filled her right to the hilt.

“I know, I know - that feels so good, right?” Irene coos.

You just pull her all the way back onto your cock, thrusting deep. Base to tip. So goddamn fucking deep.

Karina probably doesn’t even mean to whimper, but the press of your hips, slowly snapping in and in, has her lungs constricted, as the pressure slides through every hot, slippery inch inside of her - this glide of agonizing intensity.

“I bet you want to just cream all over that cock,” Irene says, fine eyebrows knitting into something like contentment. “All filled up and feeling full, and just fucking letting it go - he’ll take such good care of you. He’ll fuck you so good you won’t ever get that warm, hazy, blissed-out feeling out of your veins ever, ever again, if he has his way-”

All while the head of your cock works over every fucking sensitive part of her, dragging out to thrust all the way into her soft cunt, the round of her ass bouncing back to meet each stroke. Again, and again, until you've worked through that wet stretch of muscle. And the motion isn't exactly elegant. Karina's mouth hangs wide open, catching short breaths that curl inwards when you reach the line of her waist.

“It’s so fucking good,” Karina’s sighing out. She’s all fluster, no bite.

There’s no lack for juxtaposition in the way Irene dotes on her either - these small beguiling bits of praise like, baby, you’re doing so good, these tits of yours are just, you are - just gorgeous. Mouth quirked into a tight grin as her fingers pull and twist around her nipple. The sharp yelp that comes after. The fact that she's kissing the words into her mouth on the very next whimper: “a girl like you needs the time, and patience, and opportunity to have her insides completely, totally, catastrophically ruined.”

Irene had it exactly right on the first read. She’ll say, “I told you so,” when Karina’s washing the cum off her chest or out of her eyelashes in the shower. It’s the praise; it’s the degradation; it’s you leaning down, your hands finding her hair, curling in, and getting her right up against your lips to say it quiet, low, intimate - like a lover, like she hasn't already heard it before, “such a good little slut for me.”

And the girl absolutely fucking keens.

You grip onto her hips. You pull her hair tight. Her throat bobs under your thumb and you can feel the anxiety start to throb, her pulse hot and heavy in her cunt. How it soaks the base of your cock. Jesus, you’ll fuck a load right into her. So easily. Her pussy is so snug, so unbelievably wet. Perfect enough to know if you fuck into her any faster, any harder - it’ll be just that: you'll paint right up to her cervix; you'll fill her to the fucking brim.

"Fuck, Karina, this pussy is such a fucking dream," is what you're making sure she knows, and at that, Karina just finds that bend. Arches more of herself to you, until her ass is slotted into the plane of your stomach, the head of your cock prodding, testing the limit where her cunt is hottest and wettest. "God, this has to feel incredible. Your ass bouncing on my cock" - Karina goes slack on the force, leaning forward - "as I rail your tight little cunt."

If anything, Irene is there to catch Karina's tearful, thankful gaze when she finally starts fucking crying, a litany of yes, fuck yes, yes-yes-right-there, please fuck, and a wet, dazed little "you're goddamn - you're ruining, fucking - fucking, ruining me," every other syllable broken by her shuddering breaths.

"Aw, you're going to cum again, huh? Baby-" Irene's got her head at an angle - their gazes locked, watching - and maybe Irene really gets it: how much of a big, bad crush this gorgeous fucking woman's had on the pair of you all this whole time, with all that faux-romance, and lust, and envy wrapped up inside her - but if she wasn't so obsessed with the shape of Irene's mouth, the contour of her jaw, the lean and sleek lines of her frame and the soft, round swell of her ass - she’d still be left with the shape of your cock, where it’s pounding her apart. Fucking her and fucking her up.

It's more than worth the breath to remind Karina what she came here for. Irene's fingertips brush the line of her lips, part them just so. 

“All over him, baby, let him make a mess of you. Just a total fucking mess. We'll fill you up, and fill you up, until your poor, aching pussy is full of cum," and it's probably as well: Karina does what comes most natural to her - with you three, the whole number. Her eyes flutter and go dreamy. There's not even a moment of hesitation:

"-until it's leaking down these fucking thighs-"

"You're doing so good, babe," is your supporting role in all this, murmuring encouragement straight into her ear as you fuck her to pieces. Your breath fans out against her cheek. And then, your hands make a grip under her thighs, holding her steady, making her mouth fall open - this keen, wobbly, vulnerable thing that exposes the naked girl she is, behind all the makeup, and the heels, and her seductive and all-consuming appeal, everything.

“Just so you know: it’s the best fucking part, Karina. I mean, the look on his face.” Irene laughs with her whole body, until the rich, raspy sound of it fills the hall. “The way he bites his lip when he's close, his eyes clenched - and god, I fucking love when he finally cums. It's so good, watching him. Letting him have his way. Feeling his cock throb and spill into you - hot, and still, and just pumping inside you - just so, so good.”

"Fuck, ah-" the little gasp is like she's starting to hyperventilate. 

"Because baby,” is the final nail in the coffin, hammering home, “he’s fucking you just like he’d fuck me.”

"Fucking, please, god-."

Irene's hands have her breasts in their grasp and are playing at where she’s sensitive, then pushing into the soft, delicate space beneath, thumbing the indents. "He's so fucking good, isn't he? Are you going to cream and cream all over his hard fucking cock?"

Then - and because it comes so instinctually to her. Because, actually, your Irene has a slight propensity for evil:

She slaps Karina, right across her tits. "Fucking cum on it."

One.

Tugs hard on a nipple. "I swear, every single bit of you is so goddamn beautiful-"

Two.

"That body is built, perfect. So easy to ruin. And god - what a perfect little pussy you've got-"

Three.

Karina struggles to breathe. Her voice is torn, frayed. She barely manages to utter out a very shaky, very desperate, "harder, fuck- you’re fucking making me so- you can, harder-"

Four.

The cruel contact of Irene’s palm pulls this deliciously hedonistic sound in Karina's throat, a loud moan; like she just hit the sweet spot inside that's all her nerves coming alight. Irene plants a quick peck in Karina's hair. Her temples, the ridge of her brows. Slides her thumb across her eyelashes, brushing them clean from whatever tears had sprung free. You don't even want to try, not at that moment, to try and endure the quiver of slippery muscle all over your cock as she shudders into her orgasm. It's simply too fucking much. She's too fucking tight.

"Aw, shh shh, shh," and then Irene's soft hushes are coming down from the other side of her head. Irene kisses her full, straight on her mouth. Karina is shaking, convulsing and caught and fucked from head to toe - and what she needed was someone like the two of you - to watch her cunt swallow your cock like some magnificent and unbelievable sight, taking the whole damn thing. Irene is telling her, "it's okay. You can let it go."

The silhouettes alone. From the end of the hall, and where the afterimage lingers: the smoke-frosted windows, the dim lights, their bare, beautiful forms - this picture that will stick in the center of your head, will probably haunt you-

"God, I can’t, just- ah.”

“Breathe,” Irene says.

"I'll cum again, it's too- I'm so-" Karina can only plead and sigh.

Irene shushes her one more time. "It's a lot. It's alright, baby. He's going to keep fucking you until he's ready to pull out, until he has a whole mess just painted onto your ass, and thighs, and I'm going to make sure that little pussy gets so wrecked, fucked, stretched on every last inch- until the thought of sex hurts, and then we're going to make you cum again, and again- over, and over-"

You're leaning over her, nose buried into the waves of Irene's hair, the curve of Karina's back, and the flush of skin in contrast. That's when you feel the coil in your chest come loose - unspooling, and bursting - when Karina's lids roll into the back of her head and her lips fall open with a pleasured gasp and a stammer, "y-you're, ah, both, you're so, both- oh god."

You're about to just pull her down and absolutely cream her, stuff her full - a mess.

And she wants you to-

"That feels so fucking good," she lets slip out on the cusp of a shiver, just as her inner muscles are spasming, milking your cock with the pressure from one pulse through the next, squeezing.

She’s right. It does. Her, coming undone. You, at wit’s end. 

Another breath, and Karina is managing out between these small hiccups - not as much out of breath, just dumbstruck - simply muttering, "I’m cumming, I- oh my god." 

You barely manage it; you unbury your cock from her cunt; you’re cumming all over her ass. 

A shot of white that streaks right down to her bare-slicked skin, before it gets painted down into the crease of her pussy, all swollen - wrecked and raw.

Just the way it feels on her skin is enough to earn another hushed moan from her, this sweet little whimper as she can hardly stand up straight. She lets her knees buckle, but Irene is right there, to catch. Her eyes are closed, eyelids clenching, as Irene tilts Karina's face her way, to lay one, two, three soft, adoring kisses on her mouth, the angle all wrong. 

“Mmm.” The smack of her lips. The pull of whatever breath she still has to give - right out of her heaving chest. "Sore, that, ahhh- um, thank you."

You fiancée wraps a slender hand right around Karina's wrist, and starts whispering to her, unbridled, "just had to. Had to see how you look-"

It’s wicked, for one thing. More than that, it's seamless:

While Irene still has the girl's voice caught in her throat, she reaches around the curve of Karina's hips and drags two fingertips through the puddle of warm cum that sits right at the base of her spine, glistening all over her ass cheeks and inner thighs, slipping and rolling off her cunt, down the center, running in rivulets. Your cum between her fingers is so filthy, so obscene - dripping hot - right off her reddened skin, and Irene can't possibly help it; not after a display as indulgent as that. The trembling that remains in Karina’s thighs does nothing to hide how her legs now jitter and shake under Irene's touch.

“That’s my good girl,” she whispers as her fingertips hover across the apex of her puffy lips. Over and over again, with more force, and more, until you're almost positive it's Karina that leans in a moment later, kissing the rest of her soft assurances right off her tongue.

Listen to her: this incoherent string of words pouring from her mouth, like they can't move fast enough, tripping over each consonant, "are you, oh, oh - oh, fuck."

No one else could make that kind of overstimulation feel so heavenly, you figure, the way she just properly melts. You take a step back, just to let Irene work. Just to watch. To appreciate the craft.

You absolutely get it. 

How to touch, how to tease. Firsthand experience has you know she'll ride your cock until you're throbbing and spilling cum and she'll just shh-shh, let you have it - it's okay, sweetie, just let go - until she's rolling her hips just right, or reaching a hand back to massage your balls, or stroking your inner thigh in that exact kind of spot; some method that keeps her all the way on the end of your cock, but not quite off the edge, and your cum leaking down your shaft, spent.

She’ll bite into her smirk. She’ll tie up her hair. She’ll get that serious look on her face because she knows: you’re all hers for the taking.

So she'll sink onto it, again and again, until she's fucking you with the slippery friction only your own spill might provide. "Just a little more," she'll tell you, which is absolutely a lie, "come on, just a bit harder, I'm so close." Irene does this thing - she's had years to refine and perfect - and her voice gets a husky edge to it as her teeth graze the shell of your ear; she makes a small, pained groan into the curl of your hair and breathily hums it: 'I'm almost there.'

Who stands any chance to resist?

And she's always asking you - the same way she's coaxing and promising Karina the world with just the movement of her fingers, this delectable in and out, in and out, pushing that filth up into the red-soaked lips of her pussy - "now, what did I ever do to deserve someone like you?"

Karina blinks, once - a sleepy-lidded draw that leaves her lashes, lush and long, and fanning her flushed cheeks. 

The sound between her legs is wet, squelching with your cum, with hers, the barest hint of slapping her tender skin. The beat of Irene's wrist against her thighs - like that's where she needs it most - a deep, primal rhythm, like the last thing she wants is to take a breath. It's fucking hot; her head is tilted, her jaw clenched, and Irene has the tips of her fingers twisted between Karina's legs, swirling your cum right back around in her slick cunt - those plump pussy lips that you've watched stretch out on the first press, the first and the second and the third, as Karina finds what gets her there fast, fast-fast-fastest-

"You can cum for me too, baby."

It’s not a suggestion. There’s nothing but expectation in Irene’s voice. 

“Just cum.”

You watch it knock the architecture right out of Karina's legs.

-

Indulgent, just isn’t quite the right word for it. Careless, reckless, clumsy even-

Look - the tumultuous tangle you three make is all over the fucking place.

One moment, you're at an angle, moreover twisted-limbed with Irene bent over her dresser, then propped up on top of yours the next, your forehead landing against hers, feeling the soft cradle of her shoulders, her legs around you. She has her hands wrapped in Karina's, in that muddled in between: it's a collision of sorts.

There's the chair in the corner of your bedroom that really has only ever known one purpose, a plush rug, all these surfaces, horizontal and vertical for you to take the two most breathtakingly beautiful people in the world on and let your bodies settle into the shape they've needed to ever since your fingertips met Irene's in the cab, ever since she blinked her heavy lashes at you with Karina in-tow, just shy of smiling.

And boy, do you learn that Karina likes to watch herself get fucked in front a mirror. Specifically, the tall one beside Irene’s closet. It's hard to blame her. When you hold her hips tight, and really, truly fuck her, you can’t keep your eyes off how her face twists with the pleasure; or, when you drill the length of your cock into her sopping wet cunt: the wide, glossy rim of her pretty lips pulling back into a wince - and your eyes dropping past the reflection of her shoulders, her collarbones, down to her perfect tits.

The back and forth, the up and down, the way they fucking wobble in their beautifully buxom blur.

Though the eventuality remains unchanged, spread out across your bed. Karina takes a moment, hand pressed to the mattress experimentally like it's all running through her head - this is where Irene gets all that fairy-tale-inspired romance from, really - a quick pause where your future-bride is up on her elbows and staring, watching - your finger sinks in slowly, between where she's soft and warm and wet. She's thinking, you can just read it off her face, 'oh. So that's what you'd do, huh?'

Just for demonstration’s sake, you fingerfuck her in all kinds of ways - show-off and performance and dirty and mind-blowing. Because even better than the whiny, gut-wrenching moan it gets out of Irene, Karina can't get enough of how it’s all presented.

"Ugh," she slides up next to you at the foot of the bed, helping you turn Irene on her side, "why does she have to be so pretty, it's annoying, she's- she's like, made it so fucking far by playing the girl everyone wants to wife, huh?" She's talking directly to you, even while Irene rolls her neck to press her head against the pillow. "Inspirational."

You're drawing circles into her clit. Thumbing the dip, circling in the opposite direction. Karina has her nails biting right into the crease where your knees touch. In tandem, you’ll help your fiancée reach the top of that first wave. 

Karina presses, all cheek - a very dry, "cute."

It’s so simple: you eat Irene’s cunt. You hold her down. And Karina slides her tongue lazily against the tight pucker of her ass.

The three of you know she deserves nothing less.

“Oh, christ, you have no idea,” Irene is murmuring into the pillowcase, head tilted at an awkward angle, looking at the wall, almost distant; but her legs are split wide and her hands are reaching forward to rub a circle into your cheek, "you know how sensitive-? Yeah. Like, really, super. Super, super fucking sensitive, okay? So - if you'd keep doing, uh, oh- oh…”

Simultaneous, then slow, and easy - kisses landing right onto Irene's clit. So much so, you can't help but turn a little, smiling right up at your girl as she digs her toes into the duvet and threads a hand into Karina's hair.

The thing is, with Irene: facades fade fast.

Karina gets to measure that fact up close - where the details of Irene's composure are not only sharp, but also readily and openly and emphatically pound to dust by the time the last loose curl of Irene’s hair falls over her collarbone; she ends up on all fours, spread out over Karina - pressed along the length of her stomach, spread over your duvet and fitted sheets, your hand at the base of Irene's waist and tightening into the divots. She’s so small beneath you that when you bury your dick inside her- 

“Fuck.” Her cunt is so wet. Her breath uneven - and her words are starting to slur. There’s the gooseflesh on her back that lets you know it’s all already over for her. “Okay,” she tries to steady the ache in her stomach, “okay, okay, just- right there.” 

The drag through her pussy is fucking extraordinary. It knocks the wind out of both of you; so soft to the touch, like velvet - she’s unbelievably tight. You pull her hips into you and it opens her right up. Then when you end up balls deep inside your girl a second, third, fourth time:

She simply shudders apart.

Even though you fuck her so slow, so easy - her cunt clenches and squeezes on you like Irene detests the very idea of letting you go. You don’t even need to rail her lithe body to complete and utter ruin just to feel the familiar pent-up tremor starting to build in her muscles, how she rolls her hips back just so-so. How your hands fit that round and pert little ass of hers so well, and when your fingers finally sink in, you’re pulling it all apart to get a good look where your cock shimmers with her slick before disappearing right into her tiny cunt.

Karina mutters something in her ear. It pulls on some thread, somewhere - you feel her wind like a spring, further, and further; your cock edging her so close. The smirk Karina saves for you over your fiancée’s shoulder makes you think she’s figured her out- 

“Irene, look-” 

Well, at least she’s tuning in on all the right frequencies.

"Aren’t we all about being thorough?" Karina raises a perfectly trimmed brow. She drapes her arm across Irene's neck, their lips sliding together again, and that kiss is drawn-out and languid, albeit needy. "So, say," it gets muffled against the seam of their lips, and comes up, and comes out like a slurry, "are we gonna use everything else too? Your mouth, your perfectly tight ass?"

Irene can hardly muster out, "fuck- fuck- yes, fucking, god," as she takes it, so deep. There’s enough there to make both of you cum, you’re sure.

“Who could’ve guessed - like there’s ever been a more perfect cocktease than bae-fucking-Irene," Karina coos, all lips. She plants a row of kisses along Irene's exposed throat. The tilt of her hips, as she pushes closer - as you press the head of your cock as deep as it can go. "Go on. Cum, baby. Be a good girl, a good hole to fuck, just do it. All over his big fucking cock. Let him fucking have you."

Which is probably about the same time you realize that you, Irene and Karina are all well enroute - becoming this one mind, a single unit. This plurality you know there’s no coming back from.

You look down, with a little more focus, and Irene is being pulled apart in every which way - your cock stretching her out, over and over - Karina’s fingers right under her clit, every circle making her whimper. She’s all sharp edges and delicate angles, but manages to be soft for you in just the right places.

“God, you’re so fucking tight,” you tell her, shifting your hips; pulling her ass flush and filling her completely. Your grip tightens on her waist and she doesn’t flinch a bit. "It's so goddamn easy to cum in this needy little pussy of yours. All wet and slick, and, hah- just pulsing-"

Irene lets out this wanton sound, desperate.

“Oh, right there, huh?” Karina asks. It’s not quite mean, but it’s getting there, fast. “Is that how he’s going to make you cum?”

You thrust on the same angle again, the same depth - you’re hitting all her nerve endings, all her sensitive spots. There isn't even room, now, for some imaginary head-to-head, some verbal volley, the banter; what comes forward is her tiny, broken moan.

How many times had Irene done the exact same, after all. Fucked you without holding back? Fucked you over? The flood of sweet-nothings as you started to approach: honey, you're so perfect, we can go slow, you just have to ask, and if you feel uncomfortable at any point, if you want me to stop-

“Just say please, doll,” Karina tells her.

If Irene told you a quarter of what made it out of the side of Karina’s mouth, you’d have never believed it. "I can't wait to feel what that arrogant mouth of yours will do when he cums inside this cute ass-"

You watch Karina spank her. Hard. There’s a red stain in the round of Irene’s cheek, and her skin is so pale that the imprint of all five fingertips looks stark, glaring.

"Just," Karina presses the rest of herself against Irene's skin and steals a quick glance at you - this half-coy smile pulling on one corner of her lips, "thought I'd do that in the name of-"

"Mmph," Irene’s groan is long, loud, "yes. Fuck, yes- please-"

Karina immediately looks away. An effort to hide the smug satisfaction. She fiddles with the auburn locks behind Irene's shoulder.

You’ll finish the sentiment: "-being thorough," and drive your cock to the hilt. Irene collapses forward onto Karina’s lap.

The sound she makes you swear is a sob. See - for Irene, it’s only about getting control in so far as it is about getting off; she’ll take whatever comes her way so long as it’s directly to her benefit - the theatrics of being pinned, the willingness for surrender, for subjugation, for the sake of telling you, yes, push my knees, spread me apart, hold me there; look at the things you do to me - it's the Irene everyone imagines, when they see the dresses, the gltiz, the glamour, just the brief flash of her grin, or the way she holds her fingernail between her teeth. Everyone wants to put her on her heel and feel a bit powerful. To have you watch the supple arc of her neckline bend, to hear the humility slip off her lips: the notion goes beyond simple kink-

It steps out into pure necessity.

She really, really needs it, and it's written into every muscle and tendon - it's on her breath as it shudders through her whole body. The beautiful, harrowing sound. "I love the way you two fuck me," she murmurs, head buried into the crook of Karina's neck. It's the sort of line, coming from someone like her, you know could raise a few blushes - if either of you was still in the business of such things.

"Honey," her voice wavers. Then, it falters: "please."

The desperation is thick, husky, almost. Karina seems like she's breathing her in, nose tucked against Irene's forehead.

You watch how she runs her nails up Irene's sides, a hot whisper sliding over her skin. You feel it, and so does Irene, this white hot pleasure singing up from the tip of her clit and spreading throughout the soft curves, the sensual lines of her body, this tangible current, a hum, a whine. You see her strain the lean stretch of muscle connecting her neck to her shoulder.

Until her face is tucked under Karina’s jaw, with a hand reaching back and hooked around your wrist and keeping you fucking, filling her, your hips drawn tight against hers, like a second home.

In and in and in.

Fucked-out and outright to the extent she goes completely silent. Almost completely still. The moment she cums all over your waist. Mouth hung open, like she’s in pure disbelief.

It doesn’t really matter, how often or how precisely Karina has imagined the whole thing. It's still a fucking revelation the first time she gets to watch Irene cum.

“No way,” she’s almost laughing, holding Irene’s jaw with both hands. “No fucking way. All the times you- what? No. Nuh-uh. You better fucking explain why this face, you- it’s not fair, the perfect face- I swear, even mid-fucking-orgasm, you are such a fucking doll-"

There's the sheer intimacy - Karina holding Irene's lips open, dragging her thumb down along the center. Quiet and sordid curses slipping from her mouth. And the obvious, her free hand already running down the curve of Irene's spine, her ass: all this sensitive-touching, admiring, appreciating-

"Hey," Karina says, voice raspy and drunk on the sex, the premise, "do me a favor, and tell me this feels as amazing as it looks. Or maybe, for once - just for the sake of fucking argument, is it actually better for the both of us, hm?

Her eyes are half-lidded, heavy, sultry. She's arching up into Irene's warmth - until her palms are spread out against her chest, thumb sliding right over everything sensitive, and she leans right to pull the other breast to her lips, and start all over again. It's clear what she means, spreading her legs as far as she can, pinned beneath the orgasm you're still fucking into Irene. As much as her petite frame will allow.

And in case you missed the point:

"So. What are we waiting for," is what she says a breath later, matter-of-fact, not at all expecting denial. “Or am I not as fuckable as our princess here?"

There's so much wet spill around the base of your cock, and the sound Irene's pussy makes when you finally draw free - all her creamy slick mixed into your mess just fucking leaking around your shaft. Karina holds herself open for you like that, spread wide. All your attention to her pink, raw cunt; you slip right inside. 

Karina lets her arms go slack on the mattress, her chest shivering, lips locked around Irene’s panting breath.

And so it goes, and so it goes, and so it goes.

-

(To anyone taking notes - chemistry, by definition, is the sum total of a certain process; where and when energy becomes matter becomes another.

More relevantly perhaps, it is that race and rise you feel inside your chest. 

Nothing about the sensation, it seems, is too exclusive either - Irene, and now Karina, the pair of them equally devastating, all over and again. It has you in communication with a different kind of contentment: to fall apart inside their embrace in particular, and kiss them with enough breath and time to waste until the morning.)

-

“Jesus,” Karina laughs out loud, “you really believe that? You corrupting me?" she makes another scoff, both hands buried somewhere in the pockets of the sweatshirt you've lent her. "At least do me a favor and cut it out with the solemn tone."

You're leaning over your apartment’s balcony, watching an emergency plow make the slowest grind of progress up the road. It's late. And cold. Or actually - it’s early. The sky is the kind of dark midnight navy you see after all the snow and stars have run through the horizon. Time ticks on, and Irene’s inside sound asleep. A woman that small has no right to snore like heavy machinery.

So,

You and Karina happen to be two things at once: very tired, and very awake.

"What I mean is: I'm sure your manager, or your parents - fuck, someone - would fly off the handle," you say, pulling a cigarette from the pack and offer it begrudgingly. She takes the end and slips it between her lips, a little unsure. You then draw a lighter and offer it, too, and Karina puffs with all her strength. She's no expert, but it looks like the end catches and turns bright. 

A bit of color.

"My parents?" Karina flouts, sucking at it, pulling deeply from her chest - smoke pours from her nose.

She finishes with a cough. And says again:

"Um. Your girlfriend had her fingers in my ass - your cock down my throat - and we're worrying what my parents might think?"

Well. She's got you on that count.

"Not to mention: who the fuck thinks they're so virtuous-" a small chuckle as she passes it back. The cigarette is lit, bright. You take a drag. Watch her tap her feet on the snow. "That they need to do that to begin with. It's more trouble, telling me what to think and feel, as if that hasn't just the opposite effect."

“Irene’s protective, albeit in her own sorta peculiar way. So, you know, by extension, she worries-" you pull, and exhale, the smoke blowing past Karina. It gets caught in her fringe, in the wisps. You offer it back when you see her shiver. "That some shit happens, after."

"Your concern is heartwarming, truly - if you want to let me think on it, I might go and write a nice little diary entry tonight. It'll have sparkles and glitter - if you're that worried." 

Karina reaches in. Lets her fingers graze yours. Her skin is cool. 

“Besides, I don’t need a lesson in image from Irene of all people. She’s her; I’m me.”

She holds onto the cigarette between two long acrylic fingernails, tapping the end so the ash flits out onto the ice. You're caught staring, probably - the dark hair framing her face, all messy and soft, falling about her cheekbones. How that pretty pink blush in her skin seems to never go away.

Your eyes drop to where her mouth is red, a bit swollen - well-kissed; it is snowing again, after all. And it’s easy to be kind of transfixed.

"You're not, I dunno, say embarrassed?" you ask, after a beat.

"Nope." Karina swallows. Brings the cigarette to the pucker of her lips again. You watch how she holds the inhale, holds her wrist up and slacked, head tilted back a little. This exaggerated fashion-model exhale follows, all smooth.

“Because I'm not the type.”

The heavy stream of smoke then blown right into your face.

"Really, I think - sorry, I have always wanted to do that. It felt like a movie. Look," she coughs on the next breath. "I get your dilemma. But also, um-"

There are some quiet moments too, here and there: the heat between your thighs, her pressed up close. She smells like Irene's shampoo and bodywash and that just confuses your head some.

"Who’s to say I’m not just looking out for you," you offer. Every good lie is rooted somewhere in the truth.

"Don't bother," her words hit you square on. "It's about getting off right? You invite me to your bed; I’m so starstruck and enchanted by the very concept of it - Irene and her charming, intoxicating husband. Fuck, I dunno - the way the two of you kiss, look, feel: the experience that you will let me be a part of," she stops and makes another face of amusement, so fucking confident, "you let me play, too, just once, and we're all just a little happier. My version."

“We’re not married,” you correct.

“That’s the part you’re hung up on?” Karina leans over, her upper half across the balcony, staring right up at the sky. “Same difference.”

The moon finds her smile bright like nothing else. It's something infectious. Immediately, it reminds you: of Irene.

"Trust me," she goes on to say. The cigarette slips back into the space where you are connected - the lines of her fingers, her knuckles. "I had a wonderful time, but the sun will rise here, and I'm not gonna stick around to blow you while Irene burns three omelets and finds a spot for me in her fucked up game of house or whatever."

She makes you laugh, free and easy, like a gust of cold air. Something genuine and natural. And as the laugh shakes, Karina makes it impossible not to crumble farther. Not to fucking simper there like an idiot.

“I really thought she was going to make me call her mommy or something, I swear-”

"Hey, I'm sure if you had asked." A spark catches you. The flash of her canine, and those eyelashes. “She’d have done you the favor.”

"Oh, shush." The touch of Karina's fingertip against your hand is delicate, careful - unassuming. But, god, everything with her is just the right amount of heat - it melts you; and when it stops, her touch: that feeling is so cold that you just chase her out of impulse.

"What about New Year's?" you ask. There are still boundaries you really shouldn't be crossing, but here you are, straddling yet one more.

Karina's grin cracks like an old fault line. "You're not allowed to ask me out like that," she insists, batting you away - trying her hardest not to lead with the obvious. You look out on the view, watching a guy in a parka trudge over to a garbage can, a handful of newspaper bundles, then a glance back-

The slightest flush has bloomed up Karina’s face, right underneath where the makeup's been rubbed bare. It's utterly irresistible. "Go wake up your fiancée and ask what her New Year's Eve looks like. Doubt it involves me and my dumb friends."

She’s probably right.

"Karina," you start, watching her push open the balcony door with her foot and walk slowly, lazily, back into the apartment. The window rattles, and she looks back over her shoulder. The bob of her ponytail, the sweeping lashes, that perfect slow-burn smile. That’s how you end up with a title as ridiculous and reductive as ‘original visual’ or ‘the human cg’.

"You’re really going to let them in on what we all got up to?"

"Oh," she makes this low, delighted hum - it sounds so dreamy, how her voice gets the richest sort of rasp, "every last detail."

-

On Monday: the holidays are officially over.

There's a bunch of stuff on the to-do pile. A lot of loose ends you have to clean up, a ton to catch up on. Irene is judiciously ignoring all of it. She's wearing her glasses - the ones with the big round frames that should look entirely obnoxious - which means she's already decided she's not leaving the apartment; Karina's still wrapping the world at large around her finger and has everyone convinced that she's all femme, no fatale; and you - well, you're back to thinking about how to climb the ladder and maybe how to stay there.

You head downtown with a cup of coffee in one hand and a musing mood in the other.

On your phone, some more choice text messages arrive in the late AM: had a great time by the way, stay out of trouble, this sweatshirt is actually just mine now, duh. 

The selfie alongside it is pretty suggestive, but just vague enough to flirt with indecency.

She sends one more at lunch where she's gotten out of the shower, or a hot pool, or maybe a long workout - her breasts squeezed between a towel and an arm - she has the camera all zoomed in and framed tight, almost full body. If her intention is to mess with you, that's what she gets. The texts: ah, fuck off and did you have a nice date with your left hand then, thanks for reminding me, the hotel wifi is shit lmao.

The messages just keep on coming and there's really no better descriptor.

And Irene, later, in a way that's neither diplomatic nor nuanced: jesus, don't let her catch you by yourself. For simplicity’s sake. She interprets being alone with a handsome boy as carte blanche to do absolutely whatever she wants and she's vapid that way.

There’s a chance it fizzles out into nothing. An even greater chance it all goes sideways. You'll have to see what becomes of you three.

-

Okay, right - new year, new you. The resolution for the past couple remains unchanged, and unfulfilled - less takeaways and eating out; more meal prep, less calories, healthier decisions.

Irene has this cute little apron over her sweater that is fixed extra tight, the belt trailing down the tops of her jeans to accentuate her nice round hips and slim waist. She knows the nature of her charm, her sex appeal. How it occurs, almost, as if by accident.

You say something that will get right under her skin like, “looking real domestic, Joohyun,” as she slides a chopped onion from a cutting board to a bowl.

She presses her hips out just a smidge, just enough. Turns a bit as she opens up the fridge, and the smirk she has for you, that sidelong glance-

“Don’t you Joohyun me,” is her lightest rebuke. 

She twists her way onto her tiptoes to fetch at the highest shelf. The crochet corner of her sweater rides up a couple of inches, flashing a hint of the fair, bare curve of her lower back. "You can help me by grating the parmesan, hm? Into that," she gestures back at the table, pointing with the bottle of olive oil.

And so you're ten, fifteen minutes into helping with dishes, with the grunt work - with the realization that Irene is going to chop her fucking fingers off if you leave her to it unchecked.

"Actually, here," you say, "can I?"

She tilts her head, skeptical - still, a quick nod of permission - and her slender fingers surrender the knife and wooden chopping board to you. She's tapping away at her phone, finding the playlist you're both always secretly listening to.

"Wow," Irene says, low, as you start dicing mushrooms, a stalk of celery. "So brave. There’s no way I could do that. Is it safe? Are we, like, in nuptial bliss now, do you think? I fancy you, I fancy you-"

It's always this sorta-delicate dance with her: how much should you step up; how much should you put out of hand; how much she accepts versus how she pushes you aside and gets through you all the same. You're too proud, really - both of you - but fuck. She's adorable; the apron adds insult to injury; and it makes the switch in your head simple.

“I always forget how much I love this song,” she’s saying; the rolling pin she’s grabbed is a reasonable surrogate for a mic. When she’s through singing a verse, she shoves it in your face. You don’t know any of the lyrics. 

She doesn’t really care.

You have to laugh at everyone who's ever wasted the effort to theorycraft who she is behind the smoky lashes, the lowered chin, the downturned glance. All the characters and archetypes she'll wear and cast off as she needs.

"Here." She sidles up and tucks her hair behind her ear, the side of her hip grinding into your thigh until she’s pressed firm into the line of your leg. Because she needs to tell you that's way too much garlic, and she's not going to kiss you if your breath is trying to kill her first. She uses the word "pungent" a number of times, just for good measure. Go on - she’s murmuring - taste; right off her finger. If anyone caught this you’d be embarrassed for weeks

“I think, definitely, should open a bottle of wine-”

That’s how you earn all the responsibility for getting the both of you fed; she gets distracted looking through the recipe book.

But there's the way she looks up at you from the opposite of the kitchen island, face held up between her hands, fingers folded underneath her chin. "What?" she asks. 

She’s totally caught you staring.

The truth is: Irene only looks this gorgeous when it's just her. When she forgets that she's supposed to stick to a script.

You tell her as much when you end up fucking her right there on the counter.

It's so slow, atleast at the onset. Her panties pushed aside, jeans spilling off an ankle - the fucking apron managed to make it to the floor but her sweater got kinda stuck on the way up. So you're reaching through some overpriced fabric blend to pull down the wire of her bra and get your palm where she most prefers it.

"Say it again," Irene sighs into your neck, clutching to the back of your shirt - white-knuckled at the seam. "Come on, you can be so charming when you want something."

"I wouldn’t push your luck," is all you choose to tell her. 

You're hitting all the spots she wants you to hit anyway: her pretty pink cunt, slick, all wet for you already. Everything clenching as she arches her back, until she's hanging off the edge of the marble. You find it’s just enough leverage to fill her completely with your cock - stretching her out and open until her thighs bracket around your waist at the perfect angle.

"Or what?" Irene is out of breath, but hardly at a loss for words. "I know. You'll have to remind me how much smaller I am than you, right? So easy to keep pinned."

Well, if you really wanted: "Hah, ah - right." You get right next to her ear, muttering the words as deep as your chest can go - then take hold of her waist to put her in a spot she can't escape. And, by Irene's usual logic, once that happens, that's as much a victory for her as it is for you. You're being compliant, aren't you? The in and out: fucking her, filling her up, pulling your messy cock out of her pussy and slapping her clit just so she can hear how fucking soaked you make her, merely as a reminder-

"I wonder if she was even half as desperate," she moans against your jaw. "Her heart probably stopped the second you, ah - told her, what? About all of this?"

You stop fucking her, halfway.

"I’m sure you wouldn't be referring to Karina, right?" is where you glance at her. “I remember us both agreeing to chalk that up as a total absolute mistake. That was that.”

Irene just swallows, looks off somewhere over your shoulder. No one wears a blush better than her.

But she won't say it. Her honesty is such a privilege. The prodigy-type. Or at least, that's the word Irene chose. Then again, there’s you and your uncanny ability to turn a blind eye. 

To the vice, the virtue, and everything in-between.

"So, can I ask," you press your lips together, finding the point of her chin with a gentle tap - you have her looking you straight back at you. The moment could let you drive back inside and fuck her brains right out, right there, like that - right through, instead: you watch her try not to squirm. 

The tension in her upper chest, the rising heat that settles between her thighs, her weight struggling where you spread her knees, as far open as her body can allow. “How long exactly," you choose your words, careful and pointed, "are we going to pretend that she isn't texting both of us?"

You bury the question deep where she’s practically molten - hot and wet and so incredibly needy.

You do, again, and again. You pull her against you, watching that pretty brow scrunch and un-scrunch as your cock bathes in that soak. And hell, Karina had sent her a selfie today, is what she's explaining when you slow down enough - a bit of red, on her cheeks and her lips, and a lot of black, all the rest - the part about a midnight flight that's on hold until tomorrow morning. And then another, an hour later. To you both: her tits, the lace lingerie - so heavy, and soft, and easy to see yourself getting lost in-

Irene gasps at how fast you find all her favorite spots, then repeats - twice and again - hey, Karina said you're "such a cutie," and she sees her as the perfect mistress-material, don't you think? Wouldn’t it be ideal? The perfect fantasy? The perfect toy-

Obviously, that is morally bankrupt, even for the two of you. And you’re making sure she hears about it.

You ask her, point-blank: "are you really so selfish? So callous." It's ground out, slowly, against her hip, into her cunt. You've got Irene dripping wet, she's running everywhere, and you're telling her, "and this is your roundabout way of asking me to validate your twisted little ego?"

Don’t get it too confused: Irene lives for this shit; that sharp, hard-hitting tone - it drives her up the fucking wall. 

"Duh. Tell me - just a guess," she presses her hands further back, arching into each push. The slim curves of her chest are bouncing, just under her sweater. "You like to feel so guilty and morose but I bet-" she chokes off mid-sentence, you know exactly how, the exact motion that has her wanting. She gets a leg over your shoulder with no effort at all, and your fingers find their place, digging into her hips as she locks into your thrusts. 

Like fucking her is the only thing the two of you ever do.

Your whole body buzzes, it hums in resonance with where her gasps conflagrate to moans - you're pulling her slender frame down into every sloppy thrust and she takes you so fucking well.

"I bet it all sounds like, ah, the prettiest fucking music - in your head-"

“Fucking god, Irene-”

“Mhmm?” she fucking coos.

Because the things she wants to hear never actually leave your lips - your girl, fucking relentless.

Because the line between you fucking her and her fucking you becomes less distinct every time she rocks back and takes you deeper. Or when her mouth catches your next kiss a bit lazily. She takes over to swivel and slide her cunt up and around your length. So good that you have to keep her there. Hand locked onto her throat, digging a bruise or two in her collarbones, fucking her senseless against the countertop-

"Irene, fuck.” Your voice comes out thick, like gravel, and practically as an aside, “you’re going to make me-.”

Irene cuts you off, nodding, shh-shh’ing you into silence. “I know, baby. I know.” This total sigh of agreement - a hushed yes, or maybe uttering something she knows will sink right into your core, two words that sound a lot like “good boy.”

What, is that tacit approval? Probably. It’s hard to think straight.

So you bury yourself inside her, instinctually. Irene tips her chin up when she feels you paint her fucking womb. Every throb - with a fistful of her ass and your face pressed against her chest, sucking and biting and marking her anywhere, everywhere - right through her sweater. Fucking her so full that your mess is dribbling out all over the fucking floor, drip, drip, drip, and-

"Hey, I want you to know that I" - she sounds so amused as she cards through your hair, pressing a kiss to your forehead - "really couldn’t ever ask anyone except you."

(All is fair in love and war, is an adage Irene takes to its logical extreme, tangled in your sheets or with a dress puddled at her ankles. A silk stocking rolling down her leg, the crochet thrown into some dark corner.

You never say yes. You never really have to.)

This all before setting her down, off the edge, back onto her feet and taking another half-step forward and having the awareness not to completely flatten her under the full weight of your body, so she can run a hand down between the two of you and her fingertips can start gathering up all the cum you've pumped inside her. Irene tells you in her sweetest lilt to pay attention as she leans back up against the counter and gathers as much into her mouth as it will allow-

The sight alone.

When her head tips back, tongue passing over her knuckles, and she swallows-

"You are so," you sigh into her temple. Her cheek. You've settled the rest to the space in between. “Absolutely unbelievable."

She reaches out and trails the tips of her fingers lightly along the rise of your cock - her softness up against your hard lines. Her eyes flash when you twitch on the fucking spot. It's so tender all coming from her.

And there, a moment or two more. You can see it in the way she has her lips tilting, dreamy. You've always known what you were signing up for - how she's thumbing the nape of your neck - what her ideal outcome was, is. There's nothing and no one in front of either of you to bar the way.

You’ll make your vows like any other.

"Well, hey," she finally says, slow and husky and curling toward you with a smug self-satisfaction.

You push her hair behind her ears, the dark brown locks. Some part of you understands, unequivocally, that she is the absolute limit of how far you would go for any other person on the planet. No questions. In a heartbeat, without hesitation.

The kiss to the corner of your jaw is unironically chaste - before she’s telling you, "shouldn’t we get a move on it, chef? There’s food to eat, recipes to ignore; aren’t you fucking famished?"

-

The bolognese reduces down to a scorch in the cast iron. Too much heat, or too long, you got too preoccupied, who knows - there's a moral lesson to ignore here if you're so inclined. So it ends up being over a tray of sushi delivery that Irene explains to you her working theory like it's high-stakes political intrigue.

"Listen," she's got her chopsticks pointed at you, "for one, Karina, to her core, is a total seductress; and she's told me already, more or less to my face - she gets off on the chase, and hates the other shit. To be involved, or invested."

“Okay then why all the go-around; the wait-and-see; what’s her endgame?”

“What’s anyone’s endgame?” Irene shrugs. “Validation." She slips a tuna roll into her mouth.

"I think you might be projecting."

"Or, I'm simply an extremely empathetic person," her sarcasm hits harder through chewing - she almost gets you, and finishes swallowing to say, "look, she's like us if we were pretending to care, okay? Just more, like - explicit about her lack of intention. So. Doesn’t matter if it's to piss her manager off. Or it's like a revenge-slash-extortion-thing against someone she either had or is having an affair with."

"An affair," you repeat, skeptical.

"It's not like it’s an unheard-of workplace hazard, come on," and then the final confirmation: "she’s just into it because it sounds dirty and sexy, okay, like everything else-"

"And you figure we should be the ones to dole it out."

"What I figure," Irene says, doing that same mental calculus she did the first time: how, where, why - it's clear. A dozen different kinds of naked are an old, tired song by now. "I want us to fuck her. However she likes, whenever she likes, for however long she likes. Let her think she’s won something, or think she has you totally fucking hooked - I don't really care. Because it would be so much more satisfying to hear you tell me about it - because the idea of you two being like that for me. It's," her words pitch up a touch. 

"That's the fantasy."

And Irene dives into the details. She explains what it could look like, all the more raunchy and ridiculous. This very specific arrangement. It makes no real sense, the conversation alone, and that, you decide - what can't be rationalized - is how she'll take it: by fucking both of you. That's the objective fact. That's the demand.

You listen until it feels less and less like the decisions have already been made.

“Okay, babe,” she’s presenting her case. “Hear me out.”

And she keeps going until you both can see it materialize: "if Karina thinks she can handle both of us, then both of us it'll be." It’s how her fingers end up buried in your boxers and around the throb of your cock. You hear the gentlest laugh Irene has as you start fucking softly into her grip, and she runs her thumb over your weeping slit until she finds you that much more malleable to the suggestion. Effortless almost, she lures the primal part of you from its confines and teases and prods at its wants and desires. Which is also how some charged vocabulary gets thrown in for good measure. Because no, no, no - she's murmuring into your mouth, tipped back, plush lips right above yours - it's not a cuckquean situation, or an open relationship, or anything like freeuse or whatever else might justify the concern. It's not even cheating, Irene’s explaining, strictly speaking, because who said you and I wouldn’t be doing it together?

(Lying by omission is the story you both live - and the difference: she's pathological. You’re just now getting the hang of it.)

"Fuck," is what you exhale out as she opens her fingers, offering. Her thumb glides across the expanse of your head, a trail of pre-cum drawn underneath a nail. And you know all the things her nails can do - can rip your heartstrings. "I mean. God damn. There has to be, like, terms."

There's still sushi sitting on the coffee table, and Irene is placing these kisses into the slope of your shoulder, your sternum, making a show of the movement, how she's traveling down, downward - to her knees. Where she finds the seat between your thighs and tugs your shorts, the fabric gathered down your leg-

"Let me handle it," she tells you, and there goes the cut of your t-shirt, shoved up to your chest. Her grip runs flat, down from the rise of your hip, fingers wrapping around, touching - the flat of her tongue laving across the tip of your cock until she decides to lower her jaw.

"Just think right now. How I want to fuck her and how I'd want you to fuck her, too-" 

Right in her warm, wet little mouth.

Jesus, her tongue too-

She has it gliding up, around and against the swell of the underside. Rolling to where you need it, the places she knows you’ve died before. Lapping up the mess she's already gotten out of you-

Like this, Irene's looking at the way that the idea strikes: you and you and you; the only person in the whole goddamn world that can handle her; you fucking know it too - it's the most perfect, hopeless kind of thing. Like the feeling that catches at the apex of your lungs. It burns in your stomach and grips in your gut. She's gone and cut out the nerves - there's the crown of your cock caught in a velvet grip between those pretty pink lips and her fingers twisting at the bottom. 

She breathes deep. Sinks her lips so slowly to the base. Anything, everything you want: to put your hands to the side of her head, to weave your fingers through her hair, and coax her, fuck her mouth like it belongs to you, all slow and hard and measured.

To hear all those wet sounds she makes as she chokes on the end of it. The gags as you force your cock into the back of her throat, holding her head tight, her hair pulled up into a fist, to have that mouth hanging around the length of you, tongue stuck to the bottom of her chin as you move her, your fiancée, your toy. To be looking her in the eye and watching her look the fuck back while she revels in every filthy second of it, not a single damn drop of hesitation or doubt.

"Really think," Irene urges, and she's all innocent when she tips her head to kiss her way up your cock.

She’s trying for some grace or finesse, or both - trying, you think, to make a point; instead, you end up watching her gulp and spit into her palm, just to obscure the sensual curl of her tongue with the sloppy-hard rhythmic stroke of her fist. "How hot it would be if you watched us both choke on your cum. Her face fucked stupid - the perfect little fuckdoll, is that not an image for the ages-"

You get a glimmer of that catlike grin - the one you would kill for a picture of. Something for the wallpaper, or the wallet; you've never met a boundary she hasn't challenged. The most depraved ideas in her head are just, as she is, a masterpiece. And so the answer has never changed - there has never been anything she's not been allowed-

"Trust me baby," she presses her cheek against your shaft. You feel her turn and run that mouth all over. The tip of her nose. Her eyelashes. The wet heat of her breath as she nuzzles the length. "Karina's all ours to share."

Her pout, right there, waiting.

You can't stop yourself from grabbing her face, the crook of her jaw, her neck and the tips of her shoulders. Until it all comes with a good, hard pull. The sound of her mouth on your cock, the blowjob she's been perfecting for years. It's starting to fill up the room, her lips wrapping your shaft - the sound of her being so obedient, the most receptive, sweet, pretty thing: letting you guide her pace until she has a steady motion going. Taking the thick base in her hands and working it over between her fingers. There's only enough room for that before you’re all the way inside her, in and out, again: the tip of your cock brushing over the softest curve of her throat.

When you take her at face value, it's fucking wild: your fiancée kneeling before you. Her chin and neck wet with her effort, lips wrapped so pretty, stuffed, used-

There are no questions. This is simply Irene, doing what she loves.

She pushes a hand between her legs and holds herself together as your hips tilt forward, meeting her halfway-

Just letting you get yourself off in her mouth like it's no big deal. It's her throat - it's her goddamn cunt and ass, and whatever else - because you fucking asked, right? Because you gave her the permission, the choice, the agency.

"Hey, where should I?" you’re muttering as you push the hair out of her face, already half-drunk on her slick lips and realistically only a few seconds away from doing some real damage.

There isn't a need; but you want her to tell you, to use her words. In her mouth, on her face, in her palm, you’ll go without thinking. You’ll cum straight onto your own stomach if it’s what Irene says. Even if she’s acting like you already have.

"Make sure you give her,” is what she garbles out around the hard line of your cock, and it’d be impossible to understand if you didn’t know every nuance to her, if you didn’t - you know - fucking love her. To have and to hold - to hold on tight and for better or worse, and this is pretty much as bad as it gets. 

The syllables come in-between hollow breaths, all wet and sticky. When Irene wrenches the fuck out of it, the base of your cock- “hm, that same sort of courtesy when, agh, I'm not around-"

Because the image alone is what matters. There, getting your cock sucked like you've earned the privilege - it doesn't have to be real, it just has to look like it's a new truth to believe in. The little motions in her wrist are just - hah, fucking unreal - and the way she sinks down lower on her knees for each stroke, from base to tip - lips pressing over the knuckles she has wet, and squelching, and twisting up and down and up-

She places a hand under your balls, the gentlest cradle, and something of your restraint finally breaks - it snaps - her insistence is ruthless.

"Yeah, god, okay- I’m just gonna go ahead-" 

There are these images in your head, of Irene: the upturned brows, the hollowed cheeks, and that slutty-as-shit smirk - and then of Karina: doing the exact same thing. Fuck, your cock is heavy, absolutely leaking cum: you can feel yourself leaking into the press of her mouth. It fills up her cheeks as she blushes into the fuck. Her lips become flush and go soft against the ridge of your shaft - her jaw slack in anticipation. 

"Your fucking mouth, Irene" you breathe out, “I'm going to cum-” 

Just at half the sentence, you're there, sunk into your fiancée's throat. Fingers across her ears and into her hair and watching her own hands pulling you, guiding you-

It’s all flexed in your back. Every muscle. Every fiber.

Irene hums onto a simple, satiated note. She always does, when she tastes it. When you dump a hot load of cum all over her tongue and straight into her throat.

(And yes, some might claim this is the death knell for all kinds of reasoning, but you’ll go ahead and admit it’s so, so worth it.)

"How thoughtful," she says, low and slow, once she's through swallowing the entire fucking thing.

The corner of her mouth tilts up. Because you're finished: two steps left in the brain from falling out of consciousness, a mess on the couch. You get to watch as she pulls you into sorts and slots each piece back to where it's meant to sit. The underwear, your pants. It's with such careful attention. Your soft cock gets cleaned with a tissue and wiped dry. A tiny parting kiss for the tip, her mouth full-on puckered, like she's kissing out anything you have left.

Though it's a pleasant daze. She prefers you soft like this, really.

All you have left to say is: "fuck me, baby." It sounds sloppy and open-ended as hell. "I guess I'll leave everything to you."

If that's a cue or sign for the evening, the only right thing: it isn't exactly misinterpreted.

-

The actual logistics don’t arrive for a handful more weeks. You find it surprising they ever happen at all.

// Karina 10:41 pm > i'm bored.

// Karina 10:42 pm > suggestions?

// 10:49 pm > have you tried looking into an incognito tab?

// Karina 10:58 pm > lol, and what is it i'm supposed to be finding?

// Karina 10:58 pm > help a girl out here.

"Send her a picture of your cock," Irene says, like it isn’t a joke. She looks up from the smutty-dash-of-romance-porn novel she's got herself wrapped in, with her best faux-serious expression. The pair of readers that usually are in her top desk drawer have made a new home perched low on her nose. "God knows she hasn't stopped leering since she found out what I'm marrying into."

"Please," you tell her, because she's full of shit. "I'm not sending her a dick pic."

Your laptop is warm on your thighs as you huddle on your side of the bed. That's the point of balance where it feels like Irene isn't trying to look. Though she clearly is. You flick up through a couple tabs just to drive the point home.

// 11:01 pm > sorry. i'm not in the business of just handing out freebies

// Karina 11:07 pm > really

// Karina 11:07 pm > thought we were making progress here

// 11:11 pm > you're funny

"Ask her if anyone's home with her." Irene dogears the page she’s reading and sets her book down. "Or ask if she's, like, tied up or something. Something edgy."

"Something edgy," you deadpan.

"Do you want me to put the readers away," Irene offers. She's wearing the sort-of smirk you always need to be wary of.

"No," you say. “God, no.”

"Ask her where she keeps her lingerie. Tell her she should be thinking about what it'd look like: all naked except a thong. With the straps digging into her. Tied up all nice and pretty-like."

// 11:13 pm > u alone right now?

"What the fuck?" Irene slugs a pillow at you. "That is the creepiest way you could've sent-"

// Karina 11:13 pm > yeah. i am :/

You and Irene are both struck a little dumb by that. 

“Sheesh, she must have had her finger hovering over the reply button.”

"Yeah," you say, eloquent. “Who could blame her, though.”

"Uh-huh." Irene exhales, staring a bit pointedly.

// 11:16 pm > cool if I come over?

// Karina 11:17 pm > and… do what?

Irene nudges you with her heel, a questioning glance: the window has just been left there wide open and hanging. She whispers like Karina can somehow hear her through the phone, "you are terrible at sexting."

“Can you fucking leave it-”

Irene rolls her eyes.

// 11:18 pm > do you need ideas

// Karina 11:19 pm > got a couple. i wouldn't be against hearing something that lets my imagination fill in the gaps though

"Text her that you're into her throat and want her to show you her tits," and Irene actually cracks a laugh as she has the audacity to make the request. She's in good form this evening; in nothing but her favorite silk camisole - the navy blue one, which pairs great with all 5’2” of the rest of her. Like the soft curves she wears and everything else isn't bad for your heart. "Seriously, I want you to-"

"How am I supposed to end it?" You ask. The tone is purely sardonic. "Babe. Baby. My future wife. Tell me. You do realize you're basically asking me to bait her, right?"

Someone will eventually put their cards on the table, and Karina, Irene, and ostensibly you will realize you’re all currently having a mental break from reality. Or something along those lines. "I mean. Could that really be a negative," she wonders with an eyebrow quirked and another gesture of her arm like she wants to showcase the night sky beyond the bedroom windows.

"How, what - babe."

"You could promise to let her sit on it."

"Is the cockslut routine an act? Like," you lower your volume, "do you really have a playbook, here?"

"So mean." Irene reaches a hand over. She has her head propped on an elbow, the rest of her sprawled and comfortably positioned on the bed. And you wonder why the fuck you feel compelled to argue a point that so obviously has already been lost. "Just go fuck her already, god damn, I dunno."

Right. So. This was the part that was kind of inevitable - and Irene's impatience aside, you probably were about to win a lottery when you showed up at her door - that golden little interaction: "hey it's me, your rival at work's future ex-husband, I guess - I'm so horny and I think you're so beautiful and wouldn't it be so crazy if we, like, boned, haha, what?"

"Just- have sex. Tell me about it after."

The novel beckons Irene back toward it. She makes herself the picture of someone perfectly comfortable with you walking right into the next most uncomfortable predicament.

The sigh. That long, heavy thing. A leadup you do so often.

The simple idea of sending Karina that sort of message sends heat, low - just under the band of your sweatpants, and right where you've got yourself in the palm of your hand and you're already wondering how this is the result, why your cock is coming to a rise already - god damn - why every thought of Karina's face, and Karina's ass, and Karina's everything, every moment her lip is caught in between those teeth is becoming impossible not to touch. "Okay," you huff, "fine. I'm getting up, I'm going now- I mean it, right now, just give me a minute, I am putting my clothes on."

"Wait," and she's saying, "wait. Wait."

And when you turn around, Irene has this cat-that-ate-the-canary grin all stretched on the canvas of her face. She takes off her readers - her elbows thrown into her lap as she goes to the very edge of the mattress, pulling your shoulders for balance. "Babe-"

"Mm."

Irene likes to get you at a low simmer. The way she runs her thumb pad along your bottom lip. And all those questions - a look into her eyes - it's hard not to fold or break - when she's holding onto that sort of expression, unwavering; no matter how her mouth seems to get soft and curious.

Her lips move onto yours, asking - a push. And your eyes - a brush against a shoulder and you've already gone a whole mile from anywhere decent. There's the touch of her tongue between your parted mouths.

"You'll be good right?"

"I mean, sure," is what you manage, watching her lips close.

"You'll fucking wreck her, and do it exactly how she needs it done." And her brow, knit. She can tell your brain is busy jumping ahead to a hundred different scenarios. "Stop worrying."

There's a brief nod of reassurance. Her fingertips dust down your chest and the rest of the way. You hear Irene tell you to-

"And give her an extra hello from me."

"Okay, I love you, but also you're insane, like certifiable."

"Shush, I know you," and Irene gives your hair a little tousle before pushing you out the door.

-

You're standing there at the front door of Karina's apartment a little after midnight, bathed in dim, orange wicked fluorescence. Like it knows your sins - past, present and future. There's no obvious answer when you go knocking, and for a half-moment, you're thinking, okay, it's alright, this is how I let someone down easy-

Until she answers and leans out, pulling open the door. It takes you by surprise-

"Well, I'd normally let you in," you hear Karina say, and a smug smile starts to cross her face, "but..."

It's about the degree to which she looks hot and a little off kilter in this tight t-shirt - a snug pair of panties around the sway of her hips - that almost sends you spinning. There's not an ounce of self-consciousness; it's like a punch to the gut.

"Aeri's date went south and she's drunk. She's passed out on her bed, like, right now, I don't think-"

There's no bra. It's hard not to get fixated on every detail. Like her nipples, practically standing out. You have an irrational desire for her to take a step back, further into the room, further out of your vision's reach-

"Uhh," you croak. And you do have the mental faculties for, uh. For telling her. "Maybe, you know, later, could be better, yeah, maybe call me."

Though, unfortunately, the suggestion falls short on delivery.

"No, no." Karina has her hands searching up and underneath your sweater. Her fingers dance flat up, right over your stomach - teasing as she hikes you back inside. Right past the threshold. Your mouth is half-caught and stupid under her, the gentle hum and pressure on her lips. "It means we need to be quiet."

She drags you another step forward, with just the hot flash of her gaze. 

"Shut the door behind you?"

"Locking it too," you tell her.

The laugh she makes into it, this one little scoff - it's an acknowledgment: an agreement. It's one of the worst fucking sounds, and the whole damn thing gets to you. Like her ass wasn't the perfect fit for the palm of your hands- like you don't want to trace your fingers under the elastic of her panties.

As if it wasn't fucking clear enough. It's the tongue in your mouth and the hands in her hair. She's kissing you soft, she's kissing you deep; her weight rests and pulls back with each swell of your ribs, pushing her fingertips down until they're skating, slow, low into the grooves of your spine. Like she's getting familiar with you again.

"Okay," you breathe. She laughs on your lips and presses forward - pulls you back, farther- "uhh. Okay."

She must see the confliction you're in-

"Hey." Karina keeps going until you've got her backed against a wall, until your thigh has pressed into the crux of hers and your hand is in her shirt. You don't miss how she lets her head tilt back when her eyes shut. It's her. There's no disputing the reality. "Whatever you want to do to me. That is all I've been thinking about. Do it."

"I- don't really-"

She makes a decent show of crossing her wrists and tugging her shirt right over her head. Tosses it someplace safe enough. "So are you just gonna leave me in suspense, or do you need my explicit, enthusiastic permission?"

Your lips draw themselves a blank on anything useful, while your heart rate accelerates.

"Here try this: you’re going to fuck me until I beg you to stop. Then you’re going to fuck me some more. Or whatever- then we can go somewhere, I don't care," she offers with a half-whisper. In all her goddamned glory - barefoot, almost bare chested - it's not like it could be any other thing.

-

You’re not exactly supposed to end up on your knees for this.

This isn't quite how you pictured-

Okay, fuck, Karina's making the prettiest noises where her spine is curling up against the wall; those sounds you couldn't even make up. How it feels like the easiest damn thing, because there isn't a question to why. Every inch of you is pressed to every inch of her. You know what you'll taste on your tongue, which of these breasts belongs in your palm and the fingerprints in the dips of her waist - her lips on the curve of your jaw - every mark and bruise on her skin, every hint of it is real; it's fucking you up because you're kissing the woman that Irene picked, the woman you met - it's how you pull yourself away-

Karina, for the longest few seconds, is shocked into stillness.

Because you could, of course, decide to give this one last shot, your head between her thighs and eat her out until she was so fucking wet your cock wouldn’t even enter the equation. This is not actually a new idea; the possibility has run through her mind enough times already.

"Yeah. That would work."

Like it's no big deal-

"Do you need instructions? I can get a bit graphic."

"Actually, you know what?" you choke a little, and - "trust me."

You stand straight up for a moment, a second, an extra fraction. You slip your cock inside her hot cunt, and, yeah. She collapses right into you. You’re holding up her just enough to fuck into - she's starting to breathe deeper, harder; you've got her pinned like that - a hand on her neck, fingers sinking into everywhere she's softest: her tits, her ass, her waist, her throat, and there is nothing that isn't some version of fucking glorious about Karina's weight grinding, heavy onto the tip and onto the ridge and down the thickest length of you-

And her face, jesus christ, her fine brows upturned, the tears heavy in her dark lashes, the little gasping-sobbing sounds that spill across her wobbling lips - this is the both the easiest and the hardest part: seeing her get absolutely fucking ruined-

(You know, god help you.)

-

Irene doesn't even have to ask. There are hickies and bruises shadowing in on your neck, your chest - these marks you never remember Karina giving you, and a ton of scratches all up your back.

"You know I was going to offer to make you breakfast," Irene says, smug, "but I'm wondering if Karina got to you first."

"What the hell do you think?" you say, dumb.

There are eggs burning on a skillet that are never going to be salvageable, no matter what Irene says. She has no respect for the process. And her voice is full of that infuriating smile: "was it everything you hoped?"

"God," you mutter, trying to mask the embarrassed laughter in your words. You can hardly move an inch on her behalf.

"At least tell me something fun, you insufferable tease," she presses her nose into your hair and tickles the spot on your side, just to be a pest.

You lay it all out for her. Everything she wants to hear.

-

Surprisingly, there’s still plenty to learn about each other; days to weeks to months. The first real thaw of the year comes, and you’re quick to fall into this odd rhythm.

Karina won't actually join Irene on set or production very often - too much heat. It shouldn’t have taken so long to figure out the two don’t belong in the same room together, and if they’d asked you, they’d know - but no one ever really does ask you. However she does spend more and more time around the apartment. In and out of your personal spaces. And maybe a bit in between, or a little underneath too: how she seems to slot herself right into every possible fold whenever Irene’s away.

Always traveling for this reason or that.

And god, the perfect powder keg Karina is - ticking, short-fused, all ready to explode. It’s ironic, you think, she’s drawn to scandal the way Irene will do anything to avoid it, and here, she's found her ultimate indulgence.

The quick lay, the time and place you know you can be patient in pulling her apart, the everything in between. 

In fact, you’ve taken to calling her "babe" just so she doesn’t think twice when she gets your cum pooling deep in her cunt, all hot and sopping. Looking like the picture-perfect centerfold. The fucked-dumb face - all twisted in your grip, flushed-red; and the musky scent of sex; the noises and her presence alone. You fuck her, and fuck her, and fuck her, rubbing a thumb across where the mascara runs thick.

To be the gorgeous girl, cock-drunk and fucked-out in your lap - so simple - so natural: Karina finds her way over more often than not.

After your shower, after your nap; your work, the bar - Karina’s never more than a text away. And you'll keep a hand around her waist as she stands around in the kitchen, stealing Irene’s leftovers out of the fridge. Karina ends up straddling your thigh right there at the breakfast table, holding onto the wood for support as she cums all over you.

The long and short of it is: 

She's fucking you. She's fucking your fiancée. She sees no problem in having her cake and eating it too. The only caveat is: Karina thinks neither of you know what's actually going on.

“You gonna say hi to Irene for me?" she's teasing one day, snapping her bra back into place. The t-shirt pulled over all that glossy-dark hair, the shimmy of her hips just to get back into the world's tightest jeans. She presses a fleeting kiss to the corner of your mouth. It's such a stark, clinical goodbye - ending with a flick of a thumb across a screen. "And oh, let her know if she ever wants me to teach her a trick or two. Anytime."

“Yeah, I’m sure she’d love that.”

Karina does the most insipid thing. She fucking winks. “I’m sure she would.”

-

"Uh, are you kidding me?" you ask Irene. 

It's late one night, and Irene is standing in the kitchen in her pajamas with a welt the shape of Karina’s lips kissed right into her jaw. A couple drinks in your system have given you both a false sense of clarity, and also an ill-timed desire to solve all your goddamn problems. You lower your voice. "In her ass?"

Irene has that all-triumphant and dopey grin that makes your heart ache for her. There's a soft curl of her hair loose, thrown across a shoulder. "I’m serious, pull her hair right, hold her wrists until her back has to be arched. Pin her to the bed," she continues to illustrate, "it's all in the finer points of how much. Tell her to count, even. I'm not joking-"

She takes another spoonful of yogurt between her lips.

"-she'll let you do anything, promise."

“That’s fucked up.”

“I know.” Irene wags the spoon at you. “It’s great.”

-

It's not only the hypothetical-homewrecking that gets Karina so torridly wet for the whole affair; when she's pinned beneath you with her legs spread and her toes pointed skyward, or perhaps later - the same day even - riding Irene's face in a locked dressing room and crying out - "ah, hah, jesus, please-"

In her head, she has you both at her beck and call. Forget semantics - Karina is a fool to her own illusion. Because in her head, not only has she managed to go toe to toe with the industry's reigning monarch, she’s managed to win.

-

You don’t exactly know how Karina ever intends to keep it casual. Because things are damn near constant:

It’s a weeknight, and the moon is high above the windows, casting a crisp rectangle onto the hardwood; it doesn’t actually matter, as far as Karina is concerned.

Irene’s on television again, the sequin in her dress clinging tight, and she’s found the gaze that never breaks for the cameras. Found the flash of her most practiced smile - that little chime of laughter she has that sounds like striking pure gold.

Then Karina: sitting cross-legged at the very end of the sofa. One leg thrown over your thigh, she’s got these nylons on her feet and she’s poking a toe into your ribs. "Isn't she stunning," you hear her muttering, "honestly. Doesn't it, like, turn you the fuck on?"

Her foot grazes your lap, all casual at first; the impossibly soft-curved heel of her sole. There are so many ways she'd prefer to pass the time and they almost all involve getting under your skin, if not just outright getting into your pants.

“Elaborate.”

"I mean listen, in your case, just knowing your fiancée is up there looking like a total angel and at the same time, thinking about you; how she’s got to be considering every which way she’ll unwind just after the showcase - at least, that’s what I’d be doing." She licks her lips, teeth. "Hell, I’m only imagining how pretty her eyes are when she can barely keep them open, and that’s enough to ruin my panties."

"Are you really."

She shifts her weight. Puts that ankle to good use. Rubbing it into the crease between your legs. "Tell me," her lips curl. She’s looking at you dead-on. "How does she usually prefer it, hm?”

Like a wildcat, you suppose, your Irene - a pretty, little predator. You could tell Karina everything, but you don’t. Instead you let her wander into the lair of her own making. Her eyes: light and curious; it’s written in the lines of her face how she's picturing it all so plainly.

“I’d guess she lets you go slow. Or hard. Or maybe a little rough and then you make her cum, and then maybe, just maybe, after the teasing; after the edging, I guess, that's when she comes in hot. I would hope."

Karina twists her foot around, swings her weight onto your lap, and sucks in a sharp breath when you reach out and grip the lean lines of her hips. It’s as easy to hold her still as it'd be to drag her across the couch and under the rest of your body, fuck the goddamn tension until there was no longer any room left for the pretty smirk in her lips. And her gasp would probably sound a hell of a lot better - than all the needling quips - a much louder and much less-pretend whine when you could throw those thighs open and really pound her wet, aching little cunt-

“Easy,” she chides when you end up taking two handfuls of her chest. "Shouldn’t you be more supportive? For god’s sake, it’s your fiancée’s moment in the spotlight, you know-"

There’s nothing stopping you from popping off the buttons of her dress, one by one by one - and kiss right there, into the swell. Your voice feels all the rougher when you respond, "and what a moment."

Her fingertips skim over the places she's been kissing you, where she's been marking and claiming and trying to, at least, to stamp you like her personal property - when the look is that serious. All cold-burn. Right through to the bone.

“So.”

You can feel her touching into your pants. The heat in her soft, silky thighs; she sits above you, keeping a leg on each side. A part of you feels trapped; another is confused why you aren't turning the tables right now - flip her and ride out her cunt on the couch. Some passing thought, or just a fraction, the only one that matters in that particular instant, wonders what Irene would do, will do - has done - in your situation. How her hips would roll. How Karina’s moan might sound when she dug a nail right into a sweet spot.

You push Karina's skirt a little farther up her body and try to gauge the moment she's finally decided she doesn't mind.

“How about you keep your eyes on her, and I'll suck your cock while you do," ends up being the short and not-so-sweet of it all. “-or maybe you can get off between my tits.”

She wraps those fingers around your base and pulls gently. It's not a decision, but merely a continuation, a culmination: a gesture made entirely to pull the response: the hitch to the throat. Her nails skim that ridgeline as her eyes track across the cut of your features. It makes you groan into her next kiss, to say, "if you wanted it so bad, babe, you could’ve just said. Would save us a lot time-"

"Are you complaining?" she husks, pulling your pants down your thighs. Your cock is in her hands and she smiles like a cat - licks her teeth when it twitches at just the slightest touch. "Yeah, I didn't think so," is how the breathless laugh leaves her lips.

You catch the quirk of her brows, her tone: straight-up, like nothing. You’re almost buying into that until she's got your shirt on the floor, those lips of hers in the divot of your collarbone, and her tits wrapped around the base of your cock, and, well, fuck-

She actually wastes no time - none at all. A couple feet away, Irene covers her laugh with one hand. There's a brass award in her other. And the television casts this soft, pale glow.

Karina tips her head, and a curtain of her dark, silken hair spills across the ridge of her breast. She runs those big eyes over you, all wide and round and vaguely-deviant. There's the perfect amount of motion, of squeeze, just a light-bit of pressure, and she's got a face smug-arrogant in an instant, knowing. Fuck, her hands on either side start pushing into the line of her cleavage as she bounces and rocks and draws every inch of your cock up through her soft tits and back down again.

"Fuck," is the harshest exhale she's ever dragged out from you.

She hums a low sound, all self-satisfied when it's her own namesake: your body wants her, like you know the full weight of her needs, your touch, how badly she's fucking craving to get off and still not admitting to anyone it might be more than sex. Like it's really as easy as her next breath, the flutter of her lashes: Karina wants your eyes, the weight of your attention and she's not going to beg for a fucking thing. The feeling, you think, is mutual.

"Irene," she says, her smile as open as it could ever get. "She's just so gorgeous, right?"

On one hand, she’s speaking between the lines. A perfect tincture of deceit - the bawdiness-by-nature: watch me, look at me - is what she might as well say - look what I can fucking do, the whole lewd display. And, god, how she knows every way to make a guy want it, like she wants you to remember it.

Because on the other, the movement is so, so direct. 

Karina twists herself in an upward tilt, just an easy, practiced thing; she lets her tits spill around your cock and through her fingers, full and soft - and her lips part, mouth slacking alongside yours, matching the sounds out your chest with her own. Like she knows exactly which slide of slippery friction will make you moan, or which pull and drag will send your teeth straight into your lip.

"Isn't it crazy," she lolls her head a little, letting her own saliva drip down the center, onto your weeping slit. "How much I want your cum filling my cunt, even knowing she's the one you'd rather put the ring on," the drag and drag and drag - her tits are fucking incredible, and she knows it. She pushes up with her fingers and gives you a long draw right through the press, right where the nerve endings run electric, right where she keeps moving, up and down, and up and down- 

“-it must be hard, I mean, jesus christ. Here I am, needy and hot. Begging you to wreck me and my only sin, hm - the sin of being second best, right-"

"Holy fuck, you're-"

"Obsessed," she says, and drops her tits against your waist again. "I know, I know. How could I not be?"

You're left muttering into the titfuck alone, watching her rub your precum up between their soft shape, feeling the slight give, how her skin goes warm. The act itself: such a simple-thing-bordering-on-the-absurd that you notice how you coil and flex beneath her curves, how she feels so soft and warm. The slight pucker of her lips every time your cock escapes her cleavage does little to help. It's probably the fault of the brain-fuck but the wet of her mouth is practically everywhere you look. You could eat her alive right here, spread her legs on the coffee table and finish with a bit of screaming, groaning and tearing, and no one would ever stop you.

But instead,

"-it's a good color on her, really; but then every color is a good color on her, isn't it so unfair?" She's taking your cock into her tits, deeper on every rock forward and back, holding them close - a gentle lock of those long manicured fingers keeping it all together. "Even wearing no color at all; you must just love how all the freckles are so easy to see," she murmurs, squeezing tight. The sound is wet, messy. A filthy chorus between her dirty words and the dirtier action, and just that glimpse of friction when she strokes down again is maddening. You're all slippery. So sticky-slick, so tight.

Of course there's not a fucking inch of a reaction out of her; you want to get off so bad-

"You could close your eyes," she tells you. "She would still be there. The sound of her laughter. The image. In that dress or not," and her mouth furls into a half-smile before she pauses. Reaches down, pulls her tits around you impossibly tight. "Just so damn pretty-"

You cum just like that: 

"Babe," is what you let her have. The soft, undercurrent hiss. "Fuck."

You shoot clean up, all thick, hot splatter.

Well, mostly up - along the expanse of her neck and throat, coating where her breasts sit so pretty against the lines of your thighs. Across her sternum and the hollow of her neck - her body's covered in your shared mess: slick-filthy-hot, all strewn across her perfect tits.

"Jesus, Karina, baby you’re-"

"Completely covered in you." She's still smiling. That deep-cut and perfectly symmetrical curl of her lips. The gorgeous fucking shade, and her chin, how her cheeks flush, just a little - they've always turned pink in the most specific places when she gets fucking cum-soaked. “I know, just look.”

And her hands slide across her chest, trailing a path through the thick of your release, spreading the glaze all down her front. Making it messy, making the exact look a guy sees once and is driven to the ends of his sanity - just to spill his load out onto her. To get her all used, and trussed up: just how she likes.

(Sanity is being generous, considering.)

You can't do anything other than what's expected: take her up in a kiss, breathe into the mess you've made on her skin. The gasp is full, surprised - just enough, maybe, to count as genuine.

Such a mess - she murmurs - um, come on then, you can do a girl a favor. Bath bomb, bath towel, bath robe - and really it doesn't have to be a suggestion.

You’ll pin her down and fuck her right over the lip of the tub if that’s what she really wants. Just being in her company is indulgent and excessive and begging you to make a terrible habit of it. Have some self–restraint, she has this tone in her voice sounding more and more like a dare. There's just enough there in her hands: one reaching for you and the other reaching into the porcelain, swirling up the lather - and that look on her face, as if to say, can't believe you have me waiting, like some desperate, depraved pervert - only it’s more explicit than that. Only it feels worse - and her mouth is moving again, speaking into the air that already feels stifling hot, words cutting through the steam: you're not very nice, I mean really, it should come as no surprise how she turns out, having this jerk for a fucking boyfriend- 

Nevermind. Not a dare, it's a challenge. She was right the first day you undressed her, the brattiest girls always have the worst kinds of fantasies, the darkest little tendrils of self-destruction. How she's laying there, asking and telling, pushing and pulling; and how she thinks she's so clever too.

Though that is no reason, she laughs, for you to think she won't love having her pretty cunt cockwarmed and spoiled for an evening or more. - And so it goes, and so it goes, and so it goes, and so it goes.

-

(Really, to Irene’s credit, she had Karina pegged right from the jump. A character study in, well, herself.

She's seen as an ingénue by the press, and an outright savant to the executives. They know her as the obvious successor. They give her the runway, they watch the leggy-girl-turn, the model-posture, chin held high and aloof, looking down at the gathered throngs of photographers.

The protégé, the goddamn heir-apparent:  

But her favorite game - that bit of innocence served on a platter, ingenuous when it comes to spinning a flaw to gold, and the deception too - Karina loves and loathes every second she spends upstage from Irene's own, hectic, international production. Because if anyone asks her, that girl would claim it's never been a competition in the first place. 

So you see, if you and yours have both decided to ruin her-

It is a disaster-in-the-making, isn’t it.)

[pastryfication]

hiii! i love your writing please could you do Oscar x reader where reader goes to his home race and sits in the paddock and meets oscars parents and sisters for the first time, reader is super nervous at first but you all get on super well and there all really nice

his mom calls me love

pairing: oscar piastri x female!reader note: i combined the request with this since they were almost the exact same!! i love the piastri family they all seem so genuine so this was fun to write <33 hope you enjoy

you’re nervous, more nervous than you’ve ever been.

the paddock is bustling, the air thick with excitement and the faint smell of burnt rubber, but all you can focus on are your buzzing nerves. just yesterday, you touched ground in melbourne for oscar’s home race, and today, you’re not just meeting his family—you’re meeting them all at once, and without oscar by your side.

he has told you a thousand times that you’ve got nothing to worry about, that his family will love you, but it’s hard to silence the wild butterflies in your stomach when they’re trying their hardest to make you sick.

you spot nicole first. she’s standing with oscar’s sisters by the hospitality area, and as soon as she spots you, she waves you over with a bright smile.

you’re instantly struck by how warm she seems, like a ray of sunshine on an overcast day. she pulls you into a hug the moment you’re close enough, and it’s so genuine, so full of kindness, that a little bit of your anxiety starts to melt away.

“we’re so happy you’re here,” she says, her voice joyful and comforting. “oscar’s told us all about you.”

the sisters gather around, each of them with the same easygoing charm as their mom. hattie, the oldest, gives you a knowing look, as if she’s seen oscar’s nerves about today and knows exactly what this means to him. edie is chatty, asking you questions about the race, about how you met oscar, her enthusiasm infectious. mae, the youngest, is a little held back at first but quickly warms up, giggling at every funny story you tell about oscar and smiling brightly when you compliment her outfit.

you feel the tension in your shoulders ease as you talk to them. nicole makes sure you’re comfortable, offering snacks and making gentle conversation that doesn’t feel forced or awkward. it’s like sitting with old friends, and you can see where oscar gets his sweetness from. the girls are delightful, and before you know it, you’re laughing at something hattie said, feeling lighter than you have all day.

time passes quickly in their company. you’re so engrossed in a conversation with mae, who’s telling you about her latest school project with joyful enthusiasm, that you don’t even notice when oscar finishes his post-qualifying duties and walks over to join you all. he pauses a few feet away, a soft smile spreading across his face as he takes in the scene: his family and his girlfriend—all of the most important women in his life—all together and getting along so effortlessly.

he doesn’t say anything right away, content to just watch. there’s a warmth in his chest as he sees you laughing with hattie, reaching over to fix a stray hair on edie’s head, and listening intently as mae chatters on about something you clearly don’t entirely understand but are genuinely interested in. he loves how naturally you fit in, like you’ve always been a part of this group.

nicole catches oscar’s eye first and gives him a small nod, a silent acknowledgment of how well this is going. it’s everything he hoped for, and he can’t help but feel grateful. he’s never seen you this comfortable around people you’ve just met, and it makes his heart swell with pride and affection.

finally, hattie nudges you gently and nods toward oscar, breaking you out of your conversation. you turn, surprised to see him standing there, looking at you with that soft, adoring smile you love so much.

“hey,” he says, sliding into the circle and wrapping an arm around your shoulders. “sorry, didn’t mean to interrupt.”

you smile up at him, feeling his presence ground you even further. “you weren’t interrupting,” you say, leaning into his side. “we were just talking.”

he squeezes your shoulder and looks around at his family, grateful to see how quickly you’ve been embraced. nicole gives him a wink, and the sisters beam at you both, already teasing oscar about how he’s been replaced by you—and mae doesn’t hesitate to mention that you’re way out of his league and he better not screw anything up, making the entire group burst with laughter.

and for a moment, standing there in the middle of it all, surrounded by warmth and laughter, you realize you’re not nervous anymore. you’re exactly where you’re meant to be.

[hysteria-things]

HEYY I LOVE YOUR STORIES COULD YOU MAYBE DO ONE FOR CHRIS OR MATT WHERE HE MEETS A GIRL ON TOUR WHEN SIGNING AUTOGRAPHS AND TELLS HER TO MEET HIM IN THE TOURBUS THEN YKK

♛ ONE ° •

ʚ♡ɞ 𝐋𝐀𝐒𝐓 | 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 | 𝐏𝐋𝐀𝐘𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 | 𝐍𝐄𝐗𝐓 ʚ♡ɞ

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: dom!matt x reader

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: the versus tour takes place in your hometown! while doing autographs, you seem catch the matt sturniolo’s eye.

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: SMUTTY SMUT, swearing, choking if you squint, making out, oral (male and female receiving), dry humping (?), face fucking, spanking, p in v, overstimulation, dumbification, marking, some degradation/praising, hair pulling, squirting, cream pie, ROUGHH

ASSUME YOU’RE ON THE PILL!

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 2,427

𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞: i added this to my welcome post but i’m going to say it here too. my requests are now CLOSED because i’ve been getting overwhelmed and i want to get them done LOL but my inbox is still open so feel free to chat with me :)

idk when i’ll open them again, but they will be eventually!

the moment you’ve been waiting for for months has finally arrived. you and your best friend hannah were lucky enough to get tickets to the sturniolo triplets tour in your hometown.

currently, the small talk line moves slowly but surely. your friend is decked out in purple for nick while you’re wearing blue for matt.

“we’re next!” hannah gushes, clapping her hands in excitement. she pushes you ahead of her. “i’m scared. you go first.”

you roll your eyes playfully. honestly, you’re not nervous to meet your favorites. you feel chill, which is the opposite of what you thought you’d be like.

matt greets you by hugging you tight and smiling. “how are you?” he asks, taking his card and signing it.

“i’m doing good.” you return his smile. “you liking the tour so far?”

he nods, eyeing you up and down. he feels something different about you. this doesn’t feel like any other small talk.

“i love it.”

the security man motions for you to go on ahead. of course, you listen and start to grab your items, but matt stops you. “do you have a boyfriend?”

see, if this were any other person you’d be weirded out by this question; but because it’s matthew sturniolo, you answer.

“nope.”

he licks his lips, taking the card that he signed and flipping it over to write something.

the scary security is getting angry and impatient with you, so you can only read what he wrote as you walk away. your eyeballs almost burst out of your skull.

i want to see you after the show.

now, you and hannah are standing in the red carpet line before the show actually starts.

you guys talk until it’s your turn, the both of you going since you want a group picture. first is chris, then nick, and lastly matt. he hugs you longer than the other two.

a chill runs down your spine when his voice tickles against your ear. “i’ll meet you outside later, right?”

he pulls away, getting ready to pose for the picture, but you nod for an answer.

“that was so much fun!” hannah screeches as you guys walk to the parking lot.

you agree, before stopping. “i need to go back and use the restroom. do you mind taking my stuff with you to my car?”

she grins, grabbing your stuff. “sure thing.”

you speed walk back to the venue, fewer and fewer people flooding the area as you wait.

a door opens moments later, sounding like the backstage door, and you turn to the source.

you blush, your cheeks heating up more and more the closer he gets with that damn smile on his face.

pinch me this can’t be real.

“hi,” he says lowly.

“hi,” you repeat back.

he looks at his watch. “they’re yapping away in there so we should have some time.”

you’re not sure what that means but again: since it’s matthew fucking sturniolo… you’ll listen without a doubt.

your heartbeat pumps rapidly in your chest when he sneaks you into the tour bus.

you kind of feel bad for leaving hannah behind… but this is a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity.

the bus looks way bigger on the outside than the inside, and you’re still trying hard to wrap your head around that you’re with matthew. fucking. sturniolo.

he admires the way you take it all in with his hands shoved into his pockets. he’s sure you’re thinking about so many things right now, but the only thing he can think of is how badly he wants to fuck you.

thinking about a fan that way is insane, but he just finds you so much different than any other fan girl. you’re confident, kind, and gorgeous.

you finish observing the tour bus and smile wide at him. “it’s very cool in here.”

“yeah.” he chuckles. “the beds are a tight squeeze though.”

you giggle, and he steps closer. your mind runs a million miles a minute with each step he takes. “do you trust me?” he questions, now inches away from you.

you raise a brow suspiciously. “should i not?”

he smirks, shaking his head. “i’m just checking.” he places his hands on your hips gently, running them up and down.

leaning towards your ear, he whispers. “be good for me, yeah?”

your legs subconsciously squeeze together, and he cups your cheeks with his palms. he leans in slowly. he hesitates when his lips ghost yours to see if you’d protest, but because you don’t, he kisses you.

his tongue licks your lips to indicate that he wants you to open, but you don’t. you feel the coldness of his rings on the side of your neck before he squeezes. when you gasp at the sudden contact, that’s his sign for his tongue to enter your mouth. “you promised you’d be good.” he says between the kiss.

you smirk. “i didn’t promise anything.”

he snarls, leaning back in. the make-out goes on for at least thirty seconds before he pulls away, the lipstick you had on now smeared on both of your mouths.

your eyes have a mind of their own and look down, seeing his rock-hard erection as clear as day through his jeans. “get on your knees.”

your eyebrows shoot to your hairline at the sudden tone change, but you obey either way.

he wastes no time to unbuckle his belt to pull down his jeans, his dick springing out right in front of you. the tip is red and leaking pre-cum. you open your mouth wide without him having to tell you, and he smirks.

leaning in, he grabs your hair and stops you. “no.” he says.

instead, he slaps the head on your tongue before pushing in slowly. it’s like you can feel every vein enter your mouth, gagging in the process when he’s deep in your throat. “holy shit.” he breathes, seeing how much of him you took.

it’s not all of it, but it’s more than he thought. you give him puppy dog eyes through your lashes, despite them being glossy.

he starts to thrust into your mouth, jaw slack as he watches his dick run past your lips in one swift motion. the grip on your head stays tight, him hunching over slightly to get deeper.

you moan at the shape protruding in your throat, the gagging and sloppy wet noises making you turned on even more. “fuck i’ve been wanting to do this since you opened that pretty fucking mouth of yours.” he pants, moving at an ungodly speed that makes it hard for you to breath. “do you just let random guys use this mouth? sure seems that way.”

you moan again, lifting yourself off of the ground the tiniest bit so you can feel the top of his shoe on your swollen clit.

whimpering at the feeling, you start to grind yourself on it while he still fucks your mouth. your arms wrap around his leg, humping faster like a bitch in heat.

“that’s a little pathetic.” he laughs hoarsely, groaning when his dick twitches. “so, so needy for me.”

you let out a pained sob because along with your throat, the feeling of you grinding also hurts. it would be best if you had something way more than his shoe.

“s-shit.” he whimpers, pulling out to where only the tip is in your mouth, making sure you get all of his cum on your tastebuds. he smears the rest on your lips.

matt lifts you from the ground, bending you over the small table that they have. he grabs your ass before giving it a light spank.

it’s his turn to kneel now, simultaneously taking off your leggings. he bites your ass before sliding your panties over. you feel his breath against your aching core. “jesus christ.” he mumbles. “you’re dripping down your legs already. aren’t you just an eager thing?”

he spreads your folds with his thumbs, blowing cool air on them that makes you jolt. you’re too sensitive for that.

then, your phone starts to ring right next to you. it’s hannah.

shit.

you cannot not answer, because if you don’t she’ll think something is wrong. you swipe, putting the phone on speaker. “hell— oh.”

matt immediately digs into you, eating you out like he hasn’t eaten ever in his life.

“where the hell are you? i’ve been waiting by your car for like thirty minutes. using the bathroom shouldn’t take this long, y/n.”

the man below you squeezes your thighs, spreading yourself wider to practically be nose-deep inside of you. your eyes roll back hard, mouth hanging open with silent moans leaving it. “hello?”

“h-hannah i’m sorry i’ll— mm— be out s-soon. i’m sorry.”

“are you okay?” she questions.

with that, matt starts sucking at your bud, causing your legs to shake. you grip the table as hard as you can, your upper body giving out and laying flat on the surface in front of you.

“yes i’m fine!” you say, trying to reach for his head and push him away, but that only makes him grab onto you harder.

he’s fascinated by the way you taste it’s almost hypnotizing. your arousal drips down his chin, and the way he’s sucking has your orgasm wash over you without warning. “i’m cumming.” you whine, and you feel the smug smile on his face.

“oh, so you’re coming? thank god because it’s a little chilly out here,” hannah replies.

“fuck yes.” you moan but cover it by clearing your throat. “i mean, yes. i will be coming in a-a bit.”

she sighs through the phone. “okay.”

you quickly hang up without saying goodbye, holding on for dear life since your release knocked your legs out.

he holds you, getting up and wiping your cum off of his face. “you’re a bit of a bad girl, aren’t you?”

spank.

“leaving your friend out there all alone.”

spank.

“so that you can fuck me.”

spank.

“like a slut.”

spank.

you wince every time he hits you, the stinging tingling on your ass. he grabs your hips and arches you more.

he moves his tip up and down at your entrance teasingly, getting wetter by the second. “matt, please.” you whine, your pussy desperate for his cock. “please fuck me.”

he stops, waiting for a beat before pushing into you like it’s no big deal. he’s big for sure, but because of your wetness, he slides in perfectly. the both of you moan, and matt stares at where you conjoined. “your pussy’s fucking amazing.” he groans. “by far the best i’ve ever had.”

you start to bounce back on him since he’s taking his sweet ass time, but out of nowhere starts pounding into you.

whatever they have on the table starts to either fall or rattle from him railing into you. he takes your hands and pins them behind your back. “harder.” you wince out, and he whistles.

“you have no idea what you just asked for.” he says, doing the opposite and slowing down. “you won’t be able to speak, baby.”

baby. you moan at the nickname.

you’re way past the point of ‘omg i’m hanging out with matt sturniolo!’

you try bouncing your ass back again, but this time he smacks it and spreads your legs wider to plow into you deeper. “so impatient.” he sighs.

all you can do is scream and gasp for air with each thrust, hands balled up into fists.

your mind becomes blank once your eyes cross, your mouth hung open with your chin resting on the table. he hits just the right spot each time, squeezing around him.

“i— i—” you try to warn that you’re close, but your mind won’t let you.

he wasn’t kidding about the won’t be able to speak part.

“you can do it,” he says, knowing damn well you can’t.

your body becomes limp like a rag doll, matt having completely corrupted you.

he tuts fake pouting. “look who’s cock drunk. be a good girl and cum for me. you deserve it.”

blabbing a response, you squirt before cumming harder than before. usually, you’d be embarrassed, but you’re too far gone to care.

“that’s so hot.” he grunts, fucking you through your orgasm. “come on, baby. one more.”

“i can’t.” you sob, his hand letting go of yours before wrapping your hair not once but twice to lift your body to his.

“you can and you will,” he says, your third orgasm already building up in less than two minutes.

tears run down your face, eyes fluttering shut from the overwhelming amount of pleasure. there’s no way the human body can have this much pleasure and be okay.

matt kisses your neck, sucking a big mark when he finds the sweet spot. “i know you’re close already.” he says, his cum starting to leak into you deep.

you can’t stop your body from spasming, letting out one last sob before you cum again.

he pulls out, laying down on top of you and rubbing around your body soothingly to calm you down from your heavy breathing.

he covers your full cunt with your underwear so his cum doesn’t ooze out. he kisses your clothed pussy, and you flinch from the sensitivity. “making sure it’s in there.” he smirks.

after a few minutes, he helps you sit on the table to put your undergarments back on. your eyes are half closed from the post-sex haze.

matt grabs you water and a bag of chips before giving you one last hug. you guys talk for a little before he makes sure the coast is clear for you to get out without being seen.

you’re limping like crazy back to your car, seeing hannah impatiently tap her foot while leaning against the door.

once she sees you, she comes storming over. “you’re so lucky you’re my best friend or i would kill you.” she threatens. “i’ve been standing here for an hour.”

“i’m sorry.” you rasp out.

she studies your face, and it looks like you quite literally saw god. “oh my god, are you sure you are alright? you look like you got jumped.”

“it’s the after-show feeling.” you lie. “i’m exhausted. let’s go.”

she doesn’t question anymore, not even the random snacks and water you have. you start the car and place the stuff matt gave you down until you see there’s a post-it note attached to the bag of sour cream and onion.

to my favorite fan,

xxx-xxx-xxxx

text me when you get the chance, gorgeous

- matt :)

𝐭𝐚𝐠 𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭!

@bunbunbl0gs @lexisecretaccx @thy-mission @angelic-sturniolos111 @sophssturn @mattsneezing @janiellasblog @blahbel668 @meg-sturniolo @hearts4chris @mattslolita @sturnbaby @imwetforyourmom @tillies33ssss @sturnifyed @mayhem-72 @ripmattitude @p1xieswrld @alorsxsturn @txssvx @sttzee @multiluvr @delilahprentiss @matthewsspecial @sturnolio-luvs @sturniolho @suga-daddy-69 @tworosesblackthorn @luckistar-posts @gnxosblog @junnniiieee07 @sturnioloslurps @tylerthecreatorsrealwife @flowerxbunnie @imaslut4kehlani @sturniolosandmoree @hertvgirl @whoreforchrissturniolo @r4iyaa @sturniolotriplettoplover @mattybswife @freshsturns @loverrsposts @sturnlcvr @elliesturniolo1 @tpvmz @user283926392 @lalalands86 @sukiipjs @sturniologirl813 @leahrab @chrissturniolosslut @h3arts4harry @sturnioloblogs @creamoncreamoncream2 @luv4kozume @ivyyyyyysposts @mirxcle1 @iluvm4ttsturni0l0 @sturniol0s @sturniologirly @hbvfb

[highvern]

Drive Me Crazy

Pairing: Jeon Jungkook x f!reader

Genre: smut

warnings: strangers to lovers, virgin!JK, dry humping, oral sex, cum eating

Length: ~3.7k

Note: yes i'm insane. no i won't be taking further questions. thank u @gyuswhore for chaperoning my descent into JK madness

summary: You're not the only one with a shitty dating life. Your driver seems to be having a worse night than you can imagine. But things take a turn for the better in the backseat of his car.

m.list

This blog is intended for 18+ only! Minors/blank blogs will be blocked.

“Uber for Y/N?” you ask, stumbling into the backseat. “Thanks. God, you wouldn’t believe the night I’ve had.”

“Jesus fucking Christ,” the man, Ian according to the information on the app, gasps. 

“Sorry, didn’t mean to startle you.” You’re a wreck; makeup running, clothes damp from the rain peppering on the window. The last thing you want is some hot guy as your driver for the short journey back to your apartment but at this point you can’t muster the energy to care. 

“Uhhh—”

“You probably don’t want to hear about my shitty night.”

“Well that and—” he starts, cut off before he can say more by your tipsy motormouth. 

“Where does a man get off telling me he isn’t interested in gold diggers when he’s a public school teacher? No offense but what gold?” you ramble. “Not to mention, when I told the waiter to split the bill he asked if I thought he didn’t have any money. Like make up your mind dude.”

“What the fuck?” he asks lowly.

You nod in agreement, hands thrown wide in exasperation. “That’s what I’m saying!”

“That’s fucked up.”

The thickness of his voice doesn’t register in your mind, a broken edgy scratching at the edges of your brain but it doesn’t signal any significant interest “Oh, that's not even the worst part.”

“There’s more?”

“He said ‘I asked too many personal questions.’”

“Like?”

“What he liked to do for fun, if he’s originally from the city, do you like dogs or cats? Literally anything I could think of because apparently he’s allergic to carrying a conversation.” In your hand, your phone rings with an unsaved number. “Hello?”

“Hi, this is your Uber. Did you mean to cancel your ride?”

“What?”

“Ian from Uber? I’ve been circling the block and haven’t found you and you weren’t answering your phone.”

“Oh! I’m sorry I’ll just—cancel. Yep. Bye.” You stare at the equelly unease expression on Not-Uber Driver Ian’s face, muddled brain racing. If he isn’t your driver that means you got into the car with a random man. 

“Who the fuck are you?” you scream. 

“Who the fuck are you?” he yells back.

You fiddle with the door handle, unable to grab a hold with shaky hands. “Oh my god, you’re a kidnapper.”

“I’m not a kidnapper!”

“That’s what a kidnapper would say!” You fumble for the pepper spray in your bag only to find it absent. It’s not your usual bag. It’s the nicer one that barely fits your phone and chapstick. Damn it.

“YOU GOT IN MY CAR,” he argues.

He makes a good point. “Why didn’t you say anything?”

“I tried but you talk a lot.” 

Another good point.

“Oh my god, what the hell,” you gasp. “Why are you sitting here with the doors unlocked? I could have robbed you.”

“I used my last five bucks to buy this ice cream. Just kill me instead.”

You balk. “That’s so sad.” 

“Yeah, I’m aware.”

“You’re a horrible kidnapper.”

“And you’re a pretty shitty carjacker so I’d say we’re even.”

If he was dangerous he's had plenty of time to prove it. Instead, when he looks back over the center console, all you see is the red rimmed eyes of a kicked puppy with a bird nest for hair. A ridiculous expression for a man of his size but you pity him nonetheless. He’s harmless. Pathetic. But harmless. 

There’s a story about him and you’ve always been curious. “Okay, not-Ian, why are you sitting in a parking lot eating ice cream on a Friday night? Kidnapper thing aside, this is just sad.” 

He’s hot. Even in nothing but sweats and his own misery. The intimidating kind of handsome that people, men and women, pine over. Hand themselves over on a silver platter if he so much as asked.

“Thanks,” he grunts, going for another spoon of ice cream. 

“So why are you upset?” The rain outside intensifies, setting the scene to bare your souls in his cramped Toyota.

“Ugh…” he hesitates. 

“You don’t have to tell me, but I don’t think it can be any more embarrassing than what I just went through.”

“Wanna bet?”

“Why not? If it’s more embarrassing then I won’t steal a bite. Is that chocolate?”

“Cookie dough,” he corrects. “This girl I’ve been talking to ditched me.”

“Because?”

He prepares with a deep breath, steeling himself against whatever motive his fling had. “I’m a virgin.”

“What?” you ask dumbly. Virgin.

Chin tipped back, he swipes at his face in embarrassment. “I told you it's embarrassing.”

“You’re eating your feelings because you’re a virgin?”

“Yes.” He waits for your interjection. When it doesn’t come he hesitantly continues. “And the last person I told laughed in my face and started hooking up with my roommate. So…”

“What a bitch.”

“Yeah. People just assume I’m some kind of man whore.” He explains, head banging against the wheel. “But I’ve never done anything besides… ya know?”

“I have no idea, complete stranger.”

“Like hand stuff.”

“Yeah, you’re definitely a virgin,” you snort. “Move over, I’m coming up.”

Shimmying into the front seat takes more coordination than you’re prepared for. The hem of your dress rises to brazen heights, a draft curling around the edge of your panties. Its a feeling you assumed would be happening with your date and not in the car with a random stranger. But beggars can’t be choosers. At least it’s good ice cream.

He pointedly avoids looking anywhere close to your legs. Polite. Innocent. Virginal. How cute.

“Thank you. That makes me feel so much better.” His eyes roll as you settle into the passenger seat, snatching the container and taking a bite from the same spoon he’d been using. 

“Sorry,” you say after swallowing. “Is it because you don’t want to? Because that girl can go fuck herself then.”

“No, I just, I don’t know. I get nervous? They’re expecting someone who knows what they’re doing and I have no idea. And then all I can think about is what if I’m bad at it which makes me more nervous and then I feel like throwing up.”

“Please tell me you haven’t thrown up on a girl.” 

“Ew, no,” he laughs, taking a bite for himself. “I just make an excuse to slow down and then leave.”

“Okay. Well…” You try to think of something, anything, that could make him feel better. It’s not everyday a stranger spills their guts about lacking sexual experience. “So what if you’re bad? It’s not like you can’t get better.”

“Okay, but what girl wants to sleep with a guy who’s bad in bed?”

“How do you know you’re bad if you’ve never even tried? It’s different if you’re bad and you don’t care. Just tell whoever you're with you’ve never done it before. If they don’t jump at the chance to teach you then they can fuck off.”

“Well, Mina rubbed my face in it—”

“Oh fuck her. She seems like a bitch.”

“You’re not wrong,” he says. 

Rain drizzles on the windshield, obscuring the lights into messy streaks. A flood of memories surrounding your own virginity rush to the forefront.

Your college boyfriend, Jimin, wanted to wait. It was cute. High school sweethearts going to the same school, taking similar classes, holding hands in the library. You thought he wasn’t ready and you respected it, found it endearing that he wasn’t like most of the guys your friends dated that couldn’t wait to do it.

Or you did until you decided to surprise Jimin for his birthday with breakfast in bed and got your own surprise. A girl, naked in his bed, Jimin’s own clothes scattered around the room.

You broke up with him right there. Two days of crying later, you invited your lab partner, the one Jimin couldn’t stand, over.

It was Yoongi that sent a selfie of you two cuddled up in bed to Jimin. He still likes to cash in on that favor whenever he needs a dog sitter.

Yoongi knew there were no feelings involved. A simple favor in the form of revenge against a shitty ex. Maybe not-Ian is your chance to pay it forward. By the looks of things, you wouldn’t be suffering.

“Ya know, some girls like guys who are inexperienced. It’s hot knowing you can teach someone how to be good in bed. Like an ego boost.” You shrug. If he wasn’t looking at your legs before but he sure is now. Pink ears and round eyes, his fingers twitch in his lap as you suck the spoon clean. At least the hour spent shaving your legs isn’t going to waste. “Besides, you obviously care how the other person feels, which is more than some dudes.”

“Why would someone not care if the other person feels good?” he asks, tone laced with disgust. “That seems like the entire point.”

“The world is full of mysteries.”

“My name is Jungkook by the way.”

Jungkook. Fitting somehow. It tastes good on your tongue. Like the cookie dough ice cream.

“Y/N.”

You end up in his lap in true stereotypical fashion. A too long silence, his eyes on your mouth and yours on his. Someone leans forward and now you know Jungkook is a great kisser with even greater upper body strength.

His inexperience shows in the fine details: shaky hands, hesitant tongue, waiting for you to take the lead as not to offend. It’s endearing. Someone as big as him treating you with such gentleness. But it means he’s thinking about messing this up and that’s the opposite of what you want. 

You kiss him deeper, a grip on the side of his neck that he eagerly surrenders too. Your other hand wedges between your chests. Teeth nipping at his lip, you rock against him, palming against the soft cotton sweats until he’s plump in your hand. 

“God,” he chokes. His own hands busy themself on your body, one at the seat of your ass, teasing the edge of your dress where bare skin peaks out while the offers a tight grip at your chest, pinching your nipple in desperate retaliation.

“Feel good?” You rut again, a tease for your own pleasure in the form of Jungkook’s heavy breath. It’s decent contact on your core, not enough to get you off but plenty for right now.

Kissing is well in his realm of experience. Obvious from how quickly he finds his bearings, licking behind your teeth. It’s good. Better than dry humping his thigh in the front seat should be. Vision dark from his hands frantic at your ass, thighs rising to meet every torturous curl against the heat of his lap.

You fall into his shoulder, drool staining his sweater as you pant. “Ever had your dick sucked?”

“No.” 

A vein raises across his neck and becomes your new guidemap. Your hand at his crotch squeezes, his cock twitching at the action. “Do you want to?”

“You don’t have to,” he hisses. 

You squeeze his cock again, enough for a needy drive of his hips in response. “I want to.” 

“Seriously?” he marvels.

“If it’s cool with you.” You nose along his jaw, teeth scraping red over his skin. His stomach dips under your hand. “Get in the back, I don’t need to get caught with your dick in my mouth.”

“Holy shit, don’t say that.” He kisses you again, firmer this time. 

You crawl back through the narrow opening between the front seats, ass on full display for Jungkook’s eyes. The heat of his palm ghosts over your legs but he doesn’t touch. The deliberate arch in your spine isn’t enough to break his self control just yet.

He comes next. The struggle is endearing, half stuck between the seats and wiggling forward. “I think I’m stuck.”

“Why didn’t you just go around?” You snort, grabbing around his arms and pulling to no avail.

“Too late now.”

You're both laughing. Breathless because Jungkook is lodged between the seats with zero hope. “Why are you so heavy?”

He wiggles through with your help, nearly elbowing you in the head in the process. But he’s in the seat with his lap as prime real estate. You try to commandeer the space once again but Jungkook stops you. Instead, he settles between your legs, weight pinning you into the door. Broad shoulders block out the light but you take it in stride, fisting the back of his sweater as he finds your pulse.

“Can I go down on you?” He nuzzles down your throat, mouthing the spots he’s learning make you putty in his hands.

“Yeah, sure,” you hiccup. “That’s fine.” 

Jungkook crams between your legs, bending in half on the floor like a contortionist. The sparse kisses across your thighs would be a blatant tease if nervousness wasn’t rolling off him in waves. He’s eating pussy for the first time and acting like it’s open heart surgery.

“Calm down.” You brush a hand through his hair, attempting to be comforting. 

“I am calm.” A bold faced lie. Even in the darkness of the backseat the signs of his impending nerves are obvious. 

“You’re shaking,” you say. “I’ll tell you what feels good. You’re not gonna mess it up.”

An open mouth on your core kiss leaves you sweating with a weak hum. At least he knows where the clit is. Or has a vague idea of its presence. Jungkook presses his face further into the cotton, suffocating himself without realizing. 

“O-oh,” you hitch.

Humiliation brews from such a visceral reaction to something as basic as a kiss over your panties. But Jungkook is out of his depth here and any reaction will stroke his confidence. 

He ducks away, watching you with rapt attention. You’re the teacher and he’s a student eager for whatever validation that may fall from your lips. “Good?” 

“Yeah, do it again,” you praise. 

He nods before diving back in, throwing your legs over his shoulders for better reach. Your pulse jumps with juvenile eagerness. Like it’s the first time you’re left with a boy unsupervised and his hand is the first real thing to touch you between the legs. It makes you feel dirty. Has your hairline sweat and tongue go dry. A bold wash of his tongue couples the next kiss, hot and wet as he laps against the fabric until your own arousal mixes with spit. 

"You fucking liar,” you croak. The back of your head knocks against the window, hips rolling into his mouth.

"What?” Jungkook asks, leaning back but just barely. His breath fans over your skin, a shiver crawling up your spine. “Did I do something—" 

“It’s good. So good,” you praise. “Touch me more.”

He jumps at the chance. Your panties tear down your thighs, out of the way with some rough maneuvering. Bare for his eyes, Jungkook takes more than a fill before diving in for another taste. But not until he spits on your clit and rubs in the mess with his thumb. Your thighs spread wider to accommodate a hard pass of his mouth, more wet kisses burning your cheeks.

“Jungkook, fuck,” you sigh. “When you said ‘hand stuff’ what did you mean?”

“I’ve touched a vagina before if that's what you're asking.”

You swat his hand. “Don’t say vagina, it makes me feel like I’m at the gynecologist.”

“Sorry, a pussy.”

“Don’t say it like that either, weirdo. Have you fingered one?”

Pointed silence is answer enough.

“It’s okay. I’m not gonna make fun of you. Just don’t put a finger in my ass and you’ll be fine.”

He doesn't laugh at your poor attempt to cut the tension but he releases a weighted sigh, muscles sagging an inch. Better. Instead, he focuses on stroking you to life between your folds, fingertips nudging your bud teasingly. 

“Use your mouth some more and then finger me too,” you beg. 

“Uh—how many? I don't wanna hurt you." He’s unsure despite the obvious twitch in your thighs. It burns depravity through your veins. His innocence is hot. Jungkook doesn’t even realize how fucked up he has you from some softcore porn level touching.

"All of them. I don't care, I’ll tell you if it’s too much."

One hand firm on your stomach, keeping your dress out of the way as he spreads your insides with two. The first strokes are meek. Nothing to scream over but he’s learning and that’s what's important. Seconds tick by and Jungkook finds a hesitant rhythm. Wet noises echo with each slow sheath, reserved but stretching you all the same. The wet strokes of his tongue are there too, placating just in case. A soft curl of his fingers makes your hips cant into his mouth. 

The fogged windows are a dead give away to what's playing out in the backseat. If anyone stumbles down the sidewalk then you’re both dead but Jungkook’s mouth is distracting in the worst way.

And then he licks between his fingers, tongue slipping past his knuckles for a pure taste of your arousal. You go fuzzy at the edges, thighs squeezing tight until he’s forced to keep them spread or risk having his head crushed.

“Oh–fuck me, god.”

It’s not fair. For him to be good at this so quickly. To delude himself into thinking he could possibly be bad, trying to convince you he’d be bad. Complete unfair how ill prepared you were for Jungkook worshiping your pussy like he’s never tasted anything better.

He really needs to be more confident because, in the cramped back seat of his car, you’re losing your mind and it’s barely been ten minutes.

“Can I—” he asks around your clit.

“Do whatever you want, just don’t stop,” you ramble. “Jungkook, fuck.”

A hand of your own sinks into his hair, angling his chin for better access. Wet echoes fill the car, sharp mewls from your lips adding to the noise. Nerves blazing, your ride his mouth for all its worth. Eager slippery circles of his tongue against your clit intensify, built on praising moans of his name.

“Fuck. Tastes good,” he grunts. A squeeze of your hand, the one not pulling his hair and then he’s finding your chest, blind groping until you guide him to your nipple and curve into the sting of his grip. He twists it. Hard. 

You want to cry. The sweat suck of his mouth, fingers confidently curling it that spot that makes the air thinner in your lungs. Moans die between your teeth. Too quick into the next sensation to revel. There isn’t a thought other than Jungkook, Jungkook, Jungkook.

“Jungkook!” you cry, grinding into his fingers. Your teeth clench as a third one stretches that extra inch. Stiff in the thighs, you force yourself down into the friction. His tongue hardens, perfect for use as you hump his face weakly.

Your legs kick, scrambling under the sharp pleasure. He’s got you melting into nothing right on his carseat. Jungkook doesn’t lean back to ask for more confirmation; just takes the signs for what they are and keeps going with renewed stamina at the promise of your pleasure. 

“I’m gonna—oh, god. Yessss,” you hiss. Nails sharp against the back of his neck, Jungkook buries his face in your cunt. 

You go rigid, voice breaking into a desperate whimper. Jungkook has the sense to keep going, lashing at your clit over and over with each desperate pulse of pleasure through your veins. Flashes flare behind the darkness of your eyes squeezed tight. You make a few more desperate noises, lurching in his hold before falling lip and worn.

“Fuck, okay. Okay,” you whine, pushing him away from your core before the stimulation becomes too much.

His mouth is drenched, cheeks and chin smeared with your orgasm. A flash of tongue collects some of the mess but you drag him into a kiss before he can go for seconds. First time eating pussy and he’s one for one. If that doesn’t help his confidence then nothing else will. 

“Give me a second and I’ll blow you,” you pant into his lips. 

“I-it’s okay.”

You pout at the brush off, a deep kiss as you invade his space. “I promise I want to.”

Your hand goes for his pants just to be captured with his own. His fingers are still soaked from your insides. “No, I…I came too.”

“Really?” you ask in awe.

Jungkook is embarrassed again. “Sorry.”

“Don’t be. That’s hot.” You kiss him again with a gentle suckle along the curve of his lower lip. Jungkook drinks it in, crowding you back into the door again like you aren’t a pile of mush. Your back hurts from hunching over for so long but you let him keep you tangled up for a little while longer just to feel the shuddering exhale from his nose across your cheek. “Can I see?”

He swallows thickly before rolling down his sweats. The thin fabric of his boxers are wet, sticky under your shaky hand. You dip below the waist band, fingers grazing the limp ridge of his cock. He’s stuck in the inbetween of soft and hard but still hot and heavy in your hold. Your core throbs in interest at the feeling. 

Jungkook shivers as you swipe at the slit, collecting a bead of cum. You want to get your mouth on him but he looks like he might cry if you keep playing with it.

When your hand retreats, rising to your lips for a taste, his eyes round, mouth gaping over silent words. The pink of your tongue comes out, lapping at the thick mess coating your thumb. 

“Is it okay if I get your number?” he asks after the initial shock wears away.

“Yeah,” you snort. “You can have my number. You can give me a ride home too. And we can do that again in my bed.”

The glee on his face is worth the disgusting mess between your thighs. “Hell yeah.”

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[cinnamon-galaxies]

Hi! I saw that your request box was open. Could I request a Alastor x fem!reader who is a mornigstar, charlie's older sister and she is engaged with Alastor. In episode 5, Dad beat Dad, I thought their relationship is kept secret and was revealed later on shocking lucifer and their friends

Dad beat Fiancé beat Dad

Pairings: Alastor x Fem!Reader / Alastor x Morningstar!Reader Tags: hurt/comfort, (a little bit of) fluff, secret relationship/engagement, Alastor vs Lucifer, Morningstar!Reader, Fem!Reader Warnings: language/swearing, kiss, argument/bickering, reader is Charlie’s older sister, English is not my first language! Summary: You are Charlie's older sister and secretly engaged to Alastor. When your sister invites your father to the hotel to ask for his help with her rehabilitation program, you look forward to his arrival. However, things take a turn when tensions escalate between your father and your fiancé, leading to heated bickering. Overcome with frustration, you finally lash out and accidentally reveal your engagement to the King of Hell and the hotel's residents. Wordcount: 5.4k A/N: This one turned out so long! I really hope you like it and that the story meets your expectations! English is not my first language so I want to apologize for possible grammar and spelling mistakes. I really tried my best to make as few mistakes as possible!

“Well, I’m actually running a hotel to rehabilitate sinners. Maybe you saw our commercial,” you heard your younger sister speak into the telephone, releasing a nervous chuckle here and there. Then a sigh escaped her lips. “Listen, dad, I’ve got kind of a big ask…”   You stood a few feet away and stared at her, unsure what to think of this whole idea. Was it really that smart to ask your father to organize another meeting with heaven? The last one already didn’t end well. But what other choice was left for you? Still, it released a weird feeling inside your guts, now that you watched Charlie calling your dad, since your and your sister’s relationships with him were kind of… special. Your father tended to distance himself from the both of you for the most time, bathing in his own emotional dilemma and not even trying to do anything about it. Thus neglecting the both of you. Well, at least he called your sister five months ago regarding that meeting with Adam in heaven’s local embassy. But when it comes to you it’s been even longer since you’ve talked. Maybe a year? Or even longer. You didn’t actually know and also some part within you didn’t even want to. But what you knew is that you missed him. Although, in contradiction, you weren’t really fond of him at the moment. It’s not that you didn’t love him. He was your father, regardless, and you both shared a lot of wholesome and fun memories. But since your mother had left him seven years ago, things had turned out strange and you didn’t really approve of his weird-ass behavior towards you and your sister. Still, you hoped your father would agree to help you out. Maybe, just maybe, there was a probability that you saw him again. You had so much to tell him. Your life has changed a lot since you started supporting your sister in the hotel. And even before, when you met Alastor…

Lost in your thoughts you missed parts of the phone call and as your consciousness returned to reality, you saw your sister taking the phone down and ending the call. Curious about the outcome you cocked your head. “What did he say?”

   “Well,” Charlie stared at an empty space for a brief moment, “it seems that dad will be coming over.”

   Your mouth fell agape and your eyes widened in surprise. “Wait, really?” you asked her and a huge smile grew on your face. “That’s awesome! When?”

   Charlie proudly straightened her back and stemmed her hands into her hips. “We have an hour until he gets here.”

   You turned around to face the other residents who sat on the couch and raised your voice, “Okay people. Dad’s on his way, so we’re getting this place presentable and we are all going to make an amazing impression. Let’s go!”

   That’s when Vaggie spoke up, “That’s a great idea! Husker, Angel and I will go get some decorations for the lobby,” her eyes wandered down to Niffty, “Niffty, you and Sir Pentious will bake some cookies so we have something to eat when it’s time for coffee.”

   Nifty nodded exaggeratedly, almost vibrating from that force she put into her motion. She instantly grabbed Sir Pentious’s hand and dragged him down the hallway towards the kitchen. When Husker, Angel and Vaggie went to get the decorations from the storage room you and Charlie were left alone. 

   “Are you as excited as I am?” You asked her with a moving voice and examined your sister expectantly. It was no secret that Charlie took that whole situation with your father a bit differently from you. While you almost imploded waiting to get a chance to meet him again, your sister was more reserved and kept herself a bit more distant from him. Even though she was the one your father seemed to favor when it came to dealing with the conflict with heaven. It didn’t matter that you were the older daughter… 

   “Ahm… I don’t know,” Charlie responded nervously stroking her neck, “I mean, yes, I am. But at the same time…” She hesitated and you put your hand on her shoulder.

   “Don’t worry, sis. I can understand,” you reassured her with a calm voice and smiled at her with genuine eyes. You could feel her shoulders relax under your supporting gesture.

   “Thank you,” she responded and returned your smile. “It’s just… You know, since he and mom split, I often don’t feel like his daughter anymore. Yet he sounded very excited to come over.”

   You took a deep breath and removed your hand from her shoulder. “We’ll see how things are going when he arrives.”

   Charlie chuckled. “Well, I think you should go and inform Alastor about our special guest,” she requested, raising her eyebrows in concern. Charlie was the only person at the hotel who knew about your secret relationship with him. When you decided to knock on the door to propose your support to your sister, you and Alastor were already dating. In fact, you were the one who dragged him here because – regardless of his fearful and sketchy reputation – you knew he’d make a great hotelier and protector for the residents during future exterminations. But you both didn’t introduce yourselves as a couple right away. Instead, you found common ground in letting your sister know but keeping it hidden from the other residents. There were several reasons you both had decided against making your relationship public: Alastor’s reputation as the Radio Demon, yours as Lucifer’s oldest daughter, the gossip, the media… These and many more were all things you didn’t want to deal with. Especially since Alastor was a very private person who despised showing affection outside his private space and you, as a person who had no desire to brag about your partner, were totally fine with it. What happened in private chambers stayed in private chambers. That was your agreement, and if you let your friends know about your relationship, there would be too much risk that it would eventually become public. The only other person next to Charlie, and outside the hotel, who knew about your and Alastor’s connection, was his decades-long friend Rosie.

Repeating your sister's request in your head you nodded in agreement. It was the best to prepare Alastor. Even though an hour alone wouldn’t be long enough for him to digest the fact that he was about to meet your father. “Oh, I think he’ll be excited about the news,” you responded with a sarcastic tone and couldn’t help but release a malicious laugh. Oh, how much he will hate this...

You heard Charlie laughing along and shaking her head in amusement. But as quickly as the amusement appeared, it disappeared as you continued to think about the fact that Alastor was actually going to meet your father. With a deep breath you dropped your smile and lowered your voice. “Do you think it would be a good idea to tell dad about Alastor and me?”

   “Ahm…” Charlie seemed to think about it more carefully before commenting, “I actually don’t know… I wish I could tell you but that’s something you and Alastor have to decide. First of all, I’d wait until after they had their first impressions of each other. Then… maybe… introduce him to the truth? I mean, if you and Alastor plan to stay together, what I hope – I mean… It’s obvious, why else would you date if it isn’t for staying together?” She chuckled at how much she was lost in her words and cleaned her throat. “I’m sorry. What I mean to say is that it would be beneficial for your shared future if you let dad know. At least at some point in the future.”

   You nodded in understanding and gifted her a slight smile. “Thank you. Maybe I’ll talk to him about this later. First of all, I need to prepare him for meeting his soon-to-be father in law.” You laughed and excused yourself before you left the lobby and went upstairs.

   When you arrived at Alastor’s radio station you knocked on the door.

   “You may come in!” you heard Alastor’s dulled voice through the door and opened it. When you entered the radio station you immediately saw him sitting at his desk, leaning over some papers and holding a pen in his hand. When you closed the door, he placed the pen to the side and turned to look at you.

   “Why hello, darling,” he greeted you, his signature smile on his face but his red eyes revealing a neutral expression. “What brings you here?”

   “Well...” You took a deep breath and strolled towards him with your hands folded behind your back and your lips pressed to your teeth. “I’ve got some news for you that you’ll probably hate.”

   “Oh?” he responded curiously and tilted his head to the side. His red hair swayed with the movement.

   You arrived at his desk and leaned against the tabletop, your front mostly faced towards him. You tilted your head in the same direction as he did and couldn’t manage to suppress an amused smile. “My dad will be here in less than an hour,” you said with a cocky voice and watched Alastors expression shift as his lips curled up around his smile and his eyes immediately twitched. An awkward silence fell over the room before he broke it with a snippy tone, “You’re right. I hate that news.” His neck returned to a straight and more natural position and you chuckled.

   “Vaggie’s the one to blame. She came up with the idea that Charlie should call him to ask for help because she could no longer bear seeing my sister ripping her hair out in despair over her missing rehabilitation success,” you explained and a growl escaped Alastor’s throat. He already didn't like Vaggie and now he probably liked her even less.

   “Splendid,” he said without enthusiasm and stood up from his chair, grabbing his microphone cane and leaning on it. Now taller than you, you had to tilt your head back to be able to look him in the eyes. “How about I excuse myself and disappear for another set of seven years?”

   “Oh, no, no, no, no, no, no, no,” you responded, raised your index finger and waved it in front of him. “You will stand your ground and behave. It’s just my dad.”

   “He’s the king of hell, darling.”

   “And that's why you'll be going down there and prove to him that you're a worthy partner for his princess daughter.”

   He gritted his teeth and your smile widened as you nonchalantly brushed the wrinkles out of his coat.

   “Are you questioning my abilities, darling?” He asked, placing one of his hands on top of yours, thus stopping your movements and squeezing it.

   You felt your cheeks blush at his affectionate action and stepped closer to him, your body now close enough that it almost touched his. You could feel the warmth radiating off him and tilted your head slightly, your eyes still locked with his. “No, I’m not. And that’s exactly why I want you to do as I said.”

   “Oh, is her dear royal highness misusing her mightiness to give me an order?” he asked with a low and unusually soft voice and a shiver ran down your spine. Oh, how you loved it when he became flirty. His charm was able to captivate you instantly, weakening your legs and waking those tingling butterflies in your stomach. He removed your hands from his coat and pulled you closer to him. Your body now touching his, you felt the urge to rest your head into the crook of his neck but resisted.

   “She indeed is. And you better behave, peasant,” you teased him back and Alastor narrowed his eyes at you degrading him like this.

   He let go of one of your hands and instead cupped your cheek before using his fingers to lift your chin up. “You seem to forget that I’m your finacé”, he purred, leaning in closer until only a few inches separated your noses from touching. His hot breath stroked your face and you could’ve sworn that his eyes had turned to a darker hue.

   Without further hesitation he pulled you into a tender kiss. His lips brushed over yours and you leaned in closer, succumbing yourself completely to him. Your free hand roamed up and slid through his hair, pressing his face closer to yours. After a few moments of togetherness both of you let go of each other.

   “We should return to the foyer. My dad can arrive any minute,” you said and stroked his cheek before heading towards the door. You could hear Alastor sigh behind you.

   “Just as a reminder: I can’t promise you things will go well.”

   You rolled your eyes as you left the radio station together. “At least try.”

   After you entered the foyer most preparations were already done and it didn’t take long until your father arrived. Your body was shaking from excitement as you and Charlie went up to the door and your sister opened it.

   "Charlie!,” your father shouted with joy. A huge grin sat on his face and his yellow eyes sparkled as his gaze fell on your sister who stood much closer to him. He held out his arms and approached her, pulling her into a hug. “It’s so good to see you!”

   “It’s good to see you too, dad,” Charlie pressed through the tight hug of her father, overwhelm and a little bit of uncomfort in her expression.

   When Lucifer let go of her his eyes fell on you. "Y/N! You’re here too?” his pupils dilated in surprise and you immediately found yourself wrapped in his arms as well.

   “Dad!” you greeted him as you placed your hands around his torso and squeezed, the soft fragrance of his cologne entering your nose. He smelled the same he always did, the scent taking you back to the past when your family was still together and healthy. It was wonderful to be this close to him after such a long time and you wished this moment could last longer. You looked to the side and saw Alastor standing near your sister. But what you didn’t see was one of his eyes twitching at your father’s gesture.

   You let go of each other and Charlie held out her hand, spinning and pointing at the lobby. “Welcome to the Hazbin Hotel!”

   The other residents greeted him with waving hands from afar and your father smiled back at them, walking through the lobby and letting his gaze wander around. “Wow, this place looks, uh…” he twisted his mouth in an unpleasant manner and frowned, searching for the right words. He chuckled nervously and you and Charlie exchanged glances as he stammered around, turning to the side and surveying the establishment as if he was a property inspector. You could tell that nervousness spread across Charlie’s face as she probably hoped his words wouldn’t be too dismissive. You shrugged your shoulders at her to dismiss your father’s unsettling behavior and followed him.

   “What do you think, dad?” you dared to ask him in hopes he’d come up with a response a little faster if you pushed on him a little.

   “It’s got a lot of character,” he eventually said and winched with a squeak when he turned around and laid eyes on the bar. “What in the unholy hell is that?” he asked repulsively and pointed to the swampy-looking counter decorated with skulls and two full snake skeletons wrapped around the poles. The green wood paneling disrupted the noble red wallpaper of the looby, making it appear like an eyesore amidst the otherwise mostly luxurious decor.

   A dark shadow crawled around the floor and took the form of Alastor who appeared right next to him. “Just some of the renovations we had done! ” he explained, pointing his cane at the bar, his signature smile wide and confident before he turned towards Lucifer and leaned on his cane. “Adds a bit of color, don’t you think?”

   “And you are?” Lucifer asked with raised eyebrows, a skeptical tone in his voice.

   You, again, exchanged glances with Charlie and held your breath. The moment has come in which your father and your financé had their first contact and somehow you got the feeling that this won’t end well. Your sister seemed to be fearing the same and she stepped closer to you. Her presence calmed your tension at least a little. 

   “Alastor,” your finacé introduced himself, “Pleasure to be meeting you, sir. Quite a pleasure!” He shook your fathers hand and you could see the disapproval in both their eyes, before they let go. Your father grimaced while Alastor wiped his hands over his coat.

   This most definitely won’t end well. But before you and Charlie could say something, Alastor continued, “It’s nice to finally put a face to the name. You are much shorter in real life.”

   You breathed in sharply. Your father didn’t seem to take his comment well as his expression immediately turned to annoyance. You and Charlie both approached them, your sister standing next to your father while you kept closer to Alastor. You really hoped that he’d notice your disapproval over how things were going and slow down a bit. But you knew him well enough to be sure he wouldn’t notice the tension in the room and also wouldn't care if he did.

   “Who is this?” your father asked, his eyes fixated on the demon before him. “Who’s this now? Are you the bellhop?”

   Alastor laughed in response. “No! I’m the host of the hotel. You might’ve heard of me from my radio broadcast,” he explained.

   Your father pretended to ponder his words for a very short moment but then denied with a derogatory snort. “Nope! I guess that’s why Charlie called it the ‘Hazbin Hotel’?” He laughed at his pun, this time more maliciously. The tension grew stronger and you didn’t even realize that you held your breath and pressed your fists so tightly together that your nails painfully stung your palms. Your sister, on the other hand, nervously rubbed her hands.

   Hiding his offense, Alastor piled into your father’s laughter, “It was actually my idea.”

   “Well, it’s not very clever!” your father responded, increasing his laugh.

   Alastor did the same and leaned in closer, “Fuck you.”

   “Alastor!” you yelled at him in shock and disbelief over his rude words and took him by his arm, dragging him to the side while your sister shoved your father into the other direction.

   “What the fuck is wrong with you?” you scolded him with a lowered voice to keep your conversation as private as possible. He’d never been someone who cussed so why did he have to do this now of all times?

   “He started it,” Alastor explained, keeping his face turned in the other direction to avoid eye contact.

   You breathed in sharply, anger boiling within you as you hissed, “I don’t care about who did what. You were supposed to make a good impression!”

   “Excuse me, dear, but it seems that your father and I don’t get along. And this seems to be based on mutuality. I don’t know if you noticed this but he already looked at me disapprovingly before we even exchanged words.”

   Oh, you did notice this. But you didn’t care because in this moment it was important for both of them to at least pretend to tolerate each other. You couldn’t afford your father and your finacé to already disembowel each other during their first encounter. Important aspects of your shared future relied on their correlation. And… Was Alastor even listening to you?!

   You snatched his cane out of his hands and spinned it around.

   Alastor finally turned to look at you, his teeth gritted and his eyebrows pushed together. His gaze became softer as he eyed your expression but he still seemed tense.

   “You’ll put this right, Alastor. Or otherwise…” You don’t finish your sentence and instead poke the pointy end of his cane between his ribs.

   “Fine,” he growled and took his cane back.

   You both turned around and saw Charlie pushing your father in your direction, her arm resting on his shoulder while she talked to him insistently with a calm but worried voice, “Without Alastor, we wouldn’t have been able to pretty it up this much!”

   Alastor took a step closer, tapping his fingertips on his cane. “Charlie has a very unique vision,” he started and stood next to her, forcing himself to sound as honest and courteous as possible, “I am happy to fulfill her bizarre requests.”

   “Thank you, Alastor”, your sister responded, ignoring your frowning father who looked anything but amused.

   Alastor continued, “Quite an impressive young lady. We’re all very proud of her.” He wrapped his arm around her shoulder and Charlie gave him a genuine smile before he let go and turned towards you. “And her sister, Y/N, well…” He laid his red eyes on you with a genuine and almost loving smile and rested his hand on your shoulder, squeezing it slightly in an almost unnoticeable but reassuring manner. “She’s an extraordinary being. Introduced me to this very special place so we can give her sister all the support and assistance she needs.”

   You smiled at him, grateful that he followed your request to at least try to make things right.

   Your father growled and narrowed his eyes as he noticed the way Alastor looked at you, the demon’s hand on your shoulder triggering his already strained nerves. He snatched his head in the other direction to face your sister. “Charlie… Why don’t you introduce me to your other friends?”

   “Oh, yes, of course!” she called out and walked up to the other residents. “This is Vaggie. She’s my girlfriend!” She pulled Vaggie with her who shyly raised her hand in a reserved greeting gesture.

   Your father laughed and his mood immediately switched from annoyance to excitement. “Oh my golly! You like girls? So do I! We have so much in common!” He pulled Vaggie in a rushed embrace, letting her go as fast as he got close to her. “She’s beautiful!”

   You felt your heart sink in your chest at your father’s opposite reaction to your sister’s partner and a strike of anxiety hit you at the thought of telling him the truth about you and Alastor. It wasn’t only the fact you both were a couple that made you this insecure but the fact that you were even engaged to him.

   Alastor seemed to sense your inner tension and squeezed your shoulder again, now with more pressure and you were grateful for him that he hadn’t removed his hand yet. His closeness was exactly what you needed at this moment. You moved a bit closer to him, hoping that you both didn't appear too close in the other eyes, and breathed in his scent while your thoughts raced in your head. You reviewed the events again and realized that Alastor was right. You had little reason to be so angry (only) at him because your father didn’t really behave either from the first second. Hopefully you could somehow dismiss this conflict as a matter of miscommunication between them.

   You watched your sister introduce your father to the other residents which he seemed to get along with very well – contrary to your finacé who seemed to be the only one he immediately despised.

   You sighed and that’s when your father turned around to face the lobby. With a determined expression he raised his voice so everybody could hear him, “Well, it looks like I could give you some help. With a little bit of alakazam,” he wiggled his fingers, indicating a magic spell, “we could turn this place into something much more appealing! I mean, who needs a busboy now that you got the chef?” He faced Alastor with narrowed eyes and poked his elbow teasingly into Charlie’s side.

   You could feel Alastor’s grip on your shoulder tightening. His smile turned into a strained grin as he obviously thought about saying something. You begged that he kept his mouth shut to not reinforce their conflict… 

   “Well, Charlie…” your father continued before Alastor could even say something, “I’m not almighty but I could give you a lot. Almost anything, if you ask for it. You know, normally, I’d charge a lot for my help but since you’re my daughter and I love you with all my heart, it’s a matter of course I do it for free. Unlike that sketchy prick who probably has some devious intentions in his mind.” He raised his cane and pointed at Alastor.

   Charlie blinked a few times and pressed a nervous and drawled ‘Thank you…’ through her uncomfortable smile. It was obvious that she didn’t approve of your father’s comment but she also didn’t want to increase the drama by intervening.

   Alastor took his hand off your shoulder and leaned on his cane. “At least I’ve been here from the start,” he commented and eyed his claws with a hint of arrogance.

   You breathed in sharply but tried your best to keep your patience up as Alastor continued his monologue. “Let's not forget that I’ve always been faithful to you, Charlie. I support you, care for you and this hotel, and execute whatever you demand”, he exclaimed with such confidence that it was almost awkward listening to him.

   “That’s true,” your sister responded carefully with a grateful smile on her face and your father rolled his eyes. “You know, dad, Alastor does a lot for the hotel and its residents.”

   “No matter his capabilities, because sometimes, Charlie, there’s no substitute for pure angelic power, which – not to forget – also happens to be your blood!”

   “Dad…” Charlie sighed and you growled, the anger cooking inside of you.

   “Sadly, there are times a birth parent is a dud,” Alastor interfered again, his grin still as prominent as always but his eyes narrowed, darting invisible arrows at Lucifer. He straightens his back to appear even taller in comparison to your father, the arrogance undeniable in his expression. “Seems like the family you chose is better.”

   “You’re such a loser!” your dad spat out.

   “And yet here you are proving me right with every word you speak,” Alastor snatched back.

   “You know nothing, you prick!”

   “Well, unlike you, I don’t abandon my responsibilities!”

   “How do you dare question my commitment?”

   “At least I care for your daughters.”

   “Oh you tacky little piece of–!”

You jumped between them. “Shut the fuck up! Both of you!”

 you yelled as your anger burst through the walls you’ve tried to maintain hold of. Your voice cracked with the strain of suppressed fury and your appearance began to morph into a much more demonic form as pointy horns grew out of your head and your eyes turned a gleaming bloody red. “I’m sick of you bickering like children, you fucking attention whores! Is this how you get your kicks, by not being able to keep your mouths shut over such trivial nonsense? Do you even realize how goddamn irritating it is for the rest of us to be subjected to your constant squabbling? You know each other for ten minutes and already start pushing each other to the limits!”

   “Y/N–,” Alastor tried to interrupt you but you stretched out your arm, pushing him away from you.

   “No, Alastor, back the fuck off!” you scream, looking up in his red eyes and poking his chest angrily with your index finger. “Everytime I tell you to keep your shit together and make a good impression, you make things worse!”

   Your head snatches around and you now stare at your father with the same fury in your eyes. “And you, dad, stop your irresponsible nonsense and don’t taunt him as if he were a punching bag for your own insecurities!” Now you poke at your father’s chest, towering over him with floating hair and fire in your eyes. “Because Alastor’s right! Where have you been all the time? Instead of helping us and supporting Charlie in her project, you didn't even contact us! Especially not me! The last time I heard from you was over a year ago! And now you come here, finally ready to help your daughters, and the moment you arrive you start lashing out at my fiancé to deflect from your own mistakes because you can't stand the fact that he was there for us while you preferred to wallow yourself in your depression!”

   Silence fell over the room when you finished your rant, all eyes locked on you in shock and disbelief over your courage to attack the Radio Demon and the King of Hell himself in such a manner. Your heart raced, pumped your blood through your veins with such a pressure that you felt your whole body pulsating under your tension as relief washed over you.

   “Y–,” your dad tried to say, stuttering and completely overwhelmed by your confrontation and what you just revealed to him. “You–, Your… fiancé?” He ripped his eyes open, his mouth agape in disbelief.

   You breathed in heavily and closed your eyes for a brief moment, realizing what you just revealed, before you opened them again and responded to his question with a much calmer but also weak and tired voice, “Yes, dad. Alastor is my fiancé.”

   “What the fuck?” you could hear Angel exclaim in the background but ignored him.

   “Well…” your father hesitated. He struggled hard to find the right words and put his hand over his mouth, rubbing his skin like a stress ball. “Well, I’m… Wow…”

   Alastor approached you, his steps echoing from the high walls in the silent room and he put his hand on your shoulder. Feeling his touch through your blouse, caused a jolt of electricity to rush through your body. It erased the rest of your anger and your appearance returned to your normal form. Alastor’s presence calmed you down to an almost relaxed state. You felt the need to lean on him but resisted because everything that just happened was already enough – for you, for your father, your fiancé and all the other residents who were forced to witness this nerve-wrecking spectacle.

   You watched your father’s gaze roam over Alastor’s presence, from his head to his toes and from his toes back to his head.

   “I–, I don’t know what to say… Uh… I–... I’m speechless,” he stuttered, unable to look away from the man that stood next to you and encouraged you with a little but meaningful gesture and with who you wanted to spend the rest of eternity with. “I–, excuse me. I need some time to think.”

   Your father indicated to turn around and leave as your sister grabbed him by his arm, holding him back. “Would you like me to give you a tour around the hotel?” she asked him reassuringly in hope he would agree, what he then did.

   “Yes. Please.”

   Your sister gave you an encouraging look before she turned around and guided your father towards the stairs, Vaggie following right after to accompany them.

   Now, you and Alastor were alone with Angel Dust, Sir Pentious, Husk and Niffty. All of them stared at you, speechless. Especially Husk appeared a bit traumatized by your accidental announcement.

   “So… Mister fancy-talk-creepy-voice managed to slide into the royal family?” Angel asked you with interest but you raised your hand, interrupting him.

   “Stop it, Angel.”

   The spider demon pressed his lips together in a thin line and hummed.

   You turned towards Alastor. “Are you mad?” you asked him, afraid that you damaged his trust by revealing your biggest secret you had sworn to keep.

   Alastor leaned his head down sideways to look you in the eyes. His grin was replaced by a genuine smile as his red eyes surveyed your expression. “It’s alright, my dear.”

   He looked over to the other residents, walking a few steps closer to them and cocked his head in an unnatural and unnerving way. His antlers grew in size with pointy ends while his eyes changed to a black color with red, moving radio dials as irises. “If you dare say a single word about mine and Y/N’s relationship outside of the hotel, I will tear you apart and hang your guts as flags on the hotel roof so everybody will be able to see what happens if you dare gossip about the radio demon and his lady.”

*****

[eeriefeelingsat3amuwu]

hdhahdhajfbajdnaudb Okay having Thoughts™️ about some of these ‘Odysseus raises Astyanax’ fics. Because. Because if we’re talking about the full odyssey experience. If Astyanax were to survive. He would have spent 11 years of his life growing up with Odysseus as his father. Now, to the main area of thought - Telemachus. Imagine. Imagine being a child, hearing of your father only in stories. From your mother, the servants, your grandparents. Seeing your grandmother succumb to her grief, seeing your mother grow sadder by the day, more sullen, seeing your grandfather withdraw into himself, all because of your father.

The man you are told you look like, the man who left for war, six, eight, eleven, fifteen, TWENTY years ago, left your home in disrepair, left your mother and you to deal with suitors disrespecting your house and name, the man who you are so angry at, yet Also worship as a god, because you don’t have a CHOICE. You can’t love him, you don’t KNOW him, but you love him in the way you love your gods - distant, unknowable, unreachable, and yet you have his face, your mother sometimes gates at you with these sad, sad eyes and you know she’s not really seeing you when she tells you she loves you.

You know he is a man, logically, how could he not be when your mother still remembers every calous on his hands and your grandfather tells you of how he almost set his room on fire one day, but he is only a legend to you. You hear other Kings, Kings from the same war your father left for (they came back, they are already back and he is still gone) discussing him, you hear how he helped end the war with your and your mother’s name on his lips and YET! He’s not here, he’s not here but he can’t be dead, because everyone agrees that he is too stubborn to die.

And then. He is back. And he has a boy with him. A boy who is younger than you, still just a child. And he regards the boy as his own, introduces him to you as ‘your brother’. He hasn’t dishonoured your mother, he took the child from the burning city of Troy because he is merciful and kind and you see it in the way the boy hugs him and calls him papa. And you should be happy, your father is back, you have a sibling now, your mother finally smiles properly again, your grandfather no longer cries when he sees you.

But. This boy. The boy your father brought from Troy. He got all that you have ever wanted: he got your father, from the moment he was Born he got your father, he was there for his first steps, his first words, he taught him how to sail, fight, read, count, he has been there with him through it all and you have never wanted anything more. ‘This child is not his son’ says that hateful, angry voice in your head.

You spend time with your father. He weeps, hugs you. Tells you he’s proud of the man you are now. Teaches you how to rule, it is your birthright, he says. He goes hunting with you and tells you he loves you and that the thought of you and your mother got him through many a peril. You spend time with your brother, you make him laugh, he loves you, clings to you just as much as he clings to your father, you teach him more about Ithaca, the way it is now, because he’s only heard stories. And still, in the back of your mind, you know you hate the child. You despise him with every fiber of your heart even if your mind knows he is not to blame - and that he has dealt with the same thing, just opposite to you.

Whereas you had a home, your mother and the rest of your family, but yearned for more than just the memory of your father, wanted for freedom, the boy had him, in the flesh, soothing his nightmares and teaching him to live, had the open sea and the deck of a ship, the capability to go anywhere, he lacked the stability that you had and despised. He didn’t know his grandfathers, would never get to know his grandmother, only had a memory of a mother and a brother, saw them as saints, as a reason to keep pushing forth.

You are opossites. You don’t know how it happened, as the child is not hers, but your brother looks like your mother where you are clearly your father’s son, yet your personalities seem to have been switched. You’re calmer, much more subdued, you don’t smile easily and are weaker of will. Your brother is loud and boisterous, quick to crack a grin and so, so Brave.

You still get the compulsion to bow to your father whenever he enters a room, to touch him to make sure he is real, at times. He sometimes wakes screaming, seeing horrors that you could not imagine in his sleep and doesn’t feel comfortable in a proper bed for years. He sets the curtains on fire and your father laughs in relief and he holds him to his chest. Your own chest cleaves in two.

Just. Is this anything?

[eevees-hobbies]

Don't Threaten Me With a Good Time!

This is a response to this anon request: Hii can i request wind breaker boys : bofurin and shishitoren with a reader that love to flirt and hard to flustered although they tried to do it back? Thank you

Author’s Note: Thank you, Anon, for being my first Wind Breaker request! I feel like we were on the same wavelength because I was planning on doing a flirt fic/headcanon, but you beat me to it! Unshy and bold is how I like to write my readers, too!

Content Warning: Fem!Reader x Characters. Not smut but highly suggestive in some parts. Use of the word slut in the beginning background piece, a brief examination of the word and scenarios in which it’s weaponized. If you’re not into that, feel free to skip that part. But I’ve seen what some of you all are into and seen some of those reblogs—you know who you are, so spare me. You’re also a major flirt. Like, you’re at a 10 on the flirt scale. Go, you! Nothing too explicit, but here’s what we’re working with: mention of panties in Sakura’s. Kaji needs to learn to keep items inside of his mouth…unless? Suo intends to punish you so pick a god and pray. Hiragi needs you to chill out…but say more, please. Umemiya is too shy to ask you to call him Daddy (please call him Daddy). Togame tells you what you’ll be sitting on by the end of the night (also mention of alcohol in his). Nirei is a cute little bean <3. Minors Don’t Interact.

As always, I appreciate comments, reblogs, and likes. Requests are as open as my legs are for Haruka Sakura’s dick.

Word Count: 2.8K

Dividers by Saradika. Story banner by me.

Background: How You Got Here

You’ve always hated the word ‘slut’

It’s not that you wouldn’t personally consider yourself one. Depending on your ideologies, reclaiming the word can feel liberating and you find that to be true for yourself. 

You consider yourself to be naturally flirty, sexy, bold, and charismatic. You can also be a bit of a tease and have slut-like-tendancies in the bedroom, so, sure, a slut. And for the right person or people, if you’re feelin’ nasty, you’re willing to be whatever they want you to be. 

You’ve just grown to hate the word because slut is often used to mischaracterize a woman that men often can’t understand. 

They can’t, or choose not to, understand a woman who is vocal about who she wants and how she wants it. 

They call women sluts who do the chasing.

They call women sluts who fuck on the first date. 

They call women sluts who don’t fuck on the first date. 

The word slut has lost all meaning.

Patriarchy issues aside, this wouldn’t be a problem if you didn’t also have a mouth on you. So when some low-life-loser cat calls you from across the street, asking if you got a man and then calling you a slut because you chose not to answer in front of his five loser friends, you turn around and yell, “Sorry, buddy! Experiencing disappointing sexual experiences isn’t on my bingo card for tonight!”

“What the FUCK did you just say to me?”

And contrary to what some may say, you aren’t fucking stupid. You know what happens to women when a man hates them and decides that you’re the object of their rage.

So, you often find yourself running in situations like this. Running until your lungs are about to explode and the only thing keeping you going is adrenaline and the fear that that word—and your mouth—might get you snuffed out. 

You’re looking over your shoulder as your assailants close the distance, painfully aware that this can’t go on for too much longer when you collide with someone’s chest. Strong hands grip your arms, anchoring you in place. 

You look up, expecting to see one of the men from the group but you’re instead taken aback by the stranger in front of you. He seems like the kind of boy you’d let call you a slut—-his close-mouthed smile disarms you, and even though it doesn’t reach his eyes, you’re almost certain he’s someone you can trust. You don’t have too many options right now, anyway!

His tassel earrings swing as he raises his head from looking down at you, and his eyes follow the sound of running feet emerging from the alley. 

“Oh? You look like you could use some help. Stand over there for me?” He tilts his head when asking you the question, but part of you feels like he’s not really asking, so you nod and watch with bated breath as the young man methodically mows down every one of the men. 

Afterward, he turns to you, pristine and perfect, “I can’t let you walk home alone after that.”

“Sure,” you say, taking his outstretched hand. What’s your name? I have to know the name of the person who just saved me.”

“Oh, I guess that’s a fair point. My name is Hayato Suo. It’s nice to meet you despite the circumstances.”

It’s not long after that event that you fall into the protection of the Bofurin & Shishitoren men; your natural charisma quickly gets you in their good graces and earns you a special spot among their ranks. You give off mascot vibes—if mascots were cute and didn’t have gigantic, scary bodies!

Hanging out with them means being yourself without experiencing judgment or retribution. Your laid-back persona and flirting are met with laughs, blushes, and even sometimes flirtation in return. You’ve never felt more at home than with them. 

Haruka Sakura

Flirting with Haruka Sakura is like flirting with a brick wall; either he notices and chooses to ignore the situation as his face turns a crimson red, or he’ll yell at you for being a pervert in public. And both of those reactions are equally cute, so when one day you’re sitting at a booth at Cafe Pothos—-with Sakura, Suo & Nirei—-you decide that this is the perfect environment to get him riled up.

You gently knock your shoe against Sakura’s, which earns you an eyebrow twitch as he continues to shovel food into his mouth. Oblivious as always. 

You do it again to prove that it wasn’t an accidental nudge. Sakura’s eyes shoot up to yours, frantic because this is something you would do. His eyes are met with your innocent smile and subtle shoulder shrug.

As you all continue eating (excluding Suo, who enjoys a cup of tea), you gradually move your foot up his leg until it rests between his thighs. Sakura is trembling like a leaf, eyes darting between the faces of your friends, who could very well notice that you’re trying to get him to play footsie under the table. What if they notice? 

The meal concludes; Suo and Nirei exit the restaurant, and you and Sakura linger for a bit. Part of you hopes that he’ll call out your behavior, but he’s doing his best eye-avoidant routine. As you rise to leave, Sakura stops you, grabbing you by the hem of your sleeve and pushing you into the last booth at the back of the restaurant, where the line of sight is blocked.

Sakura climbs on top of you, your bodies crammed into the leather booths in a way that feels deliciously intimate. His hands are holding your arms at your sides, and his knee settles in between your thighs—and you are now more than ever painfully aware of how high your skirt has bunched up as his knee is dangerously close to brushing up against the seat of your panties. 

“Y-you can’t control yourself in public, can you!?” Sakura practically spits out. He’d sound angry to anyone else, but that’s not what you see in his eyes. 

You look up at him, mesmerized by his vulnerability and the proximity of his well-placed knee. "Do you want me to stop, Haruka?”

He again avoids eye contact with you, but the way he bites his lip gives him away, “No, I-i didn’t say that.”

Akihiko Nirei 

“Have you added anyone else to that book of yours, Nirei?”

Nirei beams at you. You’re one of the few people who takes an interest in the compendium of facts and stats he’s collected about the others. He flips through the pages and starts pointing out information he’s added since you’ve last spoken.

You nod along, taking a genuine interest in what he says; you barely notice your hand moving up to brush away a strand of hair that had fallen out of place. His cheeks tinge pink, and he stutters as he continues to read to you.

After he’s done hyper-fixating, a comfortable silence sits between you.

“What do you have about me?” you say, leaning closer to him. You’re teasing him; you don’t exchange blows like the subjects in his journals, so there’s no practical reason for him to collect information on you. That’s what you think until he reaches into his back pocket and brandishes a small notebook with your name on the front. 

“I-i uh have the basic demographics, but uh…still need the more personal things like your favorite color and food.”

“What about my bra size?”

“B-bra….” The pencil in his hand snaps, and he looks everywhere but at you. “I uh… s-sure! I’ll take that if you’d like me to!”

You laugh; you genuinely find him endearing. “I’m kidding! We haven’t even had our first date yet, Nirei!”

He looks at you, pulling out a new pencil from seemingly nowhere. “Well, once I find out what food you like, I’ll add the anniversary date of our first date here, too.”

Ren Kaji

Flirting with Kaji feels dangerous, but you do you, friend. You, as an individual, and the way compliments flow easily from your lips makes Kaji uncomfortable, and he admittedly doesn’t understand why someone as gorgeous as you gives him the time of day. It isn’t until you somehow become closer that the absence of your flirting with him sets off blaring alarm bells. 

Are you ok? 

Who did this to you?  

Who does he have to kill?!

As you thumb through the vinyl at your local record store, you feel a bump against your shoulder. You look up and see your favorite platinum blond guard dog; his headphones are settled around his neck, heavy metal pouring from the earphones. His piercing gaze is a clear indication that you might be in trouble. Oops. 

“You mad at me or somethin’?”

You raise an eyebrow at him, “Mad? Why do you think that?”

“You haven’t been pestering me lately, and it feels…odd.”

You can see him chewing on the inside of his cheek, even with the round sucker placed snugly in his mouth. 

“Ohhhhhh, no, Kaji! I was giving you a break, but if you insist on flirting, how about-”

“Shut up,” he pulls the sucker out of his mouth and presses it against your lips, watching as you purse your glossed lips and kiss the candy. Neither of you breaks eye contact; an unspoken threat between you dares the other to yield first. His eyes narrow as you poke your tongue out and stroke the sides with intentional, slow licks.

“Tch!” he turns quickly, marching away from you. Despite his back being turned, you can tell by the way his arm raises that he’s now placing that saliva-soaked sucker in his mouth. 

Hayato Suo 

Suo might be one of two people on this list who might be a worthy opponent for you. How do you flirt with someone who is perpetually unbothered? Good question! I see your flirting as back-and-forth quips, playful jabs at one another that get increasingly sexual and oddly specific throughout the day.

If you meet up with the group and one strand of your hair is out of place, Suo chirps, “Bedhead, huh? What were YOU doing last night?”

If you see Suo break a sweat after an intense fight, “Wow, Suo! You really need to work on your stamina. I can imagine a few ways to help with that.”

Sure, it’s all in good fun, but there’s a sexual undertone to it all; between the smiles and sarcastic comments, you’re both participating in your special version of foreplay, and you have never been more turned on. 

Everyone around you thinks you should get a room, and as sunset approaches, you two do exactly that.

“Ready to work on that stamina, Suo?” you chide as you push him against the wall in your apartment. You know you’ll pay for man-handling him later, but that’s part of the fun, isn’t it?

His earrings sway back and forth from the force, but he gazes down at you with smoldering ruby-toned eyes. Every smart-mouthed remark you’ve said that day replays in his head, contributing to his desire to make you atone for your brattiness.

“Yes, Y/N and I promise I won’t let you out of bed with your hair a mess like I did this morning.”

Hajime Umemiya

The complexity of Hajime Umemiya should be a case study. You’ve witnessed his laid-back nature as he jokes with friends, and you’ve seen the scary side of him that bubbles over when anyone threatens those he’s closest to. 

You’re truly attracted to both sides, but when it comes to you and the way you tease him, running manicured nails through his gelled hair and scratching gently at his scalp, he’s putty in your hands.

One of your favorite ways to experience Umemiya is meeting him in his element: his garden. It allows you to bond with him, and he often shares information about his life. Somewhere, Sugishita is biting his fist. 

“Big brother,” you whine as you plant okra, “am I doing this right?”

Umemiya’s eyes widen, and he looks at you across the garden. In what feels like seconds, he’s kneeling in front of you, your hands cupped in his own. “Y-you can’t call me that!”

You blink, confused, “you tell everyone to call you that.”

“I don’t want YOU to call me that.”

“Why not?”

“Because it’s weird when someone you…like…calls you big brother. It’s worse than being called a friend!”

You snort, but when you meet his eyes, you quickly straighten. Oh! He’s serious! 

“So, not into me calling you big brother even during our ‘private moments?’ What about ‘Daddy?’ How do you feel about that?”

He laughs loudly—not because he thinks that was especially hilarious—but because you just make him nervous. 

“You can call me Hajime or…’my boyfriend?’ Yeah, let's stick with my boyfriend!”

“Not Daddy?”

“I won’t stop you! Now, how about that okra???”

Toma Hiragi

“You’re a pain in my ass.”

Hiragi’s simultaneously rubbing a knot out of his neck while chastising you. You found yourself in an all too familiar situation, running errands when a drunken man approached you and began to hurl “that word” in your direction when he didn’t find your reaction to his advances to be appropriate: same shit, different day.

As you were looking for an escape route, Hiragi rounded the corner and snatched the man by the collar—it was almost comical to see the drunkard's feet dangle feverishly off the ground. With a scowl and a threat from Hiragi, he was stumbling off.

You sigh, “I don’t mean to be a burden, Hiragi. But something on my forehead must read, ‘fuck with me’ because this is becoming a common occurrence.”

“I didn’t mean it like that,” he grumbles, “I just find myself worrying about you too much. Might give you my jacket to keep these creeps at bay.” 

Before the last syllable leaves his lips, he’s stuttering and trying to walk the statement back, “I mean uh…or any Bofurin jacket! We have boxes of these somewhere! Not mine, per se.”

You smile, placing a hand on his toned bicep. “I’d love to wear my protector's jacket.”

You need not say more. He removes his oversized jacket and places it over your shoulders. The smell of him and the warmth he left behind makes your heart flutter. You give him your best grin, “you know you’re never getting this back, right?”

“See? A pain in my ass. With a mouth like that, I’m goin’ to have to teach you how to fight.” 

You lean into his arm, “With a mouth like this, you might have to teach me more than how to fight.”

“Jesus.”

Jo Togame 

Jo Togame is the other person on this list who’ll give you a run for your money when trying to flirt. He may seem turtle-adjacent, but his rebuttals to your flirtation attempts are quick. 

You’ve been shooting Togame smoldering glances for the entirety of the night, and even though Shishitoren men surround him, he’ll catch you looking, give you a lopsided grin, and then turn his attention back to the group,

You lick your lips. The draw of his signature sweatpants, black, loose-fitting tee, and Shishitoren jacket is doing something to you. 

And maybe it’s because you’re on your fifth shot of mystery concoction, and the music they’re playing at the house party makes you feel bold and think that what you’re about to do is a good idea. 

With all the courage you can muster, you walk up to Togame. He tilts his head in your direction, but you can see amusement in his jade-colored eyes.

“Took you long enough. Thought you were never gonna get tired of starin’ at me.”

“Dance with me!” you yell over the music. You can feel everyone in the group sizing you up and waiting to hear how Togame responds. 

He puts his beer down and takes your hand. You pull him to the center of the room, where a makeshift dance floor has been constructed. You allow the music to move you before you can talk yourself out of whatever is happening. Togame puts his hand on your waist and allows you to grind against him and to the beat. 

“You like the idea of making me nervous, huh?”

You stand on the tips of your toes to get as close to his ear as possible, “You caught me! Is it working?”

He chuckles and shakes his head, “No because I know exactly how this night is going to end.”

Your heart picks up a bit as his hands slide down from your waist and rest above your ass.

“How?” You squeak.

“With you grinding just like this on my dick.”

You open your mouth to respond, but he presses his lips against yours, his kiss hot and hungry. 

Your eyes flutter closed, and you agree that this night will likely end how he prophesized.