#and then next weekend i have drawing party with friends

[cvntluver444]

7 mins in heaven w ellie😇😇😇😇

thank you so much for your request and your support love!! <3

✞ 7 minutes ✞

✿ summary : the request!

✿ warnings : smut minors/men (boys) dni, puss rubbing, dirtyy talk, shy reader, sweet ellie, ellie teaching reader, reader is in closest!!!!!!, mentions of reader in str@ight relationship, almost getting caught!, if i missed any lmk pls!

✿ a/n : thank you for supporting my works as always! this is not my best work bc i used all my creative brain juice on my last fic so i am so sorry! unfortunately, i am headed back to school this weekend so my writing is going to slow down, but i'm not stopping don't worry babies. im hoping to put out 2-3 fics a week still!!!! keep sending in those requests! I have one more to work on, so to the anon who requested it its coming i promise my love!!!!

ALSO i did kind of make this a personal fic im so sorry LMAO basically i just explain how when i finally realized i was gay YAYAYA !!!!!!! but yeah warning again the reader in this is based on me so it is like finding out you're into girls later on kind of thing so if this is something you're not interested in feel free to skip! I hope you like it lucy!!! (idk if that's your real name im just going to call u that teehee) i love you all so much! muah

✿ as always, please remember to keep spreading information on and support Palestine!!

daily click

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you anxiously played with your fingers as the last of the party guest gathered around the huge circle. your friends and you decided to spend your saturday night at one of your classmates party, resulting in you now dreading your turn in the 'truth or dare' game.

"you okay?" you turn your head to your left as your eyes land on your friend, who clearly could pick up on how nervous you looked.

"yeah i'm fine," you tell her. "just hope i don't have to do anything stupid or embarrassing. she laughs at your comment.

"don't worry, i doubt you'll even get picked. there's a lot of people here and were all drunk so, who cares!'. her shouts fills the room, drawing a couple eyes toward the two of you. you giggle and hide your face, trying to tell her to keep it down. in the midst of shushing her, your eyes graze the room, watching people roll their eyes at her behavior. but your eyes catch someone else's and you freeze.

ellie williams

she sends you a soft smile, a dark look in her eyes. you gulp and look away quickly. god, she was so hot you thought. you hope she couldn't how flustered she made you. you hope no one could. your whole life, you've always had no problems catching boys' attention. you could have a whoever, whenever, but with this luxury came its flaw. you never actually liked the boys you went out with, you just loved being loved, being in a relationship. you never understood why you felt that way, but just continued on normally, not giving yourself a chance to actually explore more about yourself. but when you first met ellie freshmen year, the feelings finally became visible, especially after finding out she was also into girls; however, you were still not sure if she felt the same. This caused you to once again burry your feelings and close yourself up. You were too scared, and way too sober to even try to talk to ellie.

suddenly, a loud voice can be heard yelling throughout the house. "truth or dare starting now in living room," on boy shouted. your palms became sweaty and you prayed that everyone would pick up on your uncomfortableness and just leave you alone. as always though, the world likes to work in funny ways, and you feel a large presence sit next to you and tap you on the shoulder.

"hey," the boy smiles, "cool if i sit here?" you just give me a simple nod of your head and continue your attention elsewhere, your thoughts interrupted once again. "you look good tonight, by the way". you turn back around, and give him a quiet thanks, and before he could respond, everyone around you begins to pick who will go first for the game.

after three or four people went, you began to grow annoyed. the man next to you could not take the hint, and you were the only person here not having a good time.

"alright williams," the room cheers silently, "truth or dare". your attention is now fully on ellie. she stares up at her friend who just picked on her, small smirk on her face as she answers with a confident dare. "hmmm," her friend hums out loud, looking around the room. you swear you see their eyes stop on yours for a second, before they get an idea. "i dare you to do 7 minutes in heaven," they pause and the room is filled with oooo's. your heart drops a bit. "a person of your choosing." now everyone was going crazy. everyone knew ellie was gay, and everyone knew she made every girl gay, so it was a pretty heavy dare.

ellie smiles up at her friend, sage you think their name is, before she slowly starts scanning the room. you quickly look down, hoping that your avoided eye contact would make you more invisible. your only focus now was watching your fidgeting fingers and giving back half asses answers to the man beside you who still will not shut up.

you hear ellie suck in her breathe before she slowly gets up from the ground. all you wanted to do in this moment was sink into the ground, not sure how you were going to handle seeing ellie pick another girl that isn't you and go fuck her in the closet. too deep in your thoughts, you don't hear the air leave your friends lungs as a certain someone stalks towards you. you only know ellie is right in front of you once you see the beat up sneakers sneak right under your vision.

your eyes widen and you cant breathe. there has to be someone behind you right? no, she could not pick you. in fear that you would be disappointed when looking up, you keep your head down, telling yourself that you're just-

your friend next to you quietly says your name, excitement laced in her voice. she was the only one you told, the only one you could trust with something so personal to you, so to say she was absolutely ecstatic to see ellie pick her best friend, well that was an understatement.

after your quick reality check, your line of vision trails from the top of her feet, all the way to her line of vision, where you see hear towering over you, smirk on her face. you felt like you were going to throw up.

"wanna come with me?" she asks you, that little smile never leaving her face. you look around the room, everyone in just as much shock as you. you look back at ellie, and without thinking twice, you nod your head yes.

she grabs her hand out for you to take, and you two make your way into the closet in between the living room and kitchen, but not before ellie yells something along the lines of keep yourselves busy, and don't be pervs. you feel like you're dreaming, you can't believe ellie williams picked you. but suddenly, you're brought back into reality when she closes the closet and turns on her phone flashlight.

"so," she begins, "how's your night been." you now grow extremely insecure at how little you've been talking to her, not knowing exactly what to do next considering you've never been with a girl.

"oh uh," you begin, "it's been okay. what about yours?" stupid stupid stupid.

"pretty good. saw that guy talking to you. you looked uncomfortable so thought i would save you." she gives a light giggle, but your heart drops and you look at her with sad eyes.

"oh uh yeah haha thanks," you attempt to say, sadness clearly laced in your voice. ellie picks up on it.

"are you okay? did he do anything?" she asks you, coming closer, concern reading all over her face. you blush at how much she cares about you.

"no, no, he didn't do anything, just was annoying," you let out a breathy laugh. "i guess i just thought that we were gonna, ya know, since you picked me, um, never mind this is stupid." your cheeks are now red with embarrassment, and ellies face softens at your rambling.

"aw, no sweetie. just because i picked you doesn't mean we have to do anything. i know you're not into girls." she gives you a friendly tap on the shoulder. ouch. your heart has now sank completely, and you slowly go to reach for the closet door handle. ellie looks confused, before she panics and grabs your hand.

"where are you going? it hasnt been 7 minutes yet sweetheart," she asks you.

"i was just gonna go back. kinda boring just doing nothing here." you tell her sadly.

"well, what do you want to do?" she still hasn't caught on? at this point, you feel like you will never get another chance again. with your ego still a little boosted that she chose you, you answer her.

"i wanna kiss you, ellie," you tell her. she freezes in the spot she's in before she slowly relaxes and relief washes over her face.

"i wanna kiss you too." she tells you. you look up at her, hope in your eyes, and she slowly grabs yours chin with her fingers and pulls you towards her. your lips meet and you both slowly start to make out. now you know why it was called 7 minutes in heaven. pleasure rushed through your body, and you instantly melted into the kiss. it was the first time you actually felt something when kissing someone, and in the bliss of this new feeling, you now put your arms around her shoulders.

the kiss deepens and turns more sinful as ellies hands now trail down to your ass and give it a light squeeze. you moan into her mouth and she groans back in response. her hands now start exploring your body, covering every inch of you until they make their way down towards your loose jeans. you quickly pull away, feeling like a complete virgin even though this kind of stuff is nothing new to you.

"woah, hey, you okay? we can stop if you want," ellie tells you, scared that she may have gone too far.

"no ellie its not you, its just," you try to find the right words. "i've never actually been with a girl before." you tell her, shame written all over your features. she lightly grabs your face once more as she gives you another passionate kiss.

"im happy to help you through it, and if you ever want me to stop, you just tell me." she explains, leaving light kisses all over you exposed next and chest. you moan out as you give her your permission to continue. her lips find her way back to yours, taking control of the kiss. in between each breath, she made sure to tell you how beautiful you were, and how much she had been dreaming of this. you return the compliments, gasping when ellie now picks you up and leans you down on the closet floor.

now on top, she puts all her weight on her elbow, as the other one trails down from your chest, then your stomach, to finally the place where you needed her the most. still kissing you, her fingers undo your buttons. once your jeans were shoved down, and your panties moved to the side, ellie breaks the kiss.

you whine from the loss of contact, and she shushes you. "is it ok if i touch you?" she asks you politely.

"yes, ellie. please touch me," you beg her. "want you so bad." her lips suddenly reconnect with yours, and her fingers start rubbing light circles on your clit. you moan as she teases you, never feeling this way with any guy you've ever been with.

"you make the prettiest noises," she tells you, nipping at your lips. "fuck, and you're so wet too." her talking alone brings you even closer to your high, another new feeling.

you feel her fingers now trail down and tease your entrance, making the most sinful sound. she bites her lips, then starts pumping two fingers inside of you.

your eyes now roll to the back of your head and ellie falls to your side, the new position allowing her to finger you even faster. your head leans into her shoulder, and tears brim in your eyes from how good shes making you feel.

"faster, please," you beg, now staring into her eyes. the innocent look on your face causes her pussy the clench.

"yeah baby? you want me to go faster?" she teases you. "ill do anything for you beautiful." that was enough to send you over the edge, and you start to shake and she speeds up her motions.

"els" is all you can get out, but she knows exactly what you're trying to say, telling you to let go and cum all over her fingers.

and you're about to, until you hear yelling outside the closest door, and people are banging on your door, telling you seven minutes has passed.

you and ellie groan, and you're about to scream out of frustration, before ellies low voice cuts you off.

"i want you to get dressed and meet me outside my car, we can finish this at me." she tells you, a loving look on her face. you giggle and give her a quick peck, before jumping up and putting on your clothes.

you two come out of the closet, rushing towards the front door, completely ignoring all your friends and strangers random questions flying your way.

"where are they going?"

"are they holding hands?"

"do you think they did anything?"

"they so fucked."

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✿ a/n: heh, they came out the closet. anyways, like i said, very personalized im sorry i hit my penjamin and im in my feels but i really hope you guys liked it! my requests are still open! love you all so much and don't forget to follow because i post frequently!! <3

[attapullman]

Pretend | Robert "Bob" Floyd

Summary: You aren't sure what's worse: having to share a bed with the boy who was your first boyfriend who you haven't seen in years, or having to pretend he's your boyfriend when you wish he actually was.

Word Count: 4.4k

Warnings: f!reader, light smut, 18+ only as always, unprotected pinv, fake dating trope, one bed trope, lots of switching between present and past tense whoops

A Note From Mo: It's Choose-a-Fic! Thank you to everyone who voted and has been part of my 500 Follower milestone! Hopefully you like the fic I wrote just for you (with a little extra one bed trope as a special thank you)! 😘

Coupe glasses tinkle and laughter rings out as the rehearsal dinner draws toward an end. Everyone’s had a little too much of the hotel’s signature white sangria. On your left, Isabel and Reuben are frozen in blissed smiles, the outdoor lights casting an ethereal glow. An idyllic night before the wedding.

You should be relaxed. You’ve had a little wine, the most delicious dinner, and tomorrow your college roommate is getting married at this stunning resort. But every time that big hand grazes your shoulder or his breath heats the skin of your cheek, you’re reminded none of this is real and you desperately wish it was.

The only difference between six-year-old Robert Floyd and the man standing in front of you is the broad shoulders. Those pink cheeks are just as prominent and his eyes are wide behind updated corrective frames. Sandy hair politely brushed off his face. Even his thin lips warp in that same warm smile that instantly relieves tension. The only significant difference is those shoulders that fill out the entire doorway as he checks his rooming assignment with Isabel.

From where you stand behind her, suitcase in tow, you feel your cheeks warm and your gaze drop. You haven’t seen him since the engagement party where you muttered, “it’s a small world after all” more than once. It seemed all too coincidental that your college roommate would be marrying a guy who just happens to be in the same Navy squadron as your first grade boyfriend. 

To be fair, you had “dated” Bobby Floyd for a total of a week before your parent’s divorce landed you on the opposite side of the country. There hadn’t even been a formal breakup. He’d simply been the guy you jokingly referred to as your “first love” at wine nights. Occasionally you remembered his collection of vintage Coke bottle caps. 

He was practically a figment of your imagination until Isabel introduced you to the man in the nicely ironed pale blue button down and you sputtered out that you already knew each other.

You’re so lost in how bizarre the coincidence of it all is that you zone out through Bob’s check-in and the next few guests that arrive. It’s not until her line of relatives has dwindled that she remembers you’re sat behind her, sorting out the favors for after the reception. 

“Oh, I’m so sorry, I should have given you your card earlier!” she apologizes as she flips back over her clipboard to find your room number. It’s all forgiven, you were waiting to finish up your bridesmaid duties before checking in. Get the work out so you can slip on your bathing suit and enjoy the amenities - pool, sun, and cabana boys - before dinner tonight.

She hands you a room card and walks you through the map of the hotel. You miss the second half while gathering up all your items, mentally trying to remember exactly how many rights before a left. Dinner is at seven and anything else surely she will remind you. With a kiss to her cheek, you head off to your room to begin the fun part of this destination wedding.

The property is stunning, all sun-washed sandstone and lush tropical plants. Deep blue terry cloth draped over the sun loungers you would live on all weekend. Some sun to compliment what should be a flawless wedding weekend. Maybe you’d get lucky and one of Reuben’s hot Navy friends would join you for some eye candy. You deserved a little one-weekend-in-paradise romance.

Suite 4. It’s a little deflating to remember that you’re in this big suite alone because all the other bridesmaids have dates. A least you have some privacy. The intricately carved door accepts your room key and you push the heavy wood open, ready to change and relax.

W-why was Bob in your villa?

Standing amongst the floor-to-ceiling windows draped with ochre that overlook the ocean, white oak furnishing topped with plush linen bedding, and a trailing pothos overtaking the wall, was Bob Floyd - right in the middle of changing his shirt. Equally wide eyes taking you in as he held the bunched heathered grey cotton right in front of his head, thumbs through the head hole, mouth open in shock.

“What are you doing in here?”

What was he doing in here? This was your room. “Why are you in my room?”

Despite knowing he’s not in the wrong, his cheeks tinge a deep pink. Takes a moment to pop his head in the hole of his shirt and brush out the wrinkles. You cling to to the annoyance of him interrupting your afternoon instead of focusing on how toned he’s gotten as an adult.

“This is my room. Suite 4. See?” He holds up a card identical to yours, the glossy ‘4’ reflecting the sunlight. The same ‘4’ that looks back at you. 

Clearly there’s been some sort of mistake, someone at reception accidentally typing in the wrong number while going about their busy day or Isabel reading her meticulous list wrong. An easy fix. 

You bite your lip. “Oh. Maybe I grabbed the wrong card. I’ll go find Isabel and sort it out.”

“I’ll come with you, she might have handed me the wrong card. Probably supposed to be sharing a bed with Fanboy.” He’s impossibly sweet as always. 

You have no idea who or what a Fanboy is, but you accept his company back to reception, leaving your bag in the room purely because the bridesmaid dress alone weighs a half ton. The walk back there - with a few long turns - is a tad awkward as you both walk in silence, occasionally jerking your heads in the direction to turn.

Isabel has wandered away from reception, and is now soaking in one of the poolside bars with Reuben, their lovesick smiles contagious. She gives you the warmest smile when you approach, face splitting in two as she takes in your companion. “Hey, you two! You get settled in okay?”

God, this is awkward. Thankfully before you can muster the courage, Bob steps in. “I think there’s been a mix up with one of our rooms.”

Her eyebrows furrow as takes in what he said. Eyes flit to her lounger where her clipboard of rooming assignment lies within her tote. Reuben sips his frozen margarita in casual interest, not involved in the logistics.

“Which room are you in?” Even without her clipboard, Isabel is pretty sure she knows who is in what room. She spent months perfecting these details.

You hold up the glossy ‘4’, now slightly sticky with your sweat.

“Four? Hmm, I’m pretty sure that’s right. Was there a problem with the key? Both your keys?”

You give her a bewildered look. “One of us has the wrong key. We’re not sharing a room.”

“Why not? Your prude parents aren’t here to care if you share a room with your boyfriend.”

Every muscle in your body freezes. What is she talking about?

And while you’re paralyzed on the spot, Reuben looks like he’s about to throw up the margarita. Because he knows exactly what just happened. And not only is it his fault, but he does not have a solution.

Before you can question Isabel, the pilot is throwing his arm around your shoulders and grabbing Bob’s elbow, whisking you two away, calling out to his confused fiancée not to worry, he’s got it handled. The controlled hands of a fighter pilot steering you back in the way of Suite 4 while his face reads like he’s watching a plane crash.

Reuben won’t answer any of your questions, holding up a palm while you sputter out the who, what, where’s? of what is going on. Bob silently allows himself to be directed, confusion upon his brow, but patient enough to wait for an explanation. 

Once you’re privately within the confines of Suite 4, the soft scent of bergamot and sandalwood wrapped around your bodies, Reuben finally confesses his mistake.

“Isabel thinks you two are dating.”

You expect to see eyeballs on the floor from how violently they pop out of your head. What? Bob doesn’t look much better. You two have barely spoken in decades, let alone are in a relationship! Why in the hell would Isabel think that?

Reuben drags a hand down his face, wishing he was back in the pool drinking. “When Bob over here told me that you two dated way back, I casually mentioned it to Is. When she asked the other week if he’d be good sharing a room, I thought she meant Fanboy or Harvard.”

You skip over the fact that Bob has talked about you to other people to focus on the details. “She meant me.”

“How was I supposed to know that?” By this point he’s rubbing the skin on the back of his neck raw, eyes wildly desperate. “Can you two share? It’s only two nights.”

Your eyes meet ocean blue as you both look at the single bed, then at each other. Bob intervenes calmly. “Why can’t you just tell her we need another room?”

Reuben crosses his arms across his chest, suddenly defensive. “We don’t have any other rooms. We booked the place out entirely. Short of Aunt Muriel keeling over, one of you would have to be at another hotel.”

“That’s fine,” you quip, grabbing your suitcase and ready to get the hell out of this situation.

“There’s nothing within a half hour drive. And you’re both in the wedding, that is not going to fly with Isabel.”

You’re tough, you can do hard things. Two nights at a gorgeous resort where you have to share a king-sized bed with the sweetest man on the planet? Could be so much worse. From a look at Bob’s face, he’s having the same realization.

And right as you’re about to tell Reuben that it’s not a big deal, he sends in the clincher. 

“You’re also gonna have to pretend you’re dating.”

“You’re joking.” Your tinny voice rings out in the room. You can do a lot of things - go to a wedding alone, sleep in the same bed as Bob - but you draw the line at pretending you’re dating someone you hadn’t seen until an engagement party six months ago. Nope, no way.

You look at Bob, standing with his hand resting low on his hip, watching this entire scene unfold. Giving him an expectant look, he smooths out his face and gives you a little nod. He’s on whatever team you’re on.

And just as you were about to tell Reuben to get lost, Isabel’s sweet face floods your mind’s eye. That happy smile she always greets you with, and her dismay that something had gone wrong with your room. Her perfectly planned out wedding weekend ruined by her misunderstanding a minor detail. She would insist that you have separate rooms, even if it interfered with plans, and she’d be upset - the smallest tinge of disappointment clouding her bridal smile.

Isn’t the job of a bridesmaid to make the bride not have disappointment?

And now, sitting here at the rehearsal dinner, warm conversation all around you, you can still hear yourself let out a large huff of breath and agree. “Alright, we can pretend for the weekend.”

It’s a decision you stand by, but doesn’t make the subtle way Bob has been playing your boyfriend the last 24 hours any easier. He plays devoted partner a little too well. Carrying your beach bag down to the water that afternoon when everyone wanted to sit by the pool, sweetly rubbing sunscreen into that spot on your back that you can never reach. Grabbing a drink for you when he went up to the bar. 

Your lonely wedding weekend is suddenly filled with this broad-shouldered Navy man who gives you a shy smile every time you make eye contact.

There wasn’t time to put in ground rules before Reuben threw you you to the wolves to socialize with the rest of the wedding party. When Isabel saw you, standing a healthy foot away from Bob and her sculpted eyebrow raised, it was the first test of this “relationship”. Your heart slamming in your chest as you slipped a hand around that thick bicep and rested your hot cheek against his shoulder. His own face fighting anxiety as he allowed you to set the pace. Isabel’s smile brightening as she beckoned you closer, instantly fawning over the two of you and the way Bob’s hand fits a little too nicely around your waist.

Thankfully the copious amount of relatives and friends constantly interrupting Isabel and Reuben prevented your friend investigating too close into this development in your love life. Happy to believe over some intentionally placed hands and the casual way he throws sweetheart in when asking if you want a drink.

“Now that I have you alone, why didn’t you tell me you were together? First loves reunited?!” Isabel drags you away to the other bridesmaids, Bob giving you a small wave as he joins the men. 

You shrug, making a show of looking at the hibiscus to avoid her eyes. Desperate for a believable lie. “I didn’t want to…uh, distract from your big day?”

She wraps you in a warm hug you don’t deserve. “Not distracting in the slightest. He’s the best, you’re so lucky!”

You throw a glance his way, watching his good-natured grin as Reuben’s groomsmen, mostly aviators he’s worked with over the years, joke and jostle on the other side of the lawn. It’s side glances like these that carry through the night; when he pulls your chair out for dinner, asks the waiter to refill your water, and offers you half of his dessert. When your eyes do meet, you drown in the twin oceans that twinkle back at you.

By the time you’re heading back to Suite 4 to share that big bed, you’re pretty sure you’re not pretending to like him anymore.

You’re regretting not putting up the pillow barrier Bob so kindly offered to set up. It seemed childish at the time - you didn’t need a divider to stay on your side of the bed - but now you’re lying here in your little cotton pajamas you did not expect anyone to see and you can hear him breathing and the room is a little too warm. Every sense is on high alert and a pillow barrier would give you an inkling of privacy.

In the silhouette of the moonlight peaking through the curtains, you watch the planes of Bob’s face as he peacefully sleeps beside you. If he’s good looking in the daytime, he’s breathtaking at night. Pale eyelashes against his cheeks, lips slightly pouted, hair mussed from changing sides. You wish you could smooth your fingers over the planes of his face, appreciate the sharpness of his jaw, the roundness of his cheeks.

Tomorrow you have to pretend all over again to be in love with him. A feeling that’s already starting to creep inside you. A whole day of his gentle touches and laughs against your cheek. He was the perfect boyfriend that week in grade school, and even more perfect as an adult. Holding his hand made you want to never let go…which promptly made you want to jump out of your skin. 

This was a tiny white lie to get through Sunday morning. That was it.

You keep replaying the last moment before you retired back to your hotel room for the night. The drunken group sitting around the fire pit, a bottle of tequila making its way around the circle. Not enough chairs so you ended up in Bob’s lap, body cradled in the firm comfort of his chest. 

He made it so natural, the way his hand ran up and down your arm when you shivered in the night chill. You knew he could feel the shock up your spine when you noticed how intently he watched you during your story of how Isabel found a rat in your dorm room. He made you feel like the only person out there by the fire pit. The only person on this island.

When even the tequila couldn’t keep you warm any longer, the group disbanded in favor of cozy beds and hot showers. And even when no one else was in sight he still kept his arm around your shoulder to share his warmth, the pinching heels you’d shed in his hand as he asked whether you wanted to shower first.

Lips accidentally brushing your ear when he said he liked your dress; it matched the bougainvillea.

While you hadn’t spent much time together since your parents moved you away too long ago to remember, you were continually floored by how thoughtful he was still. He remembered how Isabel didn’t like ice, and that a few members of his squadron had allergies. Giving up his water because the woman next to him was without. Not to mention how he seemed to go the extra mile with you. All the years of boyfriends before this and not a single one had ever noticed you picked the pine nuts out of your salad; your new fake boyfriend requesting a fresh one sans nuts.

And it was borderline torture watching him get ready for bed post shower. Face and chest red from the scalding water and slick hair pushed back, towel slung a little too low as he dug through his suitcase. You were still speechless as he offered to put up a pillow barrier or something if it would make you more comfortable, making sure you knew he respected your boundaries.

His eyes were so blue without his glasses…

Caution to the wind, you run a finger over his cheek, brushing away a rogue eyelash and promptly turn away from him. Only one more day and you would be free of wanting a man that wasn’t yours.

The Fitch wedding day was perfect. Wide smiles, bridal lace, stunning hydrangeas, and not a dry eye in the house when Isabel and Reuben officially became husband and wife. It was the storybook start to a happy ever after. 

The sunlight blessed ceremony was followed by a lantern-lit reception, dancing and drinking overtaking the sprawling beach-front lawn of the hotel. You stayed out until the evening ended, the wedding party laughing and overfilling glasses of champagne until the last lantern was blown out. 

You barely remembered your rooming/relationship situation until a warm hand was on your forearm, asking if you were ready to go back to the room. It’s entirely unfair how good he looks in his suit. All day you’ve admired it, from the moment he emerged from the bathroom asking for help with his bow tie to an hour ago, when the wedding party did one last rendezvous on the dance floor. 

Bob has an ease on the dance floor, clearly practiced, the hand on the small of your back gently guiding. A hand big and warm and more distracting than trying to remember your own footwork. The dark-haired woman he seems close with whooping out, “Look at those moves, Floyd!” every time you get close, her own date cheering along. 

You shake the memory from your brain as Bob walks you back to the room. Keep the pining to a minimum until you can get to the airport and not have to see him ever again. You’re doing this for Isabel, your own emotions have no place. Even as you watch him open the door to the room and welcome you inside, looking so perfectly boyfriend-shaped.

Your skin feels too hot, your head clouded by bubbles and loud poppers exploding into the sky. Shedding this satin dress and getting into a warm shower sounds like heaven, washing away the buzzing ill-content flooding your body since you joined the wedding group that morning hand-in-hand with Bob. But a broken zipper interrupts those plans.

“Bob?” He stills on his way to the bathroom, bow tie loose around his neck. You indicate to the stuck zipper you’re fiddling with, warmth flaring at the top of your cheeks at your predicament.

The tips of his ears flush as he walks to you, chest a breath away from your back, admiring the way the satin flows over your curves and dips. Takes a moment to gather your hair over your shoulder before reaching for the zipper. The skin of his pinky accidentally brushes your neck, twin breaths catching at the shock. 

Firm fingers guide the zipper onto the track. As they guide the cool metal down your back, the boiling point that has been simmering below the surface since yesterday afternoon comes to a head. The lace of your bra is visible. Now the silken band of your underwear. The air of the room is still, eagerly awaiting what happens next.

While his voice is shaky, his words are firm. “I don’t want to pretend anymore.”

Your head turns to the side, eyes catching his profile, too scared to look at him directly. 

“What are you pretending to do?”

His face falls into the crook of your neck, fingers tightening along the satin of your hips. “Pretending I’m doing our friends a favor. Pretending I’m not falling for you. Pretending every time I touch you it’s not the best part of my day.”

Your hand wraps around his, rough skin and satin beneath your fingers. Needing to tether yourself to reality to make sure this isn’t a champagne-fueled dream that he’s professing against your neck. 

“In that case, I don’t want to pretend anymore either.”

While you can’t see him, you can feel his realization against your skin. Brow furrowing, lips parting. The soft brush of his nose as he straightens up, uses his hands to turn you to him. Finally forced to look at each other amidst the information divulged.

You aren’t sure who leans in first, who braved the waters of uncharted territory. Time stills and speeds up as his face grows closer. The scent of sandalwood and bergamot that’s followed you all weekend replaced by the woodsy mint of his cologne you’ve treated yourself to when tucked into his side. Anyone outside can hear two hearts beating erratically, anxious and excited. 

His lips are warm and comforting, just like everything else about him. Pressing delicately against yours, taking his time and letting you set the pace. You’re torn between the shock of how divine he feels and the greedy need for more. Senses overwhelmed by him; you want to taste more, feel more, see more.

When he pulls away, a gentleman not wanting to overstep, you’re breathless.

“I’ve always wondered what it would be like to kiss you.” His confession is paired with pink cheeks and large hands playing with your fingers. 

You can’t help but to tease him, the banter from your childhood coming back. “Did it live up to expectations?”

“Way, way better.” Your smile is swallowed in his kiss, chins knocking as you trade off enthusiasm. A groan leaving Bob as you grab his hands and walk back to the bathroom. That hot shower still sounds amazing, but you need more of him.

The travertine tiles glow in the soft light as you watch your childhood love remove his suit, taking time to fold the pieces on the counter, letting you indulge in unbuttoning his crisp shirt as you share another sweet kiss. His own hands twisted in the dress barely clinging to your skin. The sounds that escape him as your hands explore his chest are purely sinful, meant only for your ears.

He barely lets you bask in his body, honed from years of Naval training, before he’s stripping the satin from your frame. You beg for another kiss, but he denies you. He can’t be distracted from watching every inch of skin being revealed. From letting his fingers follow the fabric as it pools at your feet. From kissing his way back up your body until your head falls back against the wall, fingers beckoning him to the shower.

“You’re so beautiful.” It’s more breath than words, but ignite the goose flesh along your skin as he adjusts the hot water and shower head to your liking.

Minutes or hours passed as you reacquainted under the steam. Your fingers tangled in wet strands of sandy hair, fingers slipping along any skin you can reach. His own hands tightly hugging your body, holding you close as he appreciates your nude form. Swallowing each other’s moans as his fingers dip between your folds and you run your palm along his shaft.

The universe has ceased to exist by the time Bob kisses you against the shower wall, fingers wrapping under your thighs to hoist you to his level. Loving the way you giggle as your arms wrap around his neck, trusting him wholeheartedly. Eyes trained at where he lines up with you, relishing the way your breath catches in anticipation. He kisses your forehead as a promise to take care of you, a promise you know he’ll keep.

Once he’s seated deep in you, the moment about connecting rather than getting off, he tilts your head up to check in with you. A kiss as his eyes search you for discomfort. The flames of his eyes burning the brightest blue. One final clench around him and he knows he needs to move; if not for his sake, for yours.

It’s the most glorious dream as he fills you completely, hips rocking into yours as sweaty foreheads meet.

When he brings you to orgasm, a steamy moment punctuated by your muffled screams against his shoulder, there’s nothing fake about the affection as he peppers you with praise. Or when he fills you with his own release a moment later, exhaling thank you, thank you, thank you.

A pillow barrier isn’t even discussed as you lay in his arms that night, cheek against bare chest. His arm trails down your arm like it had the night before, a mindless action you now recognize as meaningful to him as to you. Sated and content, as it should be.

You sit up a little to run your nose along his neck, producing a low groan from him. “You need something, sweetheart?”

“I was wondering, after that,” you gesture to the shower, cheeks heating, “does this mean we’re, uh, dating again?”

He smiles at your flush, cupping your face with one of his large hands. Presses the sweetest kiss to your lips.

“You know, we never had a break up. Technically we’ve been dating this whole time.”

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[ma1dita]

🐥hey babe, thoughts on sirius x reader during hogwarts years? sirius is known for being a huge playboy and reader's a gryffindor and good friends with all the gryffindor girls n marauders. think (best) friends to lovers? he's going out with all these girls all the time searching for a connection and physical affection, but doesn't realize that he has feelings for her until he sees her with another guy (asked to hogsmeade, hanging out at a party, slug club, etc). love ya <33

🐥🐥🐥🐥🐥

sirius black x reader

a/n: for my lovely nini!! i hope you like it LOL sirius was always hard for me to write

wc: 1.5k

—

Sirius Black has everything he’s ever wanted in life.

It’s a bold statement to claim at 17, but after leaving his hellhole of a house, getting good ol’ Uncle Alphard’s inheritance of gold with enough to swim in at Gringotts if he so wishes, and having the best of mates he also has the privilege of calling his family— some may ask what’s next for him, and that’s what he’s trying to figure out too.

Everything will be easy from now on, he thinks— smoothing down his hair and spritzing some cologne while he gets ready to find another girl to get under so that his weekend will have some merit.

“Looking good, Pads,” James grins from his bed as he tosses a quaffle back and forth between him and Peter. The impish boy almost gets nailed in the face, huffing, “Who’s it this time? The girl from Ravenclaw? What’s her name again—Venetia? Violet?”

“Something like that…”

Sirius straightens out his shirt collar and flicks off a speck of imaginary lint from his shoulder—there’s physically nothing wrong with him, but something is still missing.

The door opens with a bang and you brush past him like a hurricane, the boys cheering at your arrival.

“Pretty girl, give us a twirl!” James hollers, and Remus gets up from his bed to spin you around as you giggle with your dress twirling in the wind.

“M’gonna be late because of you lot!” you grin, grabbing James’ bottle of Sleakeasy’s off his dresser and sidling up next to your best friend who’s silent as he stares at you through the mirror with amusement in his eyes.

“What?” you mumble, cheeks flushing as you lather the potion between your fingers to smooth it into your hair, “Can’t let you be the only pretty one around here, Pads.” He’s pulling on the fabric of your dress teasingly, inspecting you from head to toe, “Mhm, and who exactly are you going on a date with, lovie?”

“None of your business! Don’t want any of you boys meddling,” you say exasperatedly, elbowing him when he laughs, and Peter yells out in protest from the floor behind you. You squeeze Sirius’ shoulder, looking at the both of you in the mirror and noticing that his silvery eyes are still glued to you, cool as steel.

“Do I look bad? Borrowed it from Mary, but it doesn’t really fit me as well as it fits her, no?”

He notices the low cut of your dress and the way it frames your body just as well as he can draw it from memory—from the curve of your collarbones to the plush of your hip it certainly doesn’t leave much to his imagination, he’s just never seen you like this before. Sirius is blatantly ogling you now, and Remus throws a pillow at his head sending every perfectly combed piece of hair in different directions. He doesn’t even move to fix it, his breath growing quicker the more he takes you in.

“Lucky bloke. You’d look pretty even if you wore a sackcloth though,” he mumbles, eyes unseeing when you reach up to smooth his strands with a gentle smile. Sirius moves closer so you can reach, lips grazing against the powder blush you applied on your cheek— though if he got any closer he might’ve felt the heat reverberating from your skin. His finger plays with the tie at your bosom, almost in hesitation, or was it contemplation?

When does Sirius ever hesitate to do anything?

“This dress is just….hmmm…”

“What? Making me nervous… Is it too much?” You turn away to ask the other boys, who watch the two of you dance around each other like an old Muggle film Remus’ mum would send them to watch (Hope Lupin wants to teach these boys a thing or two about how to woo women in a respectful, romantic manner, mind you).

“A bit,” Sirius swallows, pulling at his shirt collar like it’s suddenly hard to breathe. Behind you, Peter grips at his hair almost comically while Remus throws his face into a book and sighs. James is watching through his fingers, eyes darting between the two of you two in anticipation. Groaning, you jab at his torso, taking out the rest of the air in his lungs (though he tries not to choke when he pulls you in and feels the smooth skin of your thighs as your dress rides up in the struggle).

“Shut up, you tosser! And I better not see any of you in Hogsmeade later trying to ruin my date—I actually have high hopes for this one…” you giggle, tossing your head against your best friends’ shoulder as you look at the varying faces of shock that surround you.

“Who said we were going to meddle?”

“Us?”

“We’re good boys, doll, we’d never!”

Sirius’ voice rings clearer over the rest of the Marauders as he whispers in your ear, “My girl’s looking forward to a date? Who would’ve thought….”

You spin in his arms and correct him, one arm wrapped around his neck and the other playing with a button on his shirt, “Your best girl…I’m allowed to have fun too, Pads!”

“That you are.”

He presses a kiss to your temple, inhaling the perfume you spritz on for special occasions and feeling like he’s lost you already even before you walk out the door. You send him off on dates all the time with an encouraging smile on your face. So why is it that after you leave the boys watch him flop into his bed and stare at the ceiling?

Sirius could’ve been there for hours for all he knows— ignoring the boys when they tell him they’re going to badger your date at Hosgmeade, unmoving when his date (who’s name turned out to be Vina) banged on his door for skipping out on her, he laid there, arms crossed and brooding. It’s like nothing made sense anymore.

You come tiptoeing into his room with your heels in hand a little before dinner, pulling back the curtains of his poster bed whispering, “Pads? You okay? What happened to your date?”

Sirius rolls over, looking at your wide eyes glinting in the candlelight, “What happened to yours?” he counters.

“It was okay. The boys sent a Bat-Bogey Hex to my date and snot landed in my butterbeer. He thought it was weird when I laughed.”

“M’sorry, lovie,” he sighs, grasping your hand over his duvet and playing with the rings on your fingers.

“S’okay! Don’t wanna be with someone without a sense of humor. Grown man that can’t take a prank. How awful is that?” you grin, before slapping his thigh, “Move over, I’m coming in.” There should be nothing special about the way you easily find your place against his body, molding against his form in both of your wrinkled dress clothes but Sirius can’t help nuzzling against the crown of your head, pressing a kiss to your scalp like it’s second nature.

“Why didn’t you go on your date? Heard Vina almost set the common room on fire.”

He doesn’t have an answer to that, nor the way he questions why his heart is beating faster when you draw stars along his spine.

“D’you at least have a good time today? Looking so pretty and all,” he whispers, pulling your chin up so you can look at each other eye to eye.

“Rem said you weren’t feeling well, so I had one foot out the door the entire time. Besides he was boring. Much rather spend time with you here,” you say like it’s nothing of the sort. Shiny lips press a pink kiss onto his nose. Your lipgloss smells like strawberries, leaving a mark on his aristocratic features.

“Doing nothing?”

“Mhm. Already having more fun, aren’t you?” you breathe out a laugh into his neck, unknowing of the way he looks at you like you hung the stars in the sky. He comes to the realization then that there’s no other place he’d rather be without you by his side. Nothing’s missing, or wrong with him—he has all he needs as long as you’re pressed against him like this, fingers in your hair and legs tangled under the bedspread.

“I didn’t want to go on my date because I wanted to be with you today,” he whispers into the air. You don’t freeze or jolt back like he expects you to, instead pursing your lips against his jaw.

“Yeah?”

“Is that okay?��� he mutters, closing his eyes with the feeling that he’s said something awful, shoulders tensing like how they would when his mother would turn the corner.

“Why wouldn’t it be okay? Siri…” you sigh, grabbing his face to look at you and when he opens his eyes, you suddenly know.

“I don’t know how to do this,” Sirius says shakily, putting his hands over yours in case you’re an apparition or want to leave. There’s a space in his heart that’s in the shape of you, and you smile at him like he wasn’t in on the joke, pressing a kiss to the corner of his mouth.

“S’okay. You have me.”

And he nods, knowing that’s all he needs.

[internet-succubus]

breakfast at toji’s!

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

content/tags, mdni!: frat boy!toji, unprotected/creampie, both parties are intoxicated, friends to lovers, confession, use of babe, baby, doll, darling, standing sex, fluffy aftercare <33

a/n: aaaaa my first post! i’m excited and i hope i can post semi-regularly lol bc i have lots of ideas. any feedback is appreciated! thank u to @screampied @tonycries @gumified @fairy-angel222 and more for writing stuff sooo good that i had to try it myself

word count: 3.1k

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

in this moment, it seemed like toji fushiguro would be the death of you, and if that was the case, you know you’d go out doing something you loved. and in this moment, that something would be grinding yourself onto his body like there’s no tomorrow. his strong hands secured their place on your rocking hips, his thumbs pressing into the crest of your pelvis. you knew that you’d see bruises there when you inevitably woke up in his messy sheets, but that didn’t matter right now. all that mattered was the feeling of his cock thump thump thumping away at your cervix. the sensation made your jaw drop and head tip back in raw ecstasy.

”come on baby, don’t quit on me now,” he growled into your neck. you could barely make out his words over the deafening bass of the music in the next room. your best-friend-turned-fuck buddy had pulled you away from yet another one of his fraternity’s weekend parties after seeing the way your drunken body moved under the blinding, colorful lights. the sound of his voice made you lock your legs around his waist even tighter, and the feeling of your trembling thighs wrapped around him made toji snap his hips impossibly faster. your whorishly short dress was bunched at your waist and the straps were slipping down your shoulders, but all of that paled in comparison to the way he was fucking you. it was almost animalistic, the way he had your back pressed against the wall. you could feel his building desperation as he huffed and groaned softly, trying but failing to keep himself quiet.

your nails dug into his shirt, the thin fabric pathetically stretched over his broad shoulders. over the past few years, he had gone from being a quiet, reserved boy to a hulking mass of a man. the sudden change in his physicality awakened something within you. toji winced as you curled your fingers, your nails nearly drawing blood. the smell of sweat, booze, and marijuana filled your nose. the filthy sound of his balls slapping against your ass made your breath catch in your throat. “look at me, yeah? k-keep those pretty eyes on me doll, i’ve got you.”

his voice pulled you back to reality and your eyes dragged up his clenched jaw to his face, an expression of pure desire molding his handsome features. your eyes met his, their dark green hue almost lost in the low lights around you. toji smiled when you finally managed to look at him. his lips parted in a smug grin, his sharp canine teeth catching the light. the scar across his lips flexed deliciously and for a second, you thought you saw the light. but it was just him, fucking you like his life depended on it. “you look so beautiful b-baby, all desperate for me,” he breathed. your expression shifted to match his, preparing to fire back at his little jab.

“s-seems like- nnghhh- you’re the desperate one h-here babe,” you bit back, your smile widening. matching his snarky comments was something you always enjoyed about your close friendship, and it was all you could do to keep yourself from melting in his strong arms. the feeling of his cock stretching you open was clouding your senses and you knew it wouldn’t be long until you came.

“sh-sh-shut up,” toji muttered through clenched teeth. his hands tightened around you and you could tell he was nearing his orgasm too. his cock twitched inside you and the friction against your g-spot was overwhelming. you wrapped your hands around the back of his neck, the metal of his silver chain pressing into your palms. your head fell forward and your forehead rested on his. being this close, you could detect the faint smell of his cologne and it sent you into a frenzy. before you knew it, you were screwing your eyes shut and babbling about god knows what. “what’s wrong doll, c-can’t talk? does it - shit - f-feel too g-good?” if he wasn’t so fucking sexy, you would have slapped him. knowing him, he would have liked it, the dirty bastard.

every time your hips met his, the small patch of pubic hair above his cock pressed against your clit just right. as if he read your mind, toji moved one of his hands to your front, pressing his thumb against your sensitive bundle of nerves. if you weren’t so cock drunk, you might have been able to tell that he was frantically spelling words on your clit. T-O-J-I-T-O-J-…

he moved his other hand up to your chest, cupping one of your tits in his strong hands and pinching your nipple between two of his fingers. the sudden stimulation made you squeal, and as soon as he heard the noise, his lips crashed into yours. the kiss was sloppy, wet, and downright disgusting in how your tongues moved together in unison. the sour taste of his cheap vodka and fruit punch chaser made you furrow your brows together as you moaned and whimpered into his mouth. toji swallowed every sound happily, humming against your lips. you could feel him smile again. he knew that he was the best you ever had, and that no one could ever come close. he’d never tell you, but fucking you the way he did was his twisted way of claming you as his own. his girl. after just a few hookups, he had learned almost every possible way to make you unravel.

toji’s deft fingers were unrelenting, his thumb still working on your clit as his other hand switched breasts, scooping it up and squeezing it firmly. at this point, his hips slowed. he focused more on angling himself so that he hit that sweet spot deep inside of you- the one that made you see stars. you appreciated the reprieve. despite how close you both were to your orgasms, and how dangerous it was to be fucking so close to a packed dance floor, you wanted this to last forever. normally, you’d both be exhausted, but the adrenaline and alcohol gave you just enough stamina to keep at it.

the slow flow of his hips into yours was almost romantic. you took the opportunity to press your chest into his, wanting to close any distance between your bodies. the hand on your breast slid across your sweat-slicked skin and rested over your thundering heartbeat. toji took a second to pull away from your lips, a string of spit still bridging the gap. his eyes focused on that spot on your chest as if he could see your skin jump in time with your quickened pulse. he then looked back at your face, seemingly searching for the answer to an unasked question. breathlessly, you asked, “yeah?” raising an eyebrow to motivate him to speak. his movements slowed to a stop and your hips rested on his. cockwarming wasn’t something either of you had discussed previously, but the way he filled you to the core prompted you to make a mental note to bring it up later.

the man looked down nervously, moving his hands to support you by the waist. small strands of his hair stuck to his damp forehead. without thinking, you raised one of your hands to push it back, slicking his hair back in a way that you hadn’t seen before, but grew fond of in that moment. toji’s eyes flicked back to meet yours, and he opened his mouth to speak. he paused for a moment, choosing his words carefully. the shots he ripped at the pregame weren’t helping with his judgment, but they sure did make him feel more confident.

looking into your eyes like a deer in headlights, he whispered, “do you like me?” the question caught you off guard and you stopped, considering it carefully. his sweet smile and soft expression made you feel like the only girl in the world.

”of course i like you, toji, what kind of question is that?” his face changed slightly, a pang of frustration causing him to press his lips together in a thin line.

”no, like, do you like me,” he repeated, placing emphasis on that second “like”. it seemed like your encounter had taken a sudden, more emotional turn than you expected. your feelings towards him as of late had become a complicated mess that you couldn’t handle confronting, especially since midterms were coming up and your grades were in desperate need of a boost. whenever you thought of him throughout your days, your heart did a small flip in your chest.

since you had graduated high school, he took the opportunity to use college as a way to “start again”. while he was skipping classes, he started going to the gym and making more time for friends. his intimidating appearance was jarring for most, but once he started talking, the tension dissipated and he suddenly found himself a new friend group. after a few weeks of pestering, they convinced him to rush one of the biggest frats on campus, claiming that the brotherhood was a life changing experience. and that, of course, he would be drowning in pussy. truth be told, he really only joined to get them off his back. toji had no interest in meeting girls when you had been at his side for several years already.

despite his busy schedule and the endless stream of girls throwing themselves at his feet, he always made time for you. he regularly met you at your dorm to walk you to class and caught you for lunch when you both had some time to spare. your platonic relationship suddenly shifted when you were both drunk at the first party of the semester. he was showing you around his frat house’s upper floors, laughing at how messy it was. there were dirty bongs and half empty bottles of beer on every flat surface, but having him guide you by the hand made it all seem okay. it wasn’t until you tripped over your own feet and landed in his arms that you had been so close to his face. in the spur of the moment, you pressed your lips against his and he whisked you into an empty bedroom where you had sex for the first time. since then, he had been your go-to guy for dick.

your brief period of reflection was interrupted when toji called you back to reality. “hey, you okay?” he asked. you were still pressed against him, his cock starting to grow soft inside you as you considered his question from earlier. finding the right words was hard, and this didn’t seem like the time for a heart to heart, so you settled for something simple.

you leaned back in to place a quick kiss on his lips before pulling back and stroking his cheek with your hand. “yes, toji, i like you. now that we’ve got that out of the way, d’you wanna cum inside me or not?”

your answer seemed to satisfy him, and with a quick peck to the corner of your mouth, he smiled and replied. “it would be my pleasure, darlin’.”

”great, because my feet are starting to get numb and i want to be able to walk after this,” you laughed. your laugh slowly turned into a sharp inhale as he pulled his hips back and snapped them forward, hard and fast. toji worked his way back up to a quick pace, perfectly hitting that spot again as his hand snaked down your body back to your clit.

”sounds like a challenge, then,” he said darkly, hitching you up slightly to stabilize your weight against the wall. with your body readjusted comfortably, you could better focus on the way he pounded into you. it was different this time- the movement of his hips felt more intentional, more loving, despite their punishing speed.

a feeling of warmth spread through you, and the pleasure had you biting your lip to keep quiet. one hand remained on his face and the fingers of your other hand slid through his hair and secured a tight grip. the dull pain made his mouth open and his head tip forward, looking down at where your bodies met. you gushed around his cock as he thrusted, a faint ring of sticky precum and sweat forming around the base and dripping down his thighs. the sight made him even harder, and you could feel him growing inside you. “christ, you’re tight,” he whispered under his breath.

again, you could feel your orgasm fast approaching, and you were sure he wasn’t far behind. your thighs burned as you pressed them firmly into his waist, but nothing could slow him down. the timing of his skin slapping against yours almost matched the rhythm of the song that shook the walls of the house, the music still blasting loud enough for the neighbors to hear.

a switch flipped inside you and the electric waves of your orgasm rocked through your body, your pussy clenching around him like a vice. wanton moans and whimpers slipped past your lips as your body shook, with no end in sight to the pleasure you were experiencing. toji leaned in and nipped at your earlobe, the unfamiliar sensation making your walls ripple around his cock. “o-oh my god- toji toji toji- fuck! h-holy fuck i’m fucking c-cumming,” you moaned. your voice broke slightly and your noises turned to short screams as he continued to fuck you through it.

”that’s it baby, say my name, who makes you f-feel this good?” he growled into your ear. his balls tightened and his orgasm caught up with yours, his cum shooting out in short spurts that coated your pussy in a sinful shade of white. you both let your instincts take control as your bodies shook and your orgasms wound down from a white hot fire to a sweet burn in your abdomens. his thumb was still tracing patterns on your clit as he went soft inside you. he would have stayed there for hours if you hadn’t started shaking from being too overstimulated. a small noise of discomfort escaped your throat. that was his cue to pull out and gently lower your unstable legs to the ground. he kept his hands on your waist as you took deep breaths and reacquainted yourself with gravity once more.

toji then pulled your dress back down, but not before observing the filthy mixture of his cum and your juices sliding down your thighs. once he memorized the glorious sight, he smoothed his hands down the front of your dress, doing his best to hide the fact that he just fucked you silly. he did not do a good job.

he stepped back and took your hands in his, drawing small circles on your knuckles with his thumbs. the both of you took a second to come back down and sealed the moment with a deep yet soft kiss. when you pulled away for a breath, his eyes met yours and all of a sudden you were giggling. his innocent look of confusion made you laugh even more, and soon enough you were covering your face with your hands. nothing in particular was funny, but the alcohol in your system was still metabolizing, and you couldn’t control yourself.

seconds later, you felt you feet lift off the ground again as toji scooped you up to carry you bridal style. “what’s so funny, huh? you laughin’ at me punk?” he teased. your giggles died down and you caught your breath, sighing now that you could fully relax your tired body. the ache of being folded like a pretzel in his arms was starting to set in, and you were grateful that you didn’t have to walk on your own feet.

”no,” you said with a soft smile, “i’m jus’ happy, that’s all,” you assured him. you. let your eyes slip closed and fell into a state of consciousness between sleep and wakefulness, letting toji carry you wherever he saw fit. as you felt him walk up the stairs and open a door, you smelled the familiar scent of his bedroom. it was a pleasant surprise after being stuck in a hot basement of alcoholics for a few hours.

your eyes remained closed as he laid you on his bed gently, the mattress cradling your body. toji began undressing you again, softly asking you to sit up so he could lift your dress overhead. he tossed it in his laundry pile to be assessed later and stepped into his bathroom to retrieve a washcloth to run under warm water.

when he returned, your eyes were still shut. he ran the washcloth over your body, cleaning off the sweat that pooled around your hair and between your breasts. he then worked his way between your legs, moving slowly as not to overstimulate you further. once you were cleaned, he made another trip to the bathroom and returned with a makeup wipe, carefully holding your chin as he did his best to remove your smeared mascara and lipstick. his large hands felt heavenly as they grazed along your nose and lips, removing as much makeup as he could so you could sleep comfortably.

toji cleaned himself up as well and grabbed a big shirt to pull over your head. he loved the sight of your naked body, but seeing your smaller frame swimming in his worn t-shirt made him feel things. after his bedtime ritual, he climbed into bed and pulled you close to him, and in your light sleep you threw an arm over his broad chest and a leg cross his waist. he didn’t plan on moving, but now he was certain he wasn’t going anywhere without you, not tonight, and not ever again.

he kissed the top of your head, and hoping you were still awake enough to hear him, he asked, “wanna talk over breakfast tomorrow?” your body remained still as you huffed out a small noise in agreement, after which he started to think about which of his favorite hangover cures he would have you try in the morning. in the moments before he dozed off to sleep as well, he matched his breath with yours. toji thanked whatever deities in existence that he had chosen you, and more importantly, that you had chosen him too.

[elizaleclerc]

OMG PART TWO TO 'i dont know you at all' PLEASEEE <33

here to serve the ppl !

i don’t know you at all 🤍 (part two)

lando norris x reader

read part one here <3

summary: lando heals from bad habits as the racing season gets underway (warning for alcoholism)

song: drunk, running by lizzy mcalpine

author’s note: wanted this part to be a little angsty still but mostly sweet too <3 (prob won't do a part 3) also hit 50 followers so yay me!!

word count: 2k

The exhilarating racing season was once again in full swing, providing a much-needed break from Lando's reckless behavior and destructive habits. After his violent outburst where he drunkenly hurled a glass at your head, he had promised to change his ways. And true to his word, he stopped going to wild parties and completely gave up drinking. The apartment was once again filled with a sense of peace, and you found yourself back in the comforting routine of sleeping beside him each night. He seemed like the same old Lando that you had always loved, but you couldn't help but feel that deep down, he still struggled with his inner demons of addiction.

As the racing season continued, Lando was once again fully immersed in his career. Every weekend, he was out on the track, pushing himself and his car to the limit. You loved watching him race, feeling a sense of pride and admiration as he effortlessly weaved through the other cars. But at the same time, you couldn't help but worry about him.

You knew that once he got back into the cockpit of a race car, he had no choice but to be sober. You couldn't drink every night and still be healthy enough to be a Formula One driver. And while you were glad that racing forced him to stay away from alcohol, you also feared that once the season ended, he would fall back into his old habits.

But for now, you tried not to think about it and simply enjoyed seeing a glimpse of his normal self again. Surrounded by his friends in the paddock, Lando's infectious smile and carefree attitude returned as he joked around with his teammates and rivals. His world had become solely you and racing again, and it was a relief to see him find joy in those two things.

As Lando sat in his driver's room, getting dressed and mentally preparing for the upcoming Miami Grand Prix, you couldn't help but feel a sense of excitement and pride. This was the second season that you were accompanying him in the McLaren paddock. And just like before, the team welcomed you with open arms, treating you like one of their own.

You sat on Lando's small plush bed as he finished getting dressed, admiring his neon helmet that sat on the table next to you. The bright colors and design always caught your eye, and it was a symbol of his identity as a racer.

“How are you feeling about today?” You asked him, breaking the comfortable silence in the room.

He turned around to face you, a small grin on his face. “Not too bad,” he replied. “The car felt good in practice and Quali, it's got the pace to win.” You nodded, knowing how important it was for Lando to have confidence in both himself and his car. He had been working tirelessly with his engineers to fine-tune every aspect of the car for this race.

“I'm sure you'll do great,” you reassured him with a smile.

Lando's face lit up with a wide, toothy grin upon hearing your words. “I hope so,” he replied, leaning in to give you a quick, tender kiss. Your hand instinctively cupped his cheek, pulling him in for another kiss, this one filled with more passion and desire. As you stood up, you wrapped your arms around his neck, drawing him closer to you as the kisses became more heated. In these moments, all the harsh memories of post-party arguments and unwanted touches faded away. All that mattered was being enveloped in Lando's embrace, lost in each other's lips.

As his lips pressed against your neck, your breath caught in your throat and your heart rate quickened. "I love you," you whispered into his ear, feeling his soft kisses and love bites in return.

His smile was evident even through the passionate exchange of kisses. "You know you mean everything to me," he said in a low, husky voice that sent shivers down your spine.

"I know, my love," you grinned, placing a gentle kiss on the tip of his nose. He had told you countless times that he raced not only to win but to make you proud, and every time it made your heart swell with pride. You could see the positive changes he was making for the better, and it only strengthened your love for him.

As he headed out of his drivers room towards the starting grid, you followed close behind. The atmosphere in the paddock was buzzing with energy and anticipation as everyone prepared for what would surely be an exciting race.

You watched from the McLaren garage as he expertly maneuvered through each turn and overtook other cars on the track. It was clear that he had full control over his car and was pushing it to its limits. With only a few laps left in the race, Lando radioed into his team requesting updates on his position. He was currently in second place, but with the leader's increasing tire degradation, Lando was quickly approaching the opportunity to overtake him.

You gazed on in the paddock watching the last couple of laps unfold. Tensions were rising, and on the second to last lap, Lando finally overtook his way into first place. You felt giddy with excitement, and before you knew it the checkered flag was waved.

This was the first win that Lando had earned while the two of you were in a relationship. You paced down to the podium celebration with the rest of the McLaren crew. Your heart was overjoyed as you bit your bottom lip in excitement.

With the roar of the engines still ringing in his ears, Lando emerged from his car, hastily pulling off his helmet and sprinting towards you and the rest of the team. He barely spared a glance for his colleagues before rushing towards you, wrapping his arms tightly around your waist. Through the metal fence that separated you, he pressed his face into your neck, inhaling deeply as if trying to imprint your scent into his memory forever. "I'm so proud of you," Your voice cracked with emotion as you held him close, fighting back tears. A mental image of Lando stumbling home from a wild party flashed through your mind, highlighting just how much things had changed in the past few months.

“I love you so so much,” His voice was cracking too, and as he pulled back you saw the faint glimpse of tears in his eyes. He grabbed your face and kissed you passionately. Embracing you one more time, he left to go up to the podium celebration.

As he ascended the podium, a triumphant smile lit up his face as he held up his gleaming trophy. He glanced down at you with adoration and blew a kiss in your direction. The sunlight bathed him in a golden glow, highlighting the lines of his chiseled body and the flush of exertion on his tanned skin. He cradled his first place trophy like a cherished treasure, his pride evident in the way he held it close to his chest. Your heart swelled with love and admiration as you watched him bask in the glory of his victory.

The weight of his past struggles and mental battles hung heavy in the air, unseen by the world around him. As he stood on that podium, basking in the love and admiration of those around him, you could only pray that he would hold onto this moment forever. He had endured so much pain and fought through it all with incredible resilience. This race win was a well-deserved triumph, a validation of his strength and determination a thousand times over.

~

As the excitement and chaos of the Grand Prix died down, you found yourself alone with him in his driver's room. The air was thick with tension, and you couldn't help but feel conflicted. On one hand, everyone expected him to go out and celebrate at the clubs in Miami as the race winner. But you knew he was struggling with a difficult decision - whether or not to join the party and risk breaking his sobriety.

"Do you want me to come with you?" You offered, torn between wanting to support him and wanting to retreat to your hotel room for an early night.

As he sat next to you, head low as he muttered “Maybe,” you couldn't help but feel torn. You wanted him to enjoy his victory and let loose, but at the same time, you understood his fear. Your hand intertwined with his, offering support and reassurance.

But as a tear fell from his eye, your heart ached. He sniffed, "I just don't want to put myself in a position where I could hurt anyone." You knew what was going through his mind - the night in his apartment, the pain he had caused you. It was a wake-up call for him, one that he hated but needed. His fear of hurting someone again consumed him, even though he had promised to change.

“It’s okay, I know how hard you’ve worked to change.” You knew your words could only do so much to make him feel better, but you came to a compromise. You would come with him to the club, making sure that he didn’t do anything drastic.

~

As the night wore on, you could see Lando slowly becoming more relaxed and comfortable in the club setting. He mingled with other drivers and even took a few shots of water when they were offered to him. You were proud of how well he was doing and made sure to let him know it. You leaned into him, placing a gentle kiss on his cheek.

He smiled at you, “Thank you for being here with me tonight. I couldn’t have done it without you.”

The two of you danced and laughed together, enjoying the celebratory atmosphere of the club. At one point, Max came over to congratulate Lando on his win and the two of them shared a friendly hug. It was a nice moment that reminded you that even though they were fierce competitors on the track, they were all still friends off it.

As the stars twinkled in the night sky, Lando's infectious laughter filled the air as he walked arm in arm with you back to your hotel room. His warm embrace and the soft hum of a familiar song made you feel at ease and content. As you reached your room, he turned to face you with a genuine smile on his face.

"Tonight was magical," he whispered, pulling you into a tight hug before leaning down to press his lips against yours in a sweet and tender kiss. The moment felt like it could last forever as the warmth of his body and the gentle touch of his lips stirred butterflies in your stomach. "Thank you for coming with me.”

You smiled back at him, “Of course, I wouldn’t have missed it for anything.” The two of you continued kissing until eventually collapsing onto the bed in each other’s arms. You snuggled up against each other as sleep started to take over your exhausted bodies. The Lando you had once loved had finally come back to you. You knew realistically he didn’t need you there at the club to make sure he didn’t relapse, but you were more than willing to support him. “I’m really proud of you, you know.” You told him as your head rested on his chest.

“Thank you, my love,” he replied, his words dripping with sincerity as he placed a gentle kiss atop your head. You were his everything, the reason for every waking breath and every beat of his heart. He would do anything to make you happy, to see that beautiful smile light up your face. As he held you in his arms, he couldn't help but envision the rest of his life with you by his side - growing old together, experiencing all of life's ups and downs together, and loving each other through it all.

[moonstruckme]

My birthday is in like 2 weekd (the 13th) so I just wanted to make a quick request before I forget :)

Can you write a poly!marauder x reader when it’s readers birthday and she doesn’t have enough time to celebrate so they throw her a surprise party at like midnight?

Hi lovely! Hope I timed this right with the time zones and all, but if I did, happy birthday! Hope you're enjoying it despite your time constraints :)

poly!marauders x fem!reader ♡ 718 words

When you get home from your shift, your hair is greasy, your feet are sore, and you’d normally be ready to collapse into bed but tonight you’re buzzing with excitement despite the late hour. 

The thing is, you’re a birthday person. It’d be easier if you weren’t, because unlike some of your friends who get to celebrate on school breaks or take time off work, you were born smack in the middle of nearly the busiest time of the year. It’s almost like it was prophetic; you were predestined to be in a rush before you’d even left the womb. 

Still, you’re excited for the little things you do get to do to celebrate. James is baking you a cake, and thought you don’t have time for anything on the actual day—tomorrow—you’ll probably go out for a small belated birthday dinner next weekend. It’s not everything you could ever want and more, but it’s what you can do, and it’ll still be fun. 

The house is quieter than you’d expect as you shuck off your shoes. Normally at least Sirius would still be up, but you suppose it is pretty late. Your boyfriends were undoubtedly tired from their own days at work. You shrug off your coat, and suddenly every light in the house is turned on. 

“Surprise!” The collective shout nearly knocks you over, but James appears behind you, laughing as he steadies you by the waist. 

“Whoa, babe, did we getcha?” he asks. 

“I—what?” You shake your head, gawping at your friends, who have materialized all around your living room. “What are you all doing here?” 

“Oh, don’t play coy,” Sirius says, coming over to secure a party hat on your head. “We all know you haven’t forgotten your own birthday.” 

“But—I—it’s tomorrow,” you stammer helplessly, getting past your shock but unable to accept that this is really happening. It’s too good to be true. 

“Not anymore.” He rolls his eyes at you, but his touch is fond as he adjusts the strap of the hat under your chin, knuckle brushing your cheek. “It’s past midnight, babydoll.” 

“You’re old now,” Marlene says, holding a plastic cup up as if toasting to the fact. 

Sirius hums, peering closer at your face. “She’s right. I think I see wrinkles.” 

Your laugh comes loud and sharp, and James’ arms snake around your waist, drawing you back into him. “Oi, leave the birthday girl alone,” he objects.

“We’re all younger than you, Pads,” Remus reminds him, coming from over by the kitchen to bring you a drink. You take it with a smile, and he pecks you on the cheek. “Happy birthday, sweetheart.” 

“Thanks.” You beam, feeling blood rush to your cheeks at all the attention. “Thanks for doing this, you guys, this is…just, beyond nice of you.” 

“It’s no problem.” James gives your middle a squeeze. “Figured if we couldn’t do anything during the day, a midnight celebration was the way to go, you know?” 

“Oh, don’t take all the credit for yourself,” Sirius argues, pinching at James’ side so he yelps and covers his body with yours. “All he did was make the cake, Moony and I did everything else.”

“And by Moony and I, he means that he picked out what he wanted and I made it happen,” Remus says drily, though the look he gives you is soft as mush. “I’m glad you like it, though, lovely girl.” 

“I really do,” you say, cheeks hurting from the force of your smile. “Thank you so much.” 

Remus smiles, and James rests his chin on your shoulder, fondness oozing from all three of your boyfriends. 

“Alright,” Lily says, “if you guys wanted y/n to yourselves, you shouldn’t have invited the rest of us.”

“Hear hear!” Marlene hoists her cup up, liquid sloshing dangerously close to the rim. You think you see Remus wince for your couch. “Shall we have cake and sing?” 

“Absolutely!” James declares, hands sliding to your hips for one good squeeze before he releases you, heading into the kitchen. “Wait until you all see my masterpiece. This is what I should have done for a living.” 

“You’ll want to prepare yourself, gorgeous,” Sirius whispers to you. “I saw it in the fridge earlier. It’s a monstrosity.”

“Be nice,” Remus murmurs. “He tried his best.”

[theitgirlnetwork]

Earn It

Ch. 4: Perfect

Baby Pics:

Birthday Looks:

Note: Okay, the love this story is getting is insane! I appreciate it so much because I love these characters and hearing what you all think. Thank you for the reblogs, notes, likes, comments and messages, I love hearing your feedback and all of the interaction. Apparently this obsession isn't going away anytime soon so I should update frequently. Also, I feel like Long Way 2 Go by Cassie is the perfect song to describe where Art and Heaven are right now. And Boyfriend by Dove Cameron gives me Heaven and Tashi. Best Friend by Rex Orange County reminds me of Heaven and Patrick right now. Let me know if you guys want me to keep giving song recs. There is a trigger warning in this one, pretty mild mention of eating disorders. I hope you all enjoy this chapter and let me know what you think. Thanks for reading! MDNI! Love y'all <3

Warnings: Mild sexual content, mild eating disorder, strong language.

Taglist: @spookystitchery @anehkael @fkaams @butterflyybabe @sun2flower @holierthancunt @silkenthusiasts @wolflover384 @liziihorta @summerssover @jackierose902109

“It’s supposed to be right up here, on the left.” Art instructs, pointing to try and guide Patrick along the cobblestone road to the large black metal gates. “Are you…left not right.”

“Okay! Well, you said both so-”

“Yeah, right up here on the left.” Art laughs, shaking his head and resting his forearm on the hot leather under the window on the passenger side. 

“Would you chill out? It’s…we’re not even that late. Plus, I’m not especially excited to be meeting two sets of parents today.” Patrick drums his fingers on the steering wheel, leisurely turning onto the road and pulling up to the gate.

Art scoffs, looking at his friend out of the side of his eye. “I guess I’m not under the same pressure as you.”

Silence falls over the car as they wait for the man at the gate to place a guest sticker on the windshield of Patrick’s car. The brown haired man sits with a wry smirk, staring forward while willing himself not to glance at his friend. He was happy that overall, things haven’t changed between him and Art despite the fact that they were no longer going to school together and his sweet, sweet best friend is clearly desperately into one if not both of his girlfriends.

To be honest, it was nice to see Art want something. He’s always been a, you get what you get and don’t have a fit type of kid. The kind of guy who agreed to race Patrick to the dorms when they were kids and slowed to a jog at the first sight of Patrick pulling forward slightly. But this time things were different. He wasn’t stupid. He could see the looks. He could hear the little snarky remarks Art hides behind his easy smiles and feel the pats on the back that are suddenly leaving behind a little sting.

But he was also still his best friend Art Donaldson. The guy he taught to jerk off. The friend he shares everything with. The best partner he’s ever had. Maybe that’s why he thinks he’s okay with how he looks at them. It’s interesting to watch these two women they met draw out a side of his friend that he could never. That doesn’t mean he’ll let him have them, though. 

Which is why, he made sure to take the weekend off of his tour, to the coordinator’s outrage, to attend Tashi and Heaven’s joint birthday party back in their hometown. 

People used to say that Patrick and Art were crazy close, but Tashi and Heaven were on another level. Apparently, the two were born a couple hours apart. Tashi on the night of September 15th and Heaven the morning September 16th. So here they were, driving to Heaven’s big ass house for their birthday party. 

They pull up to the imposing home, and see various balloons and streamers. Next to the columns bracketing the stairs are two blown up pictures, the one on the right is clearly a baby picture of Tashi posing cutely with her hand out. The left is of a little Heaven, smiling hard with little pigtails on the side of her head. 

Art hangs back a little as Patrick argues with the valet who is apparently parking the guests' cars, demanding he treat his truck with kindness. The blond man smiles softly at the picture of young Heaven and discreetly snaps a photo, sending her a text.

8:30 p.m.: Oh god, burn that shit. We’re out back. Tashi’s gonna come get you guys.

He laughs to himself and glances over to see Patrick reluctantly handing his keys over to the clearly annoyed valet. 

He had been worried he and Heaven were gonna stop talking after he basically begged to finger fuck her and eat her out over the phone. There was an awkward lack of calls and messages for a few days and he grit his teeth and gave her space. But when he was sitting in the cafeteria with Tashi, she mentioned that Heaven’s first rehearsal was later in the afternoon and he couldn’t help himself. A quick message telling her he thinks she’ll do amazing revived the conversation between the two.

The large dark wooden door swings open and reveals Tashi in all her glory. She has her hair pinned up to look shorter and curled. She’s wearing a tight white shirt with light washed baggy jeans and golden hoop earrings. She looks great. A bright smile fills her face as she sees them, jogging halfway down the steps before tugging Art into a hug. “Hey, you guys made it.” she pulls away from him and Patrick steps forward giving her a kiss on the lips. Art doesn’t bother looking away and is surprised by how little the action bothers him. “You’re late. Heaven’s in the back with everyone else.”

Patrick rolls his eyes with a scoff to Art but otherwise lets the girl drag him along, Art following behind. The house looks even grander inside. Marble floors, long wooden tables with floral arrangements. A balloon arch leading into the backyard area. 

Tashi moves about the place like she owns it, like she does with most rooms. But it was something about knowing she and Heaven had grown up spending time here together that made the men curious. 

She steps out into the grass and smiles brightly at a group of girls that neither man recognizes, waving hi and accepting the ‘happy birthdays’ like a fucking celebrity. Music booms through several speakers and crowds of people stand in the grassy space. The gift table is filled with presents, split down the middle, one side labeled Tashi, the other Heaven.

“Tashi come dance with me.”

And there she was. Her silky dark hair is down and curled with a colorful scarf wrapped at the top. She was also wearing large gold hoops with a tight, white crop top and baggy jeans. So baggy that Patrick and Art got a clear shot of her underwear peeking through. She’s standing on the edge of the crowd with her hand outstretched for Tashi to take.

“Damn.”

“Fuck.”

Tashi smirks as the pair of men drool over Heaven, pushing from in between them and going to take her hand. “One second. You’ve got to say hi. The world’s worst boyfriend and friend are finally here.”

“Hmm,” Heaven hums, wrapping her arm around Tashi and resting their intertwined fingers on her hip.  “Late, aren’t we?”

“Uh, there was traffic-”

“He said we didn’t need to leave so early-”

Patrick and Art look at each other briefly before back at the girls.

“Hm.” 

Tashi shrugs, pulling Heaven along with her to the drinks table, ignoring the fact that Art and Patrick were tailing behind. “Did you invite my cousin Vivian? She's over there boring my hitting partner to death.”

“No,” Heaven snorts, grabs a solo cup, putting it between her teeth as she reads the different punch flavors they had in supply. “She’s a bitch, it was probably your mom, or mine-”

“Cousin Vivian, she’s the one who-” Art begins.

“Tried to drown me at Great Wolf Lodge? Yeah, fucking lunatic. I can believe you remember that story, I told you that while you were half asleep.”

“I told you I was listening, it’s fucking wild.” Art laughs.

“I don’t know it.” Patrick cuts in, eyeing the exchange with a smile. 

Heaven shrugs, passing the first cup of punch she poured to Tashi and grabbing another. “Oh, baby, the story is dorky and boring.”

“Yeah and speak of the devil and she shall appear.” Tashi chuckles, bringing the drink to her lips.

Patrick reaches into his back pocket, glancing around before producing a flask, waving it between them. “Should we, uh, make these drinks more interesting?”

Tashi’s face immediately drops and Heaven rolls her eyes, kicking Art in the shin lightly underneath the lawn table, nodding her head in Tashi and Patrick’s direction. 

“We have matches coming up. No alcohol.”

“You’re going against college kids, you’re gonna win regardless of whether you have a drop of tequila.” 

“Yeah, that’s not the point. And Heaven’s in rehearsals-”

“Heaven is a big girl-”

“Heaven, what do you want to drink?” Art pipes up, grabbing a solo cup himself and walking around the end of the table Heaven is on. 

She clasps her hands together, glancing at the first jug she sees and decides on that. “Just, some lemonade would be great.”

“Okay.” Art smiles, starting to pour. 

“I know Heaven is in rehearsals. But it’s her fucking birthday.”

Heaven’s eyes widen at that, immediately shooting to Tashi’s face. Her scowl is set in stone as she leans down into Patrick’s face. Her grumble of  “You think I don’t know that?” drowns out Heaven’s correction of “Our birthday.”

A second barely passes before Tashi is flipping her hair over her shoulder and storming off in another direction. Patrick scoffs, as if he didn’t already take a step forward to follow her, being propelled even further by Heaven’s mouthing of “fix it”. 

Art sips his own lemonade, looking to the ground and shaking his head.

“I don’t want to hear it. Seriously.”

“I wasn’t gonna say a damn thing.” He laughs, ignoring Heaven’s small fist colliding with his muscled arm. He bites back a smirk when she winces, pulling her hand back to herself. “Did you…hurt your hand?”

“Could you like, shut the fuck up? Thank you.” Heaven whines, rubbing the wounded hand with the other. “You think you’re all big and bad because college tennis is doing you good? Giving your scrawny ass some muscle.”

“Glad you noticed.” he says playfully.

Heaven opens her mouth to respond, her lips part and no words come out as she drops her gaze to the ground, taking a swig of the lemonade. Two women step out of the backyard doors and make their way over to the pair, dressed in workout clothes. One of them is a black woman that could only be Heaven’s mom. She looked exactly like what Art envisions Heaven will look like in about 20 years and if you asked Art the future is fucking bright. 

The other is an older white woman with a kind face and eyes that reminded him of Tashi. They looked like extremely unlikely friends. Heaven’s mom holds a stern face that makes Art feel like maybe he should take several steps away from her daughter right now while the other woman looks like she’d probably made the sugar cookies that people have been shoveling since he’d gotten there. 

Despite having spoken about her family, Art knows very little about Heaven's mother. All she ever mentions about the woman is that she's very invested in her dance career and has always been pretty strict. Beyond that, whenever Heaven recounts pleasant memories from her childhood with Art, they always involved her stepdad, Tashi and her family, or when she was performing. Her mom is notably absent from almost all of her stories.

Heaven’s mother lowers the dark shades rested on her face to get a good look at Art before pushing them back into place, letting go of the other woman and wrapping her arm around Heaven’s shoulders.

“Hi, mom.” Heaven smiles in a way that doesn’t quite reach her eyes, placing the cup Art poured her down on the table.

Her mother picks the cup and sniffs it before putting it back down. “Let this be the last drink you have that isn’t water, Hev. I think we’ve had enough calorie intake for the day, we don’t need you slow when you go back to rehearsals this week.”

Art’s brows furrow as he watches Heaven deflating, nodding quietly as her mom pats her stomach and talks about not eating any birthday cake on her birthday. He can’t envision anyone finding her to be anything other than beautiful, dancing or not. But he rolls his tongue in his cheek and stays silent. Maybe her mother knows something about her health that he doesn’t. 

But from Heaven’s face with the verbal lashing is over, that’s not the case. Heaven’s sad brown eyes land on Art’s and she remembers that her mom hadn’t even taken the time to introduce herself. “Mom, this is Art Donaldson. He plays tennis for Stanford.”

The inspection is on him now. Heaven’s mom scans him from top to bottom before fixing him with an unimpressed look. “Is he any good?”

“Oh, I’m…I’m pretty okay-” Art says nonchalantly, cheek dimpling with an easy smile. Heaven’s mom simply blinks at him before shifting her gaze to Heaven.

“He’s great, Mom, full tennis scholarship.” She tries. “And…Tashi says he’s really good too.”

“Well, good for you.” The older woman says, nodding at her friend waving her over. “We’re going to give you kids some space and have a late dinner over at the Duncan’s house. Nothing but fruit and water, Hev.”

Heaven just dumps the lemonade into the grass, and refills the cup with water. Art watches as her mother murmurs a patronizing ‘good girl’ into Heaven’s hair, pressing a kiss there before slinging her purse over her shoulder and power walking away. 

He searches his brain for something, anything to say that might make her feel better as she tugs her crop down a little in an attempt to cover up as her eyes follow her mother.

Heaven’s face is hot with embarrassment. She was used to her mother’s comments about her weight, her looks, her focus on dance. She knows that it's for a reason. She wants her to be the best dancer she can be and so she prioritizes that over all else. She’d given up her life to put Heaven in the best position possible to become a prima ballerina. Heaven is…grateful. She should be grateful. But it’s pressure. She’s doing what she loves, but it's never enough, there’s always weight to lose. She can always be stronger, faster, and work harder. And her skin could always be thicker. But even diamonds crack with the right amount of pressure. 

Heaven just hates when people are there to see it.

Tashi is fucking pissed. Her hitting partner was sick and she needed to practice for a tournament coming up, so she’d asked Heaven to fill in. She couldn’t count how many times she’s sat up with Heaven, watching her dance, standing in as a partner, plotting what dance she should master for which audition. She doesn’t ask for much else in return. So, the fact that the bitch failed to show up at the courts knowing what this meant to Tashi…

She’d better have a good fucking excuse.

The tennis player storms around the back of the house, not bothering with the front door and streamlining for the stone elephant statue that kept the spare key to the back door to the house, Tashi snatches the key out of the trunk hole and pushes her way in. 

Mrs. Whitlock’s car wasn’t in the driveway so she doesn’t bother stopping by the woman’s office to say hello, opting instead to stomp her way straight to Heaven’s studio. She pushes the sliding door open and prepares to tear Heaven a new one, her bag clutched tightly in her fist. She can hear her inside. She knew she’d be here. She probably found some kind of new dance she just had to learn. Or she’d forgotten her while daydreaming. Or she was late. 

Tashi fucking hates late people.

“So, it’s fuck me huh?” Tashi asks, crossing her arms as she leans in the doorway. She was right, Heaven was inside. Facing away from her, standing in front of the large mirrors, something white at her feet. When the girl doesn’t even acknowledge that she’s there, Tashi rolls her eyes and steps into the room. “Fuck you, Heaven.” 

She fully plans to whirl around and stomp her way out of the house. If she wants to forget her, ignore her, fine. Plenty of people would fucking love to be Tashi Duncan’s girlfriend. 

But then she sees that the floor is soaking wet. Heaven’s bun is curling up from the water. The girl is drenched, standing in a pink leotard, her shoulders shaking. “Heaven?” Tashi powers forward, grabbing a wet shoulder, not letting her shock show on her face as she cups the girl’s cheek, forcing her to look at her and sees the tears streaming down her face. “What the fuck’s wrong?” She leans forward to see what’s in front of her. 

A scale. 

“Heaven-”

“Nothing’s wrong. I’m-” Heaven wipes a hand roughly at her cheeks, turning in Tashi’s loose grip. “Nothing, what time is it?”

“It’s…it’s uh, four.” 

Heaven’s watery eyes widen, a stray tear manages to escape as the girl glances down at the bag in Tashi’s hands. “Shit, babe, I’m late. I…got caught up. M’sorry. Let’s go practice. Really, m’sorry, let’s practice. We can walk to the court’s at the center.”

Tashi’s eyes flick between the scale and Heaven’s determined look. “You good?”

Heaven sighs, scrubbing a hand down her face. “Let’s practice.”

“Yeah?” Tashi asks, tilting her head to the side as she observes her girlfriend. The girl impatiently shifts on her feet, looking off to the side and Tashi nods. “Okay.”

“Um, so,” Heaven clears her throat. “I think my dance partners are busy. You wanna dance?”

Yes. Art thinks. Immediately yes. But, was he supposed to pretend he didn’t see that interaction? Was he supposed to act like he didn’t watch how quickly her mother was able to stomp out the light in her eyes? The flirty smile she offers him isn’t the real thing that makes his heart beat fast. “Heaven-”

“Look, Art, it’s my birthday. It’s not gonna get better in one day, and right now I want to dance with a friend.” She sighs. Heaven pulls his own drink from his lips, placing it down on the table and taking his hand as she backs towards where the crowds of people were dancing. “Is that gonna be you, or do I need to find someone else?”

The pleading look on her face wears Art down and he lets her pull him to the edge of the makeshift dance floor. “I’m not a good dancer.”

“It’s not about being good, it’s about having fun.” She grins, this time genuinely as Art lifts her hand, spinning her as she leads them the rest of the way. 

“Yeah,” he laughs sarcastically. “Says the best fucking dancer in the world.”

“Okay, okay, it’s a little bit about being good.” Heaven giggles, pushing up on her tiptoes and raising her own arm, eyebrows lifting as she waits for Art. He shakes his head chuckling.

“Are you serious?”

“Yes, go.” she snorts as he rolls his eyes, ducking down under her arm so that she can spin him too. “Okay, ow, my arm, too tall.”

“See?” Art snarks, hooking his finger into her belt loop and tugging her closer, rocking them side to side as Heaven wraps her arms around his neck. 

“Okay, normally I’m the one being turned, so that’s on me.” She shrugs. The music changes and Long Way 2 Go by Cassie starts blasting through the speakers. “I fucking love this song. You know this one white boy?”

“What is with you and Tashi and calling us white boys?”

“Is that not what you are?” She asks, spinning away from him as gracefully as she had the day he’d watched her at the school theater. But this time he’s part of it. He’s not just an observer, even with her just dancing casually he’s hypnotized. He hadn’t even realized he was moving with her. She’s all there is. It’s just Heaven. “It’s about how it makes you feel. Dancing makes me feel better.”

Art nods, watching her intently as she turns in his hold, back pressed to his front, hands in his hair. “I think it feels just fucking amazing dancing with you.”

“Well,” she smiles, sliding her hands over his where they’re resting on her hips. “I think it’s fucking amazing watching you play tennis. I wanna see you play again.”

“I wanna play for you.” He says desperately. 

“You really mean that, don’t you?” Heaven grins, facing him again, pressing their fronts together, giggling as he turns his face into her palm, pressing a kiss there. “You want to play for me?”

Before he can answer, the smile drops from her face, her head turns to the left slightly as she looks off to the side. Art turns his head, his gaze follows hers and lands on Patrick and Tashi. Always Patrick and Tashi. He brings his hand up to her jaw, gently guiding her face back to his. “I want you to look at me.” 

“I am.” she whispers, looking up at him.

“Just me.”

“Art.” she says, stepping away from him with a disappointed frown.

"I know, I know, but-"

"Jesus fucking christ." She huffs, pushing his hands away completely and stomping off.

Art’s eyes scan the party carefully, as he tries to nonchalantly flick the ash from his cigarette to the ground. He has seriously cut back on smoking since he doesn’t have Patrick everyday to share them with and Tashi and Heaven turn their noses up at them. But, to say he felt anxious was an understatement. 

He’d thought they were having a…thing when they were dancing before. To be fair he’s thought they’d had a lot of ‘things’ and each time they do, she retreats back. He’d like to be able to just shrug her off. To decide that she’s more trouble than what she’s worth and obviously the opposite of available and fuck off. But he can’t. It was something about her. Her eyes, the way she moves, her smile, laugh, just…Heaven. It’s what she is. The name just fucking fits.

Which is why he’s turned away three girls since she’d scrambled away from him into the house with one look back over her shoulder that had him wanting to follow behind her like a lovesick puppy. 

So, here he was, blowing smoke into the night’s air while he stares at this pristine, glass back door that the girl he’s obsessed with that happens to be, at minimum, fucking his and her best friends, disappeared into. 

He should have some self respect. 

He should find a girl…hell he should find Tashi, the other girl who seems to occupy his mind, albeit less and less. 

He should let Heaven fuck off if that’s what she wants to do. 

How long can he beg her to like him back, to be interested in him? 

How much more can a man take?

Art, apparently, can take at least a little more.

He flicks the bud of the cigarette to the ground and pops a piece of gum into his mouth, worried that Heaven will smell the smoke on his breath when he finds her. Art pushes the door to the house open, glancing back once to see if Tashi and Patrick were still “talking” back by the garden area. 

When he’d first walked through the house he took the time to appreciate it in its glory. It’s a fucking ritzy house. It reminds him of Patrick’s house. Large and beautiful. It echoes. It’s not like his parent’s house at all. His is a family home, nicely sized but nothing as grand as this. Patrick always hated his own home, ever since he’d gone home with Art one Christmas, he almost refused to spend any holidays there. He said Art’s house seemed more ‘lived in’. Even when Art finally did get to see his best friend’s house one summer, he felt like his friend looked out of place there, even though it was where he was raised. 

But Heaven…she looks like she belongs in a place like this. A place full of beautiful things is where she should live. 

After searching the lower level Art stops at the bottom of the spiral stairs. His mom would kill him if she knew he was considering going through someone’s upper level without explicit permission like this. But, if…if there was a chance she was up there…

He respects the place enough to take his shoes off before making his way up the cold stairs. The upper level is dark and several degrees cooler than downstairs. He knows her mother stepped out about an hour ago, so he’s a little more confident as he slips through the long hallway, peeking his head in the open room doors, searching for her.

“Can we please not do this now?”

“So when, Heaven? I broke up with you and you don’t seem like you give a fuck. You haven’t checked on me once.”

Art pauses, hearing what he knows to be Heaven’s voice accompanied by a distinctly male voice in a room he can see is lit through the bottom of a sliding door.

“What was I supposed to do? Beg? I have too much shit to do. We didn’t work, that’s fine.” 

He can almost envision the shrug she must’ve given. Her voice is so unfeeling, indifferent as the man spoke passionately, voice raising that has Art stepping closer to the door. 

“So you don’t give a fuck?”

“Do you really want me to answer you?”

I wouldn’t. Art thinks to himself. 

“Fucking-you can be such a bitc-”

Heaven flinches as the door to her studio slides open roughly, wood slapping into the wall as quick, heavy footsteps make their way into the room and suddenly Trevor is ripped from in front of her. 

“Who the fuck are you talking to?” Art grits his teeth, his fists balled in Trevor’s shirt, the men stumble away from Heaven a little due to the momentum of Art rushing his way into the room. 

Heaven’s eyes widen at the act of aggression from the gentle man who literally refuses to bring his voice above a soft tone when speaking to her and it's almost humorous. Like, she didn’t know what was throwing her more, the fact that he’d basically appeared and darted in to defend her honor, or the fact that he felt like he needed to defend her from the literal nobody that is her ex Trevor that clearly came to her party because he was some kind of masochist. “Oh my god, Art, that’s not necess-”

“Jesus, Heaven, how many guys are you fucking at this party?”

Oh. Well.

 Now that he said that, she doesn’t feel bad when Art’s fist goes flying into his face.

Shocked? Yes. Bad? No.

A little turned on…maybe. 

And that tennis must be doing more for the blond man than just making his muscles look good, because Trevor fucking hit the deck. She’ll acknowledge that she was attracted to the way Art’s jaw ticks in anger as he positions himself in front of her and plays knight in shining armor. A nice guy like him getting so mad on her behalf…

“Oh, shit.” 

Trevor sputters, gripping his nose and looking up at the man in front of him. “Did you just hit me?”

“Don’t fucking talk to her like that-”

“Okay, okay, Arthur…um, wow,” Heaven chuckles humorously as she stands between the two men, nodding her head toward the door. “Trevor, get the fuck out, you dumped me okay? You win. Get the fuck out.”

The red-headed boy grits his teeth in annoyance, pushing off of the floor but opting not to do much more than give Heaven a sneer because, truthfully, this blond, preppy looking kid she has guarding her knocked the shit out of him. But as he makes his way to the door, he stops and turns, unable to hold his tongue completely. “I wouldn’t bother, man. She plays games. They only give a fuck about each other. It’s not worth it.” He finishes as he cups his aching nose, turning and leaving the room.

Heaven looks at Art at that, carefully watching his expression. She can’t tell what he’s thinking as he stares after Trevor, tight muscles still tense.  

“What am I supposed to call you my hero or something?” she jokes, awkwardly trying to break the silence. The room suddenly feels too full with Art’s presence in it, despite the fact that Trevor had left. 

“He shouldn’t be yelling at you like that.”

“Pft, Art,” she giggles, wrapping her arms around herself. “I am not afraid of Trevor. Trust me. It doesn’t matter-”

“No one should talk to you like that.” he says seriously. He doesn’t take the bait at all, and suddenly, Heaven realizes they aren’t just talking about Trevor anymore, and not only does the room feel small, she suddenly feels naked, for his examination. His eyes are somber as he looks at her, he steps forward and she’s even more crowded.

“Did you know you have heterochromia? Your eyes are a little blue…a little brown.” She tries, taking one step back for his two steps forward. Art stops, eyes flicking down at her movement before trailing back to her face. He takes a non threatening stance, shoving his hands into his pockets and tilting his head down as he looks into her eyes with the softest gaze anyone had ever given to her. He won’t push. Not if she doesn’t want him to. “Are you enjoying our party?”

Our. Right now she’s running. And he’s chasing. It seems to be how they like it. Both of them.

“I am.” He says breezily, a small smile gracing his face. “I even danced with this girl.”

“Was she hot?” Heaven jokes, walking out of the middle of the room and resting her hands behind her on one of the bars on the wall.

Like a string is pulling him, Art follows. She leads this dance. Bringing him in, enticing him to follow her, giving him a taste before pulling away for him to trail behind her again. It’s like an invisible string is pulling him when he steps forward, wetting his bottom lip as he moves to stand before her again. “Fucking gorgeous. But she left me on the dance floor.”

“What a bitch.”

He chuckles, shaking his head no. “She’s just got a lot going on.” He shrugs, looking down at his feet. Art sucks in a breath at the next thing that pops into his brain, but he can’t stop it. He looks back up at Heaven with a wry smile and releases his breath. “But I’ll wait.”

The offer hangs in the air. And Heaven retreats. Her hand shoots up to her name chain as she uses the other to clutch the bar even tighter, dragging herself closer against it. “Why?”

“Because she’s…perfect.”

Heaven’s head drops immediately at that, she purses her lips, looking over to the large mirrors to the left of them, staring at herself. “No. She’s not.”

“Yes, you are.” He says indignantly, dropping the facade and taking away the privilege of space. He reaches out and encases her wrist gently in his large hand, tugging her closer to him. Art walks them over to the mirror and pushes Heaven to stand in front of him, rubbing his hands along her sides. “You’ve got perfect everything.” His hands slide along her hips and squeeze, eliciting a gasp from Heaven. “Perfect hips. Perfect legs-” they move to the front of her thighs before trailing over her pelvis and along her stomach, “Perfect stomach and arms,” Art’s hands squeeze Heaven’s shoulders before dropping back to her stomach, holding her against him, “Perfect shoulders, and neck-” he murmurs against the soft skin of her shoulder before dragging his way up to her neck, placing deep kisses there.

He expects her to push him away. He feels her hand slip up into his blond curls like it had when they’d danced, but she just pulls him closer. Her back arches forward slightly as she tugs his hair and he kisses her neck. “Art-”

“You’re so fucking perfect, please let me touch you.” he pleads. And forces himself to wait. All he wants to do is bruise her perfect neck. Leave his mark. Make her feel good. Know that he did it. Art knows he’s playing the long game. The first match that he lost to Patrick, it was just the first set. The game isn’t over. Art wants to win.

So he fucking waits.

He’s easygoing, and offers her a smile when she wrenches herself from him, breathing heavily and rushing off to a bathroom to get a first aid kit from his hand he hadn’t even noticed started bleeding. 

“Does, um…does that hurt?”

“No.” He says, sitting criss-crossed on the polished wooden floor with Heaven perched in front of him, refusing to look up from his hand. “Thank you.” he smiles sweetly.

“Yeah, for sure.” She stammers, finishing off with the last of her band-aids. “Sorry, they’re all my skin tone-”

“No, it’s fine, thank you, Heaven.” He tries to soothe her nervousness. “She’s a fucking medic too, ladies and gentlemen. See, fucking amazing.”

Heaven rolls her eyes and leans down, pressing a light kiss to his hand. “All better.”

Art hangs his head, laughing breathily and before looking back at her, scrubbing a hand down his face. “You suck you know that?”

A small grin forms on Heaven’s own face as she rocks from side to side. “What? Why?”

“How is a guy not supposed to fall in love with you when you’re doing shit like that?” He says, laying back on the wooden floors, absently thinking how nice it would be to see her dance again as he envisions what it's like in here when she’s alone, letting go, dancing for herself.

Heaven shrugs, laying down beside him, nudging his arm. “I dunno. Remember that I'm dating your best friend…and mine…and that you walked in on my ex basically calling me the wicked bitch of the west-”

“He’s stupid, you’re a goddamn princess.”

“I just dance like one, Art,” she turns her head to face him and wiggles her eyebrows. “It’s all an illusion.” 

“No. It’s not.” He says, reaching over and taking her hand, bringing it to his lips before resting it on his chest, toying with her fingers with his own. Heaven groans loudly, kicking her feet up and letting them slap back to the floor sloppily. “What?” he chuckles.

She sits up, twisting her body and planting both hands on the floor, one on each side of his head, her hair dangling around them as she stares down at him. His blue and brown eyes swirl with something she’s not willing to acknowledge as she stares down at him. Heaven leans down, bringing her face close to his. “You’re not making this easy for me, Arthur.”

He offers her an innocent look back, willing himself not to tug her down the rest of the way. “Can’t help it.”

“Hev,” a voice calls from the doorway. Heaven scrambles back from Art, leaping to her feet and sees Tashi leaning in the doorframe, an easy smile on her lips. Her arms are crossed as she takes them in. “We’re ready to sing happy birthday. It’s a few minutes ‘til midnight, you’ll officially be 19. You done here?” She asks, a cocky smile on her face as she raises her eyebrows.

“Um,” Heaven smoothes her hair out, glancing down briefly at Art who is still on the floor, staring up at her. “Yeah.”

Walking straight for the door, Heaven grabs Tashi’s hand and leads her out of the room, powering forward as she drags her girlfriend out of the room. She doesn’t bother looking back for the blond man she left behind, painting a smile on her face as they made their way back outside. 

As their friends and family countdown from 10 she and Tashi are guided to the middle of the backyard with a large cake in front of them, their names scribbled next to each other. Heaven squeezes Tashi’s hand, pulling her closer and wrapping her arm around her as they look at the blue and pink candles lit in front of them. “It wasn’t anything, T.”

“S’okay, babe. Seriously.” Tashi says through her smile as one of the girls from school takes a picture of them, cupping Heaven’s face and kissing her deeply. She knows that he’s watching. That they’re both watching.

So Art won a set. So the fuck what? Tashi smiles to herself as Heaven grins at her, murmuring a happy birthday as they hug each other. She can see the two men standing together, watching them intently, not knowing if they were jealous of them or because of them, and she knows the match isn't over.

[baronessvonglitter]

he's got you on a pedestal, and me in his arms

Frankie Morales x bff!Reader

Word count: 3.6K

Summary: you've known Francisco "Frankie" Morales your whole lives. Not even his marriage kept you from being in his life and in his bed. Then one fateful weekend everything changes and you have to find the will to give him up.

WARNINGS: 18+ Only! Mature and Explicit, brief mention of underage sex (both parties are minors, 14-15 years old, and is consensual), childood friends, friends to lovers, friends with benefits, established relationship, cheating, idiots in love, reader and Frankie are the same age, mention of infertility (reader), fluff and angst, midlife crisis, camping sex, oral sex (f receiving), biting, creampie, oh and some sleepover antics of the nonsexual kind as well.

Author's Note: this is a re-upload. The original had a link to another site to read it, then I thought, why not just post here, dummy? This takes place before the events of Triple Frontier, and I'm a sucker for the whole "they knew each other all this time but only realized they're in love too late" kind of story. Also, bonus points for anyone who knows where the title of this story is from!

FRANKIE MORALES MASTERLIST | FULL MASTERLIST

You and Frankie stand side by side in the middle of the campsite, admiring the newly-erected tent that will serve as your shelter for the weekend. "You did that in a fifth of the time it took me." He shakes his head. "I'm both impressed and angry. And of course I was watching your ass the entire time." To emphasize this he gives your ass a little grab.

"I know," you reply smartly with a smirk. You grab a bedroll in each hand. "Did you remember to bring your Hello Kitty blanket?"

Smirking back he chuckles and takes the bedrolls from you and places them inside the tent. "Damn, I knew I forgot something." A late evening chill sends you both inside. Frankie quickly unrolls the beds and you lay on them, close together, staring up at the see-through roof, gazing at the stars. "C'mere," he motions you to join him. You scoot next to him and rest your head on his chest as he wraps his arms around you protectively. "This is nice, huh?"

"It's peaceful," you whisper. The inky blackness of the sky is only disturbed by the faraway specks of light that the stars give off, before the clouds move to finally reveal the moon.

"You ever just get tired of the constant stress of the world and just want to disappear for a little while?" Frankie sighs contentedly, leaning back with you nestled on his chest, his face illuminated by the gentle moonlight.

"All the time," you whisper back. "But only if I get to disappear with you."

He holds you closer, and when he presses a kiss to your temple you feel his lips curve into a smile. "Sometimes I just wish things could be like the good ol' days when we were kids. No worrying about, well, anything really. Just having fun and not having to care about all the other bullshit." He takes a deep breath and exhales, and you listen to the beat of his heart as you rest your head on his chest. "I think I'm only truly happy when I'm with you."

It's not the first time he's ever said this to you, this man you've shared most of your life with, who you've known since childhood and grown up to do everything with. Only now when you hear these words you're reminded of the ways your lives have forked off into different directions. Your responsibilities have changed, and when you raise your eyes to meet Frankie's you're tempted to just take him away from the woman you convinced him to marry. But there's one small catch that halts such a decision on your end.

He nudges you. "I thought you fell asleep there. You got so quiet. That's not like you."

"You're imagining things." You try to push your worrisome thoughts away.

"You know if you fall asleep first, I'm obligated to get out my Sharpie and draw a dick on your face."

You bury your face into his chest and laugh. It's one of those little traditions you carry out, ever since you were young and innocent enough to sleep over at each other's houses. "I guess I'll have to do my best to stay awake." You kiss his cheek.

Frankie pulls you in closer, sighing contentedly. "I think I really needed this.." his voice trails off and his breathing becomes deep and even until he's on the brink of falling asleep. "This is nice," he whispers, eyes closed.

This.. the yearly camping trip you take, a tradition that started that first year of his marriage, the year that separated your paths. This allows you to reconnect.

At one time there was nothing you didn't do without the other: you graduated kindergarten in the same class, learned to ride bikes, and Frankie even defended you from the school bully, earning a black eye for his efforts. You had your first kiss together at a friend's birthday party, playing Seven Minutes in Heaven. You fumbled towards each other in the dark of a closet, and once your lips met there were fireworks. It was one of those rare moments when you realize the person you're supposed to be with is already your best friend.

When you were teenagers and spending the night was no longer appropriate, you stayed down in his basement until his parents were asleep and you practiced kissing on the couch, trusting each other as you went a little further each time, until the night it happened and, unable to control yourselves, you were suddenly half-dressed, trying to keep quiet as your bodies came together. It was a blur of warm flesh, wet kisses, and a twinge of pain that was soon overshadowed by growing need. You didn't cum that first time, but Frankie definitely did, and after weeks of worrying you were relieved to find you weren't pregnant. Years later you found out that you would never be able to be a mother at all.

But that new chapter had begun, and so you spent nearly every spare moment together fucking. He'd sneak into your bedroom or you'd drive out to lover's lane and get hot and heavy in his truck. You were a couple, unofficially, always together. Even your families expected that one day you'd get married and have a family. But your paths diverged after graduation, when he joined the military and you chose to go to school across the country. You stayed in touch, called when you could, but time and distance kept you apart. You were both too reticent to talk about the future, and when you both started to see other people it became apparent that your childhood love had come to an end.

You kept in touch sporadically, typically when you were both in town visiting your families. And you'd hook up, as if time hadn't created any distance between your hearts. When you got your first apartment after college Frankie offered to help you move, and by the end of the day, despite the aches and pains after carrying boxes up two flights of stairs and arranging furniture, you still found time to christen every room, fucking like rabbits against any and every flat surface of your new place. Frankie had stamina like you wouldn't believe, but he always insisted it was only with you.

You were on-again, off-again, trying to kickstart your separate careers. But your friendship remained even when you dated other people. There were a few times when you found yourself in his bed when you were someone else's girlfriend, or vice versa. There was no malice or guilt involved. You just sought each other out because it was natural. Even when he got engaged you never lost faith that you would lose him. You liked his wife-to-be, Melissa, and even got along with her. But the night before she and Frankie were to get married, it was you he spent the night with, worried he was making the wrong choice. You'd convinced him, after he'd eaten you out from behind then fucked you hard, spread-eagle on your bed, to marry her. The next morning you stood at the altar with both of them, looking on and smiling, still feeling the drip of his cum from the night before.

What would Melissa think if she knew? Does she even have a grain of suspicion when you drive away with her husband to be unreachable for a whole weekend? This year everything is different, and maybe as you pulled away from their driveway, as she waved and blew kisses, she was gloating inside with the secret knowledge that she's the most important woman in his life now.

Frankie looks so serious in his sleep and you stifle your giggles as you draw on his face with eyeliner.

He stirs from his sleep. "Did you just draw a dick on my face?"

"No, you're dreaming," you lie, continuing to vandalize him with crudely drawn dicks as you straddle him.

"What the fuck? Stop that!" He laughs hysterically as he tries to push you off. "Babe, I said stop! There's no way those things are even proportionate!"

"Art is subjective! They don't need to be proportionate!" You're barely able to catch your breath from laughing so hard.

"Oh yeah? Subject this!" Frankie rolls over onto you, grabs your eyeliner pen and scribbles onto your face with it, drawing a huge dick and balls on your forehead and your cheeks. You let him, your eyes shut tight, trying to stay still though your body shakes with laughter. "Oh man.. look at you." He leans forward admiring his handiwork. "You look like a little dick-covered goblin. It's hilarious."

You ask for your mirror and he finds it within your duffel bag, then you both take turns checking out each other's artistry, giggling like kids. "Is it too much to ask for a few veins on these guys?" He grumbles.

"You have to earn dick veins. See this one right here? That's you. I drew it from memory. See the slight curve?"

Your smirk turns him on. "Anything else I have to earn? Maybe a wet nap to wipe all this away?"

"I've got something wet you can have.."

With a barely suppressed growl Frankie leans down and kisses you, tongue ravishing your mouth as your moans intermingle, and your limbs wrap around him as they've done hundreds of times. His heated kisses travel down your jaw, your neck where he leaves little love bites, marking you as his to whatever dumbass you decide to flirt with once you part ways after the weekend. Desire blooms, pink to hot red under your skin as he rips open your shirt, sending buttons flying in every direction. Jesus, you're already soaked for him, but he's taking his sweet time as usual, leaving you to want, to beg, to whimper. It's no use. He nips at your breasts, leaving love bites on them as well, little spots of magenta on the tops of your soft tits, before giving attention to your nipples, sucking one while plucking the other, feeling them harden so nicely in his mouth and under his savvy touch.

"Where the hell'd you learn all this patience?" you mutter, biting your lip as his tongue swirls around your navel, while he adeptly pulls down your shorts and panties together.

He glances up then laughs. "Even with those dicks drawn on your face, you're still so hot." He pays attention to the little tattoo of his name on your hip bone, giving it a gentle bite as well, feeling his blood surge when you sigh, arching your hips up, then laves it with his tongue to soothe it. Then he dips his head between your thighs, keeping one hand on your breast and the other on your thigh as he softly swipes you with his tongue, tasting you, moving his tongue in slow circles as he holds you down, knowing you like to be dominated in small ways like this. You taught him everything he knows about eating pussy, from those first fumbling attempts in high school, you guided him on what you wanted and how you wanted it. Now he knows it by heart, but he still listens to your body's signals, to your shuddering sighs and high-pitched screams when he's doing it right.

Tongue tickling your clit, then gently biting your swollen pussy lips, bringing out a sharp, stifled cry from you. "Don't pretend you don't like it, baby," he coos, his breath whispering over your slick folds. "Come on, let me hear you scream.."

Your thighs threaten to close around his head but he's strong enough to keep them wide apart, effectively restraining you as you grind against his face, offering up that honey he can taste even in his dreams. "Come on, baby.. come on.." he urges you, almost tantalizing you, and before you can put forth a smart response the dam breaks, and you feel it in the weakness of your knees before the fire within surges and makes you cry out, fucking his face until you're completely satisfied.

Not missing a beat, he flips you over and lifts your ass, admires your sopping cunt before running his finger along your wetness and offering it to you to suck off. You moan around his finger as he starts to fuck you from behind, spreading your thighs wider so he can see where you're joined, watch the smooth, rhythmic movements as you back up on him, your ass cheeks rippling with each bounce. "Fuck me.. fuck me.." you wail as your fingers clench the fabric of the bedroll beneath you, it's upholstery scratchy against your face as Frankie pushes your shoulders down and keeps your ass up.

"Jesus Christ!" he moans, and the rest of what he mumbles is completely inaudible as he speeds up, knowing the rhythm you like, the rhythm you need in order to cum, and his hands are magic on your clit as he rubs you from beneath.

"Frankieeee!!" His name turns into a moan, punctuated by the slap of his balls thwacking against your cunt. Your hair is wrapped around his hand, and he pulls you up as you support yourself on your arms. He presses in deep and your eyes widen from how he grazes your cervix, careful not to cause you any pain. Your arms wobble as a series of shocks originate deep within your cunt, growing and spreading as you start to cum. Frankie feels the swell rise within you and grunts, pushing harder because that's what's going to send you over the edge. You cry out in unison as you clench around him possessively, keeping his cock there where it belongs, in the first woman he ever fucked, in the only woman he measures everyone else against. He spills himself inside you, fingers indenting themselves on your hips, leaving small bruises, marking himself on your skin.

"We're a disaster," he moans later, catching his breath next to you.

"But we're fun."

"I don't know," he sighs. "It just feels like I've been living a mundane kind of life the past several years."

You raise yourself on an elbow, studying the solemn look on his handsome face. Lately in your texts and emails he's been downhearted, and now you're seeing it in person. His words pull on your heart. "We just fucked and now you want to get sad on me?" Then you smirk and press a soft kiss to his lips as you gently trace his graying beard with your fingertips. "Hey, listen to me: there is nothing mundane about Francisco Morales, okay?"

His smile is wide and he kisses your fingertips. You've put a bandage on his heart. "You're right, I think what I meant was, I've just been in this rut, this monotonous cycle, just doing the same thing over and over."

"Yeah. It's called Middle Age. Population: us." You take some makeup wipes from your bag and you both wipe away each other's dick artwork.

"Hey, no need to remind me I'm not that young anymore," he laughs, trying not to make a face as you wipe his face clean. "I don't wanna be the guy clinging to his youth. I just miss our younger days."

You sigh, settling in against him. "Those were the best times.. stealing my mom's car to go to parties, playing pranks at school, skipping class to make out in your truck.."

"They say high school will be the best years of your life and we laughed it off, calling it bullshit. Maybe they were onto something."

You playfully smack his shoulder. "Don't say that! I'm in my prime."

Frankie chuckles and kisses your forehead. "Sorry, I'm just in my feels tonight."

So are you, and you can't help the next words that come out of your mouth. "Sometimes I wonder how it would have turned out for us if we'd gotten together like everyone thought.." In the distance you hear thunder rumbling.

He shifts position slightly. "I'd like to think we actually would've stayed together. We've known each other forever. That kind of bond doesn't just go away." You're both quiet, lost in those dangerous thoughts of 'what-if' when he says, "You know I'd make you my wife if it weren't for Melissa, right?"

"Don't say that. Melissa's a good woman for you. She doesn't put up with your bullshit."

He continues as if he doesn't hear you, or chooses not to. "I'd leave her for you. I just don't want to continue this charade that we don't mean anything to each other, that our calls and our weekends together are dust in the wind, meaningless."

"Nothing between us is meaningless.. never has been," you whisper as your heart threatens to beat its way outside of your body, to fly straight into Frankie's chest and merge with his own red, throbbing heart. "Frankie, I think your judgment is just a little clouded.."

"Do you know how many times I've laid in bed, thinking about you? How many times I wish my wife was you?"

He starts an ache inside you, one that only he can provide the remedy for, but now things have taken a serious turn. You've never defined your relationship, you always just were. "Frankie, stop. Don't say that. Melissa's one of the few females I actually get along with." You tell yourself if you keep saying her name it'll humanize her, keep her as the victim of the story, the heroine, the protagonist. Whatever will help label you as the villain, because what else would anyone call you if they knew what you were doing?

"I don't take stock in what people say. We can always go back. We can't get back the time that was taken away from us, but we can claim the future for us." He takes a deep breath. "I'm leaving her. I've made up my mind. I'm going to tell her when I get home." He sees the look of shock on your face and he mistakes it for something else. "I've been thinking about this for a long time. This is what I want. And I know it's what you want. You know what? Fuck it, let's just run away together. She'll take the hint. I don't love her the same as I love you. She has to know this by now. Let's just start our lives together. Just go where we want. We can have that." His hands are gripping yours now, and the way he talks is manic, as if he's barely holding onto the last shred of his sanity.

You're shaking your head, going against your weaker nature. "If you'd asked me this a year ago I would've said yes immediately.. I'd follow you to Hell, you know that." Your heart breaks as you consider your next words. "Frankie, you can't leave Melissa, and we can't continue this.."

A pause. "Why the hell not?" You can hear his heart breaking in his voice.

You struggle with what little honor you have left. You promised Melissa you'd keep her secret. But you've also been betraying her trust for years. Your heart is heavy with the choice you have to make.

"She's pregnant," you answer quietly. And the rain starts, a light patter on your tent.

Frankie stares at you as if you're speaking gibberish. "I don't.. wait, what did you say?"

You groan inwardly. It's bad enough you had to say them once, now he needs them repeated. "Frankie, you're going to be a dad.. Melissa gave me the news yesterday.. she wanted to be the first to tell you."

He processes this, and you watch the expressions that cross his face: disbelief, calculation, understanding, then realization. You commit to memory the look of joy that's etched across his features. "That explains so much," he says, a smile growing on his lips. "That's so.. wow!"

Your own heart begins to break. It should be you with the life within you, but it's not. It never will be. You try to be happy for your best friend. As of now, that's all he'll ever be to you. There are so many things you want to say to him in this moment, but you swallow each and every word so that they're stopped in your throat and you choke on them.

When all is said and done, you can't be the number one girl in his life anymore. In fact you're already losing him. He hasn't even brought up the idea of running away with you. That small window of time you once shared has run out. And you have to learn to be okay with it.

At the end of your weekend together, you drop him off at his home where his wife waits out front, a beatific smile on her face. Your stomach twists as you try to keep from your heart turning bitter.

Now that you're both faced with the reality of your separate futures, Frankie turns to you before he exits, and an emotion crosses his face to which you can't put a name. "That can't really be it for us. Nothing has to change between us," he says, a last-ditch effort to keep you.

"We're always going to be friends," you tell him, a tear in your eye that you hope he doesn't see.

"We've never been just friends."

"But I've been selfish in keeping you around.. and I'll never be able to give you what she's giving you."

It's quiet in the car, and there is rarely quietness between you.

"I love you," he says, and you don't doubt it for a minute. You grab hold of his hand.

"I love you too," you tell him. "It's their turn now."

You watch from your car as he reunites with his wife, the intimately joyful conversation they have, after which Frankie picks her up and embraces her happily. It's both the worst kind of pain and the best.

dividers by @firefly-graphics 👑

[candycandy00]

This is my first time really interacting on here, but I really love you work so I just had to request something.💜💜

Character: Nanami

AU Setting: Masquerade ball

Spice Level: NSFW

Mood: Your choice

Kinks: Degradation and size difference

The Stranger at the Bar - A Nanami x Reader Fanfic

Smut. 18+. Fem Reader. Non Curse AU. Degradation. Dirty talk. Size difference. 

Part of CandyCandy’s 2k Followers Event! Any feedback at all is adored! Dividers by @benkeibear.

 The stranger at the open bar is looking at you again. He’s totally your type, with his slicked back blonde hair and impeccably tailored black suit. He’s tall, muscular but not too bulky, and he stands there holding a drink in his large hand as his eyes slide over to you again. He’s wearing a black silk mask that covers the top half of his face, the sort most of the men are wearing at this swanky masquerade ball for bored rich assholes. 

You’re just here for the free drinks and food. Your uncle’s tech start up recently hit it big, so he got an invite to this party two weeks ago. “New Money”, they probably called him. But of course his perpetually single ass didn’t have a date, so he invited you to be his plus one. He even bought you a fancy cocktail dress, in shimmery fuchsia with a low neckline and high split up to the hip. You topped it off with a matching lace mask. 

When the two of you walked in, your uncle patted your back and jokingly told you to “go nab yourself a rich guy”. You smiled and grabbed a glass of champagne from a tray being carried by a server. 

That was over an hour ago, and you’ve barely seen your uncle since then. You spotted him a couple of times, chatting with other tech business bigwigs, but otherwise you’ve been on your own. You don’t mind. The food is fabulous and the drinks are plentiful. 

Then there’s the handsome stranger who keeps looking your way. You can see his eyes through the holes in his mask, can watch them travel up and down your body as you move across the room. There’s a dance floor where some of the early 20’s folks are dancing, so you head over and put on a little show. You may not be used to fancy places like this, but you go to clubs with your friends every weekend, so you know how to shake your ass to some music.

It worked. The stranger’s full attention is on you, his eyes practically glued to your every move. You wish he would just come over and dance with you, but you suppose he’s too mature for that. He gives off a totally different vibe from the young guys who hang around you at the club. 

Feeling emboldened by his hungry gaze, you work your way over to the bar and stand a few feet away from him, tantalizingly close yet just out of reach. You fan yourself as if you’re hot after dancing, hoping your perfume drifts over to him. 

Within seconds, he moves closer to you, leaning back against the bar casually as he asks, “Who did you come with?”

Are you that obviously out of place? You smile at him. “Who says someone didn’t come with me?” you say teasingly, sipping your fruity drink. 

“Just a hunch,” he replies, glancing at you sideways. 

You point to your uncle across the room. He’s laughing a little too loudly, being just a tad too clingy to the bear-like man standing next to him. You hope they’re hitting it off. “My uncle didn’t have a date, so I tagged along.”

The stranger smiles faintly. Was that his way of finding out if you’re single? His eyes roam blatantly up and down you again. You hope he’s enjoying the closer look. You certainly are. He’s tall enough to tower over you, and his warm, honey-colored eyes draw you in. He’s the kind of man you want on top of you at the nearest opportunity. 

“Are you enjoying the party?” he asks, moving even closer to you. He smells expensive. 

“The drinks and the food? Yeah. Not sure about the people yet,” you say with a grin. 

“Oh? This isn’t your usual crowd?”

You turn your whole body to face him. “Not really. I don’t usually hang around snobby rich jerks. But maybe a few of them are alright.” You say the last part playfully, looking him up and down the way he did you. 

His eyes flick down to your chest, as if tracing the dipping neckline, then return to your face. “Perhaps we could talk in one of the private rooms, and you can find out if I’m ‘alright’.” 

You feel your heartbeat getting faster as your excitement builds, but you maintain your breezy attitude. “Private rooms? Are we allowed to go in those? The owner of this house might not like that.”

The person throwing this lavish party is also the owner of this ridiculously huge mansion. Your uncle mentioned their name but it didn’t seem important at the time. 

The stranger smiles again. “I’m sure he won’t mind.”

He holds out his hand, and you take it, trying to keep your breathing steady as he escorts you through the room. He keeps pace with you, probably walking more slowly than he’d prefer, and moves in such a way that it seems like he’s clearing the path for you. Such a gentleman! You really hope he’ll be fucking you like a whore soon. 

As the two of you step into a hallway, you notice the marble floors and the walls lined with paintings. “Look at this,” you say. “Who actually needs all this? It’s obnoxious.”

The stranger chuckles. “You really think so?”

You stop to look at a Chinese vase. It probably cost more than your apartment and your car combined. “All this stuff is beautiful, but I heard the owner lives here alone. He has to get lonely in this giant house, right?”

The stranger regards you for a moment, then says, “He probably does. Maybe he even throws these parties just to have some company.”

You think about his answer. “If that’s the case, I feel bad for him.”

The stranger says no more on the topic, instead leading you into what appears to be some sort of dressing room with an enormous walk-in closet. It’s exactly the kind of room you imagine a stupidly rich guy would get dressed in. There are multiple full length mirrors, high quality lighting, and a display case showing off dozens of expensive looking watches. 

You turn to look at the stranger as he closes the door behind him. He holds out his large yet elegant hand to you again, and when you take it, he suddenly pulls you close, right up against his body. Oh god, he’s so firm and strong! He leans his face down and kisses your lips, both of you still wearing your masquerade masks. His hands slide across your back, one of them moving down to squeeze your ass. 

He pulls away and looks at you, his dark eyes peering into yours. “What would you like me to do?” he asks, his voice low. 

You lean in closer to him, pressing yourself to his warm, sturdy form, and whisper, “I want you to wreck me.”

He puts both hands on your shoulders and, not too hard but not too gently, pushes you down to your knees in front of him. He unbuttons his sleek black pants as he says, “Let’s put that annoying little mouth to good use.”

Oh fuck. How does he know exactly what you’re into? Maybe you give off a vibe. You watch with anticipation, licking your lips, as he pulls out his beautiful, massive cock. Is everything about this man as sexy as possible? From the color to the shape to the thick, delectable meatiness, his cock is gorgeous. 

You don’t waste any time. You lean forward and run your tongue over it, spreading your saliva around, before wrapping your lips around it. You take him so deep, it feels like he’s halfway down your throat, and you love the fact that there’s going to be a hot pink lipstick stain around the base of his cock. 

His hand is in your hair, grip firm but not harsh. “You’re practically swallowing me,” he says. “You must’ve been hungry for cock all night. Is that why you put on that lewd little show for me on the dance floor? So you could end up on your knees for me?”

You look up at his face, your mouth still stuffed full, and mumble a whiny “mmhmm” around his cock. You can see his eyes widen slightly behind the mask, feel his fingers flexing within your strands. You move your head back and forth, fucking him with your throat, fighting back gags, your tongue swirling around him the whole time. 

And when he reaches his limit, he pulls your head back and says, “Open wide.”

You’re happy to obey, sticking your tongue halfway out of your mouth to give him a proper place to aim. When his warm cum hits your tongue and lips, you slowly swirl it around your mouth, giving him time to see it pooled inside before swallowing it. 

He loosens his tie and then lowers himself to his knees in front of you before unbuttoning his shirt, leaving both it and his jacket on but open. You can see his toned torso, can feel how damp your panties have become. He slides the straps of your dress down, revealing your breasts, and then leans down to take one hard nipple into his mouth. You moan as you dig your fingers into the fabric of his jacket. 

The stranger eases you onto your back on the floor, then pushes your shimmering dress up to your waist. It’s the most expensive dress you’ve ever worn, and right now you don’t give a shit it gets dirty. He slides down your lace panties and opens your legs, looking down at your wetness with a somewhat self satisfied smile. 

“So wet for me,” he says as his fingers probe your depths. “Such a little slut, getting soaked for a man who’s face you haven’t even seen.”

Ahhh, fuck, his voice turns you on so much! His fingers rubbing circles into your clit are driving you wild. You want him, no you need him inside you! 

“Please,” you whine, tugging him closer. 

He withdraws his hand and lifts your hips off the floor, pulling your lower half into his lap, his thick cock resting against your needy pussy. “Do you want my cock?”

“Yes, please!” you cry, wiggling in his lap, desperate for some friction. 

He has mercy on you, positioning himself at your entrance and then plunging inside. You gasp in pleasure, arching your back as he begins thrusting into you. 

“So tight,” he groans, gripping your thighs. “You’re clenching me so hard… so desperate… Fuck, you’re the cheapest whore I’ve ever had! You probably would’ve paid me for this cock!”

“Ahhh! Yes, I’m a whore for you! Please fuck me harder!” you scream, feeling your climax approach as he repeatedly hits your g-spot. When he slams into you one more time, you feel the pleasure wash over you as you cum, moaning and trembling. 

He gives a few more pumps, then completely buries himself inside you as he cums, filling you up so well. 

You both pant as he pulls out and stands up, buttoning his clothes. He then extends his hand to you again and helps you to your feet. While you straighten your dress and pull your straps back up, he looks at you somewhat sheepishly and says, “I hope I didn’t go too far with my words.”

You blink in surprise, then laugh. “Oh, don’t worry about it! I was into it.”

He smiles. “I thought so. I’m glad.”

You open your mouth to respond, but there’s a sudden knock on the door. The stranger walks over and opens it. A man in a server’s uniform is standing in the doorway, looking frazzled. 

“There you are, sir! We’ve been looking all over for you!” the server says breathlessly. 

“Oh? And what do you need?” 

“We’ve run out of champagne! Your guests are getting irritated!”

The stranger pats the server’s back. “Send Ryusuke to buy more immediately. Everything will be fine, I’ll go talk to the guests.”

The server seems to relax. “Thanks, Nanami-san.”

You watch the scene, trying to keep your jaw from dropping. Now you remember the name of the host, the man who owns this huge mansion that you’ve been shit talking all night. 

Nanami turns to look at you over his shoulder, a sly grin on his face. “Will you be accompanying me back to the ballroom?”

You smile back at him. “Of course. I might get lost in this stupidly huge house otherwise.”

He takes your hand. “Perhaps if you started visiting on a regular basis, you could learn your way around.”

You walk out the door with him. “That would probably work, Nanami-san.”

[shojizbae]

My Rave Babies

Spencer Reid x Reader

rave baby part two

For three weeks, your coworkers had been barraged nonstop about your scandalous habits. "So, listen to any good EDM?" or " Going to any parties?" had been ringing in my ears all week. The team had managed to sneak in puns during a case.

"Well, that sheriff was just raving, man." Derek leaned against the counter and brought a paper cup to his mouth

"Enough," I groan and toss my head back

"C'mon, you can't just tell us you used to go to raves and then not take us," Emily explains

"We are in the dead of the midwest. Will a serial rapist be on the loose, and you're thinking about going to a rave?" I fill up a paper cup with coffee

"Well, do you know of any back home?" JJ offers, sliding effortlessly into the conversation.

"JJ, you have kids," I whine

"Will can watch them for the night." She refutes

"I can't. I'm going back to the murder case before this town is traumatized further." It's a less effective duck-out, but it draws attention away. Hotch gives me a bit of a look as I rejoin a discussion with an exhausted look.

"I hope you didn't stay up all night partying." He teases

"No, I got a full night's rest. I'm ready to take this guy in." Deny. Deny. Deny.

The case came to a close two days later, with the man castrating himself and then slitting his throat. Unfortunately, the connection that all of the victims had was that they frequented the same club. An EDM / Rocker club with very Rave-like vibes. The jokes flew on the plane ride home.

"Alright, alright, fine. I'm going to call my old friend. She'll let me know what's going on in town."

"Really?" Morgan jumps at the statement

"Yeah, don't make me regret this."

~

It was four days later that a festival would be in town for the weekend. I informed the team that tickets needed to be bought. I also let them know they should be on high alert for roofies and perverts. Skimpy clothes and loud music were catalysts for freaks.

"So you're really knocking the dust off?" Morgan holds an FBI mug up to his lips. He's got an all too-full-of-himself grin on his smug little face.

"Yeah, you're coming too?"

"Yeah, so is Emily."

"And me!" JJ holds each of my shoulders, "I'm so excited, Will hasn't stopped ogling the outfit in my closet. He said he needed to borrow some floss and held it up on the hanger."

"Is anyone else coming?"

"Yeah, Penelope and Spencer," Emily says

"Reid?" I nearly snort my coffee out

"That's my name." He traipses into the kitchen and dumps half the can of sugar into his mug.

"I figured a rave would be a little out of your comfort zone. You're really coming?"

"I-i-It is. But I'm trying some exposure therapy."

"I thought that has been disproven." Emily counters

"Clinically, yes. But some of the results of those who have conquered fear through exposure therapy are too nice to pass up. You know, in recent studies-"

"Yeah, we get it you're going." Derek cuts him off

"So, have you picked out an outfit?"

"It's no Halloween, but I figured I should just wear what I always do."

"What?"

~

The night came faster than I had expected. One night, I was filling out a report on a serial arsonist; the next, I was tying myself into a bikini and zipping up giant platform boots. I put on a silky kimono to disguise the scandalous outfit. We all taxied to the nearby party meeting to get our tickets and a wristband checked. Emily and JJ looked phenomenal. Penelope was show-stopping, though. A galaxy-printed dress, giant boots, and fishnets, bejeweled with bracelets and a bucket hat.

Derek was primarily shirtless, though he found a neon fishnet shirt and tactical boots over some burning man cargo shorts. Finally, Reid was the last of the group. Surrounded by a thousand people in their skivvies, he stuck out like a sore thumb in gray slacks, a purple pinstripe button-down, and a sweater vest. The most crazy part of his outfit was his mismatched DC and Marvel socks.

"Wow, you look-"

"You look," I motion up and down at him. "You know, for the youngest on the team, you look like you're babysitting." He laughs, but it seems like he's shriveling on himself.

"Don't worry, you look great," I reassure and slide my hand up and down his bicep reassuringly. Even if I'm typically a touchy person that gesture might seem too forward for coworkers so I retract my arm awkwardly.

"Dang, (Y/n), where were you hiding that body?" Emily came and patted me on the ass and then slung her arm over my shoulder.

"Ok, tipsy, why don't we get you some water?" I unfurl her from me

"That sounds great," Reid clears his throat. "My throat is feeling a little dry." Emily wraps herself around me, and JJ slings an arm over Reid's shoulder. Morgan follows behind us, and we find some bottles of water that are way overpriced. Music begins to bump behind us, and I drag the group into the heart of the crowd. Morgan rears off when he finds some girls eyeballing him. Penelope follows Derek to a group of fun.

JJ and Emily stay close by but jump and sway with the thrumming music. Reid looks out of place like a black sheep.

"DOC!" I shout over the loud music

"Yeah!"

"You look stiff!" I jump around and scream at him.

"I'm not much of a dancer. Maybe I should just go home."

"What?" I stop jumping. C'mon, you've just got to feel the music." I take a step closer. Thanks to the giant shoes I wear, I'm much closer to his face than I usually am. I loop my fingers into the belt loops on his hips and take another step closer. "C'mon, man, you've just got to feel the rhythm." with my hands, I make him sway his hips to the beat. With a bit of encouragement, he starts to do so by himself.

"Ok, just jump around. Let yourself feel free." I twist and jump to the ear-splitting music. He raises his arms apprehensively, and I fling mine on top of him to show him it's fine. With my permission, he raises them and starts to flail freely.

"Alright, pretty boy, get into it." Derek teases

"Don't listen to him. You look great." I jump and swing my arms like a toddler. Lost in the moment, I spin around to show off my back and shake my hips. I lose my control and dance like a maniac. I back up onto Reid and sway with him. As I feel eyes on us, Reid jumps away from me.

"Are you two having fun?" JJ drawls

"Have you been drinking?" I shout

"A lot!" She responds

"I'm having so much fun. Why did you stop this?" Emily screams

"The hangover you'll have tomorrow? Yeah, have fun taking a jet ride with your ears trying to compress into your skull. And one time I caught a nasty STI from hooking up with someone in a port-a-potty."

"What ew," Emily fake retches.

"Don't worry, I took antibiotics." The music came thrumming through the speakers as a new DJ started their set. Immediately, I recognized her and started leaping like a manic shrimp. "Oh my god, I love this song!" I twisted around and grabbed each of Reid's wrists.

"C'mon, dance with me!" my mind disappeared in the bass. Nothing else mattered but the feeling of my feet pounding into the dirt and the occasional collision of Spencer's limbs. Slowly, the thrumming of the tempo migrated to my ankles.

"Alright, it has been a long time since I've danced like this. I need a break."

"Yeah, I don't think these are the best dance shoes either." there's sweat on his brow, but he holds up one of his feet to show off the brown loafers.

"Let's find the rest of the group," I whisper scream in his ear. In the proximity, I feel my torso press to his. I nearly roll my ankle and he catches me by my hip. He stands me back up and steadies my hips.

"Ok, let's get you to a cab," We find Derek quickly. He only has one girl who won't let go of his bicep tonight. Emily, JJ, and Penelope cling back to us, and we leave the grounds all slightly limping. We all file into a taxi and people filter out of the car slowly.

"I think I'm going to get out here and just take the metro home." JJ and I are the only two left in the vehicle as Penelope gets out of the car.

"What no, just stay in the car. I'll drive you home."

"No, that's far too much."

"I could drive you home." JJ offers as we turn down the corner of her street."

"No, you live further than her."

"Reid, I'll drive you home," I demand.

"Alright, you two have a good night." JJ slinks out of the cab, and we watch Will open the door, and she leaps into his arms.

'the kids are sleeping.' I read from his lips

"They're going to have a fun night." I snort. Reid shrinks on himself again. "C'mon, you've had to have some sort of fun like this."

"No,"

"No?" The cab takes us to my neighborhood, and we get out. Reid insists on paying the driver. I let him in and opened the front door. He takes the same space on my couch and groans from the pain. I bring two cans of lemon seltzer water and slump down with my legs across his lap on the couch. I crack the cans and hand one to him.

"Oh, thank you," he takes it, and I take a big slurp of mine. I extend a foot up and put my ankle near his face

"Could you unzip me?"

Uh, uh, sure." He holds my ankle and tugs the zipper down the inside of my calf. Once it's down, I use my other foot to push it off with my other foot. I hold up the second foot and he obeys, tugging off himself.

"Thank you, I roll, crack my ankles, and sigh in relief. "Whew, those were killing me." I start to roll down my thigh-high fishnets.

"Uh, would you like to go to the bedroom to get changed?"

"No, I'm fine like this." I pull the second sock off. I readjust the slipper kimono and tug one of my blankets up my shoulders. I twist around to lie on Reid's chest, straddling his leg.

"Uh, what are you,"

"I'm tired, Spencer." I dig into his chest with my own and loop my arms around his neck. I readjust myself even more around him. His tie stabbed me in my temple, and I tugged it off his chest.

"Uh (Y/n), what are you-"

"Calm down," I say, undoing his top buttons for the skin-to-skin contact my body craves. Your chest is warm." I cuddle into it and kiss his collar.

"I had a good night, Spencer," I sink further into his frame and pull the blanket on harder. I feel a hand thread its way into my hair but dreamland takes me away.

"I had a good night too."

[bouncybongfairy]

felix catton x reader where felix cheats and tries to win reader back 🫣🫣🫣

Nice Try

Felix Catton x Fem Reader Smut

Summary: A week after Felix cheats, you attempt to end your sulking by going to a party. He is there and convinces you to come back to his dorm; all in an attempt to win you back.

Word Count: 2.0k+

Account Ref: @kaionyx

TW: Drunken Sex, Nasty Smut

<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3

Things have been quite stressful lately. You’d already been struggling to keep up with all your assignments. Now with the recent infidelity in your relationship, it was near impossible to focus. Truly nothing made you cringe more than watching a man beg for forgiveness after cheating. Felix had been texting you all week, trying to salvage the relationship the two of you had. It just wasn’t happening, trying to find the respect you had for him was like looking for a unicorn. You were currently in your dorm, getting ready to go out. It was that time of the semester where parties were every weekend and the smell of hopelessness lingered in everyone's nose. Being confined to your room due to a mild depression, it was finally time to go out and be a whore. The first couple days you were feeling guilty for not responding to Felix. Now you couldn’t be more excited to go out, not even with any girlfriends. On a mission to get dicked down, you start doing your hair and makeup. Drawing on a thick wing of eyeliner and complementing it with huge eyelashes. It had been a week since the last time you wore makeup, which caused you to feel quite full of yourself. After getting dressed and making sure your purse had all the essentials before leaving.

The air outside was cold and crisp, enough to make your stomach tighten as you walked. Hitting your pen as you made your way towards the frat house. It was still pretty early so the lawn wasn’t completely thrashed with bottles and drunken students. Immediately you head towards the kitchen, making yourself a drink. Your face lights up when you see the sour cherry syrup sitting next to the Ciroc bottles. Mixing the two into a solo cup and making your way back into the living room. Felix was there, leaning against one of the walls. He immediately spots you, walking quite briskly to greet you. Asking why you haven’t been taking any of his calls or responding to messages. The fact that he was even asking was pissing you off, like he forgot he cheated on you. 

“Maybe you could come over to my place? I have a surprise for you,” he says, you could tell he was a little tipsy. When he could see you weren’t amused he started finding other reasons for you to come over, “not to mention you left a lot of shit at my place,” he says, resting his hand on your hips. You allow him to do so but not let him pull you closer. 

“Ask me again when I'm drunker,” you say, laughing and turning to walk in the other direction. 

Ending up spotting a few friends from your social science class. Grouping in with them as you drank, they all seemed quite excited to see you out and about. Knowing you’d recently been through a breakup, they were encouraging you to drink and smoke. You happily obliged, constantly making trips to the kitchen to refill your cup. Dancing on your friends, enjoying the energy of everyone around you. Like everyone was letting out their demons one way or another. However, you started feeling quite sticky, the air thick with smoke. You excuse yourself and make your way to the front yard. Needing a bit of fresh air and wanting to smoke a blunt. It was still quite nippy outside but the vodka blanket was keeping you warm. Lighting the blunt and taking a deep drag, tilting your head back and exhaling. Admiring the moon as you looked up at the sky. Suddenly you smell menthol, reminding you of Felix. Sure enough when you look for the smell, you see him standing a couple feet away from you. Just your luck you’d run into him outside while having a smoke. His eyes light up and he walks over to greet you. He trips a little on his way over, which makes you chuckle. “As embarrassing as that was, hearing your laugh really made it worth it,” he says, the cheesy pickup line made you roll your eyes. 

“Who’s dad gave you that one to use?” you joke, taking another drag. 

“Oh come one, don’t act like you don’t miss me,” he says, offering you a hit on his ciggy, “I know you love a good puff when you’re drunk,” he says, taking the blunt out of your hand to insinuate he wanted to trade. 

Due to your inebriation, you were a little more willing to entertain his foolishness. Taking a drag, closing your eyes to enjoy the fresh feeling of menthol stinging your chest. Not used to the potency of a cig, you start coughing a bit. He was making small talk with you, basically running down this past week's events. You weren’t really paying attention, instead admiring him as he spoke. The two of you had a very active and healthy sex life. Banging like rabbits, it didn’t matter where or when. When you’re used to fucking at least once a day, a week seemed like a century. He looked amazing with the porch lights shining down on him. Illuminating his massive figure, he bellowed so much smoke from his exhales; nearing incinerating the blunt into ash with just a few hits. The smell of his cologne flooding your nose, giving you a small level of comfort. 

“So have you thought about hanging out tonight?” he asks, tilting his head to the side. 

At first you were going to decline his offer, however you were in desperate need to catch a dick. It was also nice to have sex in an apartment as opposed to a dorm room with thin walls. Not to mention it would be quite dangerous to be walking alone on campus while cross faded. It was actually nice walking together while holding each other. Having his arm draped over your shoulder, hand caressing the soft skin of your neck. Running your hand up and down his arm, blushing when you felt goosebumps on his skin. Felix smoked your blunt into a roach, so you were passing the pen back and forth to each other. His apartment was only two blocks from campus, luckily because the both of you were wasted. You held onto his belt loops once you finally got to his apartment. Waiting patiently for him to unlock the door, immediately the smell of cologne and stale smoke. To some it might be gross but for you it was nostalgic; reminding you of a simpler time, when you were ignorant to who Felix really was. He was turning on the stereo, grabbing a bottle of Jewel of Russia vodka. 

“Is that the surprise?” you asked, as he filled two shot glasses.

“No give me a second,” he said, going back into the bedroom, when he came out he was holding a teddy bear with a shirt that said: sorry for being an asshole. With a box of Martin’s Chocolatier chocolates. You couldn’t help but laugh, as sweet as the gesture was, it was humorous at its core. When you’re reminded that these gifts are because he cheated. 

“Aww you’re so sweet,” you play along, acting like this made up for shit.

“Really? I don’t know if you’ve been getting my voicemails but I want you to know that I’m so fucking sorry. I’d do anything to show you how much I regret taking you for granted,” he said. 

“Anything?” you asked suggestively, letting your body weight be supported by the kitchen island. 

“Fucking anything,” he says, eyeing you like a oasis in a desert. 

You use your hand gesturing to him to come closer. Without hesitation he approaches you. Using the counter behind you to support himself, pressing his body completely against yours. You felt like fire had been ignited on your cheeks and ears. Grateful that your makeup was hiding how truly flustered you were. He was breathing heavily down onto you, the smell of liquor coming from his breath was making you wet. Both of you were testing each other, waiting to see who was going to make the first move. The tension in the room was enough to make you swell and ache. Watching him eye you down like a piece of meat. Wanting to pounce but being stubborn, wanting him to kiss you first. Suddenly, he picks you up. Now you were sitting on the counter, him standing between your legs. An involuntary gasp leaves your mouth from the sudden movement. The height difference between the two of you is now gone, making direct eye contact. Lips hovering over each other, nothing but a couple centimeters keeping the distance. Wrapping your legs around his hips, making his dick print press against you. The friction made him smash his mouth against yours. 

The kiss was sloppy and rough. Biting and sucking on each other's lips till they were raw. Wrapping your arms around his neck, pulling him as close as possible. He uses his arm to clear off the counter. Shit catering to the floor, not that either of you gave a fuck. You unbuckle his belt and unzip his jeans, exposing himself. Following suit, pulling your dress and the panties to the side. Nothing could have pulled the two of you out of the moment even for a second; not even a condom. He sticks his fingers in your mouth, collecting saliva to wet himself down. Moaning as he practically finger fucked your mouth, looking at you like he couldn’t wait to rip you apart. After stroking himself for a couple moments, he was lining his head up with your entrance. Letting your head fall back onto the cold counter top, becoming impatient with waiting. He finally slid in, after having no contact for a week, the feeling of him filling you was euphoric. You pulled him down by the hair and for a while you both just embarrassed each other. Both of you enjoying each other's bodies after being apart both emotionally and physically. Once in a while you’d clench around him, enjoying the fullness; he’d rock his hips feeling you walls suffocating him with an intense heat. 

He began fucking into you, tired of wasting time. Coiling your fingering in his shaggy hair, pulling slightly as he kissed and sucked hickies onto your shoulder and neck. A thin layer of sweat starts to coat both your bodies as the pace quickens. Feeling close to coming, you push him away. Sitting up on your elbows, he pulls out and away looking confused and concerned. 

“Take me to the couch.” You said. 

He smirks and carries you over, taking a seat with you on his lap. Facing him while on your knees, he starts to knead and play with your chest. You line his cock up and sink down until you fully take his member into you. He gasps at how tight and wet you felt around him, a groan leaves your mouth. Starting to bounce up and down, slowly at first. Lifting your all the way from his tip back down to the base. His eyebrows were furrowed and his mouth hung open as he watched. Working yourself on his cock, watching him get more and more flustered. Made you feel formidable, seeing the power your body wielded over him. Moving from your knees onto your toes, allowing you to bounce faster. He took this opportunity to start pounding up into you at an animalistic pace. Even though he was absolutely obliterating your cervix, the look on his face alone almost made you cum. He was bright red with sweat dripping, putting his heart and soul into destroying your pussy. 

He stops, picking you up without saying anything and walks the two of you into the bathroom. Setting you down before lamming the lights on and ripping the shower curtain off the hooks, causing them to fly to the ground. Seeing how desperate and rough he was driving you crazy. Still carrying you he slams your back into the shower wall. Pressing his full body weight onto you, pushing himself deep into you. Now that his hips and torso were helping support your weight, he reaches over and cuts the water on. Not even caring that the two of you were still clothed. The hot water rains down as he starts furiously slamming himself in you. Wet hair covered your face slightly, fucking up your makeup and lashes. Normally you’d be insecure about how ridiculous your face looked, makeup running down your face. He was making you feel like a pornstar, like you were the only thing that could satisfy him. Fucking into you so hard that all the bottles on the shower rack were bouncing loudly. He was panting, water dripping off the hair that was flopped on the front of his face; just slightly covering his eyes. Moaning so loud it was practically screaming, tightening around him as you got close. 

Feeling you start to tighten and convulse made him cum into you. Hard thrusts as he moaned loudly into your ear. Making eye contact as the two of you came together. The way you could feel him get harder, and the last couple thrust become more slippery only made you want more. Catching his breath and turning the water off. Instead of stopping, he just walked back to the bedroom. Standing at the foot of the bed before falling forward, so that the two of you were missionary on the bed. After fucking for so long, the two of you were both extremely sensitive. Almost to the point where you wanted to stop, but when he started rocking his hip again you couldn't get enough. Cum leaking out of you slightly, making his cock slide in and out so easily. You let your body go limp and he slowly trusted, increasing his pace. Holding the back of your knees up, allowing him to frantically chase his orgasm at a better angle. Due to you having recently orgasm, it didn’t take long before you were the both of you were teetering the edge of your climaxes. Gripping onto the blanket as you felt him fill you against. Bucking and rutting uncontrollably while moaning. He collapses next to you, both of you practically half dead. While he laid there passed out, you got up. Legs shaking but still determined to take the soaked clothes you had on. Putting on a pair of his sweatpants and hoodie. Reaching out trying to cuddle you, he notices you were up; dressed and on your phone. 

“Thank you for giving us a second chance,” he said groggily. 

“Who said that?” you asked, grabbing your purse before meeting the Uber you just ordered.

[photmath]

Another Round? | Trent Alexander-Arnold

Pairing: Trent Alexander-Arnold x Female Reader

Summary: One conversation about your sexual desires leads you bent sideways with the last person you expected.

Word Count: 6.6k

Warnings: SUGGESTIVE CONTENT (18+), minors DNI, partying, mention of fwb content

Note: Kind of a bit rushed and ahhh, I may end up doing some edits later.

You weren’t supposed to be in this position: head resting on his bare chest while his arm skimmed your waist. It all happened too fast. You knew the saying, “one thing leads to another,” but you never expected to find yourself a victim to those words. You thought it was a fluke, that if you ever found yourself in that position you would resist it.

But here you were nonetheless. Having slept with the man no one—least of all, you—expected.

“I’m so glad you could make it!” Brie screamed, drawing you in for a hug. She was hosting a last-minute party as the summer holiday was slowly coming to a break. Her and your close friends were invited to come to her beach house for the weekend, although you weren’t entirely sure how long you were planning on staying.

It was the first time most of you were together after university had let out. Although many of you were close enough for shared vacations and had been on some together already, it was hard to get the entire friend group together, dates often overlapping with other events.

You gave Brie a smile while scoping out the set up. Brie’s family owned a private area of the beach, the sand and water only a few steps off of her backyard deck. She had already laid logs in a circle around the soon-to-be bonfire.

Hearing raucous, you turn towards the noise and see a car pulling in. Brie chuckles, “That must be Jude and Trent.”

You didn’t share many classes with either of them, but they were in the friend group, always loud and present. Jude was the newest addition, a teammate of Trent’s that he would drag to parties. Jude was much younger than the rest of you all, you often joked about his age while he would just roll his eyes.

Trent on the other hand, was much more private. He could be rowdy with the group sometimes but also very reserved to himself. The two of you were never super close like he was with others. Only friends with two entirely different lifestyles who made small talk. Trent lived for parties and football while you would be locked up in the studio working on a new canvas. The only parties you went to were the ones Brie and the others hosted.

“Hey!” Jude yells, gaining your attention. You expected to see Trent coming out of the driver’s side but it’s Jude.

You beam, “Long time no see, strangers.”

Trent wears dark, circled shades so you can’t make out if he’s looking at you when he looks in your direction. A small smile tugs to his lips as the gold necklace around his neck shines above his black button-up. Jude, on the other hand, wore bright red swimming trunks and a black tank that hugged him tight.

“Nice to see you again,” he pulls you close to him briefly, then turns around and tosses Trent the car keys.

Breaking the ice, you force out a chuckle in Trent’s direction as he gives you a one-armed hug, “You let him drive?”

“He needed the practice,” Trent shrugs, his arm sliding off of your shoulders once you remove yours from his waist. “He may not have a license, but I don’t have a car right now.”

You furrow your brows, suddenly confused, “Where’s yours?”

“I sold it.”

“But you promised you would let me drive it!” you exclaim. It was true, he had a Lamborghini that he was ‘borrowing’ from his uncle, but then later admitted it was his car. He had let a couple of his friends drive it and once it was supposed to be your turn, he said it was getting too late and that he should head home.

Trent only smiles, “You can drive the next car.”

“Is it a Lambo?”

“No,” he says, walking towards the house.

You let out a small sound of defeat, not at all that entirely upset, but you would’ve loved to be behind the wheel of that car. Following Trent silently, you get a whiff of his cologne. The smell intoxicates your senses and somehow also relieves the tension in your shoulders. Once you two make it further into the kitchen of the house, Jude comes by and slings his arm over you, handing you an alcoholic can.

“Oh I’m not drinking tonight,” you refuse, laughing as he takes a gulp. You raise a brow, “Aren’t you too young?”

He rolls his eyes, “You know I’m not.” He tucks the other can into his armpit, taking another gulp, “I’m planning on getting fucked up.”

“So you’re staying the night?”

He nods, “Mm-hmm, just tonight. I can’t stay tomorrow night—family stuff.”

“You’re taking Trent back then?”

He shrugs, “Don’t know. He wants to stay all three days, but I told him I can’t take him home so we’ll see.”

“Okay, try not to get wasted before the party starts,” you smirk, pulling away from him. Jude gives you a boyish grin as you walk away to help out Brie. Trent leans against the kitchen island, peeking through the tins of food. He catches you walking past, sending you a soft smile. His shades now abandoned, hanging against the buttons of his shirt.

---

As more and more people arrived—university and childhood friends alike—the looser you became. You were still sipping on a soda as you swayed to the music, you all moving closer to the beach. Not everyone was expected to stay the night, and the ones that were, seemed to be the most buzzed. Jude had to be hauled out of the beach multiple times and be kept under the supervision of you all.

You had lost track of Trent, in all honesty, not even looking for him but once you noticed he was missing, you were curious. He had never crossed your mind before, but now that he wasn’t in your line of sight, suddenly you were—what? Making sure he hadn’t left? Hadn’t taken off without telling you his goodbyes?

Usually, if he were to leave the room, you weren’t immediately thinking of him like you were now.

The beach was only lit from the bonfire and the lights that showcased through the windows of the house. The deck and pool were also illuminated as you walked towards the house. You wanted a new soda anyway.

As you mingled with a couple of friends on your way there, you spotted Trent on the edge of the deck near the ice chests. Of course. You make your way towards him, tossing the empty can into a bin and then giving him a timid smile once he turns your way.

“Have you seen Jude?” he asks, bending down to open the cooler for you. You pick another drink and then stand up, cracking it open.

“Last I saw him, he was puking by the fire.”

Trent shakes his head with disapproval, “That kid.”

“What? Are you on babysitting duty?”

He chuckles, “No. I have his keys anyway.”

You watch as he swings his soda in his hand, staring around at the crowd. He seemed a mixture of uninterested and very nonchalant as he looked all around you. You give him a meek smile although he doesn’t catch it, “Are you going to go by the bonfire?”

“No.”

You nod slowly, pointing towards it, “Well I’m going to go.”

“Have fun,” he voices aloof.

Asshole.

That was the kind of Trent you were more used to. Few words towards you. Either lively or withering, never in between. Feeling embarrassed for evening caring, you pull out your phone and text someone you swore to let go of months ago, but you needed an outlet for a few minutes.

A couple of hours pass as you find yourself in the pool with Brie and Jude, his eyes are brimmed red while he sings loudly in your ear. He keeps swaying side to side, making water slap against your cheek.

“Jude,” you scold.

“Sorry, love,” he slurs, giggling and then turning towards Brie to serenade her.

You laugh, scrolling through Brie’s phone to queue the next song. Your own phone is in your other hand, dangerously filled with water droplets. It buzzes and you squint to make out the blurry text:

Sorry, not making it tonight.

You groan, Jude suddenly turning towards you but you are quick to lock your phone. You hand Brie back her phone, “Think I’m going to go take a walk.”

“Okay, stay close to the house.”

“Will do,” you smile, wading through the water to get to the other end. You dry yourself with a towel and then slide your cover up back on before rolling your eyes as you reread the text message. Making your way to the boardwalk, you don’t notice Trent leaning against the wooden frame until he’s a step in front of you.

“What’s up?”

“Nothing,” you grumble. You walk past him, slipping your phone into your pocket. The bottom of his shoes scrape against the wood as he follows you.

“Who texted?”

“No one.”

Trent chuckles, “You seem upset.”

“I’m not,” you grit your teeth. The boardwalk led up to the small lot reserved for cars, your own car being one of them. You hadn’t necessarily meant to walk towards them, but you were suddenly thankful that you had left your car keys in the pocket of your cover up.

“Are you leaving?”

“No.”

“But your car is—”

“I’m not leaving, Trent.” Trent’s skin glows dimly from the fire off in the distance although the both of you are too far to be seen from the house and beach. You lean against your car door and fold your arms, “I needed some space.”

The muscles of his arms grow as he folds them, shifting his weight to one leg. A smirk crawls onto his face as he swipes his bottom lip with his thumb, “Ah, I know what you were up to.”

You roll your eyes, still somewhat annoyed that he was still here pestering you—especially after you had left him alone when he was practically begging for silence earlier. “What was I up to then?”

“You were on your way to see someone.”

“No I wasn’t.”

“Yes you were,” he repeats. “You’re disappointed because they said no.”

You want to roll your eyes but don’t want to give him the satisfaction of being right because that’s exactly what you did. They were supposed to be at the party anyway, but didn’t feel like making the hour-long drive towards the beach at the last minute. As if the drive was so long anyway.

“I’m right, aren’t I?”

“Since you seem to know the answer to your question, why ask then?” you ask in vexation. Trent was loving it, pleased to have pressed your buttons and guess correctly, though it was never a competition in his eyes.

The smirk he wears slowly fades as a moment of silence passes. He makes a noise with his lips before he speaks, “I don’t know…was wondering what they had that wasn’t already here.”

You shake your head, “I’m not having this conversation with you.”

“What conversation?”

“You’re doing a lot right now,” you wave him off, grabbing a hold of the keys in your pocket and unlocking the car.

“Oh come on,” he deflates. “I’m kidding around, I’m sorry.” Opening the door, you hop in while he steps forward, “Wait—I really didn’t mean it, Y/N.”

You chew on your bottom lip as he keeps the door pried open, his hand wrapped on top of it. He’s staring down at you, waiting for your response.

“Get in the damn car then.”

“Are you serious?” he hesitates.

“If you ask me another question, Trent, I seriously think I’m going to lose it,” you warn. He only lets out a snort, shutting your door and walking around to the other end. His black shirt flaps open as he walks across the front, him sporting the same blank tank as Jude underneath.

He hops into the passenger seat, flashing you a nervous look as you turn on your car, “Don’t kill me now.”

“You willingly drove with Jude,” you retorted, letting out a smile to lose some of the tension you were having. You didn’t want the entire drive to be uncomfortable for the both of you. You start the car and then pull out, Trent looking around eagerly. “Do you want ice cream?”

He makes a face, “Not really…”

“Well that sucks,” you look at him and he turns towards you. His eyes are quick as they scan the features of your face, subtle but noticeable. “I was only asking nicely because I want ice cream.”

Trent lets out a strained laugh, “Uh—I guess I can do ice cream if you’re paying.”

“Woah, I never said that.”

“But you asked!”

“To take your order, not to pay.”

“It’ll only be a few.”

“Fine,” you concede, waving him off. He chuckles, settling in his seat as you come to the street. You don’t need directions to make it to the beachside stores that were ten minutes away from the house, having always picked up ice cream from the parlor late at night.

Parking the car, you turn it off and hop out, Trent immediately by your side as he looks around the stores. “They never sleep, hmm?”

You shake your head, “Not with the abundance of drunk tourists.”

“I’ve always driven past here but never stopped.”

“We can walk around if you’d like, I don’t mind.”

“Sure,” he smiles, pulling the door handle of the parlor and letting you walk in first. You beam at the worker, immediately ordering a two-scoop ice cream cone while Trent orders pralines and cream in a cone. He ends up paying for the cones, making a deal with you because you put up with him teasing you.

As the two of you walk down the boardwalk, you point at items you find interesting or what he finds ludicrous. He stops at a bench that looks on towards the moon and dark horizon of the water and sits down, “So just to calm down my curiosity, are you ever going to tell me what made you upset? I know it’s not my business but I am curious.”

You sit down next to him, muttering, “You were right.”

Trent’s eyebrows shoot up as he stares at you, his jaw gaping wide, “No way.”

“Yes,” you nod, finally biting onto the waffle cone.

“You were going to leave the party to hook up with someone?”

You nod again, cheeks burning slightly while you were acknowledging your escapades with Trent of all people. Neither of you had ever exchanged these kinds of intimate details despite knowing that the both of you were having sex with other people around the university. For Trent especially, it wasn’t uncommon for your friends to tease him about a fresh, new hickey on him at times.

“I can’t believe it,” he murmurs. “That I was right about that.”

“Don’t act surprised as if you wouldn’t do it yourself.”

“I would probably do it with someone at the party, not drive to them,” he exasperates. “I would never drive.”

“I know, that’s why the girl always has to drive and it’s annoying,” you lean up against the bench, folding one of your legs on top of the other. “Then you guys think we’re the desperate ones, but the truth is you all are lazy.”

He shakes his head, “No no, not entirely true. I’ve driven to them before, but I mean there were a bunch of people at the party, Y/N! Why couldn’t you have just had sex with someone there?”

You shrug, you hadn’t thought of it. You had a small fear of getting caught, but then you also wondered where exactly you would have sex with someone at. It didn’t help that you knew almost everyone at that party in some kind of way, so it wasn’t the first idea you thought of.

“How far was the drive?” he grills.

“Still with the questions, Trent,” you tease. “A little under an hour.”

“Oh my!” he exclaims. “You were going to drive all the way over there for what?”

“It’s just easier when you already know the person,” you defend. “Have you never had casual sex?”

“I have,” he turns your way, “I’m just shocked, I can’t lie.”

You have heard this story before. No one ever expected you to be having sex with men regularly, making it seem like you had so many partners when you didn’t.

You try to bite your tongue but fail, “And then that’s another thing. Everyone sees me as some innocent girl who has no idea what she’s doing when I do. It’s like they’re intrigued with corrupting me and trying to ‘break me,’ and then when they figure out that I do know what I’m doing, they get all butt hurt.”

Trent’s eyes grow wide, the cone almost slipping out of his grip as he listens to you.

“Men have the worst egos, getting so upset that they don’t last long, so I can never have my way, and always have to let them be in control,” you rant. “They’re so fragile! I mean it’s not a bad thing you can’t last for a couple of minutes if the other person knows what they’re doing—it’s the reaction you guys have afterward.”

Trent puts his hand up in the air to slow you down, “Wait, is this about the guy you were going to meet up with?”

You groan, “Him and others.”

“Then why were you going to go back if you know what to expect?” Although there’s a decent amount of space between the two of you, Trent still outstretches his arm on top of the bench as he angles his body towards yours. “Because you know him?”

“That, and I mean sometimes he lets me have his way.”

“What is that supposed to mean?”

You give him an all-knowing look and he shrugs. You sputter out an awkward laugh, “I can’t believe I’m telling you this.”

Trent was all for it, enjoying the gossip from an outsider point of you. He chuckles, “I won’t tell anyone. Come on, now tell me what absolutely kills girls having sex with us.”

“You better not, Trent, this is only now slightly embarrassing.”

He raises his arms up, “You have my word.”

It was unwise to trust him so quickly but you did it anyway. You sigh, “He would never let me get on top, it’d always be him doing the work, and then the second I wanted to take control he wasn’t having it.”

Trent frowns, “He never wanted you to get on top?”

“A couple of times, but then he would be pulling me off.”

“Let me guess, he lasted only two seconds?”

You facepalm, groaning, “Yes!”

Trent lets out a loud laugh, “Oh god.”

“It’s happened to me before, almost as if they like the idea of me doing the work until it actually happens,” you complain. “Then other little pet peeves of course—when they come first and just leave you hanging there, but that’s a common one that girls complain about.”

Trent nods, his face scrunched up, “I’ve heard that before—not about me though.”

You roll your eyes, “Whatever, I’m sure she has faked it before.”

Trent blows out a whisk of air, shaking his head adamantly, “No, no, let’s finish talking about you before we start with me.”

You laugh. Trent had long gone finished his cone while listening to you, but you never really had the chance to eat yours while ranting. Trent notices the subtle frown beginning to form on your face, “I can buy you another after this, or when I tell you my stories.”

“No, it’s okay.”

“Are you sure?”

“Hmm,” you debate, reconsidering as a kind smile forms on his face. Well, since he asked so nicely. “Let me think about it.”

“You want me to toss it for you?”

“Sure, thank you, Trent.” You hand him the melted mess of the cone wrapped inside the napkin. He had always been thoughtful, attentive to his friends and certain facial expressions that he was a master at reading. Especially when you all were out in public, he protected the group and made sure everyone made it home safely.

He comes back to the bench, sitting a little closer than before and turns towards you. “Go on,” he smirks.

“Sometimes when men talk too much mid-act,” you go on.

Trent snorts, “Not a fan?”

You shrug, “Sometimes. I just wish men could read the room better, that there’s a time and place for it and sometimes we aren’t feeling it. But nooo, they keep on doing their thing, disregarding the other entirely.”

Trent can’t help but to watch your face contort as you talk, enamored by the way you weren’t embarrassed to share this with him. “Maybe you have had bad partners. You haven’t found the right person. Do you want a relationship at all with them?”

“Not him,” you cringe, earning a laugh from Trent.

“Are you looking for a relationship?”

You shrug, “If it happens, it happens.”

“So, just sex?”

“Not with every guy I see.”

He scoffs, “Obviously, I’m not judging here.”

“I only want to try out different things, is that too hard to ask for?” you sigh. You wished you had some kind of shame sounding like a horny teenager but you were fed up. It had been months since you had more-than-decent sex, one in which you didn’t feel obliged to follow their lead. You didn’t mind when they took control, but you didn’t want the same thing over and over again. Now, you were comfortable admitting what you did and didn’t want.

Trent snickers, “I mean personally, I don’t mind when they take the lead. Yeah, I like doing my own thing but—” he shrugs “—it’s not the end of the world. Do I come faster when she’s on top? Sometimes, yes, but that just means another round and some more foreplay.”

You almost hated the way the little light in your brain suddenly piqued with interest when he first mentioned that he didn’t mind giving up the lead. You couldn’t see Trent that way. He wasn’t someone who you ever considered sleeping with, especially when the two of you had never bonded like the others. He wasn’t someone you hung out regularly with, and so the two of you suddenly being closer would raise some suspicions. And goodness, why were you thinking this deeply about him?

It was never going to happen.

You nod, trying to remember Trent’s words, “Foreplay. Always important.”

“And aftercare.”

You stifle a laugh, “That too.”

Trent takes a moment before his next response, letting the sound of the waves lapping over each other fill the silence. Trent lets out an airy sigh, “Do you still want your ice cream? I reckon it’s getting quite late.”

“No, thank you for the offer though,” you smile. He stands up, holding his hand out for you to take. You grab a hold of it, impressed with the warmth and then let it go as the two of you make it back to the car. It was a much lighter walk, perhaps because of the two of you sharing a few more-than-personal details between each other.

He bumps into your shoulder, whispering, “Wait, so does this mean you rarely gave this man head?”

You laugh, “I mean, unless we weren’t planning on having sex afterward, then yes. Once he came, he was done for the day.”

Trent gawks, holding in his laughter, “Oh man. And you still wanted to drive to him!”

“Shut up,” you push him away. “He was my only option.”

Trent sputters out a laugh, “I mean, I wouldn’t say only option.”

And you knew the look he gave you, it was almost universal. The suggestive eyes accompanied with a small smirk. The two of you didn’t exchange another word as you got to the car, but the feeling was mutual and thick. The profound silence didn’t help either. You avoided his gaze like a hawk the entire drive, hoping that the party would still be at its peak when you arrived.

But it only took one look as you turned off the car at the lot, the party still in full effect. It was a quick glance in his direction, but Trent was already looking at you through a hooded gaze. If you held no composure, you would have jumped on him in a second.

“Fuck,” you mutter.

“What?” he asks lowly, voice full of sultry. He takes off his seatbelt and does nothing else.

“I knew this was going to happen.”

Trent looks around in the car, his hand raising, “Nothing is happening.”

“I knew that as soon as I started talking about sex you would see it as an invitation. I’m not having sex with you.”

He shakes his head, “I never said that. I didn’t think of that either.”

“Then fix your face.”

“It’s fixed.”

You raise a brow while staring at him. The both of you were having a standoff, seeing who would fold first. You could lie and say you didn’t want this, but Trent’s cologne, his exposed chest, his hands—they were all drawing you in. They’d been drawing you in since the night started, only now were you finally realizing it.

Trent’s lips curl up, “I wasn’t trying to have sex with you. Get your head out of the gutter.”

“Oh shut up,” you retort.

“You talked about guys having bad egos,” he smiles, his teeth flashing in your direction. He was teasing now, enjoying the way you had suddenly gone quiet.

“I stand by it.”

His low laugh echoes throughout the car, and the sound of you unclicking your seatbelt is even louder. Trent’s gaze follows the seatbelt sliding back into its spot. He wasn’t going to make the first move, you knew that.

Groaning, you hide your smile with your hand, “Agh, you’re such an ass.”

His sneer only widens as he looks down at his own thighs. Your car was tall enough for you to hop on top of him hypothetically, but did you really want to have sex with him in the parking lot? Somehow, the idea of the two of you getting caught only intrigued you more.

“There’s more space in the back,” you suggest. “If—you know—something were to…”

Trent leans in slowly, his fingertips grazing across your jaw, stopping at your chin, “Ah, I thought you wanted to be in control, are you getting shy, love?”

Your face was the warmest it had been the entire night, not even when you were standing directly in front of the bonfire were you this hot. His delicate fingers press against your cheek and chin, teasing you the entire time.

You gulp, your breath hitching as his hand falls towards your neck, “Trent—”

“Tell me what you want.”

“Get in the backseat.” His fingers trail upward again as you feel his exhale land on your face.

“And?”

“I don’t know if I can go on top.”

He smirks, eyes snapping right back to yours, “Why is that?”

“I—”

“You got shy?”

“A little,” you roll your eyes. Trent only chuckles, caressing your cheek with his hand. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be,” he assures. “Do you want to do this or not?”

Glancing down at his lips, you nod, “Yes.”

“I’m all yours then.”

Trent waited until you initiated the kiss. He didn’t want to smash his lips onto yours until you at least made the slightest of movements. And that’s what it was: teeth clashed, mouths hungrily attacked the other, while your hands searched for any ounce of skin they could find. Trent’s touch was still a bit hesitant, but once he felt how much you pushed against him, no longer did he restrain himself.

He palmed your breast, eliciting a gasp as the other hand of his removed your cover up.

“Backseats?” he groaned, feeling the growing tightness of his shorts. He only wanted to pull you on top of him, and finally let you have your way with him like you craved.

“Mm-hmm,” you moan. You detached from him and immediately the both of you jumped out of the front seats and went into the back. Because of all the talking you had done previously, the windows were foggy. And as the night continued, it would get more humid and hot.

Trent met you in the middle, gripping onto your jaw to deeply kiss you. The car was too dark to make out his neck and below, so you had to trace against the ridges of his abs through his shirt in order to find his bulge. He groaned as you made contact, buckling his hips into your palms.

That was all you needed for you to change your mind. You peeled out of his grip while his head fell against the headrest as you squeezed him through his trunks.

His hands were lost in your hair as you tugged his shorts down, he expressed a loud moan once you drew him into your mouth. Even as you continued, he wasn’t quieting down, letting you do whatever you wanted. A small light from the fire landed on his cheek, and it made watching him more serene as he contorted with each suck and brush of your tongue.

“Fuck, I won’t last this round, but I will the next one,” he pants.

You chuckle, feeling his hands go stiff beside you and his hips jolt. His stomach deflates as he spills right into your mouth, watching you try to catch every speckle of him.

As more clothes were discarded throughout the night, he made sure to kiss you in every spot he could, taking his time until he got you to hold him in a whimpering mess. Going back and forth between gentle and rough, increasing his thrusts whenever he knew you were close. He let you ride him for the last round, you bubbling with eagerness once you finally had his thighs underneath yours. Trent’s lips were attached to the skin of your collarbone throughout, his palms kneaded and squeezed the flesh of your butt.

He kept his word and lasted for those two rounds, just now finally pulling out to come in between you two. The car was sticky, the windows dripping with condensation as he pulled you closer to him. Your panting chest rested against his bruised shoulders—love marks and crescent-shaped indents from your nails that nearly drew blood littered his body. Your chest was nearly the same mosaic as his.

Trent planted gentle kisses on your chest and neck, his hands soothing along your thighs and waist. He rested his head against the headrest breathing heavily, you sitting on top of him with a lousy smirk.

That had topped all of your previous sex sessions, Trent was so in tune with what caused a reaction out of you versus what didn’t. He didn’t waste time in trying to find one, only moving on to a different area to kiss, tease, or suck.

“That was really good,” Trent praises.

“Are you surprised?”

“I’m impressed.”

You laugh, kissing his cheek, “I guess you can say I’ve had some practice.”

“Why not practice on me from now on?” he asks.

You narrow your eyes, a smirk forming as your hands rest on the nape of his sweaty neck. Neither of you had dared to move, still needing to somehow clean the mess that ran down the both of you. “What do you mean?”

“We have sex together.”

“Exclusively?”

“Yes.”

Your cheeks flushed, “Are you being serious?”

“Yes. If you’d like.”

You gape, Trent sending a teasing smile as he stared back at your shock. You weren’t opposed, not when your legs were still numb and feeling the aftershocks of what had transpired. “Friends with benefits?”

He nods, holding out his pinky finger, “Friends with benefits.”

“Don’t fall in love with me,” you tease.

“Going to be hard when you have me in a mess like that,” he chuckles, puckering out his lips for a kiss. You give him a peck and then rub your hands against his shoulders. You moving your thighs make the both of you groan at the throbbing feeling.

“Round four?” you joke, but once you look up at him, his eyes already gleam with a darkened haze.

Jokes were on you.

---

Returning to the beach house wasn’t as difficult as you thought it would be, although you did lose your cover up in the process. It was sacrificed to wipe off the mess of you two since you didn’t have a spare towel in the car. Trent’s shirt was black, so you definitely didn’t want that to be stained.

Your legs felt like jello as you made your way to the upstairs, every muscle was sore. Trent was some meters behind, lagging behind and trying to blend in. Your room was the farthest out of everyone’s, per Brie’s request since you were her best friend.

Sneaking Trent inside to the room seemed to be the challenging part. Glancing down from the upstairs balcony, you could see Jude immediately attach to him, asking him where he had gone. Trent shrugs and makes up a lie of grabbing his bag from the car, handing Jude his bag as well.

Once Trent makes it to the bedroom, the two of you share a shower. There isn’t another round of sex, just the two of you giggling with some afterthought shock. His grip never fell from you as the two of you slept that night.

The most unlikely pair.

So when you are the one offering to take Trent back home, everyone looks your way.

“He’s out of your way though.”

“Are you sure?”

You shrug, “It’s fine, I don’t mind it. I know you guys want to get home and all, so yeah it’s okay.”

Perhaps you were trying to convince them a little too much, but they backed down soon after. Trent sent you an appreciative smile from the other end of the kitchen.

Brie wraps her arm around you, “Thank you for doing that.”

What commenced afterward still surprises you. Trent and you continued sneaking around throughout the summer. It was easy hiding it from your friends when they weren’t around, but it was difficult once your university classes started. Study sessions in the library were full of stolen glances, making excuses to leave early only for Trent to follow you afterward.

Anytime the two of you found yourselves sitting next to one another, his hands would be teasing your thigh. You did the same to stir a reaction from him, but he was better at being stoic. Stolen blowjobs, fingering, kissing, and quick sex sessions were common in between hang outs, but it was not only that.

Being with him switched from strictly sex and friendship to something much more than the two of you had yet to acknowledge. There were dates, days he had taken care of you because you felt sick, days you called him over because you wanted cuddles.

He often showed up to your apartment to ask about your day, wanting to spend time with you between his classes and training. You even showed more interest in going to football games that Brie had questioned you about because you seldomly did prior.

It was hard trying to keep the deal to not fall in love with him when he had made many advances. He was still very attentive to you and your concerns.

So when you finally told him about your feelings, you were nervous, expecting him to tease you about losing first but he was taken aback.

“I was getting worried,” he admitted, “I knew I had already fallen and I was waiting for you to let me down easy.” You were wearing his hoodie, a hoodie that you often slept in on the days he didn’t spend the night at your apartment. He was holding you in his lap, eyes full of admiration, “I think I fell in love with you the day at the boardwalk. I know we were only talking about sex, but something about hearing you talk to me without a care of judgment, it made me see you differently. Made me want to hold you and never let you go. You trusted me.”

You wiped the few tears that had fallen and he kissed your tear-stained cheeks when you told him you loved him. That night, making love to him felt so much more meaningful, more exposing than ever before. He had seen all the sides of you the past six months and never dared to run.

Despite officially now being in a relationship, the two of you still kept it lowkey without intending to do so. The two of you had been so used to sneaking glances and small smiles from far, and subtle head nods to signal the want of leaving, that it was difficult transitioning out of.

Still, one day it was going to come to the limelight, you just hadn’t expected it to be on your birthday.

“Oh my god!” Brie screeches. “You’re fucking Trent, aren’t you?”

You choke on the water you had previously chugged, coughing abruptly. Four of your other friends, plus Jude and Trent, stare at you and Brie in the kitchen. They’re only some strides away, lounging on the living room couches. Brie was not at all quiet.

“There’s no way,” one of them comments.

Your cheeks are burning as you resist the urge to look over at Trent to gauge his reaction. They all seemed to be stunned in silence. You wipe your mouth, “What?”

Brie clamps her hand over her mouth and pulls you from your wrist into your own bedroom. Once she shuts the door, she apologizes, “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to expose the two of you in front of everyone. I couldn’t hold in my shock.”

“It’s okay,” you reason. It was going to come out anyway. “We weren’t trying to hide it.”

She raises her brows, “Not trying to? We never heard a peep, especially me.”

“We weren’t trying to hide it anymore,” you say sheepishly. “How did you find out?”

“I saw a text from you on his phone the other day when we were studying,” she explains. “I didn’t think much of it and didn’t mean to look, but then���I kind of started to notice the way the two of you would look at each other. It was clear something happened and erm, the both of you came to the table with a hickey when it wasn’t there before you both left one day.”

You snort, “I’m really bad at covering those, aren’t I?”

Brie lets out a nervous laugh, “But Trent? How can that be?”

You shrug, “Your summer party, it works wonders.”

“Aww,” she gushes. “He’s a great guy too. I’m glad the two of you finally got closer together. I knew that the two of you would have clicked!”

Brie musters out a laugh as the two of you hug and leave the room to meet the others. Jude and Trent’s figures fall through the door, having had their ears pressed up to the door to listen. You roll your eyes, sending Trent a smirk before standing to the balls of your feet and pulling him in for a kiss.

As the others gawk, you wave them off. Trent’s arms are firm around your waist, not daring to let go. He loved every second of this.

------

[madaqueue]

Practice Makes Perfect | Chapter 1

synopsis: you and yuji have been best friends basically as long as you can remember, and you made a promise to each other to stay friends and help each other be the best versions of yourselves for your future partners. but will things change when yuji finally starts looking for a relationship?

pairing: yuji itadori (18+) x f!reader

themes/content: modern college au (characters aged up to 18+). fluff, angst, language. kissing, mention of over-clothes grinding. 18+, MDNI

word count: 2.3k

a/n: baby's first multi-chapter fic, please be nice or i'll cry :) thx. also this will eventually get more intense, but we're starting light teehee

series masterlist | next chapter

You and Yuji Itadori have been friends your whole lives. You remember the day you first met on the playground in elementary school where you both insisted on racing each other to decide who got to use the tire swing first, and when you came in a dead tie you both refused to concede and ended up sitting on the swing together for the rest of recess. You stayed close as you grew up, often having sleepovers at each other's houses every weekend and spending almost every day together in and outside of school.

On one of these sleepovers while you were both sophomores in high school, you got around to discussing your first kisses and realized neither of you had had yours yet. You both agreed it wouldn't be weird to kiss each other and went for it; the only problem was that it was awful. From that day forward you both vowed to stay friends, but help each other practice all that romance stuff for whenever either of you wanted to actually date someone.

It was a miracle when you both ended up getting accepted to the same college, since one of you (*cough* Yuji) definitely slacked off a little more in high school, but you were so excited to get to spend the next four years with him.

The first semester of college went by quickly and you didn’t get to see each other too often since you came in as an engineering major and he was slowly working his way through business classes. Even though you hadn’t spent as much time together, you’d still get texts from him every few days with some stupid meal concoction he’d made in his dorm kitchen and you’d send each other TikToks that made you laugh. You let yourself fall into a rhythm between classes, homework, and exams, until one Wednesday evening you get an unexpected notification lighting up your phone:

Yuji: “heyy, come over? got a question to ask you”

The message sent butterflies through your stomach for some reason; you two hadn’t seen each other for a few weeks, and his text was much more direct than you expected. Your fingers hover over the keyboard as you think of how to respond.

You: “okayy, be over in 5. should I bring anything?”

His response almost immediately appears under yours:

Yuji: “just yourself, sweets ;)”

The nickname caught you a bit off guard and you questioned what to say next before another text came up:

Yuji: “sorry, don’t know why I said that lmao. see you soon :)”

You sigh and lock your phone, setting it down on the bed beside you before standing up and sliding your shoes, tossing on a sweatshirt on top of your leggings and cropped t-shirt before heading out.

—

You stand outside his dorm, looking at the “Yuji” name sign made out of construction paper taped to his door. Below it was a mini whiteboard he had put up that had some less-than-tasteful drawings and the note “Itadori + Fushiguro” written on it surrounded by hearts. You rolled your eyes as you knocked, the door immediately swinging open as you were greeted by the pink-haired boy wearing his standard red hoodie and jeans combo, looking down on you with a huge grin on his face.

“Welcome, welcome!” he said with a smile, ushering you inside. You looked around and realized you had never actually been in his dorm before - whenever you hung out last semester it was always at cafes, the library, or a party, but never in either of your rooms. You look around and appreciate that he actually managed to make the small space kind of nice. You smirk at the dark blue bedding on his twin size mattress and pinup posters adorning his walls as the LEDs lining the room cast a blue glow across everything.

“You like it?” Yuji asked, wiggling his eyebrows at you.

“It’s very…hmm…how do I say this…you,” you say with a smirk.

He giggles as he flops down on the bed. “Well, you did always know me well.”

You kick off your shoes and sit down onto the bed next to him. “So, what’d you have to ask me?” you question as you turn to face him.

“Right!” he exclaims, hopping off the bed to stand in front of you. “Remember when we were younger and we promised to help each other practice all the romance stuff so we’d be ready for when we get in a real relationship?” You nod as he continues. “Well, I think I might finally be ready to kick things off, and I sorta need your help with the whole practice thing.”

You freeze. This was the last thing on your mind when you came over. You hadn’t even seen Yuji in almost a month, and this is the first thing he says to you? How could he even remember that stupid deal you had made after your horrible first kiss with each other?

Your thoughts suddenly come to a halt as you realize what this might mean. “Wait,” you start, looking up at him from the bed, “does this mean you have a crush on someone?”

Yuji’s face turns red as he breaks eye contact and looks down at the ground, one arm reaching up behind his head to scratch his undercut. “Um, kinda, I think so,” he says as he grins sheepishly. “There’s a girl in one of my classes, and we’ve hung out a few times for this group project, and-“

“And you want my help making sure you know what you’re doing, right?” you cut him off. He looks back up at you, cheeks still red, and nods slightly. “Wait,” you think out loud, “does that mean you haven’t kissed anyone since then?”

His face flushes again and his eyes shoot back to the ground as he mumbles “No.”

You chuckle softly as you get up to meet him in the middle of the room, throwing your arms around his neck and tilting his chin so you’re making eye contact. You’re not sure where the sudden confidence comes from, but it just feels natural for you in that moment. In all honesty, you actually hadn’t kissed anyone since then either - you just hadn’t seen the need - but Yuji doesn’t need to know that. You gaze into his soft brown eyes as he nervously bites his lip, waiting for your response to his confession.

“Don’t worry Yu, that’s okay,” you whisper, your lips nearly grazing his, “we can practice together.”

Yuji nearly squeals with excitement, dissipating any tension or romance that was building between you two. “Yay! Thank you, thank you, thank you!” he exclaims as he wraps his arms around your waist, lifting you up in the air and spinning you around. He sets you down but his hands don’t leave your hips as he looks down at you expectantly. “Okay, where do we start?” he practically beams down at you.

You pause to think for a moment before responding. “Well, we should probably figure out where you’re starting so we can work on what actually needs to be improved.”

“Works for me!” he says, picking you up again with ease as he walks towards his bed. Your legs wrap around his waist for stability as he sits down with his back against the headboard and you in his lap. The position also gave you butterflies for some reason, which was odd since the two of you used to sit like this all the time - you in Yuji’s lap during car rides when there wasn’t enough space, your head laying across his chest while you watched movies, or even his head resting on your stomach while you tried to braid his hair. But for some reason, this time felt different, maybe because you knew what was about to happen.

“Ready?” he asked with a smile. You nod, trying to mentally prepare yourself for what you expect is going to be a repeat of your last horrible kiss. “Okay, let’s do this,” Yuji says with a soft sigh, still smiling, and you try not to laugh at his lack of seriousness about the whole situation. But before you can react, his hand reaches up to your cheek and his eyes flutter closed as he leans towards you. You let your eyes shut as his soft lips press against yours. He holds himself there for a moment before beginning to gently suck on your bottom lip. The unexpected action causes you to open your mouth slightly in surprise, and he takes the opportunity to gently slide his tongue between your lips. Your tongues meet as he gently explores your mouth with his. His hand moves from your cheek to the back of your neck, holding you close to him. At the same time, one of your hands slides up from his hips to the back of his hair and you run your fingers over the softness of his freshly-trimmed undercut.

You start to feel yourself get lightheaded as the kiss gets sloppier and Yuji shows no sign of letting up. You begin to pull yourself away to catch your breath but just as you feel the air hit your lungs he uses the hand on your neck to gently push you back towards his slightly parted lips. It’s almost as if he couldn’t stand to spend a second separated from you and you willingly lean back in as he gets more eager, his tongue effortlessly slipping back into your mouth. The action elicits a soft moan from you, and you feel heat building between your legs. Your hips almost start grinding against the boy beneath you before you remember who it is - your best friend. You open your eyes suddenly and pull away from the kiss, Yuji loosening his hold on the back of your neck as a thin thread of your shared saliva temporarily connects your lips. You are met with those sweet, brown eyes, his cheeks flushed and lips pink from the intense kiss you suddenly pulled him away from.

As your brain clears, the first thing you’re able to say to him is “What the hell?”

“What, was it alright?” he hums back through a smile.

“That was m-more than alright, there’s no way that’s only your second time ever doing that!” you stutter, trying to get the words out.

He shrugs, “What can I say? Sometimes I’m just a natural.”

You start to sit up more and lean back off his lap, when there’s a sudden noise at the door. “Dude c’mon, hop on Discord, we’re gonna play some ranked matches.” The door handle turns as the sentence finishes, and in steps a man dressed in all black with his short black hair fanning out in every direction. He takes in the scene in front of him with you and Yuji sitting on the bed and he immediately covers his eyes with his hands. “S-shit, I’m so sorry, I-I didn’t know you had someone over and I-“ he stutters as you watch his ears turn red from embarrassment.

“No need to apologize my dear friend!” Yuji proclaims as he hops off the bed, clearly no longer thinking about the intense moment you two just shared. He turns to you while gesturing towards the clearly distressed man in the doorway. “This is Fushiguro!” he yells, almost too loudly, with a smile plastered on his face.

Once the man in the door realizes that Yuji has no plans to provide any more information, he removes his hands from his eyes and politely waves at you from across the room. “Um, hi. Yeah, I’m Megumi Fushiguro, but you can just call me Megumi. I live across the hall from Yuji,” he explains, pointing over his shoulder at the door to his room.

You introduce yourself and give a little wave back. “Oh, wait a minute, you’re the Fushiguro that’s on Yuji’s sign on his door, right?” you say with a little laugh, remembering the whiteboard you saw on your way in.

“That's the one! Isn’t he charming?” Yuji sing-speaks as he practically skips towards Megumi. 

The boy in black seems less than impressed with the situation and rolls his eyes. “Yep, that’s me. Again though, you can call me Megumi. I don’t know why Yuji insists on calling me by my last name, I mean we’re basically the same age-”

“Because I just loooooove your name!” Yuji exclaims, now standing next to Megumi and batting his eyelashes dramatically at him. Megumi responds by holding a hand out to his side and gently shoving Yuji, who dramatically pretends to slide down against the wall with a pout.

“Anyways, I was gonna play some video games, but if you guys are busy we can do it another night,” Megumi explains.

“Nah don’t worry, I should probably head home anyways and make some dinner, I’ll leave you boys to it,” you say as you stand up to put your sweatshirt back on, trying to ignore the pulsing between your legs.

Still sitting on the ground, Yuji chimes in, “Aww, you don’t want me to make you dinner here?”

“I don’t think I want to eat the things you make if they’re anything like the meals you’ve been sending me over the past semester,” you preempt.

“Oh man, he’s shown you those too?” Megumi responds with a smirk as he reaches a hand out to help Yuji off the floor.

Yuji stands up proudly, stating “You guys just don’t understand my culinary genius.”

“I wouldn’t call a strawberry Poptart with cheese on it ‘culinary genius,’” you say with a chuckle as a pout returns to Yuji’s face. You put your shoes on and slide past the boys in the doorway. “Anyways, goodnight Yuji, and it was nice to meet you Megumi!” you wave back at them from the hallway.

—

When you get back to your dorm, you’re finally able to process the events that just took place. All you’re left with is more questions.

When did he learn how to kiss like that? How did he learn how to kiss like that? And why do you want more of it so badly?

series masterlist | next chapter

[adore-laur]

RENDEZVOUS

— a steamy flashback from the dadrry universe about harry as your fiancé 💍

——

After another shot of vodka went down the hatch, you still didn't qualify yourself as drunk. Tipsy was the more accurate feeling since every shot you had taken in the last ten minutes hadn't quite affected your bloodstream yet. The fifth one was being poured already. Or maybe the sixth. It didn't really matter since letting loose was what bachelorette parties were made for.

The event was being held in a small theater in downtown San Francisco, occupied by you and your friends, to celebrate the last few weeks before you officially became a married woman. A drag show was the extravaganza for the evening, and it was currently the intermission, so everyone was out of their seats drinking and catching up with each other.

You and Harry had needed a getaway amid the final phase of wedding planning. The both of you were staying at the Ritz-Carlton for the weekend, and it was nice to take a breather from the stress of the big day coming up. In the weeks leading up to the mini vacation, you had decided it would be perfect to have your bachelorette party in the scenic city. Most of your friends lived in surrounding areas, so you sent the invites out and hoped everything worked out. It clearly did because everyone was buzzed and having the time of their lives. 

Your throat hurt from loudly cheering on the drag queens who had just performed. The tiara on your head with a tiny veil attached was slipping off, and the bride-to-be sash across your body was getting wrinkled, but you couldn't care less. Happiness and love exuded from your friends who had come to carouse with you.

Harry had proposed a little over a year ago after he cooked a fancy New Year's Eve dinner and led you to the backyard at midnight to get down on one knee, popping the question with shaky hands and watery eyes. You were incredibly thankful it hadn't been a grand display in public. It had been just you and him at home under the string lights, with butterflies breaking loose in your stomach.

In planning the wedding, you had vowed to him that you wouldn't be a bridezilla. You'd allow him to have equal insight and let him completely take the reins regarding the food that will be served since it's his forte. Overall, the process hadn't been too draining. You worked well as a team, and he was always open to suggestions and last-minute changes of plans. The final touches would be put together once you came home from the trip. Then, it would finally be time to marry him.

"Did you leave Harry alone in the hotel room?" asked your friend, pulling you from your thoughts.

"Yeah, but I'm sure he'll find something to do," you said. "He can never sit still for too long."

She carefully fixed your tiara. "When's his bachelor party?"

"Next weekend. He's having it at the restaurant he works at."

"Not at the strip club?" she teased, wiggling her eyebrows.

You laughed. "He's mature enough to understand that I find it suspicious when guys go there for their bachelor party. Some call it their last night of freedom. How weird is that?"

You had nothing against strippers, but you thought it was reasonable that you'd rather have Harry spend his night somewhere else to celebrate his, you know, commitment to you.

"You're marrying such a gentleman. It makes me jealous," she said with a playful nudge. She wasn't wrong, so you just shrugged smugly and sipped your fruity cocktail.

Gasps and excited clapping suddenly stole your attention. You furrowed your eyebrows and looked at the stage, watching the red velvet curtains draw back once again. Shuffling to your table, you smoothed down the back of your dress and sat.

The lights dimmed as people who worked at the venue began rolling a black piano onto the stage. You wondered what it would be used for since the drag queens earlier had strictly danced and lip-synced to music booming from the speakers. Other instruments were also being brought out—guitars, drums, and even a saxophone.

Growing more confused by the second, you turned around and stared at your friends around the room to see if they knew what was happening. All you received were mischievous smiles.

Before you could ask questions, you were abruptly pulled out of your seat and led to the front of the stage as people situated themselves by their respective instruments. You leaned into your friend and asked, "What's going on? This doesn't look like a drag show is about to happen."

She smirked and shrugged her shoulders. "I don't know. Let's find out."

You didn't reply because the band started playing jazzy music as the stage lights turned on, revealing quite a modern setup for what you knew was definitely not a drag performance. A spotlight shone, and it began to move toward the left wings, where a silhouette of someone was waiting.

"Please give a warm welcome to Harry Styles!" introduced the saxophonist.

You just about choked on your Mai Tai.

Your vision finally focused on Harry as he strutted out wearing yellow trousers and a button-up under a suit jacket. A tiny microphone was clipped to his collar, and you couldn't even begin to guess what he had planned tonight. He gave you no inclination that he'd be here. No subtle hints had been dropped in conversations with him, and no sneaky clues had been given by your friends. It was actually shocking, considering he was usually awful at keeping secrets.

Everyone cheered for him; whistles and encouraging hollers were thrown his way as he held his arms out and walked toward center stage. You were too taken aback to join in as you watched him cut the band off with a gesture before facing the room with his hands behind his back.

Was his hair parted down the middle?

"Thank you, thank you," Harry said with a bow, his deep voice echoing throughout the theater. "It is so great to be here hosting a bachelorette party for the first time."

Wow. He had jokes up his sleeve, apparently. Was he about to do a stand-up routine?

The applause and praise continued as you shook your head in disbelief, letting a huge smile take over your face at the unexpected surprise.

"This is new territory for me," he said. I'm very excited to step back from my chef duties and do some comedy tonight."

There was no way he was going to do a comedy bit. You couldn't believe he crashed your party with a fancy suit and a routine ready to go. He was talking to your friend group in the audience like he was giving a Saturday Night Live monologue. You were going to lose it if he started playing the piano.

"You see, my fiancée and I go way back. We met about three years ago at a bar." He finally looked at you. "I ordered a lemon drop martini, and she ordered a strawberry margarita."

A stagehand brought out a clear martini and set it on the piano, and another one came down the stairs and placed a pink-colored margarita on your table. Your face heated at the simple yet thoughtful act.

"We talked for hours until I drunkenly asked her on a date. You know what she told me?" A plethora of whats were screamed from the crowd. "She said, 'Ask me again when you're sober!'"

Everyone laughed, and you hid your face in your hands. That wasn't even a joke; you had genuinely said that to him. You were blown away that he remembered such a tiny detail.

"Ultimately, I'm a very serious partner," Harry continued as he began sauntering toward the piano, "and nothing says serious partner like learning how to play the piano to impress my fiancée."

Taking a sip of your margarita, you glanced behind you. Some of your friends were recording him with their phones, and you were glad this could be something you could watch repeatedly.

Harry sat on the bench and exhaled. "Ooh, that feels good."

You had to wave one of the fans the drag queens gave out to cool down. He looked unfairly handsome, he was playing the goddamn piano, and he kept giving you secret looks that made you sweat.

"Now... I don't know if you've heard, but I'm not a boyfriend anymore." He stared straight at you. "I'm a fiancé now." Whistles from your friends caused him to proudly smile. "I'm also going to be dad," he casually blurted. "We're going to have a baby."

The entire room gasped, and you gaped at him with wide eyes. "We're not," Harry added after a short pause. "Wouldn't it be crazy if we were, though?" Your friends were now shaking you and battering you with questions. Harry smiled before his face dropped comically. "We're not."

He teasingly raised eyebrows and smirked at you as if to signify that you were actually pregnant, although you were drinking alcohol. Hopefully, everyone knew that you'd never be that stupid. 

The girls were gawking at you, but Harry rolled his lips in and shook his head to remove the confusion. He continued playing the piano, and your cheeks hurt from laughing so much. He was doing such a great job, and you were genuinely trying to figure out how he had pulled all of this off.

"I love my fiancée; she's my best friend," he said smoothly. "She's hilarious, honest, caring, fuckin' beautiful"—he trailed off and furrowed his eyebrows—"and, uh... good in bed." You rolled your eyes as he puckered his lips at you, more cheers filling the room.

"Yeah, that's right." He blew out a relieved breath. "I'm so grateful she doesn't live with her mother anymore."

"Oh my God, Harry!" you yelled with a surprised laugh.

It was a more private joke that no one understood fully, but it was funny nonetheless. You had used to live with your mother when you started dating Harry, and you always had to be quiet when he'd come over because, in his early twenties, testosterone needed to be having sex with you at the most inconvenient of times.

He winked at you before resuming. "However, for me, it's not about how my fiancée is in bed, even though I'd consider myself very lucky in that department. It's about her soul and her heart. And in all seriousness," he added as the laughter died, "I truly believe her soul is my love language."

Coos and squeals echoed at his statement, and you shyly smiled. You were the one who had taught him about all the different love languages; he had told you once that he thought your entire soul was what his was.

"Maybe some of you aren't convinced I'm a serious partner. You may be asking yourself: Did he really take secret piano lessons to do this? Well, if in doubt, just ask the maid of honor."

Your head whipped toward your maid of honor, sitting at a table behind you. She waved with a proud smile, and you gasped when you realized he must've done piano lessons with her since you knew she had played the instrument for several years.

Harry hummed loudly while closing his eyes, bringing your attention back to him. "I love being here in San Francisco. So much history."

The band behind him cheered as Harry dramatically sipped his martini. You'd never seen him so in his element with something besides his job. The confidence in the delivery of his jokes, the comedic timing, the professional stage setup—it was something you'd never forget.

"I've learned so much this week. Here's a few secrets about the hotel we're staying at," he said gaily. "Did you know they gave us the haunted room because of how pale I am?" He shook his head with a boyish smile. "That is funny."

You chuckled at the awful joke because he was actually paler than usual. It was the end of January, and he hadn't gone outside much since it'd been cold and gloomy by the coast where both of you lived.

"The bed in there is so creaky that it sounded like that one night in Mexico!" 

Shocked gasps and bursts of laughter rippled throughout your friends in the audience. It was a harmless joke about how you had all gone on a couples trip a while ago, and your friends had heard you and Harry getting down with it in the hotel room. It had been terribly embarrassing.

Harry laughed. "Everybody thinks we're a couple that has a lot of sex. We don't; that's why she sleeps in a different bed than me at home."

Okay, now that wasn't true.

"Except tonight!" he shouted cheekily while pointing at you. "I mean, I think I'm just about ready to take her home with how she looks right now."

The girls at your table nudged you, and you began to get flustered. He was giving you that look again.

Harry cleared his throat and stopped playing the piano. "All jokes aside, thank you so much to everyone for celebrating with her tonight. You've all been wonderful friends over the years, and I can't wait to see you all at the wedding. It'll be terrifying, but I'm so ready. Also, thank you for bearing with my terrible jokes. Have a good rest of the night!"

You applauded along with your friends, some of them throwing leftover confetti from the drag performance earlier toward him. He brought his hands together and bowed politely as the band played a closing song.

Harry's cheeks were as pink as your strawberry margarita when he walked down the stairs with one hand behind his back and the other adjusting his suit jacket. He locked eyes with you and pursed his lips, trying to hold back a smile. Everyone stood from their seats to greet him, and the band came down holding bouquets of white iris flowers, passing them out to each of your friends.

You met Harry halfway and instantly wrapped your arms around his waist as he tilted your head up for a messy kiss on the lips. He coaxed and smacked kiss after kiss out of you until your friends started making fake gagging noises from behind. He eventually pulled away and removed his hand behind his back to hold out a bountiful bouquet of red roses that matched the color of your dress.

"For my lovely fiancée." He gave you the bouquet and then turned your head so his mouth was by your ear. "I've got a taxi picking you up after this is done."

You nodded and ran your fingers across his stomach. "Sounds perfect. That was so incredible, Harry. And the piano? I'm impressed."

"It wasn't too much?" he asked, shyly rubbing a knuckle under his eyebrow. "I didn't know if you'd appreciate me crashing your girls night."

"Are you kidding? That was the best thing I've ever seen. I'm so proud of you."

Harry blushed, and you lovingly pinched his cheek. "Thanks. I was nervous because your friends always make fun of my jokes. I thought they wouldn't laugh."

"We were cracking up. You did so good," you complimented. "How did you keep it a secret from me? I had no idea."

"I'll never tell," he said with a cute shrug.

You lightly slapped his chest. "I'll get it out of you one day. Are you staying for the rest of the show?"

"It's your night, baby. Go enjoy it with your friends," he said. "I'll be waiting in the hotel room. You should stop by for a little rendezvous."

Your tipsy mind missed his attempt at a joke entirely. "We're staying in the same room, though."

"Bloody hell," he said with a laugh. "How much alcohol have you had?"

"Excuse me, not even a lot. Mind your business. I'm having a great time."

"I'm glad you're having fun. That makes me happy." Harry adjusted your tiara and then softly pecked the corner of your mouth three times. "I'll see you back in the room, okay?"

"For our rendezvous?"

"Our top secret rendezvous," he murmured against your temple. "Don't go around telling anyone, all right?"

"Sure thing," you replied while squeezing his sides. "You can go now."

An offended scoff escaped him, and he cradled the back of your head and leaned in. "Watch your mouth. I expect you to behave when you get back."

You puckered your lips and hummed contemplatively. "But it's my special day; you said so yourself. I can say whatever I—"

Harry cut you off by pressing his lips to your bottom one, biting it with his teeth before pulling back. "I love you so much, but that attitude isn't going to fly with me tonight."

You rolled your eyes. "Okay, dad."

"I'm leaving before this gets weird," he said with a smile. "Be safe, have fun, and call me if you need anything."

"Now you literally sound like a dad."

"Shush," he said. "I love you. I'll see you soon."

You pecked his lips one last time, tasting the sour lemon residue from his martini. "Love you."

"Have fun, ladies," he called out to your friends. "Take care of her, yeah?"

They all nodded, and Harry hugged you before heading to the stage to shake hands with the band. Soon after he was gone, the lights in the theater dimmed again, and the curtains opened for the final portion of the show. You headed back to your seat, feeling exceptionally giddy.

The rest of the party went by in a flash. Wigs, pop songs, and glitter invaded your brain, and now you were ready to return to the hotel. The tone he'd used earlier had made a shiver run down your spine. Low, insinuative, and almost impatient.

It was a tone that suggested you were in for a treat when you got back.

——

The key card swiftly slid into the slot. Two chirp-like beeps sounded, indicating that it was unlocked. Opening the heavy door, you stumbled inside the hotel room in the black heels you had already started to unclasp in the back of the taxi. There was confetti stuck to the bottom of them, and it nearly made you slip on the hardwood floors. That, and there was also a trail of rose petals and tea light candles weaving throughout the presidential suite that you didn't remember seeing when you had left earlier. 

You giggled to yourself as you followed the trail to the bedroom. Oh, Harry. You had almost forgotten he was here.

When you walked through the doorway, the king-size bed came into view. So did your fiancé. Harry was sitting pretty on the silk sheets with a flute of champagne in his left hand as he looked out the window at the San Francisco skyline. He was wearing the same outfit from his surprise act not too long ago, but his hair had become messier, and his eyes were glassy from the bubbly liquid you noticed was already half gone from the bottle on the nightstand.

You crawled toward him on the bed, setting your bouquet down. "Hi. I'm back."

His gaze was focused on you. He granted no response as his lips took a sip of the pale and fizzy drink he held so delicately, the gold engagement band on his ring finger gleaming from the moonlight illuminating the room. A low groan escaped his mouth when you straddled his thighs and applied pressure to his already hard cock. He wasn't saying anything, but you knew exactly what would get him to speak.

"What's got you so hard, baby?" you asked softly, tutting. "Were you thinking about me?"

His lips twitched as he finished the champagne and set it on the ground beside the bed. "Like you don't fuckin' know. Look at yourself, darling. It's honestly a shock that I wasn't on my knees for you at the theater."

Your hands rubbed up and down his thighs. "I had a feeling you'd like this little number."

It had been a struggle to get through the door to leave since his touch had been all over you the second you put on the red satin slip dress.

"What about me? Do you like my outfit?"

Such a narcissist, you thought to yourself. You ground against him, and he let out a breathy moan. "I do. Apparently, no boxers are part of the get-up."

Harry closed his eyes and smirked. "I might have no boxers on, but there's something else you might find. I went and did some quick shopping while you were gone."

Your slowed thoughts tried to catch up to what he could have been hinting at. "Shopping, huh? What did you buy?"

His large hands kneaded your ass. "Take a look."

He leaned forward and guided your hand to the button of his trousers. You quickly flicked it undone as he removed his suit jacket and began undoing the button-up. His body lifted on the bed so you could slide the garment off easier, and he hissed when it brushed past his cock.

Slowly but surely, his legs underneath were revealed, and your face heated to a thousand degrees. Fishnet tights. His leg hair and tiger tattoo peeked out from under the crosshatch material stretched tight against his skin. The redness of his cock looked painful from its restraint under them.

"I might've bought a little something too," you admitted as you scratched his skin through the thin fabric.

"Yeah?" He jerked his hips when your fingers grazed the head of his cock. "Show me, then. Go on."

You sat on your knees and lifted your dress to reveal the baby pink garter around your upper thigh. "It's your favorite color."

Harry licked his lips as his fingers delicately rubbed the lace. "I see that, sweetheart. Anyone particular on your mind when you bought it?"

"Was there anyone on your mind"—you snapped the waistband of his fishnets—"when you bought these?"

He bit his lip. "You're the only one I think of. The only one I would wear these for. I would crawl on my knees to you wearing them if that's what you wanted."

"Is that so? Quite the visual."

"I'll do it if you want me to." He paused, a smile slowly creeping across his face. "We can practice the garter toss for our wedding."

You made a noise of protest. "We are absolutely not doing that in front of our families. It'll be so humiliating."

"Don't have to, because we can do it right now," he suggested. A nip was given to your neck before he climbed off the bed and grabbed a chair.

Your eyebrows arched. "What are you doing?"

"We're doing this the traditional way," he explained with a nonchalant shrug. "I have to go under your dress and take it off."

"Will you be nice, or will you tease me?"

"Which do you prefer?"

You swung your legs over the bed and sat in the chair. "I prefer the way that gets you inside me as soon as possible."

"Well, I'll let you know once I'm between your thighs," he said, kneeling on the carpeted floor and waving his hands for you to spread open for him.

"No tickling, or I'm staying in another room," you warned as you slid off your heels and parted your legs.

Harry started crawling toward you with his tousled hair and day-old stubble, only wearing his fishnets and unbuttoned dress shirt. He never broke eye contact with you until he reached where you were sitting.

Your satin dress was then lifted over his head. You could instantly feel his hot breath against your legs, his lips grazing every patch of skin he could find. He left an open-mouthed kiss over your underwear that was already damp, and you moaned when his facial hair rubbed against your inner thigh.

You suddenly felt his teeth grab the garter as he pulled it down to your ankle. He took it off the rest of the way with his hand, bringing it over your shoe and moving out from under your dress. He stuck it between his teeth again and removed his button-up. Green eyes stared at you, and you clenched your legs under his intense stare. His tattooed torso was on full display. He was so, so beautiful.

Harry grabbed the garter and slid it on his bicep before saying, "Stand up."

You got up and switched spots with him, standing in front of him while he sat in the chair. He crossed his legs, his thighs thickening even more under the fishnets. You walked over and parted them so you could straddle him. The chair was thankfully wide enough to fit both of your knees on either side of him. You could almost feel his cock throb as you started desperately grinding against him to offer relief.

"Baby, slow down. Shit, slow down," he said quickly, his hands gripping your waist. "I need to last. You'll make me come right now if you keep doing that."

Slowing down, you took your time with each grind on his thigh. The pressure of the muscle felt like heaven as your core clenched around nothing. "Is that better?" you asked, raising your dress to see how his body reacted underneath you.

"Yes," he choked out, his neck straining. "I need to be inside you so bad."

"How bad?"

"So bad. I'm fuckin' throbbing for you. Please get on the bed."

You squeezed one of his balls through the fishnets, his hips bucking. "Where does it ache? Tell me how to make it better."

"Get on the bed," he gritted. "I'm not going to ask again."

There was the dominance you wanted. You nipped his earlobe and crawled off his legs. He immediately stood, hissing as he palmed himself through his tights. You helped him take them off.

"Top or bottom?" he asked while closing the curtains. "My fiancée's choice."

"Neither. I want it from behind."

"Say less." He turned around, gripping his cock and squeezing it once. "On the bed. Now."

You quickly slipped your dress and underwear off and knelt on the bed, facing the headboard. Harry got in position behind you, his cock resting on your lower back. He moved your hair to one side and whispered, "On all fours."

You placed your forearms on the bed and arched your back so he had a good angle. "Open your mouth," he commanded. You tilted your head up and to the side as he leaned in to spit in your awaiting mouth. His saliva pooled on your tongue, and you swallowed it down willingly. "Good girl."

Harry then reached his arm out to hold onto the headboard. The engagement ring on his finger caught your eye, as did his veiny hand that tightly gripped the burgundy wood.

The first thrust was divine. Searing pressure filled your walls, and Harry whimpered into your neck at your instant clench around his cock. He continued deeply thrusting into you as he took the garter off his arm and put it around your wrists so that they were restrained in front of you. Your hips burned. Harry's other hand squeezed your breast.

"Go faster," you said as his hand trailed down to your stomach, his long middle finger lightly grazing your clit.

He pounded harder, his skin slapping as the headboard creaked from the force. He was hitting all the deep spots, his pelvis meeting your ass each time. Your hands gripped the sheets when he glided his fingers up and down your dripping core. His head was nestled in your neck, muffled groans and pants leaving him when you pushed up your hips with each new thrust.

He removed his fingers that were coated with your arousal and spread his palm on your lower stomach. "Can you feel me there?"

You nodded fervently, crying out when a deep trust had you literally feeling him in your stomach. "Holy shit, Harry. I feel you. Please don't stop."

He pressed down and rubbed your stomach, the knot from your orgasm growing and bubbling up quickly. In one swift movement, he brought you to a sitting position as his cock continued stretching your wet walls. His thighs were touching yours, and you could feel them tense and tremble as you got closer, clenching hard around him.

"I'm going to get your name tattooed on my thigh right here," he said, taking the garter off your wrists and moving one of your hands to touch his right thigh. 

You were too submerged in ecstasy to reply to his random confession. A couple more thrusts had you blindly reaching back to grab his hand so you could come. He held it tightly as you unraveled, arching against him from the pleasure leaving you.

"That's my girl," he said in your ear. "My love, my love, my love. So gorgeous, coming for me like this."

Your ears were ringing, and Harry eventually spilled inside you while you still clenched from your remaining orgasm. You felt his warm release shoot inside you, his hand still holding yours and his body falling on top of you as he groaned hotly against your cheek. Heavy breathing was coming from both of you. Harry finished coming but kept his cock inside you, with throbs and twitches happening every so often.

"If we weren't engaged already," he started, "I'd propose to you right now because that was the best I've ever felt. Wow. My body feels all tingly."

You groaned, his dead weight on top of you making it hard to breathe. "Get off me. You're sweaty."

Harry rolled over and stared at the ceiling with his hands clasped on his stomach. The dim light illuminating the room and the perspiration glistening on his skin accentuated the carved outline of his abs, and you couldn't help but trace them with your fingertips.

"Shower?" he asked.

"Please."

He got up and carried you toward the bathroom. Everything in there was white marble, and the brightness hurt your eyes. The shower was small but comfortable enough to fit both of you. You already took one in the morning, but it would feel nice after a long, eventful night. It would also help you sober up as much as possible so you don't suffer through a terrible hangover tomorrow.

After laying down a towel and setting you atop the sink, Harry turned on the shower. He took off both of your engagement rings and then stood in front of the mirror. He inspected his stubble while he waited for the water to heat up.

"Should I shave?"

"Why?" you asked with a sharp tone that had him immediately raising his hands in surrender.

"All right," he mumbled with a teasing smile. "Blimey, woman. Don't get your knickers in a twist."

"What are you even saying?" you asked languidly. "I hate it when you speak old-timey British to me."

"Are you cheesed off at me now?"

"You're literally speaking gibberish." You hopped off the counter. "I'm getting in the shower. Goodbye."

Harry followed you and dove under the hot water, trapping you in a hug from behind. "I'm sorry."

"Why are you apologizing?" The soft skin of his stomach against your back had you melting into him.

"I don't want you to divorce me before we get married," he explained, kissing your jaw. "I'm just playing it safe."

"Harry, you're the only person who can annoy me and make me endeared at the same time."

"Is that a good thing?"

"Yes," you replied, picking up the shampoo bottle you brought and handing it to him. "It makes me want to marry you right now."

He spurted a dollop of shampoo into his palm and began massaging it into your scalp with gentle and soothing motions. "I can't wait to marry you, either. Gonna treat you like a gentleman."

You lulled your head back, resting it on his collarbone. "You already do."

"I'll do it even more when I'm your husband, though. Make dinner for you every night and take you out on the town." He gravitated one hand toward your stomach. "Give you so many babies."

"Not so fast," you interjected with a dreamlike smile. "No babies anytime soon."

Harry filled the shower cup with water and poured it over your sudsy hair. "I hear you. Just know that I'm ready whenever you are."

"Let's get married first. I want you all to myself for a while."

"You always have me. That'll never change."

You turned him around so you could wash his hair next, opting for the same shampoo since he liked to steal it for himself anyway. After a prolonged yet comfortable silence, you asked, "Were you serious about tattooing my name on your thigh?"

"I'm dead serious," he replied. "I might even do it at my bachelor party. I work with a guy who's coming, and he does tattoos in his free time."

"But why on your thigh? It seems like a risqué place for it."

Harry turned his head and gave you a blank stare. "Would you rather me get it in a corny place like over my heart?"

You laughed, lathering shampoo in his curly hair. "No, not really. I guess you're right. It's kind of a secret spot for only us to know."

"Not unless I wear shorts all the time."

"Yeah, but thankfully, you wear pants every day at work. I don't want your coworkers to see that."

"Why not? I can't show you off anymore?" he teased, reaching back to pinch your side. "Wow, you propose to a woman, and suddenly she wants to be anonymous."

"Shut up," you muttered through a smile. "I honestly don't care. Just please don't get it inked in an ugly font."

Harry moved under the shower head, closing his eyes and slicking his hair back. "Well, it's a good thing I was going to ask if you'd write it out for me."

"Seriously?"

"No," he said in a deadpan manner, spitting out some water that had gotten in his mouth. "I'm thinking Comic Sans."

Poking the soft skin under his belly button, you said, "You think you're so funny now because you did a five-minute comedy routine."

He didn't provide a retort, but you saw him grin as he washed the rest of the shampoo from his hair. His nose was scrunched while he scratched his scalp and cleaned the foamy residue off his face.

After a peaceful moment of nothing but the sound of the shower water beating down, Harry opened his arms and brought you in for a hug. "I love you. You know that?"

You kissed his collarbone. "Where did that come from?"

"Dunno." He shrugged and cradled your head with his hands. "It hit me that we're getting married in a month."

It had been hitting you as well. You'd been waiting so patiently for the special day to arrive. "I love you," you said quietly. Thank you for tonight and every night. You make life worth living."

"Are you trying to make me cry?"

"Yes."

"Cool."

It fell silent as you stared longingly at each other with growing smiles. Harry slowly started getting closer to your face, his dimples carving deeper until his eyes crossed from how near he was. His forehead dropped against yours, and you rolled your lips in when he attempted to steal a kiss from you.

"How about another rendezvous, but this time we get in bed and fall asleep?" you suggested, reaching around him and shutting the shower off. Sporadic drips and exiting warmth greeted you.

He pouted. "Only if you kiss me."

"We've done enough of that today."

"You're really not going to kiss your fiancé after I just told you I'd give you babies? That's dire."

You laughed and admired a water droplet cascading from his pointed nose. "If you blow dry my hair for me, I'll reconsider."

Flinging the shower curtain open, Harry yanked a fluffy towel from the hook on the wall, then gently wrapped it around your body before grabbing one for himself and tying it low on his hips. The blow dryer next to the mirror didn't have a long cord, so you sat on the counter for easier access and squeezed any remaining wetness from your hair into the sink. Meanwhile, Harry covered the top of his head with a towel. He looked like the Virgin Mary.

You gave him a comb, and he took the blow dryer with his other hand, turning it on and gesturing at you to ensure it wasn't too hot on your skin. For the next ten minutes, the sound of the loud dryer filled the space. It would have been a stressful sound in any other situation—trying to dry soaking wet hair from the pool before dinner reservations or untangling knots from yesterday's sleep. This time, it was relaxing. Domestic. A moment in time.

The soothing scratches Harry gave to your head as he combed through every citrus-scented strand could have put you to sleep. The hotel room's air conditioner was cold and crisp, but occasionally, he'd lower the dryer so it blew warm air on your arms.

Before you knew it, the dryer clicked off, and peaceful quietness surrounded you. Harry's hair dried much quicker than yours, so he took off the towel on his head and tied some of his damp curls up in a ponytail for the night.

His hands planted themselves on either side of your legs. "Kiss time," he whispered, his arms taut.

You slid off the counter, finding yourself trapped by his body—not that you minded. Grabbing his left hand, you raised it to your lips to kiss his ring finger, then put his gold engagement band back on.

"My mouth is up here."

You grinned. "And? What about it?" Harry annoyingly pushed his forehead into your cheek, grumbling something incoherently. You pushed it away and asked, "What did you say?"

"I said I think I'll die if you don't kiss me," he repeated dramatically.

"What kind of kiss do you want?"

He once told you that he had favorites for different situations: a nip, tug, peck, tongue, or the type where you both smile so big that the kisses become messy and mixed with giggles. The latter was your personal favorite.

He hummed, his nose wrinkling as he pondered. "The one where you do all the work."

You laughed softly. It wasn't necessarily a joke he was making; he genuinely enjoyed it when your lips moved against his. Sometimes, he just wanted to be kissed silly. It was never awkward, nor did it feel like a chore. He was the most kissable person to roam the earth, so resisting was hard.

"Okay," you said, draping your arms over his shoulders. "Only for a little bit, though. I'm exhausted."

Harry nodded and lifted you, setting you on the counter again. Your legs circled around his hips. "I'll return the favor tomorrow," he said.

The towel on his waist was hanging on for dear life. His eyelids were lazily drooping from tiredness, and his skin was flushed from the steam. How could someone look so pretty in hotel bathroom lighting?

Your hand on his cheek gently guided him to your mouth. His lips were damp and plush from the shower, parting naturally with each of your doting kisses. With his nose nudged against yours, pleased hums came from his throat as you alternated between his top and bottom lips. Kissing him never gets old. It could be soft or rough, long or short, brought about by love or annoyance. It was a cure all the same.

After a slow and innocent onslaught of kisses, you pulled away before you ended up making out with him until morning. Bruised, aching lips could wait.

Harry whined in protest. "That was only, like, five seconds."

"Guess what?" You trailed your fingertips along his neck. "You have the rest of your life to kiss me."

He yawned while shaking his head. "That's not enough time. Give me forever."

"I'll try," you said fondly, sliding your engagement ring back on.

You would until children of your own were born, which required you to share that love. Until your children's children withdrew even more of it. Yet, despite that, Harry would always be the first person you had given your heart to completely. He had never taken advantage of it. He had never made you doubt his love for you. It was the kind of love that was immortal. It would never die out and would remain the greatest feeling you'd ever felt in this life and the next.

If evermore was attainable, you liked to believe it was made possible by loving him.

——

[lostbookmark]

 MDNI 18+

WHISPERED SECRETS MASTERLIST

Summary: After four years, your sister's ex-boyfriend comes back into your life. Can you keep your entanglement a secret? Will the guilt eat you alive? 

Pairing:  Sisters ex Yoongi x Insecure F. Reader. 

Genre: SMUT, angst, hurt - comfort, romance. 

Warning: Explicit sex, fingering, Possessive Yoongi, swearing, reader is insecure, jealousy, punishment, unprotected sex, drinking, dirty talk, praising, degradation, spanking, teasing, hair pulling, arguments. Overuse of the name, baby. 

A/N: I know nothing about the production of music. Soooo…. just go with it.

Smut free chapter because I actually have to try and build a plot. 

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Monday morning, you found yourself at your desk at work. You work in accounting and your days are long, boring and your boss is horrible. Numbers eventually start to all run together the more you stare at your screen all day.  This is not what you had wanted to do in life. Art, you had loved art ever since you could remember. Yoongi had been supportive when he found out. You had been seventeen when he caught you drawing in your closet.  Your mom hated that you loved it. Saw it as a useless hobby.  She did everything she could to dissuade you from it. You always wondered where it could have taken you. It wasn't even just drawing or painting. You loved learning about it, reading about it. You always thought maybe you could be an art teacher or maybe do work on commission if you could get yourself good enough.  Yoongi, though, wanted to hear about your projects. He encouraged you to apply for art school. He shared your happiness when you got in. He was also there when it all fell apart.  Every day for you was always the same. Work, hang with Lisa and Jisoo, home and bed. Then dinner with your parents once a month. Repeat.  A very beige life with no change, no color, your pigments were bland…dull.  You missed the color that art brought you. Yoongi, however, has now interrupted your monotonous, beige cycle. A happy, colorful change to your life that you are still trying to navigate. 

You didn't run away this time. When you woke up with Yoongi the morning after he dragged you out of that party, he suggested breakfast. After some innocent and then not so innocent kissing, he took you to a little hole in the wall diner on the other side of town where the food was a little too greasy. It was great. You learned a lot about the new, older him. He changed his major in college  from business to music technology. He works for his friend Namjoon, a music producer and owner of Persona Records. While Yoongi did produce songs, he preferred writing songs. Telling you that was where his passion truly lied. He said that he really didn't have to deal with the artist's bullshit. Namjoon and another guy Hobi were the main producers and the “people pleasers” of the company.  While they dealt with demands and problems, he had his own quiet sanctuary. Namjoon wants him to be a partner in the company. He said financially he would make a lot more, but he doesn't want all that responsibility or the paperwork.  When you asked where Jimin fit into all of that, he said Jimin mainly dealt with event organizations, like concerts and promotions. It all sounded so extravagant. You're just an accountant, reading blurred numbers all day long. You were so inferior to him. 

A body slipped into the chair next to you, a bag dropping to the floor by your feet. Lisa sent you a knowing look. When you turn to look back at your screen, you swear you can practically hear her roll her eyes at you. 

“Did your phone stop working this weekend? Did you change your number?” She asked while logging into her computer, gum smacking away in her mouth. Her perfectly manicured fingers typed away. “I tried calling you all day yesterday. ALL DAY.”

“My phone died, sorry,” you lied. You knew exactly why she was calling. You didn't want to face the reality of sleeping with your sister's ex-boyfriend, not once but twice. If people didn't know, then did it really happen?  

“Yoongi huh? I didn't believe Jimin at first but then Kai gave me an earful about not telling him that you had a boyfriend.  Boyfriend? Boyfriend? This is brand new information to me. Yoongi, Y/N? Are you kidding me?” Her voice raised a little.  “Min Yoongi! I'm your best friend, why didn't you tell me? I only found out because Jimin saw Yoongi leaving with you. Were you ever going to say anything?” 

“SHHH!” Your other cubicle mate, Seungkwan, glared at you and Lisa.

“Does your family know about this?” Lisa asked, ignoring him, and you shook your head no. They could never know. You would be more ostracized than you already were. 

“SHHHH! You are very distracting.  I am asking you politely to keep your personal affairs to a minimum. “ Seungkwan looked serious, and you apologize. He was intimidating. Lisa doesn't care, though. 

“I'm not going to let this go,” she whispered. “Jisoo is going to meet us at your place after work…with wine.” 

“Great, can't wait,” you mumble.

Jisoo did indeed show up with wine. She and Lisa fluttered around your kitchen as you sulked on the couch. Your finger toying with a loose, frayed  thread on the arm. You bought it second hand when you moved out of your parents. It was an ugly pea green. You thought it was quirky. It was also all you could afford, but you were proud of your first adult purchase. It's probably time you should get a new one. They soon entered the living room and placed the wine glasses on your coffee table. The two women squeezed themselves together on your oversized chair across from you. You picked up your glass and filled it almost to the top, and Lisa laughed at you.

“Was the sex that bad,” she continued to laugh at you. “I could give you some tips.”  You rolled your eyes and blushed a deep red. “Or….was it that good? Everything you dreamt about?” 

“What’s going on,” Jisoo asked softly, ignoring Lisa's comments. 

“I told you,” Lisa said. “She's fucking Min Yoongi.” Leave it to Lisa to be so blunt about the situation. “How big is it?” Jisoo elbowed Lisa to be quiet. 

“Do not answer that. When did this start?” Jisoo asked. “I thought he left town a while ago. I don't even remember seeing him after he kicked your sister to the curb.”  

“My birthday,” you answer and swirl your wine around. “Lisa left me alone after she met Jimin. I ran into Yoongi outside, and he took me home. There's not really much to tell.”  You will never tell them about how he spanked you. 

“I'm sorry about that. However, I think you're lying. Kai literally said Yoongi's eyes were on kill mode. Have you seen how tall Kai is?” Lisa sighed. “I just want to make sure that he didn't take advantage of you. You know, because of your crush on him.”

“I never told him about my crush on him,” you say, shaking your head. 

“Oh, sweets,” Lisa said. “Everyone knew of your crush on him. It was kind of obvious.”

“What!” You exclaim, and your eyes move to Jisoo, who was giving you an apologetic smile. “This is awful. I'm so embarrassed. He never said anything…do you think he knows?” 

Is that why your sister pretty much started ignoring your existence?  Could she see that you were in love with her boyfriend? It would explain a lot. She stopped looking you in the eyes. Only would talk to you if your mom or dad made her. Why she was in such a hurry to move out of the house. Maybe it didn't really have anything to do with Yoongi. Maybe it was all you. There was no way your sister was threatened by you…absolutely not. Yoongi definitely did not reciprocate your feelings back then. He was just nice. You were just Y/N, his girlfriend's kid sister. A knock at the door disturbed your thoughts. Lisa got up and went to open the door. She always acts like she owns your place. 

“It wasn't that obvious,” Jisoo said, trying to calm you down. “You just always lit up when he was around. We just noticed it since we were close to you. Is this going to be serious? What are you going to tell your parents? Are you okay?”  

“He didn't do anything I didn't want,” you assured Jisoo. “My mom will flip out on me if she finds out. She's hated Yoongi since he broke her “baby's” heart. My dad probably wouldn't care one way or the other.” 

“Oh, Y/N,” Lisa called out. “Lover boy is here.” FUCK HER!

You watched as Yoongi steps into your living room. He hasn't been inside before and kind of looks out of place. The first time he took you home, you made him drop you off down the street. Your mom has been known to show up unexpectedly, especially around your birthday. She wouldn't hesitate to cause a scene even if it were outside. She would probably prefer an audience. The second time, he insisted he walk you to your door but never tried to enter. You watch him as he sets his glare to Lisa. You don't think he was ever a fan of her. If you ever got into trouble, she was always somewhere close by. You were just kids then.  Lisa, she just seems amused by it and smirks back at him. She was never intimidated by him. It always seemed like she knew exactly what buttons to push. It was her favorite hobby.  

“Welcome, Yoongi. What a wonderful surprise,” Lisa teased as she crossed her arms in front of her chest.

“Hey, thanks. Oh, by the way, maybe you shouldn't ditch your friends alone… at night… at bars anymore.” He snarked. “Jisoo,” he greets with a head nod. He turns to look at you. “I brought some food. Thought we could have dinner.” He holds up the bag of takeout. It’s chicken from your favorite restaurant. Did he remember that? Did he get the rolls, too? 

“Hello, Yoongi,” Jisoo greets. 

“That's great,” Lisa piped up. “I’m hungry. Though, you should thank me for doing that. It worked out for you, right? Heard you wore her out,” she teased. Yoongi glared harder, and she smiled innocently.  “Kai says hi.”  

“Yeah, you two should have dinner. We can finish this another day,” Jisoo said, standing up. Lisa was about to open her mouth. Jisoo grabbed her by the arm and pulled her out of the apartment without so much of a goodbye. The two bickering friends could be heard even after your door closed. 

“Why are you friends with her?” He said, glaring holes into your door. 

“Um, yeah, this is great, thank you,” you say softly. You lead him to your kitchen and grab some plates and him his own wine glass. “It's my favorite.” 

“I know,” he said with a smile. Yoongi leaned into you and kissed you on the lips. “Sorry, baby, I didn't mean to interrupt your time with them. I should have called first.” 

“You didn't interrupt anything. I see them all time,” you explain, stepping away, placing the plates on your counter. Yoongi takes the wine glass from you. This feels a little weird. Him in your place making casual conversation. It feels very domestic. You like it, you like it with Yoongi. Your family won't let you have him if they find out. You take the bags from him, smiling when you look inside. There were extra rolls. “Let's eat.” 

You settle down on the floor at the coffee table. Eating in a comfortable silence with backs resting against the pea green couch. Yoongi makes sure to keep your plateful until you tell him to stop. This was something you always appreciated about him. The silence and no pressure to have any sort of conversation. You would often do your homework next to him in high school while he did his own thing. Your sister would often complain that he needed to take her out or spend more time alone together. He would always wait until you were done. Just in case you needed help. It was mainly because you would often space out, and he would have to remind you to finish. You didn't care at the time. You liked that he never made you feel inferior to her. Like you never came in second to her.  His presence was comforting and serene.  Unfortunately, you need to break the silence and have a conversation with him. He declared you as his this past weekend. Honestly, you weren't sure at all what that entailed. Were you dating? Fuck buddies? Did he want a financial advisor? You couldn't help with the last one.

“What’s on your mind,” he asked as he finished his plate. He drapes his arm around your back, resting it on the couch. “Is it Lisa? She puts me in a bad mood, too.” 

“No,” you say with a laugh. “This is going to sound stupid. I'm just confused…. just a little bit.” Yoongi looks at you patiently. “Are we dating…or..” You trail off. He starts laughing. This motherfucker is laughing at you. Your face heats. “Stop, don't make fun. You said some things in a ... .very heated moment. You probably don't even remember saying them.” 

“I'm sorry,” he says once he gets a hold of himself. “That’s what's bothering you?”

“Jisoo asked me if this was going to be serious. Obviously, I'm not asking for anything, but she made a good point. My family…” you start, but he interrupts you.

“I don't care about what your family thinks of me. I'm not stupid. Your mom called me plenty of names when… you know after. You know damn well I’m not a fan of her either.  If you want me to officially ask you to be my girlfriend, I will. Baby, you need to understand I considered you mine when I first took you home on your birthday. We will deal with your parents when it comes time.” Yoongi explains. You nod silently. Maybe  this doesn't have to be super complicated. “Don't stress yourself out over this. Come here,” he pats his lap. You climb carefully into his lap, and he helps you straddle him.  Yoongi takes your face in both of his hands. He doesn't let you look away.  “I know that us being together is not the most ideal of situations, but we're here….together. I won't let you face anything on your own. Trust me, I remember everything about that night. About both nights.” 

You nod your head in understanding. He lets go of your face and brings you into his body. It's the gentlest of hugs. It feels warm and safe, but there is still a part of you that can't give in fully. You still have some questions answered , but at the same time, you can't bring yourself to ask them. Why did they break up? Did he ever love her? How do you compare to her? You feel like you're going to have to hide him away forever. Can you live with such a heavy secret? 

“Why don't you hop in the shower while I clean up?” He suggests. “I’ll take care of everything.” 

"You don't know where anything goes,” you whisper into his neck. 

“I'll figure it out,” he whispers back. You pull back and look at him. You believe him. 

The hot water cascaded down your body.  You liked the temperature as hot as you could get it. The bathroom was almost pure steam by now. A light fog that dimmed the harsh bathroom lights, making it almost seem like a dreamy haze. It especially relaxed you after sitting hunched over at your desk all day. You are so caught up washing your hair, thoughts drifting into nothing, you didn't hear the bathroom door creak. Nor did you realize the curtain opened or how the extra body slipped in. It was only when Yoongi's hands landed on your hips that you jumped and let out a startled shriek. Your hands covered in shampoo go to cover your naked breasts. He just smirks at you.

“Why are you coving yourself?” He wraps his arms around you and pulls you closer. Your skin reddened by the water looks even redder against his own pale skin. “You do realize I've seen you naked before. That I have done some….risqué things to you.” He kisses your shoulder.

“That's…that…that's different,” you stutter. The shampoo from your head is starting to fall in your face. 

“Why?” He asks you with a chuckle as he wipes it away from your eyes. 

“We were doing things then,”you mumble. The memories bring fluttering to your stomach. Those butterflies, their wings flapping away. You look at him, memorized by the way he pushes his wet, silver hair out of his face. He looks ethereal, exquisite,  like he can have anyone one he wants, but he's here with you.  His eyes meet yours, and you feel those nerves all over again. You bite back a whimper. Yoongi hands go to your hair, taking his time to help you rinse the shampoo from your hair. Fingers massaging the base of your skull, gently pulling them through your wet, darkened strands. You sigh in pure satisfaction. 

“We are doing things now. We are just showering together,” he shrugged. He takes both of our hands that cover yourself and clasps them together with his own. Your bare chests pressed up against one another.  Leaning down, he kisses you. It's the gentlest of kisses, just the slightest press of his lips against yours. Yoongi pulls away and sighs. “I noticed that you don't have any of your art up.” 

“What?” You ask and lean up, trying to chase his lips. However, he wouldn't let you. He unlaces one hand and brings his thumb up to your bottom lip, gently rubbing it. The urge is strong to lick his thumb.  “My art? No, I haven't done anything since….” you trail off. “I don't even have supplies anymore.” 

Yoongi hums at that. “I unfortunately have an ulterior motive for being here. Namjoon needs me at a meeting,” he said. That completely woke you back up. He wants to talk about Namjoon…now! “I'm going to be gone for about five days. A week tops. He's been stressing out so much that it's stressing everyone else out.”

“Oh,” you say softly. You don't think it's fair. You seem like you're finally on track, and he has to leave. “A week?” 

“Just a week,” Yoongi confirms. He reaches for your body wash. Lathering his hands. He gently rubs your shoulders, gliding his hands down your back and up again. “I don't want to go. Namjoon says this is important, and hopefully, I don't have to leave again. I don't want to leave you.” 

“Will you call me?” You ask. Your eyes close. His hands are working miracles on your body. It's intimate, not sexual.  They never stray and stay above your waist. Your heart, though, it still beats just as fast. 

"Everyday," he promised. You believe him.

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Tagged Readers:

@unicornbabylover , @marimarvelfan

[xobrattymoonxo]

Kenma, Akaashi, Kuroo and Bokuto x Reader

TW: Non con, fisting, anal, double penetration (Front and back), knife play, blood, carving into skin, If i missed anything please let me know!

AN: Unedited for the most part. Sorry It's been a while guys! I was writing a jjk fic but then I just thought of this and wanted to write it dhbvshdv

Word count: 3.8K

Y/n ran through the house slipping on the rug. She tripped a little but was able to gain her footing again as she ran once more. She saw the door in her vision as she picked up her pace. As she was unlocking all the locks, she was pulled back by her left shoulder. She was slammed into the ground as the man laughed. 

“You can’t outrun me.” He said with a devious smirk. 

Y/n’s first reaction was to start screaming. The man with black and blonde hair covered her mouth. Y/n instantly bit down hard on his hand drawing blood. 

“Ow you bitch!” He yelled.  

“Kenma, are you okay?

“No, that stupid bitch bit me!” He yelled at the black haired man. 

“Fuck.” The black haired man sees Y/n getting up and rushing for the front door. “Y/n, if you know what’s good for you you will stop right now.” He said in a stern voice.  

“It’s too late to give up now, Akaashi!” She yelled as she began to unlock the seven locks on the door. Akaashi rushed to her side as she turned with all her force and punched him in the nose. He fell backwards with a bloody nose/. Kenma rushed up to her other side as she used a swift kick to hit him in the balls.

“Fuck!” He yelled as he fell down holding his crotch. 

Y/n unlocked the last lock as she ripped the door open. She began to run down the long driveway of the private house on the outskirts of Tokyo. Around the house was nothing but trees, but she figured if she ran through the forest she would be safe from Kuroo and Bokuto, who were probably on their way home. 

Y/n started to run through the forest as she heard a car pull in the driveway. She turned back to see Bokuto rush to the front door. Akaashi was standing on the porch holding his nose as he pointed to the forest where Y/n was. 

She turned as fast as she could on her feet and ran for her life. She knew if she went back to the house, she’d be screwed, maybe even dead. 

It wasn’t long after Bokuto had begun his hunt, like she was a deer and he was the hungry mountain lion. He ran at full speed as she kept running. 

It wasn’t always like this, Y/n actually used to work at the 24 hour convenience store. Kenma had come into her store many times to buy energy drinks around 2 or 3 am. It was just Kenma at first, harmless soft Kenma. Until he started to bring in his friend, Kuroo. Kuroo started to stalk Y/n, figuring out she was a university student at Tokyo U. Their friend Akaashi happened to go there as well. He started off casually following her around for Kenma… and then for Kuroo. He then began to take photos, stalking her more intensely. He learned her schedule, he learned everything about her and he claimed it was all for them.

One Friday night, Kenma went into the convenience store with Kuroo. 

“Hey Y/n.” He said monotone as usual. “I am having a party this weekend at my place. Figured I’d invite you since I always see you around.” 

“When is it? I most likely will be working so I probably won’t be abe to make it.” She said upset. 

“Monday.”

“Oh, I have classes on Tuesdays, I shouldn’t.” 

“C’mon Y/n!” Kuroo said, “Have some fun! We always see you here. You must not even sleep at this point.” 

“I sleep a couple hours after I get off at 6.” She laughed. “But maybe.” 

“Say you’ll come, please?” Kenma asked. 

She couldn’t resist Kenma. 

“Okay… What time should I get there?” 

“8pm, Oak Tree Rd, 175. See you next week, beautiful.” Kuroo smiled at her.  

She smiled as the two walked out the front door. 

Timeskip to Monday…. 

Y/n grabbed her bag and checked herself in the mirror again. She smiled as she looked at her black clubbing dress. She never had a chance to wear it as she always worked.  

Y/n began to walk outside to her apartment lobby. She looked at the time and saw it was 7:24pm. She began to walk. The party was only 34 minutes away, ust on the other side of her work. 

Y/n arrived at a house, there was no noise coming from the house. She walked up to the door really slowly. She knocked on the front door.  

“Hey Beautiful! You made it!” Kuroo said as he opened the door.  

“Um… I thought it was a party.” She tried covering up her chest a bit. 

“It actually starts at 9:30pm. We just wanted you to meet our close friends first.” Kuroo said. 

“Oh makes sense I guess.” She murmured.  

“Come in.” Kuroo stepped aside for Y/n to walk inside. She looked around the mansion astonished. “Nice, huh?”

“Hey Y/n.” Kenma said. “Glad you could make it.” 

“Hi Kenma.” She looked around the large room with 3 couches in it. There was a large projector style tv on the wall. 

“Hi I am Bokuto!” A man with silver and black roots said. 

“Hey, I am Akaashi.” The black haired man said from behind Bokuto. 

“These are our best friends.” Kuroo said. 

“It’s nice to meet you guys. I’m Y/n.” She said. 

“Come have a seat.” Bokuto motions her in between him and Akaashi.  

“So tell us about yourself, Y/n.”Akaashi smiled. 

“I go to Tokyo U. I work at a convenience store. I met Kenma and Kuroo from said convenience store. That’s about it.” She said with a nervous laugh. 

“You go to Tokyo U? I do as well.” Akaashi pretended not to know. 

“Oh what do you study?” Y/n asked.

“Editing and creative writing.” Akaashi said. “And you?” 

“I’m in med school. Hoping to be a Neurologist one day.” 

“Wow you must really never sleep then.” Kuroo said. 

“I study and do homework at work.” She laughed.

“Impressive.” Kenma said. 

“How about you three?” Y/n asked the rest of the guys in the room. 

“I’m a professional Volleyball player for MSBY.” Bokuto spoke up. 

“I work for the Japan Volleyball Association in the sports promotion division.” Kuroo added.  

“I’m the CEO of my own company and a streamer.” Kenma said.

 “Oh wow.” Y/n said. 

Just then the doorbell rang.  

“Looks like the party arrived early.” Kuroo said as he walked out of the room. 

Y/n stood up and walked to the kitchen to get a drink.

“Hey sexy, did it hurt?” A man said from behind Y/n. 

“If you ask if it hurt when I fell from Heaven, I’ll scream right now.” She said,  The guy laughed. 

“I’m Atsumu. What’s yer name, Angel?” 

“Please leave our guest alone, Atsumu. She’s not looking for you to dick her down, I promise.” Kuroo said from behind Y/n. 

Y/n sighed in relief as she turned around. Kuroo passed her a red solo cup full of Vodka. She took one sip and made a face at him.  

“What is this? It’s disgusting.” She said as Kuroo laughed as he took it back and chugged down the cup's contents. 

“Let’s make you something mixed then.” Atsumu rolled his eyes as he walked away from the two. Bokuto came into the kitchen and bumped into Y/n making her turn as Kuroo slipped something into her drink. He dumped coke on top of the rum in her cup and passed it back to her. The pill vanished into nothing as she took her first sip. Kuroo looked at Bokuto with a wink as he walked away. In 15 to 20 minutes their plan would take course. 

The two talked as Akaashi came up to them. Some time passed as Kuroo checked his watch. 

“Hey guys, I am not feeling too hot. Do you know what time it is?” Y/n asked, feeling herself fade out of consciousness. 

“It’s 10:30 pm, Y/n.” 

Y/n blinked and suddenly she was on the balcony with Bokuto’s hands on her waist. 

“Wha-what time is it?” She slurred, reaching up to grab her head in hopes to calm her throbbing headache.

“1:45am baby, why?”

“What?” She felt herself grow dizzy as she fell into Bokuto’s chest. 

“Are you okay? I should take you home. Sit for a second let me get some water.” He placed her down on a chair as he walked back into the room. He texted the others “Code red.” 

He slipped two roofies from his pocket and into the bottle of water. He took one sip before doing so so it wouldn’t be suspicious. 

“Here Y/n.” He passed her the water bottle as she began to chug it back. “Let’s just wait here a few minutes so the world stops spinning for you.”

She gave him a thumbs up as she continued to drink. The more she drank the dizzier she felt.  

“Bo….I don’t- I don’t feel good at all.” She tried to stand up as she fell into his chest once again. “Help me.” She whispered as she felt her eyes grow heavy and her body go limp. 

Bokuto smiled at the limp drugged up body in his arms as he picked her up and carried her into the bedroom. He placed her on the bed carefully. Kuroo busted open the door and looked at the scene before him. 

“Thank god, What was code red about?” He asked Bokuto. 

“She became conscious again. I gave her a couple more roofies and knocked her out.” 

“Well she’s going to feel like shit when she wakes up.” Akkashi said from behind Kuroo. “Kenma is clearing out the party now.” “Good, that means it will be easier for us to get her out.” 

“How are we doing that again?” Bokuto asked. 

“Kenma got me to park in the garage so we could throw her in the trunk.” Kuroo said. 

“Okay. Let me go be our eyes and ears downstairs.” Akaashi said as he left. 

Bokuto looked at the unconscious Y/n on the bed and smiled. 

“She’s almost ours, Kuroo.” Bokuto said with a smile. 

“She is, Bo.” 

A few minutes later Akaashi walked back into the room. 

“All clear.” Akaashi said to the guys. Bokuto lifted her unconscious body off the bed. He began to carry her bridal style down the stairs.  

Bokuto walked into the garage as Kuroo popped open the trunk. He lightly places Y/n’s unconscious body in the trunk. 

“Let’s head out. It’s a long drive to the cabin.” Kenma said from the door behind them.  

Bokuto and Akaashi got into the back seat. The four headed out. 

It wasn’t too long before Bokuto began to get antsy. 

“Are we almost there? I want to be there! How much longer?” Bokuto’s legs started to shake.

“Bokuto-san, we will get there soon, don’t worry.” Akaashi said as he put a hand on his knee.

“I want to hold her though.” Bokuto huffed.  

“How much longer, Kenma?” Akaashi asked.  

“About 20 minutes.” Kenma said. 

“Awww but I want to be there now!” Bokuto whined again. 

"Bo, how are you this excited for someone you haven’t met before tonight?” Kuroo asked with a laugh. 

“Kaashi has told me all about her, he shows me her pictures too. Sometimes he shows me the videos he takes for you guys. She is so pretty and beautiful and she's just so perfect for us!” 

“Seems like someones in love.” Kuroo laughed again. 

The car was full of Bokuto and Kuroo talking about their favorite things about Y/n. 

Kuroo pulled up into the parking lot of a two story house surrounded by trees. Bokuto practically jumped out of the car. He ripped open the trunk to see a still passed out Y/n laying there surrounded by pillows.  

Bokuto lifted up her unconscious body and carried her to the door where Kenma was unlocking it. 

“There's a door to the basement in the pantry.” Kenma said as he motioned for them to go inside…. 

Y/n woke up with a splitting headache. She couldn’t remember much from the party, or how she even got home. She went to move her hands to rub her eyes, but something was restricting her hands. She looked up and saw her hands tied to the above bed post. She began to feel her heart beat increase, she pulled down on her arms and began to panic. 

“She's awake!” A voice yelled from across the room. 

“Perfect.” 

“What’s going on?” Y/n asked, confused. “Where am I? Who are you?” Her voice began to shake. 

“Y/n! It’s just us!” Bokuto exclaimed. “You’re safe here, okay?” Bokuto sat on the side of the bed. He placed his hands on her bare stomach. 

“Where are my clothes?!?” Y/n was freaking out as she noticed she was only in her lingerie. 

“Your dress was so tight, we thought we’d let your body breathe baby.” Kuroo said from behind Bokuto. 

Kenma walked in the room with Akaashi as Y/n tried to pull away from Bokuto’s hands. 

Bokuto’s hands trailed up Y/n’s side. 

“Baby, don’t pull away.” Bokuto said. 

Kuroo reached around Bokuto and started to untie Y/n’s hands. 

Y/n was quick to pull away from Bokuto and pulled her knees into her as she braced herself into the Headboard against the wall. 

“Baby, don’t back away.” Bokuto sighed as his hair deflated. He reached his hand out to touch her again. 

“Don’t touch me!” She screamed. 

Bokuto was taken aback by her shouting. He looked at Akaashi. 

    “Y/n, I know you’re scared, but there's no need to shout at us.” Akaashi said calmly. He moved over to the edge of the bed and reached for her. 

Y/n slapped Akaashi’s hand away. 

“I said don’t touch me!” She screamed again. 

Akaashi looked back at Kuroo and Kenma. Kuroo pushed past the two of them and grabbed Y/n by the ankles. He pulled her down the bed. She began kicking and screaming as Kuroo raised his hand to slap her across the face. She reached up and grabbed her cheek as she cried. 

“You are going to act like a brat, I’ll treat you like one.” Kuroo said. 

He was quick to place his hand on her throat as he began to apply pressure. She reached up and tried to pry Kuroo’s big hands off her throat. 

“Kuroo, careful.” Kenma warned. 

“She’s being an ungrateful bitch.” He spat back. He ripped down her underwear as he shoved two fingers inside of her pussy. 

“Kuroo! I wanted to be the first one to fuck her.” Bokuto whined. 

“Then get over here before I change my mind.” Kuroo said. 

4 ½ months later… 

That's how they got into their current situation, y/n running for her life through the woods in nothing but Bokuto’s shirt and underwear.  

Y/n was giving everything she had into running away. She heard footsteps catching up to her. She tried her best to speed up as she felt a hand on her shoulder. She was pulled back and thrown to the ground. 

“Fuck! Let me go!” She screamed.  

“Baby, calm down! You’re just confused.” Bokuto’s voice cooed at her. He picked her up as Kuroo arrived at the scene. 

“Stupid bitch thought she could escape.” Kuroo laughed. “Here.” He passed Bokuto a pair of Handcuffs. 

“No please! No! I just want to go home!” Y/n cried. 

“You were home.” Kuroo snapped. 

Bokuto and Kuroo fought and put the handcuffs on Y/n’s wrists. She was crying and thrashing her wrists as Bokuto carried her back bridal style.  

“Bring her back down stairs. I have a surprise for her.” Kenma said manically. 

“On it.” Kuroo said as he led Bokuto through the house.  

Akaashi went behind them and began to lock up the front door again. Kenma walked past him and into the kitchen and grabbed a large knife. 

“Woah what’s that for Kenma?” Akaashi asked.  

“You’ll see.” He smiled a devilish smile.

The two walked down the stairs where Bokuto and Kuroo had tied Y/n down to the bed.  

“Kuroo.” Kenma spoke. “Do you want to go first?” He asked, holding out the knife. 

“You deserve it. She did bite you after all.” Kuroo said. Bokuto just finished tying a rag in her mouth. 

Kenma grabbed the shirt on her as he sliced it off in one quick motion. He was quick to repeat the process to her underwear too. 

“Woah Kenma, careful you don’t cut her.” Bokuto said. 

“Where’s the fun in that?” Kenma smirked once again. 

Kenma pressed the tip of the knife into her soft thigh. He began to apply pressure as Y/n began to cry harder. Kuroo grabbed hold of her ankles as she tried to kick him off. 

Kenma pressed hard into her skin as he carved two letter K’s into her left thigh. He passed the knife over to Akaashi. Akaashi smiled as he pressed the knife down into her right thigh. He carved out AK before passing it to Kuroo. Akaashi and Kenma held down one leg each. Kuroo took his own sweet time to carve on the left side KT. He passed over the knife to Bokuto who looked a little uneasy. 

“Cmon Bo, you can do it.” Kuroo encouraged him. 

“It’s hurting her though.” Bokuto said all sad. 

“She hurt us Bo, she tried to leave us. We gave her everything and she repays us by leaving? This is just a reminder to her she's ours.” Kuroo said. 

Bokuto smiled as he looked down at her right thigh. He carved out a BK as he smiled. The blood was running down her leg.  Bokuto tossed the knife aside as he pulled his shirt off. 

“Seeing her like this…. Is making me feel some way…” He said with a devious smirk.  

Bokuto began to get naked in front of the other guys as Kuroo laughed. 

“Looks like Bo got turned on after all.” Kuroo said. 

Kuroo took his shirt off as Akaashi placed his hand on Kuroo’s shoulder.  

“What are you doing?” He asked him. 

“There’s enough room for all of us after all, remember?” 

Kenma smiled as he began to strip down too. Akaashi didn’t take long to follow through. 

The guys all turned to face Bokuto as they heard a loud muffled groan leave Y/n’s mouth.  Bokuto had shoved himself inside Y/n’s pussy dry. He began to frantically pump inside her. 

“Woah Bokuto, wait for us will you?” Akaashi said with a laugh. “Who’s taking what?” 

“I call dibs on her mouth.” Kenma said as he climbed onto the bed.  

“I’ll take her ass if you are okay to share with Bokuto this time Kasshi?” Kuroo asked. 

Akaashi nodded as he Approached the bed. 

“Bo, can you turn her on her side. I want to make space in her tight little asshole for me.” Kuroo smiled. 

Bokuto smiled back as he moved her on her side. Kuroo grabbed the lube from the bedside table. He opened it up and dropped a few drops on Y/n’s tiny butthole. He began to rub it in slowly as she begged for them to stop. 

“Kenma, shut her up before I do.” Akaashi said. 

Kenma laughed as he climbed to the top of the bed. Bokuto pulled her down a bit as Kenma got above her. 

“You bite me now, I’ll slice you up. Got it?” She shook her head in agreement. Kenma quickly shoved his member down her throat. He grabbed the back of her head and forced her to take all of him. It was Akaashi’s turn to join the fun. He put lube on his member as he lined it up next to Bokuto’s. Y/n was unable to do anything as her hands were still tied up. Kuroo now had 3 fingers shoved up Y/n’s asshole. 

“Bokuto, can you shift a little. I want to join you inside so we can all cum together.” Akaashi said. 

As Akaashi was forcing himself inside as Kuroo pulled his fingers out. Kuroo opened up the bottle of lube again and dumped it all over his hand. Kuroo smiled to himself as he slowly started to work his large fist into Y/n.  She cried out as Kuroo and Akaashi fully pushed in at the same time.  

“Fuck! Do that again.” Kenma moaned as she gasped and moaned out around his cock.  

Kuroo laughed as he pulled his hand almost all the way out, then quickly slammed it in at full speed once again. 

“Yeah fuck just like that.” Kenma moaned. 

“Fuck!” Bokuto and Akaashi yelled in sync. 

“Feels good huh?” He smirked. 

“Keep going,”Bokuto said. “She’s getting tighter with every thrust.”

The two in her pussy picked up the pace as Kuroo remained fisting her ass.  

“I’m close.” Akaashi moaned. 

“Fuck me too.” Kenma said. 

“Just cum inside her. I’ll buy some plan B tomorrow.” Kuroo said. 

Just like that, Akaashi and Bokuto shot hot ropes of cum inside Y/n. Kenma wasn’t too far behind as lets his hot load out down her throat. 

Kuroo pulled his fist out as he replaced it with his cock. 

“Fuck, she’s so stretched out.” He said.  

“I want to try fisting her too!” Bokuto whined. 

“Take her pussy. Her ass is mine.” Kuroo said. 

Bokuto looked down at her cum dripping pussy. He shrugged his shoulders as he began to force his massive fist inside her.  

“Stop! Please! It hurts!” She cried out.  

“You deserve this. This isn’t for your pleasure, it’s for ours.” He said as his fist slowly slipped all the way inside. 

Kuroo groaned out as he felt Bokuto’s fist through the thin wall. 

“Fuck Bo, I can feel you on the otherside.” Kuroo moaned. 

“I can see my fist in her stomach!” Bokuto exclaimed excitedly.  

Kuroo was quick to release hot strings of cum inside her ass.

“Fuck that was to good.” Kuroo breathed out.

Y/n laid there crying silently as she begged for it to be over. 

“Well that’s not fair to Kenma or Akaashi, now is it?” Kuroo smirked.  

“Please- please no.” 

“Cmon, let’s not play favorites, okay?” Bokuto said. 

Akaashi grabbed the lube as he lined up to her front entrance and Kenma at the back entrance. 

Y/n was screaming in pain as the two who had finished sat back and watched. 

It wasn’t until hours later they all stopped. Constantly fucking her between their fists and their cocks. She was laying there, completely fucked out when they finally stopped. She was covered in cum and it was dripping from all three of her holes. There was even some blood in other places then her thighs.  

“Let’s get washed up. Let her rest for a little bit.” Akaashi said. 

“We shouldn’t leave her out. I don’t trust her on her own anymore.” Kenma added. 

“Bring the dog carrier.” Kuroo said.