#but alas i can’t find any

[bamboozled-distress]

I feel like sirius would love abba to death but it doesn’t go with his “extreme punk badass exterior” so he’d keep it to himself but secretly his favourite song ever would be voulez-vous

[aheathen-conceivably]

Pretty sure I went too hard on the mini arc and gave myself burnout before the real story even begins y’all…

So much for uh, super chill gameplay time, huh?

[butcherb1rd]

sometimes being autistic and having sensory issues makes me so sad. there’s so many foods that taste wonderful but i will never eat. i am so sorry to all the veggies and sauces and complex flavors i’ll never get to enjoy because the Texture Is Wrong :(

[colesterstrudel]

Bought a ravens beanie. It lights up. The nfl got me.

[agustdtown1]

SHUT UP AND DRIVE | JJK

PAIRING: street racer!jungkook x fem!reader

SUMMARY: Anyone could have predicted how bad it is to make a bet with your brother, yet you were hoping the outcome would be different. But alas, you were meant to be taught a lesson tonight; never go behind your brother’s back.

WC: 6.4k

WARNINGS: brother’s best friend trope, a lot of plot, light angst (if you squint), I know nothing about cars so there might be very inaccurate cars/street racing stuff. Smut, brief mention of oral sex (f receiving), brief mention of fingering, dirty talk, pet names, slight grinding, handjob, manhandling, jk calling mc dumb (1 time), unprotected sex, hair pulling, big dick!jk, jk didn’t pull out (oops). Can’t think of anything else, if I’m missing something lmk.

A/N: got a bit carried away with the plot oops, but i hope you enjoy your reading.

masterlist

Growing up in a city as big as yours, you had to learn to love its evident duality. How the sky would go from bright blue to pinkish to orange, and lastly a deep and dark blue that left you feeling at ease whenever you looked up at the stars. Those colors were the only indicators to make changes throughout the day. That characteristic transferred onto you with such an ease during the early stages of life, and now it was second nature to show different colors of yourself depending on the time and place you were found in.

The city would change and turn into a whole different place when midnight struck. During the day, streets were filled with the mouthwatering smell of food, along with the indistinct chatter of the pedestrians trying to find solace in the nearest place that would protect them from the scorching sun; under a bright blue sky. You would see kids clinging to their mothers while crossing the streets; teenagers racing their friends to the nearest convenience store, and betting their allowance on whoever gets first; along with couples sharing ice cream cones, with the sweetest of smiles plastered on their faces; covered in a pinkish color due to the beautiful sky looking down on them. You could even see people dreadfully walking towards their workplace for their 9 to 5 shift, with orange hues decorating the background. However, at night that scenario was completely erased.

The dark blue sky, tinted with the most beautiful array of stars would prone adults in their early twenties and late thirties to hop from bar to bar; looking for any alcoholic beverage to throw into their system that could make them forget about their overworked and underpaid jobs, or their stressful college life. The yellow hues of the street lights would adorn every dark corner, along with the neon signs outside the obnoxiously loud clubs scattered around the city, illuminating the excited faces of the pedestrians walking straight into those stuffy places. The music, albeit too scandalous for your own liking, served as an invitation for others to peek into the deceiving nightclubs, only for them to be wrapped into the tricky hands of an owner that would encourage people to spike others’ drinks.

But that’s what nightlife in your city was about, shitty alcohol, overrated music, and the occasional creeps lurking for anyone who they deemed “worthy” enough for them.

Nonetheless, that wasn’t the part of the city that you loved most. It was not the bars, not the clubs, not the alcohol, and certainly not the crazy people surrounding you in packed rooms. That would never make that thrilling sensation spread throughout your body to ignite a flame within your heart.

The south side would.

The abandoned buildings that served as a sanctuary for all those who wanted to take risks and forget about their lives, at least for a night. It would be the blaring music coming from the speakers of a severely modified ‘65 Ford Mustang. It would be the cold drink sitting in your hand, while you listened to one of your brother’s friends talk about his next race.

That’s what excited you, that’s what kept you alive.

Your brother was well known in the street racing world, everyone knew who Kim Taehyung was, and hence to that, everybody knew who you were as well. It was as if your brother had thrown a spell on you. Your name didn’t matter, though, it was pointless to urge people to use it, you were often addressed as Vante’s —which was the nickname people in the racing world would use to refer to him— little sister. And as annoying as it was, it was equally beneficial. The perks of having a popular brother would provide you with the nicest parking spot at Mura’s restaurant; it would draw people to pay for your drinks in order to make a good impression for either of you; but most importantly it would scare the creeps away, which you were very thankful for.

Taehyung often brought you along with him every weekend, racing in one of his precious cars that he worked so hard to get. While you watched —and occasionally cheered— him, swerving through lanes, pulling stunts that never failed to make your heart quicken its pace, and hold your breath until he was out of a dangerous zone. That’s what your life has come down to.

The roaring engines of classy and modern cars echoing through the streets; the smell of gasoline and smoke mixed with the aroma of anticipation and failure emanating from the racers; along with the scent of weed and beer. You were used to people walking a bit too close to you, invading your personal space to do simple things like asking where they can find the restroom —there’s none—. You were now accustomed to the wide view of your city at night, with the sparkly lights shining in the distance and the tall buildings looking small for once; almost untouchable.

“I’m telling you Tae, these new rims are worth it.” Jimin, one of your brother’s friends, was so desperately trying to prove his point.

He recently made a purchase for Taehyung’s car that was deemed unnecessary by your brother himself. His blond friend —although it wasn’t his natural hair color— was the one in charge of upgrading Taehyung’s car every now and then. His extravagant tendencies, however, would push him towards making decisions out of pure enjoyment and not strategically. Hence why the two guys were found in such a predicament.

A modification made under no other reason than to make the car look cool, which was, in hindsight, impractical. But Taehyung was the kind of guy that couldn’t say no to his friends, and so instead of asking him to change the rims back to his preferred ones, your brother opted to let out the longest sigh that his lungs allowed him to, and asked the important questions.

“Did you adjust the brake discs, at least?” He queried, in a flat voice.

“Of course, I did! Who do you take me for?” Jimin brightly answered, with a slightly faltering smile.

Park Jimin was an interesting guy. Whimsical as a fairy tale, and mischievous as they come, but with an IQ that would leave you wondering how a guy that looked like the embodiment of hardcore partying, would speak about mechanical stuff with such an ease and fluency. Amazing, in more ways than just one, never living up to the expectations of others, and more often than not, he would go to the farthest extents to be out of the ordinary.

At first glance, it was a stark contrast to who your brother was and made himself out to be, however, after being dragged into their nonsensical banter on more occasions than what you would like to be in, it was rightfully proved that both boys were more alike than what they would actually admit.

Truth be told, their exchanges were always comical. It wasn’t rare for the two boys to bicker and throw shady comments to one another in a monotone voice, which would make you think they were one hundred percent serious about the matter. But rather than ending up in a fight, they would simply laugh it off and move onto the next best thing to do, which usually was annoying you. And although it was unbearable to deal with a hyper-aware-of-his-influence-on-people type of guy and your I’m-too-cool-to-be-talking-to-you type of brother, you wouldn’t, in all honesty, have it any other way.

“I made Hoseok hyung do it.” Park’s unbothered demeanor finally broke under Taehyung’s piercing stare. “So rest assured, it won’t interfere with your race tonight.”

Your brother only hummed in acknowledgment, nodding once he was reassured that there would be no problem with his car.

“Speaking of which,” Your breezy voice slipped into their conversation easily, “where’s Hobi?”

Jung Hoseok was often described as the embodiment of a ray of sunshine, and rightfully so. The boy would light up a room whenever he stepped in, so unaware of how his lively attitude would be the best remedy for a gloomy day. Out of all your brother’s friends, you reasoned with him the most. Hoseok was easy to talk to, easy to be around. Whenever you felt like you were on the verge of losing your calmness, you would find solace in his soft arms, engulfing you in a warm embrace.

“He’s on the way.” Your brother responded shortly after. “Jungkook had to pick him up, but he’s coming, don’t worry.”

There was a glint in your brother’s eyes that left you slightly squirming in your place. Maybe it was the meaning behind the “he’s coming”, and how you were sure that he wasn’t exactly referring to Hoseok anymore at the last part. Perhaps it was the guilt that was rapidly creeping up in your chest, almost urging you to add some commentary to his response, to clear the air and come clean for once. Or it could be the fact that, deep down, you knew your brother was aware of your little secret.

It wasn’t a hunch anymore, Taehyung knew. And it was confirmed when his deep brown eyes slowly drifted towards you when both of his friends finally arrived.

An all black Mercedes AMG parked right besides your brother’s car, blinding you by its bright lights. Hoseok was the one to get out first, sporting a wide smile while walking towards where you and the other two boys were standing. With a faltering grin, you greeted the boy whom you were asking about no longer than a minute ago, however, in that precise moment, you were no longer preoccupied by his whereabouts. Instead, you held your breath, waiting for the person behind the steering wheel, the one who hasn’t made an appearance just yet.

“How’s it going, Hobi hyung?” Jimin asked, after a quick handshake with the aforementioned guy.

“It’s all good…”

Their conversation was tuned out for you the moment the driver's door was finally opened. It all happened at a tortuous slow speed; a pair of black combat boots were the first thing in sight, followed by a pair of washout baggy jeans and an oversized black t-shirt. Your eyes were quick to gravitate towards the tattoo sleeve the guy was sporting; fingers cladded in rings and a silver bracelet adorning his wrist. His fashion sense was one most guys envied, nonetheless, no one has been able to look as good as the man in front of you in oversized black clothes.

“Long time no see.” His amused tone snapped you out of your thoughts.

Jungkook was standing tall in front of you, with a mischievous look in his eyes, one that secretly warned you about the possible risky situation you will be in tonight. And as much as you’d want to say no, it was impossible for you to reject any proposition the boy was willing to make.

However, no one could really blame you for falling that hard for him.

Jeon Jungkook was a man often described as charming, flirty, funny and, evidently, attractive. Girls would fawn over the young man all the time, staring at him with bedroom eyes whenever he made an appearance; it was interesting the way Jungkook walked around as if he owned the place, lowkey bragging about his car and his winning strike with such confidence, but not even once he showed an ounce of arrogance when talking to you. He proved over and over again that the generic description people would give about him was undeniably true. He was charming, flirty and quite attractive, however, you would add another adjective to the long list of words that girls always used when talking about your brother’s friend; troublesome.

Jeon Jungkook was a walking disaster, a man worthy of a warning sign. The bright yellow with dark letters and a huge exclamation mark type of warning. But alas, you never noticed, not while he was charming you up since the first night you two met. You were in too deep now, with no way out, more than coming to terms with the consequences you were bound to face, once you decide to be honest with your brother that is.

“Haven’t seen you in a while, JK.” Taehyung was the first one to talk, making you look away from the man a few feet away from you. “How’s it been?”

“It could’ve been better.”

You could feel his piercing stare, but refused to look in his direction.

“Ready for tonight?” He opted to ask once he realized you weren’t budging. “Heard the prize is five grand this time.”

“Yeah, I’m taking all that money with me when I win.”

At that you scoffed playfully, looking at your overly confident brother.

“If you win.” A mischievous smirk took place on your face.

“You still doubt me, little sis?” Taehyung directed his attention to you, taking interest in the way you decided to finally insert yourself in the conversation. “Why don’t we make a bet then?”

Hoseok and Jimin were quick to encourage the proposition, fueling the fire for competition between you and Taehyung.

“What are we betting?” You questioned.

“Anything you want”

The possibilities were endless, you could bet money or his secret stash of snacks, hidden in his apartment; you could even ask him for his overly expensive shirt that looked better on you than it did him. But all those things were somewhat easy to provide, easy to give away; however, there was one thing that your brother has always refused to do.

“If you lose…” you drifted off, pretending that you were thinking about what you wanted. “I’ll be the one racing next Saturday.”

Taehyung’s face morphed into a grimace, his serene stance changed to one more rigid and tense. He wasn’t expecting your answer to be that, but then again, it should have been telling by the way you were so quick to agree to the deal.

“Oh and I’ll use one of your cars, too.” The cherry of the cake, as if your previous statement wasn’t enough.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea—” Jungkook wanted to mediate and make you ponder about your proposition and how dangerous it was.

“Alright.” Taehyung cut him off, with a decisive look in his eyes. “I’ll let you take any car you want.”

“And if Vante wins?” Hoseok asked, eagerly.

“I’ll tell her later.”

A weird feeling found home in your chest after your brother’s statement. Something within you was telling you that making that bet was the worst idea you could have had so far. Whether you didn’t want to ponder over it, or you were too sure that you would win, you didn’t argue about his ambiguous answer anymore. Instead, you let him make his way towards his car, getting ready for a race that would change a lot of things after tonight.

A cold hand was quick to wrap around your right arm, preventing you from following Taehyung’s path, like Jimin and Hoseok did.

“Are you sure you wanna continue with this?” Jungkook’s preoccupied voice almost made you coo at him, but at the same time it ignited a desire to push his buttons.

“Why wouldn’t I?” You argued. “It's fifty-fifty. Worst case scenario, I lose my race next week.”

After sending him a confident wink, you parted ways, positioning yourself next to Hoseok. You completely ignored the way Jungkook’s stare hardened, not willing to sour your mood with his protectiveness.

“You sure he’s gonna lose?” Hoseok asked beside you, staring right up ahead at Taehyung’s car. “He seems pretty confident, if I say so myself.”

“Why is everyone doubting me?” You groaned. “Of course he’s gonna act like that, because he needs to pretend he has everything under control.” The explanation wasn’t enough to convince your brother’s friend to be on your side. “Besides, Jimin changed his rims, that’s gotta do something to his performance, no?”

The brown haired man could only laugh, shaking his head as if saying that you couldn’t be more wrong. Your ego was bruised by his reaction. It was known that you didn’t like being laughed at or being the but of a joke you’d never understand. However, the situation in itself was way more than just your friend making fun of the little knowledge you had about cars. It was about how stupid you were for getting yourself a deal in which you won’t be the one winning.

“That just shows you’re not ready to be part of this anytime soon, little one.” Hoseok messed with your hair, before opting to pay attention to the race that was about to begin.

Taking a look at your brother, you could tell he was slightly worried, nonetheless, that worry was not enough to wash away the firm grip on the wheel or the determined look on his face. And it was just then that you realized the big mistake you made.

Maybe you should have been more clever, perhaps you really shouldn’t have pushed your luck in the way you did, but what’s done it’s done, and it was a bit too late to back down.

In hindsight, it should have been obvious who was going to be the winner tonight. Ever since you and your brother found your second home in the cold streets of the south side, Taehyung has never backed down from a challenge, let alone lose one.

So when the lady cladded in a mini skirt and tank top waved the blue bandana, you knew you were done for.

“… Set, go!”

All the cars drove past the girl at an incredibly high speed, almost knocking her out of the street. The cheering and shouting started way before the race could; people pushing others, urging them to move so they could see more clearly.

Looking away from the distant figures of the cars, you encountered a pair of brown eyes already staring at you. Jungkook hesitantly stepped forward to where you were, almost reminding you of the first time you met. His confident demeanor never made an appearance that night, and it certainly threw you off by how hesitant he seemed to approach you. However, you two hit it off right away, starting an easy conversation that led into more than it should have.

But once again, no one could really blame you.

On the night you and Jungkook met for the first time, you were entranced by his alluring physique and charming attitude. His black on black attire pulled you in, and urged you to take a few steps forward to make sure your eyes weren’t deceiving you.

He was the most handsome man you have ever seen in quite some time, and far from being exciting, it was annoying. It annoyed you the way the shiny piercing adorning his bottom lip looked so inviting, as if it was taunting you, begging you to risk it all and have a taste of it. His doe eyes were a stark contrast to who the guy seemed to be. His tough exterior got combined with a pair of big brown eyes covered in a soft glint.

It was unfair, it was annoying. Moreover, it didn’t help the fact that he granted you a beaming smile, while his tattooed hand reached out to take yours.

His whole existence was annoying, for he was off limits.

Therefore, you had to push your wandering —and very lustful— thoughts away, to the farthest corner of your mind. It was the only way to keep your relationship with your brother safe. No man will ever be worthy of messing things up with Taehyung… or so you thought.

The ugly truth was that you were tempted by the little devil on your shoulder, chanting for you to risk it all and drag the boy to the nearest dark corner, and give both of you a night that neither would be able to forget. It was hard to admit, but there was something about Jeon Jungkook that made you ponder if it would really fuck things up if you were to get intimate with him. For it was risky, as walking all alone in a deserted street at night, but tempting, like eating a forbidden fruit; and the possibility excited you.

Fast forward, the first time meeting him ended up being the first —but certainly not last— time the guy buried his face deep in between your legs, while his eager hands commenced a trip to memorize every curve and dent of your body.

No one knew at the time that amidst the deafening cheering, the blaring music coming from the speakers and the roaring of the cars’ engines, moans were falling from your swollen lips, while your back was pinned against the wall, with a pair of lips covering your body in wet kisses and avid hands were touching every inch of your skin. No one knew that while there was a race happening a few feet away from where you were located, you were also competing, desperately trying to reach your high, at the same time someone’s Camaro drove over the finish line, receiving wild cheers from the crowd.

The situation in itself was impractical and very stupid, however, in a matter of days you developed some sort of addiction towards the beautiful tall young man. And so, after getting accustomed to a routine of secrecy and betrayal, it stopped being a hard pill to swallow, but rather a recurrent predicament to be found in the strong arms of Jungkook, with his lips kissing up and down your neck while his skillful fingers were pumping in and out of your warm walls.

Even on regular days you would still yearn for his touch, playing on repeat his husky voice and the sweet nothings he would whisper in your ears, while thrusting into you.

“My pretty princess, taking me so well.”

It was like music to your ears, a melody that would lift you up so high to almost reach the sky. But despite the amazing feelings Jungkook would put you through, the unbearable truth of going behind your brother’s back and messing around with his friend outweighed the pleasure. You didn’t realize how fucked up you were by being involved in such a messy situation.

At least not until you were almost caught red handed.

“I missed you so much, princess.” A husky voice echoed through the confines of the Mercedes-Benz you were in, sending shivers down your spine. “Don’t make me wait this long to have you, ever again.”

The sentence uttered by Jeon Jungkook himself was intriguing enough for anyone who might hear it on passing, for you, nonetheless, it was sort of a complaint.

Truth be told, it wasn’t exactly your fault the lack of encounters in the past two weeks. Taehyung was starting to get suspicious, asking more questions than he usually would when you went out, he started to pay attention to every little thing Jungkook did when he was around. It was starting to become a bother for you to hide this little secret affair you two were having. And so instead of following the routine of coming over to Jeon’s place like any other day, you rain checked three times in a row. It upset him beyond belief; Jungkook was starting to get dependent on your delicate touch, on your sweet words and the pretty sounds you would make whenever he was buried deep inside you. He couldn’t stand not having you like he usually would.

In hindsight, it shouldn’t have surprised you when he pulled you out of the crowd and into his fancy car. It shouldn’t have been shocking the way his hands desperately reached out for you to position you on his lap; nor should have baffled you the way his crotch was grinding up against your core, seeking some comfort to calm the burning sensation running through his body. It was bound to happen.

“Let’s make up for the time apart, then.” You hummed, after placing a passionate kiss on his lips.

Without a second thought, your hands descended down Jungkook’s firm chest, finding their favorite place inside his pants. He felt heavy resting on your palms, and it was so obvious how painfully hard he was. Your fingers wrapped around his base, through his underwear, feeling him up. It was pure torture for the boy; not only did he need you to go faster, but he also wanted to feel the sheer touch of your hands on his aching cock.

His patience was running thin, that much was obvious by the way his gaze darkened, and the grip he had on your waist tightened.

“Princess…” Jungkook hissed. “If you’re gonna do something, do it now.”

You giggled, delighted by his eagerness and irritated voice tone. You were pushing him to the exact point you wanted to have him.

“Not so fast, baby.” You murmured against the skin of his neck, “I wanna enjoy this a little longer.”

Jungkook could only groan, letting you do whatever you wanted to him. It was so easy to be at your mercy, the tattooed man would effortlessly give himself up to you, with no objection. And that was your first mistake: taking more than you should from him.

While he was devoting his body to you willingly, it didn’t go beyond that. He wasn’t yours to take, he wasn’t yours to keep. You could only claim his body whenever he allowed you to do so. But maybe, deep down, that was enough. Perhaps having him physically was better than emotionally; that way you could avoid a complicated relationship that would need to be explained to your overprotective brother later on.

You had him for the time being, albeit not entirely, but attaining his heart seemed to be a hard task, one that you weren’t prepared to go through.

“Fuck baby, just move a little faster.” His strained words echoed through the car, snapping you back into reality.

Your hands were still wrapped around his clothed cock with a vice grip; you were sure that if it could, his dick would be already begging you to free it, and that thought alone was enough to boost your ego. Nonetheless, you ended up realizing you didn’t have much time to spare, despite wanting to keep toying with him. And so, putting an end to Jungkook’s suffering, you finally pulled down his jeans and underwear, watching his girthy cock spring free.

“Fucking finally.” He sighed in relief. “Are you gonna stop being a brat and let me fuck you dumb?”

“I don’t know, am I?” You smirked, mischievously.

Jungkook got fed up with your antics. The dark haired man groaned, pushing you off his lap and positioning you on your hands and knees, so effortlessly that it left you baffled for a few seconds. He rapidly pushed up the hem of your skirt and took off your underwear.

“I’m done playing this game of waiting.” Jungkook’s hands were firm on your skin, keeping you in place. “So be a good girl, and take my fucking cock.”

Without much of a warning, he thrusted into you. His thick tip made its way inside your cunt with ease, due to how wet you were already. It took you a couple of seconds to get used to his big size, but once Jungkook made sure it was safe to move, he bottomed out, reaching the deepest parts of your soaked pussy like no one before.

“I missed this pussy so much.” He hissed.

Moans were falling off your lips, as if they were the only sounds your mouth could utter, and maybe they were. Jungkook always knew how to turn you into a babbling mess whenever he got a hold of you. It was hard to form a coherent thought by the way he was skillfully moving inside of you, let alone to make any other sound that wasn’t a moan or a whine.

“Shit, you’re already clenching on me.” Jeon moaned, feeling your warm walls wrapped around his cock with a hard grip.

Jungkook was pounding relentlessly into you like a mad man. Maybe you underestimated his desire for you, perhaps all these days apart were actual hell for him, as it was for you. But then again, when hasn’t he been like this? It wasn’t out of the norm to be fucked into oblivion by Jungkook. He would often find creative ways to ruin you, to leave you a complete mess once he was done with you.

Hasn’t it been clear already, how much he could do for you? How bad he needed you?

“Jungkook… fuck.” His name left your mouth in an attempt to beg for mercy, for him to slow down a little, but it was pointless. Not even God himself would make him relent.

“What’s that baby? I can’t hear you.” His fingers weaved through your hair to get a good grip, pulling your head back as he leaned down to whisper in your ear. “Be a sweetheart and finish your sentence for me, hm?”

Your eyes rolled back, enjoying how deep he was going. Neither your mouth nor your brain seemed to work at the moment, and it was difficult to comply with what Jungkook asked of you.

“Come on, princess, don’t make me repeat myself.” Every word was accompanied by a hard thrust.

“It’s— too m-much...” You struggled to say, while your mouth hung low and an obscene sound came out of it. “Please…”

A chuckle rumbled inside Jungkook’s chest, transferring the vibrations onto your body. He was so deliciously close, that it was easy to sense every reaction, to hear every little sound that would abandon his lips unwillingly.

“Please what?” He urged you to keep talking. “Baby so dumb that can’t even speak properly, can she?”

His words shouldn’t arouse you in the way they did, but oddly enough, his husky voice combined with the rude term ignited a flame inside of you. However, you didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of knowing you were enjoying every bit of it.

“Fuck… you!” The words came out through gritted teeth.

“That’s what I’m doing, honey.” Despite not being able to see him directly, you could tell he was grinning. “Can’t you feel me? Should I go deeper then?”

Had you been more clever, you would have kept your mouth shut, because if it was difficult to deal with his unrelenting pace, it became unbearable when he changed the speed only to thrust harder and deeper than before.

“Can you feel me now, princess?”

Such a dangerous question, one that set your body ablaze.

“Y-Yes… So big.” You breathed out, finally being free from his hard grip on your hair. “I’m getting close.” The confession was somehow refreshing.

It meant that you could finally have your sweet release, but only if the man fucking you manically deemed you worthy of having it, that is.

Unfortunately for you, he had other plans in mind.

“Hold it a little bit, baby. I’m not there yet.”

Jungkook’s stamina has always amazed you; the guy could go for hours without taking more than a five minute break, and not even once he complained about it. Whereas you had to take longer breaks in between rounds, and more often than not, you would only last from two to three rounds before calling it a night. Maybe he was more experienced, or perhaps it was his breathtaking physique. Whatever it was, it often came in handy in times like this.

“Jungkook,” You breathed out his name. “I can’t— I’m so close.”

Your walls were clenching on his dick, sucking him in with ease. It was such a marvelous sensation that almost drove the tattooed man over the edge.

“Fuck, you’re making it difficult for me, doll.” Jungkook chuckled breathlessly. “But I want to see your face when you cum.”

Without pulling out, Jeon flipped you over to make you rest on your back on the leather seats of his fancy car.

“Hi, pretty girl.”

Ever since you got into Jungkook’s car, you haven’t been able to properly look at his face for long. It was such a beautiful sight. His disheveled hair sticking to his forehead due to the sweat; his rosy and swollen lips, probably from biting them so much; his lustful glare directed towards you, and his furrowed eyebrows due to how good it felt to be inside of you after so long. Everything about Jeon Jungkook was undeniably attractive, and beyond arousing you, it ignited a warm feeling in your stomach. One that was difficult to mistake for anything else than infatuation.

However, it wasn’t the right time to be thinking about it. Your heart wasn’t connected to your brain, apparently, and so it made you ponder over scenarios that fell into the category of fantasies.

“You gonna cum for me, baby?” His question was left unanswered the moment one of his hands flew down to rub your clit. “There you go, princess, make a mess on my cock. You’ve earned it.”

You didn’t need to be told twice. It took a few more thrusts for you to finally let go, crying out his name while your hands reached out to pull him down on you. There was a need installed in the depth of your soul to have him close at all times; to feel his warm skin burning against yours.

“That’s it, beautiful, just let go.” His whispers were like a comforting blanket thrown upon you, encouraging you to move your hips to help him reach his high. “Atta girl, no need for that baby. Let me do the work.”

His pace finally slowed down, while his strong arms wrapped around your waist and his face was buried in the crook of your neck. Jungkook was desperate for his release, but at the same time, he wanted to enjoy the moment a little longer. As a result, his slow pace guided him steadily to his orgasm, thrusting deep inside of you and moving his hips in circular motions to reach every corner of your insides. Touching places no one has ever touched before, and providing you with a sensation that always left you craving more.

A few more thrusts and Jungkook was finally falling apart, groaning against your neck, while his soft lips were bathing your skin with warm kisses. His hot breath was also hitting your flesh, sending shivers through your body; making you harden the grip on him.

“I could stay like this forever.” Jungkook sweetly whispered. “You’re so warm.”

You giggled, scratching the back of his head before slightly pulling away.

“But we need to go, before any of the guys start looking for us.”

The tattooed man groaned annoyed, slowly detaching himself from you.

The rest of your usual routine would often happen in a comfortable silence, this time, however, neither of you could actually stop smiling or stealing kisses from one another. It was sickeningly romantic, and it almost made you wonder what it would be like to be in an actual relationship with the tall boy sitting beside you.

“Just one more kiss.” Jeon begged, lightly pulling you in, to place his soft lips on yours.

“That’s enough.” You stopped him, with a shy grin on your face. “You go first.”

Reluctantly, Jungkook opened the door, ready to get out and act as if he wasn’t making you see stars a few minutes ago. Although, your happy and exciting moment was short lived.

“JK, there you are dude.” Hoseok’s voice rang through your ears, making goosebumps coat your skin in a matter of seconds. “We’ve been looking for— wait, did I interrupt something?”

A knowing small took place on the brown haired man’s face, not before playfully smacking his arm to tease him.

“Uh… I, kinda, yeah.” Jungkook was praying he couldn’t recognize you. But the moment Hoseok tried to look inside his car he quickly closed the door, taking a few steps away from the vehicle. “What’s up? Why were you looking for me?”

The moment their voices became indistinct chatter you could finally release the breath you were subconsciously holding. Your hands slowly relaxed their grip on your skirt, but the anxious feeling settled in your chest, refusing to leave.

“This needs to stop.”

The only problem was that you didn’t know how to make it stop.

The wild shouting from the crown snapped you back into the present. Reminding you of the place you were in, the people you were surrounded by, and the fatal bet you made early in the night.

A bright white Camaro ZL1 was rapidly approaching the finish line, with the roaring of the engine echoing through the street, and making the ground vibrate a little. Fate has dealt its cards and sadly they weren’t on your side. Defeated and tired of experiencing an array of emotions through the long night, you waited at the side of the road for your brother to cross the red line.

Anyone could have predicted it, yet you were hoping the outcome would be different. But alas, you were meant to be taught a lesson tonight; never go behind your brother’s back.

“That’s my boy!” Jimin excitedly yelled while walking towards Taehyung’s tall figure. “I told you the rims were perfect.”

Your brother could only chuckle, shaking hands with his friends before directing his full attention towards you.

“Seems like I won’t be racing next week.” You faked annoyance, although in reality you were sort of relieved. Maybe Hoseok was right after all, and you weren’t ready for that world just yet.

Everything seemed fine so far, no malicious intent, no ulterior motives. No way to predict the chaos that was about to unravel. Perhaps you should have prayed with a little bit more conviction, maybe you should have put more effort into making sure you would win. Otherwise, your downfall could have been prevented.

“So, what do you want as your prize, idiot?” You asked, so confident that nothing bad could happen.

Your brother slowly prepared to say the words that would inevitably change the route of the night.

“It’s very simple, in all honesty.” Taehyung started saying. “I want to ask a quick question.”

“Shoot.” You encouraged him.

Oh, if only you had known.

“I just want to know for how long?” His piercing glance should have given it away. “How long have you been fucking my best friend behind my back?”

[lemonlover1110]

𝐓𝐖𝐎 𝐁𝐀𝐁𝐈𝐄𝐒 𝐔𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐑 𝐓𝐖𝐎

Satoru Gojo

Summary: Satoru struggles with his two babies.

Warnings: Pure Fluff

Discord +18 - Twitter - Ko-Fi

*I used the two babies from baby steps for this, but you don't have to read to enjoy the fluffy oneshot🥹

“C’mon, Seiji. Vegetables are so good. yummy.” Satoru is trying to bribe his almost-two-year-old into eating the rest of his food, alas, he doesn’t sound too convincing. He tasted the vegetables, they aren’t too good but you cooked them so he isn’t going to bash them. Seiji really doesn’t care about not hurting anybody’s feelings at this stage of his life, so even though his dearest mother made them, he refuses to eat them.

Satoru sighs defeatedly, putting the fork down. He guesses Seiji doesn’t have to eat vegetables every day to grow strong. He picks Seiji up from the high chair, putting him down on the ground to allow him to walk around and do whatever he likes to do. Lately Seiji loves to play with any piece of trash he finds, making Satoru realize that he’s wasted thousands of dollars on toys.

“Don’t be too loud! Don’t wake your sister up.” Satoru yells, knowing that Seiji really doesn’t care about that. The baby only has one thought in his mind and that’s to play with whatever he gets his hands on. 

Satoru really thought that handling two babies under two would be a breeze, he’s the strongest, he can accomplish just about anything… But his two kids tire him out. Saori cries so much that he anticipates in horror the moment that she wakes up. Seiji never stops moving, it’s nearly impossible to get him to stand still for a moment. He loves his babies more than anything, but he’s rightfully tired.

Satoru is being the best husband that he can be by taking care of his babies while you study and finish up your degree. But two tiny humans are slowly ending his life. Satoru follows Seiji around, deciding to just let him wander around the house because Seiji hates to be put in his playpen lately.

“Dada.” Seiji points up when he gets to the stairs, looking back at his father. Satoru shakes his head, picking up Seiji and taking him back to the living room so he can find something there that he can engross himself with. Seiji makes sure to let out a dramatic cry because he hates being carried and contradicted. He doesn’t want to go to the living room, he wants to go upstairs.

“Crying isn’t going to do anything, baby. You’re staying down here.” Satoru says as he carries Seiji away. Seiji makes sure to yell,

“Down! Down!” Which actually works on Satoru today because he doesn’t want Seiji to wake up the sleeping baby. When his tiny feet hit the ground, Seiji begins to run around which isn’t really an issue for Satoru since he only has to take two steps to catch up to Seiji.

It’s boring, really, but he prefers walking after his toddler better than trying to entertain both babies while they’re awake. Seiji doesn’t care for his parents' attention until Saori is awake; when she’s awake he wants to become the center of attention.

Satoru really thinks he’s safe, until he hears her cries from upstairs, and the loudest sigh leaves his lips. He picks Seiji up, making him kick his feet and cry, demanding that he’s put down. Luckily for him, his father listens to his wishes and puts him down. Unluckily for him, he’s put down in the playpen that lately feels like a prison. 

“No! Out!” Seiji demands, but Satoru doesn’t listen. He leaves Seiji there while he goes upstairs to pick up Saori from her crib.

When he gets there, he notices his baby girl is sitting up, waiting for him to finally pick her up. He coos, approaching the crib and picking her up, “Hi my sunshine. Did you sleep well?”

She doesn’t stop crying so easily though. He changes her diaper, and the crying gets worse. He tickles her tummy, laughing to himself, “Aren’t you a hungry girl? You ate one hour ago too.”

He guesses he can’t blame her, a bottle of milk wouldn’t be enough to hold him over either… But he guesses he’s four times her size and two decades older than her. He exits the room, getting more irritated by the second with the crying baby that’s in his arms. 

He begins to walk down the stairs, and that’s when he sees a little rascal holding to the railing and trying to walk upstairs. His eyes widen, his first thought being: how the hell did Seiji escape his playpen? Seiji finally looks up, seeing his father at the top of the stairs. He lets go of the railing, his hands going over his tiny mouth, his signature move for when he gets caught.

Satoru watches it happen in slow motion. Seiji’s tiny feet on the edge of the stair, he tips over and falls back from the stairs until he’s back on the first floor again. At least Seiji was only on the third stair up so it wasn’t a long fall– However, he cries his heart out as if he was at the very top.

“Seiji, how the hell did you even get out of the playpen?” Satoru is reasonably angry because he has two crying kids to soothe on his own. He doesn’t want to bother you while you study so it’s his problem, and only his. He doesn’t know which problem to tend to first. 

Satoru just knows one thing, and he hates thinking about it, but he wouldn’t be dealing with any of this if he had used a condom.

[baeshijima]

— “hands off! i’m taken!”

for the first time in your drunken daze, you don't recognise your own husband.

CONTAINS : gn!reader, 983 wc, fluff, (attempts at) humour, mentions/reference of alcohol consumption

A/N : neuvillette is in pain (emotional) while you are in pain the morning after (literal).

it’s not often neuvillette finds free time amongst the seemingly endless piles of papers on his desk. when he does get some free-time, he always makes sure to treat you out to the places you most recently show interest in. however, these evenings out more often than not result in you having one too many drinks. (“it’s a rare evening date!” you would tut, waving a finger at him while your free hand holds the wine glass.)

he worries for you and your health after all, and he most definitely doesn't want you to experience these so-called "hangovers" you bemoan about as he coddles you through it all the mornings after.

and so what better way to help prevent such a tragedy than by putting a stop to it prematurely?

“hands off! i’m taken!”

…or so he thought.

regardless, that doesn’t change the fact neuvillette now stands in the middle of one of the (now quite humid) private rooms in the upper floor of hotel debord, clutching his stinging hand close to his chest while staring at your huffing form in a mixture of hurt and shock. he blinks once, twice, thrice as he slowly begins to process your words — or, lack of.

“pardon?”

“i said,” you stress, narrowing your gaze at him as you begin to sit up, “hands off! i’ll have you know i’m happily married to the loveliest, most beautifulest man in teyvat and i don’t need some… some meddlesome old creep trying to get in between that.”

were this quite literally any other day besides one you were drunk on, neuvillette would be jumping for joy over the moon (metaphorical… probably) and documenting this moment in his diary he keeps safe and secured in a locked drawer under his desk, positively cooing and sighing in pure adoration at your adorable self.

(he also doesn’t have the heart to tell you beautifulest isn’t exactly a real word, but he’s flattered all the same. and it makes you that much more adorable in his eyes.)

alas, this isn’t any other day. no, instead it is a day which marks his drunk spouse being unable to identify their own husband, and your intoxicated words render him silent. 

now, don’t get him wrong, he’s glad you are, for a lack of better words, raring to defend your marital status and honour when intoxicated. however…

‘meddlesome old creep’? is that how he appears? he thought he looked quite dashing this evening, what with the way you sang his praises after he got himself dressed and questioned if you were actually married to one another.

then again, he supposes it’s still accurate to say you’re still questioning whether or not he is your husband. just not in the joking manner you initially did.

seeing how you’ve begun to grow a little restless with his prolonged silence, neuvillette awkwardly clears his throat and begins in what he hopes is a tone which masks the minor betrayal your words caused. “i’m glad you feel that way about our marriage, mon cœur, but—”

“stop!” neuvillette’s mouth instantly ceases movement. “how… how dare you, a stranger, call me that! just who… who do you think you are? my husband?”

“actually, i am.”

you blink at him. “you’re what?”

“i am your husband. neuvillette.” in all honesty, he doesn’t know why he’s nervous. perhaps it’s your scrutinising gaze causing him to sweat, taking him back to the first days when he could finally put a name to the emotions you brought out from within him — ones which have never weakened, but only seem to grow stronger as the days pass by. his hands clam up, and he’s glad you can’t see him wiping his palms against the fabric of his clothes from where you sit. even when you’re drunk, you tend to remember the most random moments. more often than not, they end up being in some relation to him.

(neuvillette laments the times where you only remembered his brief loss of composure.)

after a few more agonising seconds of staring, you speak up once more. “you’re lying.”

there are many things neuvillette wishes to say in response — such as showing your wedding rings, pulling out the small polaroid of you both nestled within his inner coat pocket, recalling the first day you met, the first day you talked, the first “thank you” you ever said to him, the first—

quickly, he snaps himself out of this spiral. just in the nick of time too, for you open your mouth to say something else. “my neuvillette is cute and lovely and pretty and everything a person could only dream to have.”

is he not cute right now? is he not lovely and pretty right now? is he not everything a person could only dream to have right now? what makes the him through your drunken lens so different to the him in your memories?

against his better judgement, he decides to ask the big question.

“then… may i ask what i am?”

“a liar.” and, as if to rub salt in the wound, you add, “i don’t like liars.”

neuvillette feels as though he could cry.

(when you awoke to a pounding headache the next morning, the last thing you expected was your husband brooding on the edge of the bed, his back facing you as he mumbled something along the lines of, “i would lie for you… not to you…” though it was a little hard to tell amidst the incessant pitter-patter of rain against the window.

despite racking your brain in an effort to figure out what caused him to be in such a state in the first place, the only things you remembered from last night were him wiping his hands on his clothes, as well as him looking as though someone slapped him across the face.

yeah. perhaps it is best you don’t tell him that.)

mon cœur = my heart, which can be read as my sweetheart/other half/life, etc.

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[unorthodoxfaithxx]

Yandere Ghost Smut

afab reader ; nsfw

“This house is totally perfect! You’ll love it,” is what your realtor told you when they finally found a house within your budget. You loved the aesthetics of historical homes, so when they discovered an older house that not only was in your price range, but had just minor damages, they called you immediately. 

You moved in within the month. It didn’t take long to settle into your new home. There was a room with shelves meant for books, and you spent most of your free time there, enjoying the books from your collection that could rival a library. Sometimes, you would feel a sudden chill in the air when reading, and grow pensive. It would feel like someone was watching you. But besides that, nothing was out of the ordinary. You just assumed you were too stressed out and growing paranoid as a result. Everything was fine.

Well, it was. Until you started waking up with strange markings on your body. You woke up one day in a cold sweat, waltzing into the bathroom to wash your face off, only to find what looked like hickeys on your neck and upper chest area. Weird. Did you have bugs in the bed? Was it an allergic reaction to the new detergent you bought for the sheets? You had no idea. 

You were never able to solve the issue because the markings disappeared within a few hours, and didn’t come back again. Once more, you shrugged it off and assumed nothing was amiss. 

Yet eventually, things got even stranger. Your panties started disappearing one-by-one, and you were sure you hadn’t misplaced them. Specifically, your already worn undergarments would disappear from the dirty laundry bin before you could wash them. What the fuck?

“I don’t know, Mary,” you call your best friend one afternoon, “I feel like this place is haunted. And what’s even weirder is I keep getting these wet dreams…like every night. I’m not even sexually frustrated so I don’t know why I wake up wet or with markings on myself.”

“Maybe you got a ghost fucking ya?” She jokes around and you both get a laugh out of that. But for some reason, the deepest part of your being can’t dismiss that thought. 

You begin to grow paranoid and start searching for any signs in your house that someone else is living with you. You decide to enter the dusty attic, and find rather antique furniture and a box containing a photo of a man and a woman. He was handsome, albeit a little creepy looking, but what struck you as odd was woman next to him. She looked eerily like you. You brought the photos downstairs to do some research on your computer, but alas, found no information on the man or the woman. The only thing you found out was that there was a fire that had damaged the property all too many years ago. You felt the creepy sensation of being watched again, and called it quits for the night, opting to get some much needed rest.

That night, you saw him.

————————————————————

It’s midnight when he appears in your room, watching your beautiful self slumber. You were so perfect, all those years ago when you left him, and even now. He loves the way the sheets drape your body, but slowly peels them off to reveal that you’re in nothing but a bra and panties. There is a slight sheen of sweat on your skin as your eyebrows furrow cutely in your sleep. 

His angel must be having a nightmare, but he can take care of that. Gently, he trails his cold fingers over your curves. He admires your beauty, so happy to see you once more. He can’t wait another minute.

While you’re still on your side, he unclasps your bra, relishing the way your tits fall free without the support. They look so beautiful and perfect, he can’t even begin to describe how enchanted you make him feel. 

You roll onto your back. He slides your underwear to the side, revealing your pretty cunt to his ghostly eyes. With a delicate touch, he rubs your clit in small circles, playing with you. 

You gasp at the touch and he smirks. Your shuffling does little to deter him from his objective.

He’s on the bed with you, intently staring at your lower half. He admires your folds and moves them open and closed with his fingers, revealing a leaking hole that was your wetness. With a gulp, he slides your underwear off you, wadding it into a ball, burying his face into it as he takes a whiff of your scent. He’d be tasting the real thing soon enough. Once satisfied, he pockets your undies for safe keeping. He tilts his head down to your lower body, shifting into a more comfortable position. With a breath of anticipation, he slithers his cold tongue over your vagina, moaning slightly at the sensation. 

He’s been doing this every night he could manifest, and it never got tiring.

This time, and he doesn’t know why, you wake up, staring down at the mysterious man in terror as he laps you up like a man thirsting in the desert. You mean to run but you can’t move. You feel something cold and wet tying your body to the bed. You try to close your legs from your violator, but his icu hands grip firmly on your thighs, keeping them wide open for him to shove his face between. 

Under the moonlight, the two of you make eye contact but he doesn’t stop, instead opting to send you a wicked smile. “Good morning, love,” he says gently from beneath you. “I missed you so, so much. You know that?”

You’re in a state of shock, words screaming in your head but not quite reaching your vocal chords. The only sound you can make is a whimper as he shoves his tongue further into you, his nose rubbing you causing further pleasurable friction. He sucks, licks, and rolls your clit with his tongue. 

Suddenly, he slides a cold finger into your hole and you gasp, arching your back only to be stuck back down again. “Don’t move, pretty thing,” he scolds you. 

“F-fuck,” you finally manage to whisper, heart racing, “Who are you?”

“Someone who’s been watching you for a very, very long time.” He’s stopped licking you, instead moving to pump another finger into your pretty cunt, thrusting in and out at a moderate pace. His eyes show so much love, desperation, and lust in them that you have no idea what to do or where to go. Then it clicks. The man from the photo. That’s who he was. How could that be possible? Was he an actual ghost?

“I’ve been so lonely without you, princess. When you left me to burn, do you know how heartbroken I was? But now you’re back, and we can finally be together again. I’m not letting you leave me another time.”

He now has three fingers inside of you, picking up the pace. The lewd sound of slick fingers sliding in and out of your cunt drives him wild. His face is back between your thighs again, lapping you up and suckling on you until you’re visibly shaking. 

“Aw, sweet girl. Gonna cum?”

You don’t want to, but you feel something hot and heavy coming.

“Shit. Cum in my mouth, sweetheart. Wanna taste everything you got.” He latches back onto you. 

Your stomach drops and you let go, mind very distressed but body obviously in heaven. Your pussy spazzes out on him and he moans as he licks up the mess you leave behind. With a wipe of his mouth he grins, eying you like a rare prize he had just one at the fair.

He grabs onto you, embracing you in a hug you can’t run away from. Seriously, why can’t you move? He notices your struggles and laughs, snuggling into your chest. 

“Ah ah ah, no running away, love. I’ve waited so long for you. You’re not going anywhere.”

He flips you to where you’re face down, ass up. Your vagina is dripping, juices sliding down your thigh. He licks his lips before biting his lower one, admiring the roundness of your ass and your now puffy and pink pussy. 

“Oh, love. You got no idea what you do to me…”

You feel something cold and hard tap the entrance of your walls, and you freeze. Oh god, was he going to fuck you? His hands are on the sides of your ass, but you feel another set of cold hands grabbing your arms, and even another pulling at your tits. You whimper at the overstimulation.

“Enjoy the hands. They’re all me.”

Before you can reply, he’s sliding his dick through your entrance. Your pussy quivers at the sensation and he laughs. “Did you just come from that, love?”

Once you take all of him, he leans forward to whisper in your ear. “I want to hear you moan, sweetheart. Go on, make some noise for me.”

As he’s taking you from behind, a hand shoves its fingers into your mouth, and you gag on it. The sets of hands on your breasts are now fondling them, pinching and squeezing. You’ve never felt so much at once before, and you eventually yield to the pleasure, moaning as he thrusts into you.

“That’s it, baby. Take it. Take it all. You’re fucking mine,” He snarls, and you whine at how hard he’s pounding into you, ferocity now evident in his demeanor. 

You slurp and suck on the fingers, only for it to pop out of your mouth and slide into your ass instead. You cry out at the sensation. A hand is sliding circles around your clit as he fucks you, sending waves of pleasure over your body you’ve never known before. 

“Too much!” You cry, sobbing with pleasure.

He gives you a kiss on the neck. “Almost done, love. Just keep taking it, okay? You’re doing so good for me. God, you’re fucking perfect.” His thrusts became sporadic, and you know he’s close. 

In the end, you come once more, and you feel he does too. When he pulls out, you collapse on the bed, blacking out. Morning eventually comes, and you feel someone is holding you from behind. A set of hands grope your body as you wake up. 

“Morning, love. Ready for round two?”

[kpopnstarwars]

Within the Storms of Giedi Prime: Feyd-Rautha x Reader

A/N: the long awaited part two of upon the sands of the arena is hereeee

tw: 18+, smut (more than last time hehehe), p in v, swearing, Feels™, death, assassination, use of the Voice (not on feyd), less violence but still violence, i lack faith in my sequel writing abilities, blowjobs, SUB FEYDDDD, also DOM FEYDDD, sex Outside, lightning and thunder (it says storms in the title what do you expect)

wc: 4.2k

part 1

Giedi Prime is a miserable planet.

It’s evident in the choking, black smog from the factories in the dense air fused with the anguished cries of overworked slaves and the distant rumble of the still active volcanos. You’re near the Harkonnen’s palace grounds - you’re heading towards them, actually, and the promise of a… pleasant night; to your left, you can just about glimpse the looming silhouette of the great arena, squatting like a hulking beast on the horizon, waiting to swallow any poor soul that gets too close to its gaping maw.

Tonight, roiling storm clouds reign the sky, sending sheets of furious rain pounding down upon anyone who dares to be out at this hour - including you. Harsh bolts of lightning spear down, hurtling towards the ground like incensed, condensed moonlight and casting freakish shadows.

Moonlight: the colour of Feyd’s skin. If it weren’t for him, you’d already be off this sorry planet - alas, you must stay a little longer, your body already a little warm at the memory of his skilled fingers and scorching gaze. You haven’t been back since the encounter with the na-Baron in the arena months ago, and you can’t help but feel the sting of doubt in your chest, wondering if he’ll still want a second time, or if you’ll sneak into his room only to find yourself replaced by a concubine.

Not that you occupy significance to him anyway, you remind yourself. Feyd-Rautha could not replace you, because there would be nothing to replace, just ashes of a once bright fire.

Irked by the weakness of your own mind, you pull the hood of your cloak lower over your face, tightening it across your shoulders. The hem is sullied by browning blood: you disposed of your quarry just this morning, and delivered the decapitated head during the early afternoon.

Conveniently, the Bene Gesserit have left you alone for now, most likely tangled in the politics regarding the Kwisatz Haderach while trying to predict the next movement of Jessica Atreides - word is that she has burrowed her way deeper into the desert, surrounding herself and her son with the more fanatic of the Fremen as she bides her time, ready for her next strike.

It means that you’ve been granted enough time to establish yourself as a bounty hunter. For a highly trained Bene Gesserit, the work is easy, and earns you coin a plenty while keeping you on the move and as in shape as assassinating sloppy idiots attempting to run from debt and petty disagreements can.

Slipping through the palace’s perimeter proves easy enough. You use the Voice on a few guards, preferring it to cutting their throats: instructing them to keep quiet and forget you passed by causes much less of a commotion. The scaling of the ramparts that make up the circumference of the inner palace is the most challenging, due to the stone being slick with moss and rain - your fingers dig into the cracks between the weathered blocks of stone, the wind snapping and tugging at your cloak, fiercer now that you’re higher up.

There’s a narrow battlement ringing one side of Feyd’s room. You land on it silently, padding over to the window sill; curtains made of heavy black fabric layered on a dark, wispy privacy layer shroud most of your view of him. His pale skin is almost luminescent under the jagged flashes of lightning bathing his quarters, the blanket having slipped half off him during the night. He lies with his bare back facing you, although it’s hardly a vulnerability - you doubt anyone would be able to creep up on him easily enough to bury a knife into his exposed back without him tearing their throat out first.

Apart from you - hopefully.

Carefully, you ease the window open. A frigid gust of air rushes in as you climb through, and you witness the exact moment that Feyd awakens and becomes aware of your presence; imperceptibly, the muscles in his back ripple before he settles again - you posticipate the feel of them under your palms, hard, lean, perfect for sinking your nails into.

A thrill rushes through you at the sight of him, a sort of wondrous feeling, keen as a knife and just as cutting. You want him all over you, you want him to consume you until all you can remember is him and his smouldering eyes and sensuous touch.

Shrugging off your cloak, you let it pool to the floor around your feet before toeing off your shoes too; breath caught in your throat, you steal over to his bedside, your hand ghosting over the solid curve of his shoulder blade before you grip his shoulder, turning him so his back is flat against the mattress and straddling him in one fluid motion.

The cold kiss of metal meets your neck.

You almost moan at the look on his face. His lips are pulled back in a snarl, his eyes wild, frenzied almost, glittering with the same danger as before. Running your hands up his hard, sculpted chest, you smirk down at him, watching as ever so slowly, his gelid gaze defrosts with recognition, the ice giving way to those all encompassing flames, flames that you surrender to unequivocally.

‘I wouldn’t do that if I were you,’ you murmur, fingers circling his wrist.

Feyd blinks, watching you as if he’s going to eat you as always. Slowly, the hand not wielding the knife roams waywardly down your spine, grabs a harsh fistful of your ass and lingers before gliding upwards and settling on your waist. He huffs, an abrupt, amused sound, but you don’t miss the way he greedily drinks up your figure with his eyes.

‘I thought I scared you away, little witch. Presumably, it was not too much for you?’

‘For me?’ You muse. ‘We’ll see.’

Knocking the blade from his hand, you ignore the screeching noise it makes as it skitters across the stone floor, instead enjoying the subtle inhale, loaded with expectancy, that Feyd takes as you lean in close to him. You hover above him for a prolonged moment, arms boxing him in, before he lurches upwards, connecting your lips with his.

A growl sounds at the back of his throat when he tastes you, licking into your mouth as his fingers press at the small of your back, bringing your lower body to meet his. Rolling his hips against yours, he tangles his fingers in your hair; you feel giddy with the feel of him against you, solid and warm and wanting, so real beneath you, so fucking insatiable.

You can’t get enough of him.

Slowly, you pull away, ablaze with the ravening craving in his eyes. The muscles in his well shaped chest flex as he tips his face up, following your lips, and you smile disarmingly at him, hooking your fingers in the waistband of his trousers and pulling them down.

Taking his chin in your palm, you tilt his head so you can look him in the eyes before swiping your thumb over his lower lip, savouring the way he’s putty in your hands: a man destined to be the Baron of one of the most influential, powerful Houses in the Imperium, a lethal, strikingly skilled warrior, Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen, humbled by your touch.

‘Let me taste you,’ you breathe - it’s almost a command.

‘Please,’ he chokes out, imploring you with his eyes.

Laughing, you press a hand to his sternum and push. He sinks back into the mattress, compliant, and you trail your lips down his neck and sternum, leaving hickeys in your wake. You're seized by the need to make him shake and beg and cry; you want to devour him.

Dragging your nails cruelly down his thighs, branding him with livid red scratches, you tilt your head to the side, a smile playing upon your lips as you listen to the groan that leaves him, the pricks of pain setting him alight with longing. There’s a devout look in his eyes - a fervent, zealous sort of lust that stirs within you with the impulse to make him forget his own name.

Curling your fingers around his hard length and giving him a few pumps, you watch him under your lashes, something akin to a power rush spinning your head around and around. Feyd is wonderfully sensitive, and a sneer pulls at your lips when his fingers scramble for purchase, fisting in his silky sheets as you press a chaste, loitering kiss to his cock head - a pearl of jet precum sits at the apex of it, dark against its rosy, delicate flush.

Dipping your hand into your pants, you collect your slick on your fingers and use it to jerk him - when you glance up, his pupils are blown wide; lips parted, he stares at you, transfixed.

Eyes locked on his, you take him in your mouth: his thighs tighten, every muscle taut as you run your tongue along the veins wrapped around the underside of his cock. His head tips back, displaying the strong lines of his neck as you hollow your cheeks, rubbing your thighs together to ease the increasing ache between them. Jaw slack, you gag when he hits the back of your throat, and he growls at the sight of your hungry eyes growing watery.

You toy with him, teasing him with your tongue and grazing your teeth lightly over his length until he’s gasping your name; the way the syllables leave his tongue is almost pleading, his chest heaving and covered in a sheen of sweat, his thighs shuddering, wracked with tremors.

It’s evident that he’s close, the voracity in his eyes so hot that it melts your bones, sending heat pooling in your core - you’re going to let him wreck your cunt after this; ruin you for any other man. Trembling, his pale fingers hover near your head, splaying over the expanse of your shoulder, his eyes fucking begging for permission, so you pull off him, laughing as his hips jolt forward at the loss, his cock twitching when your fingertips graze his balls.

‘Go on, Feyd,’ you coax. ‘Do as you wish.’

A tender, honeyed noise rips from low in his chest, almost a whimper, a sound you know no one has extracted from him before. It’s the only warning before he fists his hand in your hair, hips bucking as he fucks into your mouth, his eyes rolling back as you gag around him, the debased moan that escapes you sending vibrations down his cock.

You almost black out when he comes down your throat. You’re not sure if it’s the lack of air reaching your lungs or the sweet pain of Feyd’s hand yanking at your hair, but you’re sure that you’ve never taken so much pleasure in someone else’s release. Slowly, you sit up, moving to lie beside Feyd, and he smiles dumbly at you, maybe a little fucked out as he leans in to kiss you, sighing as he tastes his own come on your tongue.

‘I could spend hours exploring you, my little witch,’ he says, pressing his lips to your jaw.

Feyd flips you over with only an echo of ferocity from your previous fight, disrobing you and gripping your thighs, spreading them. Your hands find his shoulders, his back, your fingers resting in the dips of muscle there, trailing down the length of his spine as his own find your slick, yearning cunt.

Outside, the storm blows harder, rain pounding down upon the planet’s surface in sheets, lightning lancing through the thick billows of clouds; it is during one of these strikes that you glimpse that Feyd’s eyes are not as dark as they seem, but the colour of glaciers and blue fire. Within them, just beneath the keenness of his electric gaze, lurks something else - something that makes you hesitate. He senses it immediately, fingers pausing their movement, so you fit your lips to his.

You kiss him to avoid the emotions roiling in his stormy eyes.

He responds immediately, and you easily dismiss the thoughts clouding your mind; he barely knows you, there’s no room for the feelings you just saw in his gaze. You seek his body, not his soul, and it is the same both ways.

‘Fuck me,’ you mumble against his lips.

All coherent sentences leave your mind when he flips you over again, this time with your stomach pressed to his bedsheets as he kneels on the mattress behind you.

‘Ass up, my little witch,’ he commands.

Something within you goes molten at the sound of his voice. You can feel his gaze straying all over your skin, greedy, so you tuck your knees beneath you and arch your back, biting down on your lower lip as his palm presses against your lower vertebrae. He chuckles; it warms your bones.

‘You’re so filthy, little witch, displaying yourself for me.’

Bolts of ecstasy shoot through you as Feyd slides his cock head through your folds, his broad hands gripping your hips so tightly that you’ll be left with bruises. Your breath is punched from your lungs when he sinks himself inside you, balls deep, white hot pleasure rocketing down your spine - it tears a wretched cry from you, more so when he starts a brutal, near sadistic pace, the angle destroying you with vicious bliss.

The drag of his searing, velvet cock on your walls makes your toes curl. You think your body might shatter into a million pieces, the way he plucks the euphoria from it so agonisingly, so beautifully. One of his hands finds its way between your thighs, his thumb rolling endlessly over your clit; you find yourself teetering on the edge, suspended there a moment before you fall.

The way your cunt convulses around his cock as you come doesn’t stop Feyd. Unforgiving, he ploughs into you, his fingers still working on your clit, not breaking his rhythm even as you writhe beneath him, trying to jerk your hips away from his to no avail. It’s too much, the pleasure melting delectably into pain and still he can’t stop, won’t stop, his low snarl a warning in your ear as he pins you to the mattress with a hand between your shoulder blades, leaving you helpless to do nothing but take him.

Tears well up in your eyes, soaking into the sheets beneath you as he rails into you, his fingers speeding up on your clit until you’re begging him, tremors shooting through you from the aftershocks of your orgasm. His grip on your hips is unrelenting, and you sob as his pace increases, the savage friction sending you over again.

For the second time, you come hard around him, pussy clenching and fluttering, ragged cries wracking your body. This time, you bring Feyd with you, the sound he makes sharp and almost pained. He pulls out, and you mewl at the sharp tug of friction, panting as he comes on your back and ass, claiming you with his dark seed.

Breathless, he sits back on his heels as you straighten your legs until you lie full stretch, revelling in the post orgasmic rapture. Dimly, you hear his footsteps on the stone floor, but you pay them no mind, instead letting your eyelids droop as you rest your chin in the crook of your elbow.

Gentle hands encircle your ankles, carefully opening your legs. A second later, you feel a warm cloth at the apex of your thighs, and you whine, flinching away from the overstimulation. You hear Feyd’s chuckle, and the comforting sweep of his thumb against your skin as he cleans you up, pressing soft, open mouthed kisses on your back as he does; barely a moment after, the mattress dips, and strong arms pull you into a warm chest.

‘How are you, my little witch?’

You hum in response, not wanting to use words. Something niggles at your brain, even through the haze of pleasure. It’s got to do with the na-Baron’s gentleness after he fucks you; it unsettles you, the sweetness of him, and now these words, as if you’re a lover, and not… whatever this is.

One of his wide palms runs up and down your ribs, and you shove those thoughts to the side, instead enjoying his touch, the way your body fits into his, his chest pressed against your front as he traces patterns on your skin with his deft fingers; his lips brushing the nape of your neck, leaving soft kisses there. You find yourself curling away from him a little - his hands on you make something deep in your chest stir to life, something that shouldn’t be there. It’s -

A blinding flash of lightning, followed by the deep, throaty growl of thunder illuminates the room. You’re facing the door: in the crack between its solid masonry and the floor, you glimpse a shadow.

Hastily, you turn, one hand meeting Feyd’s chest, fingers falling into the dip his collarbone makes as you search his eyes, urgent. He stares back at you, not quite guarded, but not quite open any more, and you’re filled with the urge to protect.

‘Give me your knife,’ you hiss.

He sits up halfway. ‘What’s - ’

You push him back down, glaring at his resistance. You can sense the change in the air, hear the subtle scrape of someone’s boot across the stone floor and the swish of clothing behind the door - or maybe it’s just the building storm outside, the escalating charge in the sky as another bolt of lightning is generated.

‘Feyd. Give me your knife.’

Eyes quizzical, he produces it from somewhere behind him, handing it to you hilt first. It’s just in time, because the door swings open, a masked figure silhouetted there. You whirl around, covering Feyd’s body with your own.

They’re holding a knife.

It doesn’t take you a moment longer to send your knife hurtling towards them. The blade seethes through the air before embedding itself with a thunk into the assassin’s shoulder, and as they drop to the floor, you’re up in another second, poised in case there’s another. A flash of movement catches your eye - the dropped knife, retrieved and held in blood soaked fingers.

‘Stand down,’ you snap.

The Voice echoes through the room, and you pluck the knife out of the now frozen assassin’s grasp and slit his throat. Turning, you see the glimmer of amusement and awe in Feyd’s eyes; assassination attempts probably occur often, an estranged Bene Gesserit using the Voice in his room less so.

‘So many people seem eager to sneak into my bed chamber tonight,’ he remarks. ‘Although I must admit I preferred the first one.’

You laugh, collecting your clothes off the floor. ‘I’m glad.’

As you pull on your trousers, followed closely by your shirt, Feyd gets up, and you’re struck by the slow manner in which he approaches you, so much like the way he prowled towards you in the arena, but this time his eyes concerningly soft, his deadly, killing machine of a body marked with hickeys and love bites.

‘Why do you always rush to leave so fast, my little witch?’

‘I - I have places to be,’ you stammer.

He tilts his head. ‘At this hour of the night?’

‘...Yes.’

Feyd takes one step closer, close enough to kiss. ‘What are you afraid of?’

You back towards the window. ‘I fear nothing.’

‘Don’t lie to me,’ he warns. ‘I can see it in your eyes.’

Shaking your head, panic rising in your throat, you turn, the glass chilly on your fingers as you open the window. Feyd catches your other hand, but you whirl around and lash out, a blow to the face followed by a blow to the legs, and he staggers backwards, giving you enough time to slip out of the window and onto the battlements.

Outside, the storm has whipped up, the howling wind tearing at your hood and blowing it off, the rain immediately pouring down to soak your hair, sting your eyes, wet your face. You need to run, you need to get away from him, but the weak part of you - the part that you fear - slows your strides, tugging at you as if it’s tied to Feyd somehow.

He catches up to you easily enough.

Of course he does, he is Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen, and he is inexplicably bound to your soul in a way you cannot describe, in a way that terrifies you, shakes you to your very core. He catches your with a hand around your upper arm and presses you to his chest, your treacherous body reacting to him the way it always has as he stares down at you with those burning, icy eyes, droplets of rain running in rivulets down the moonlight planes of his chest.

Unease tears through you. You see it in his eyes, that he feels it too, and you dread the way it does not disquiet him. Your soul feels like it’s slowly rending in two - you need to get away from him, from the unguarded way he regards you, dedication clear in his unwavering gaze, but all the same, you need to remain with his arms trapping you to him, in the bewildering magnetism of his psyche.

‘Tell me what you fear, my little witch.’

You answer through clenched teeth. ‘I am not yours.’

‘You evade my question.’

You stare at Feyd, confounded. This man before you is the same man that you duelled in the arena, yet he is different; there is a certainty in his eyes, an acceptance that you yourself flee from. You’re drawn to him, even as the instincts that have kept your hollow heart intact all these years squall for you to break loose - and yet you fear that too, the evasion, because you know that if you run now, a part of you will be lost, snapped under the tension.

‘What do you - ’

You cut Feyd off. ‘Do you know what I fear, Harkonnen? I fear the look in your eyes, because it’s not just desire any more. You do not seek me in order that I inflict pain and pleasure alike upon you, you seek something else. I fear the look in your eyes because it is the same feeling that rises traitorously in my chest when I look at you, and it terrifies me.’

He’s silent.

You grab his shoulder. ‘Tell me you feel nothing, Feyd. Tell me you crave me for the thrill of adrenaline and the feel of my body - tell me and do not lie.’

His eyes bore into yours. ‘I cannot.’

‘Exactly.’

You wrest yourself from his grasp, turning and striding down the battlements. A strange feeling overtakes you, a prickle behind your eyes and a lump in your throat, an aching tug at your heart which you stalwartly ignore. It is over - you’re done. He made it harder than it ever had to be, but you’re going now.

He grabs your hand. ‘You cannot either, my little witch.’

Struggling, you snarl at him, clawing at your chest, but he pins you to the wall, his eyes aflame, searing, calling to something in you that rises up to meet him. This time, it is too strong; you cannot push it down, a part of you not even wanting to. You can feel Feyd all over you, your senses overwhelmed by him, by the way he presses his forehead to yours, forcing you to meet his gaze.

‘You do not have to fear it,’ he whispers. ‘Just let go. You’re holding on too tight.’

He dips his head, claiming your lips. You give in, yield to it, let it wash over you and carry you away on its blissful waves, your heart swelling in your chest at the way he touches you, tenderly, as if you’re the most precious thing he’s ever laid his eyes upon; this is not Feyd, but this is him, irrefutably so.

You think this might be love.

It is a wild, white hot blade in your heart that twists, beauteous, enthralling. You believed that it would weaken you, shackle you, but you blaze with the glorious flare of it, the kiss of Feyd’s hips against yours stoking it further. Truly, it is magnificent.

In the only way you know how, you show him. It’s cataclysmic, the way you’re pulled to him like a comet caught in a planet’s gravity, streaking towards him, fated to collide, your hands roving over him, his over you, the taste of rain blooming on your tongue as you bite down on his shoulder, muffling a moan as he ekes sweet, tender pleasure from you. Your head tips back against the stone, eyes raised to the weeping sky, your lips parted as he fills you with his cock.

Feyd looks at you as if you are a goddess. He worships you, cradles you in his arms, anchoring you, grounding you. You do not know where he ends and you begin, nor do you want to know; you wish for your souls to meld, you wish for the two of you to be alone in the universe, unbothered by time or fate or anything.

‘You are mine, little witch,’ he intones against your rain soaked skin. ‘I am yours.’

[imaginaryf1shots]

Who is he? | Charles Leclerc

Charles Leclerc x reader

WC: 3.1K

Warnings: goggle translated French, unedited?

AN:This could have been longer but I don't like my one shots to be too long. so here you go, I hope you like it!

Based of THIS request

Masterlist

The music was so loud it was hard for anyone to talk, but who’s at a club to talk anyway? You have a few drinks in you, not drunk but tipsy. Your best friend had a disastrous date last night and as a way to get her out of the mood she was in, your group of friends decided to hit the club to just have a girl’s night out, but here you are now, a few hours in and your best friends is dancing with some random guy and the rest are all doing their own thing. You for one was on the dance floor having the time of your life, you don’t know how, but in the low light of the club and in between the sweaty bodies of people on the dance floor, your eyes meet a pair of green ones. His eyes are on you and hold his gaze, it’s clear he’s been watching you, and now you’ve seen him you can’t take your eyes off him. So with a smile his way you continue dancing while maintaining eye contact. 

The guy moves through the crowd and he’s suddenly right in front of you, it didn’t take any encouragement from either of you to start dancing. His hands were placed on your waist as you moved left to right swaying with the music. One song in, two songs in, three songs in and his hands have wandered to your lower back. Your hands moved from his chest to his shoulders to around his neck, bodies flushed against each other. 

“Wanna get out of here?” You whisper in his ear and lean back to his dimples poking as he nods.

“Yeah, my hotel is close.” He says and pulls you away from the dance floor and waits until you grab your clutch and tell your friend at the table where you’re going before you’re out of the club and into a cab. “I’m charles by the way.”

“(y/n).”

Both you and Charles were sober enough for you to remember him but too drunk to think about safety of any kind, but it was a night to remember that’s for sure. And that’s not because of the amazing sex they had, which it was, no but because of the two pink lines she’s staring at.

“What does it say?” Your best friend asks coming into the bathroom, she sees you standing there in shock, looking over your shoulder at the pregnancy test, there it is. Your life is changed forever, from that moment on, your life went from revolving around yourself to revolving around the little human you’re growing inside of you. You knew instantly that you’ll be keeping the baby, no doubt about it.

‿︵‿︵୨˚̣̣̣͙୧ - - ୨˚̣̣̣͙୧‿︵‿︵

“Seriously, how hard is it to find someone in the age of the internet?” Your friend asked, like on the day you all went out, you’re all now gathered again, your friends hand wine while you drank juice/water. All in your PJs with your latest craving all on the table, phones and laptops out. All looking for every possible Charles in your area, and then moving outwards. Looking for your oblivious baby daddy. Yes the clear possibility of him being from a different country is prominent especially since you went back to his hotel room not his house, but for the sake of being hopeful that’s a possibility you’re trying to ignore, for now.

Your friend’s words were proven wrong seeing as all your attempts of finding Charles were hard, you knew absolutely nothing about him besides his first name. You did spend long hours crying, because how foolish are you to go sleep with a random person you know nothing about but his first name, if it was even his real one. But alas, you’re going to have a baby, that you found out is a boy on one of your scans, which you were never alone to, because you best believe one of your friends was there with you.

one thing that came out of this for sure is, how amazing your friend group is, you’ve all grown closer, forming a bond that you knew will withstand time. all your schedules were synced and organised for someone to be always with you, for all your cravings to be met for you to just never feel alone, and the moment you gave up on finding Charles you knew that you’ll be okay and that your baby will be loved. 

And he is, now at two months old, he’s the most spoiled kid there is, new clothes every week, new toys always being carried and dotted on. He needed nothing. 

You were spending the day at one of your friend’s house that she had with her boyfriend, sitting on the sofa and just lounging around since baby Noah was down for his nap time. you and your friend were gossiping while her friend had his TV on to watch his favourite sport. You really weren’t paying attention, engrossed in the latest gossip happening, but his voice caught your ear, your eyes strayed to the TV for a split second, before you went back for a second look.

“What? what happened?” Your friend asked, confused as she looked at the TV then at you.

“That’s him.” You whisper but she picks it up, she doesn’t have to ask who you’re talking about. at the bottom of the screen Charles Leclerc is written.

“What are you talking about?” Her boyfriend asks, confused.

“That’s Charles.” You say almost breathless.

“Yeah, that’s charles Lec- wait Charles as in your charles, your baby daddy charles?” He puts it together, he really looks at charles.

“Yeah, that’s him.” You want to cry and scream at the same time, you found him, you finally found him, but how in hell are you going to be able to reach him. He's an F1 driver, he;s an athlete.

“I see it.” Your friend says and holds your hand giving it a squeeze. The eyes, the nose, the colour of the hair, they're all things your son and his dad share. no doubt that the older he gets the more he’ll resemble his dad.

“You better assemble the troops, we’ll need all the help to get to charles.” Your friend's boyfriend said and sighs.

‿︵‿︵୨˚̣̣̣͙୧ - - ୨˚̣̣̣͙୧‿︵‿︵

Truer words were never spoken, because why is it so hard to reach a single person on Ferrari’s F1 team? you found out so much about Charles the moment you knew his name, one google search and you found out that he’s from Monaco, found out everything about his family and who his friends are. But you still had no way of reaching him.

So what would any sane person do, is book a trip with your friends and their SOs to Nice where you’ll be staying while venturing into Monaco. Was this the most practicable thing? no. but you all took time off from your jobs/school scraped all your money together and enter; mission: find Charles Leclerc. supposedly now is the start of the month-long summer break, so he was in Monaco spending some time with his family. 

You had fun the first two days, visiting all the new places, Noah was having fun, you took all the cute pictures while venturing around Monaco and Nice. Every single person in your group had a picture of you on the night at the club and another of Noah to confront Charles and tell him if they somehow stumbled upon him or any of his family members.

On the third day your friend group split up, you and your best friend were going to a salon where it’s supposedly managed/owned by Charles’ mother, so you found it on the internet. To keep appearances and spend a bit more time there your friend was getting a trim and her hair done.

You sat with Noah in your lap on a sofa near where your friend was getting her hair done. Noah was babbling and talking all sorts of nonsense, at six months he’s starting to sit up with little help, so he’s having the time of his life with this new point of view. 

“How old is he?” an accented voice asks, you look up from Noah to meet the woman you were looking for.

“Uh- he’s - he’s six months.” You tell her glancing at your friend, who gives you a discreet thumbs up. This is in fact Pascale.

“He’s super cute.” She tells you and looks at Noah who is now fascinated with her. Being a baby that is constantly surrounded with so many people has made him a social baby, he’s always happy to meet new people.

“Thank you.” Taking a deep breath as you think of ways to bring up that he’s in fact her grandson.

“Are you on vacation here?” Pascale asks warmly, you find her a very loving person, her dimples are ones your son shares, it takes everything in you not to tear up. Finally, you’re just one tiny step away from Charles.

“Not really… it’s a little complicated.” You tell the older woman, she looks intrigued. To Pascale she doesn’t know why, she can’t really place it, but your son reminds her of something, of someone and it’s on the tip of her tongue it’s so close. “My son’s dad doesn’t know about him, we had… we had a one night stand.” You don’t see any judgement in her eyes, which gives you comfort to continue. “And I just found out that he lives in Monaco, and my friends and I are trying to find him, a bit silly but I feel like he deserves to know.”

“Not silly at all, that’s really admirable of you to come to Monaco to look for him.” Pascals gives you a comforting smile and once again she asks you a question that saves you from asking you about Charles. “Do you know the dad’s name?”

“Yeah, it’s Charles.” It clicked, who your son reminds her of, how she wasn’t able to see it will remain a mystery for her. Her second son. Charles, no doubt in her mind that sitting on your lap is her grandson. 

“I-I think we should go somewhere more private.” Pascale says and she’s unable to look away from Noah, her first grandson. grandchild period.

“Yes, please.”

‿︵‿︵୨˚̣̣̣͙୧ - - ୨˚̣̣̣͙୧‿︵‿︵

Pascale took you, your best friend ,Sohpia, and Noah(ofc) to her house, she called Charles and told him to come over. So here you are in your son’s grandma’s house looking at all those baby pictures of Charles and his brothers, and you just can’t get over how much Noah looks like him. Pascale and Sophia were playing with Noah while you were having a moment in the bathroom, in desperate need to hype yourself up and to calm your nerves. yes you wanted Charles to know but all the fears of rejection of this all being for nothing came crashing hard on you, so many women were forced into being single mothers and you don’t know Charles, Pascale did say that she wants to a part of Noah’s life but it could all change when Charles finds out. it didn’t take long for the front door to open, and a very familiar voice called.

“maman, je suis là.”(mum, I’m here.) all eyes in the room snapped up to the figure that just rounded the corner into the living room. Charles stopped in his tracks, he saw an unfamiliar woman and a baby with his mother all sitting on the floor, he frowned a little before giving a polite smile. “Bonjour, je ne savais pas que nous avions de la compagnie.” (Hello, I didn’t know we had company)

“English Charles.” Pascale informed her son.

“Ah, sorry, I didn’t know maman had company.” He told Sophia and she understood now why you went with him that night, he seemed so kind and had this calming and trusting aura about him.

“It’s okay, this wasn’t planned.” Sophia said with a timid smile.

“Why did you call me, maman?” Charles turned to his mother confused, just then Noah started babbling away, he barely started to learn how to crawl but everyone could see that he was trying to reach someone, Charles turned to see where the baby wanted to go and he saw you. It did take him a second, he knew you from somewhere, but it came to him, that night at the club. his confusion reached a new high, what are you doing here? How do you know his mother? Why are you here?

You passed Charles and went to the baby scooping him up in your arms, in practised moves, like it was second nature. Charles took a look at you and Noah, your eyes met his and you gave him a nervous smile.

“Sophia, could you help me with the tea?” 

“Certainly.”

That left the three of you together, mother, father, and son.

“Hi.” You said timidly. “I don’t know if you remember but we met last year-“

“Yeah, yeah I remember.” Charles cuts you off, you nod and take a deep breath.

“Look, I don't know how to say this but…” You fidget staying silent for a moment before you regain your courage to tell him. “I got pregnant after that night, and I tried to find out who you are and where to find you, but it was hard.” Charles says nothing, his eyes are on the boy in your arms, he takes him in, the eyes, the nose, the hair, the dimples, everything. “I know it’s hard to take in, and I can understand if you don’t believe me, but-“

“I believe you.” Charles breathed out, like his mum he knows this is his son, he took almost nothing from you and is all Charles. “can I- can I hold him.”

“Yeah.” You breathed out as Charles moved closer gaining his son’s attention, Noah went right to Charles, who held him securely and just smiled at the baby, both father and son were looking at each other intently. “What’s his name?”

“Noah.”

“Noah.” Charles tried out the name before he smiled, it was all a shock, he has a son, he has a son, he’s a father now, a father, his mind tried to compute this new information as fast as it could, but his heart, his heart fully accepted it, a new type of love that is completely foreign to him started to form and take shape. You let Charles have this moment in silence watching them, Noah placed his hands on Charles’ cheeks feeling his stubble and being fascinated with him, charles smiled making Noah smile and then giggle. This just warmed your heart and every single thought that ever doubted coming here went away.

“Do you want me to take him? I’m guessing there’s a lot of talking that you need to do?” Sophia came in after a few minutes and you gave her a thankful and grateful look. Once you were left alone, Charles turned to focus on you. You don’t know why you got so emotional but you did, you were wiping your sweaty hand on your trousers all while fighting your tears away.

Being the kind and loving soul that he is, Charles couldn’t fight pulling you in for a hug. your arms wrapped around him, a few tears slipped from your eyes but you managed to stop the rest.

“It must’ve been hard to do this alone.” Charles said, running his hand up and down your back in a comforting motion.

“It was hard, but I had my friends with me.” You said and pulled back,wiping your tears away, you gave him a teary smile before you both sat down next to each other angled so you’re facing the other, knees barely touching. “Finding you however is somewhat harder, all I knew was your name, and I never realised how many Charleses are out there.” 

You went on to tell Charles about when you found out you were pregnant, a short summary of your pregnancy, how your friends helped you during and after the berth of Noah, how you found who he was and what you did to reach him and all that. Charles listened and asked questions, he wanted to know everything, as much as this was all a shock you’ve had it harder, you lived it, you’ve been living not knowing if your son will ever know his dad or not, not knowing what the future will hold and not knowing is so much harder than anything. 

‿︵‿︵୨˚̣̣̣͙୧ - - ୨˚̣̣̣͙୧‿︵‿︵

You extend your stay in Monaco, even after your friends all went back you stayed, this is Charles’ summer break after all. He cancelled all his plans out of Monaco, and practically turned one of the guest rooms in his apartment into a nursery. You moved from your hotel in Nice to one of the rooms in his house. You did meet the rest of the Leclerc family and safe to say Noah has some amazing and loving uncles.

Noah is just the centre of attention in every room he’s in, he’s taken to Charles so fast, you’re sure he somehow knows that this is his dad. He'd sleep in his arms on his chest and just lean away from you while you’re holding him to get into his dad’s. Noah had so many ferrari and cars themed toys and clothes in the span of a couple weeks it was hilarious.

On a serious note, Charles wants to be a part of Noah’s life and you want him to be too, and one of the things you agreed on and came to is that finding a job in Monaco is the best plan at the moment and just moving there. With the help of Charles you were able to find a job, you knew that Noah will forever be taken care of by Charles, but you had to find a job for yourself, even if you and Charles are now a couple, I mean did you see him with Noah? Did you see him, period? It’s no secret you’re attracted to him. Noah is a big testament to that, but it wasn’t just his looks, once you got to know Charles you couldn’t help but like him a bit more everyday. So when he asked you to just stay in his apartment you couldn’t say no. He's out of the country a lot anyways so most of the time the apartment was for yourself and Noah with the constant visits from and to the rest of the Leclercs.

[notmyneighbor]

Special Delivery - Doppelganger Francis Mosses x Female Reader

Word Count - 3.3k

Rating - Explicit

CW - masturbation, oral sex

Also available on AO3

You’re being followed.

You’re out later than you’d intended, but there had been a lot of requests that day. Word was spreading. You were getting quite the reputation among the doppelgängers.

Imagine, a human who was betraying her own kind, making forged documents to help the invaders into DDD restricted areas.

You don’t even feel guilty about it, either, because what has any human ever done for you? You’ve been on your own since as far back as you can remember, dealt a bad hand early in life. This scheme you’ve concocted pays well. Better than any of the other less savory things you’ve had to do to supplement your income, and it came with an added bonus: you knew how to write in the alien’s language as well, the symbols you inscribe on the frame of your apartment door and workspaces guaranteeing you’ll be exempt from harm.

Maybe you could’ve done something with your artistic and linguist skills if you’d had the opportunity, but alas, this was your lot in life. Making the best of a less than ideal situation.

You deviate your course a few times, just to make certain you’re still being pursued. Yes, he’s still trailing you. You’re certain it’s male but you’re not pausing long enough to discern more than that. Well, fuck.

You take another detour. Perhaps not the best decision in hindsight. You’re further away from home now. You don’t recognize the street you’re on. There’s a delivery truck parked on the side of the road. Dairy. Should you try to hide inside? The door was open. Where was the driver? You consider your options. No one would admit you into their house at this hour, and why should they, when you’ve been selling out all your neighbors? The truck, then. Your stalker’s footsteps still sounded a fair distance away. It was your only chance at this point. Maybe you could find something to mark the symbols. If there was still time.

The step to enter the truck is high. You have to ungraciously hoist yourself inside, clinging desperately to the sides to balance your weight. Made it. Your nose wrinkles. There’s a faintly sour smell. Spoiled products. The keys are in the ignition. A feeling of foreboding washes over you. The street lamp nearby barely illuminates the interior of the vehicle. You’re afraid to go into the back. You can’t see anything you can use to write the protection phrase. Your breath saws in and out. Too loud. You’re making too much noise.

A foot on the steel step makes you whirl around. It’s your pursuer. Dressed as a milkman, but you know instantly it’s not. Replicant. Deceiver. The clone of whatever human he’s copying. He’d chosen a handsome one, though you doubt it had anything to do with appearances, more a matter of convenience. Broad shouldered. Narrow waisted. He lifts himself into the truck with practiced ease. You’re so fucked.

Dark eyes and hair. Pale skin. He blocks the light from outside as he crowds you further inside. Well, you couldn’t say you’d had a good run, but you’d done your best. You close your eyes. You don’t want to see the teeth emerge before he devours you.

“What are you doing in here?”

Your eyes fly open again. He hasn’t advanced any further. He wanted to talk? Play with his food before he ate it? Maybe he wasn’t hungry. Mabe you could talk your way out of this.

“I…I got lost on the way home.”

“You’re lying.” No malice behind those words, just an observation.

“I heard you following me. I know what you are,” you admit, then instantly regret it. Stupid girl.

“I know who you are, too. You’re the one who makes the ID’s and entry requests.”

“Business hours are Monday through Friday, 8am to 5pm.” Were you seriously being flippant with a doppelgänger? You give a little chuckle to show you’re joking around, but the noise sounds more like a dying hyena, slightly panicked and hysterical.

“Those hours don’t work for me.”

“Oh.” So he was a prospective customer then? “Cash up front, half in advance, the rest on delivery. Currently working this week behind the abandoned grocery store off of Burke Street. I have to rotate the site to, you know…”

“I’ll pay extra,” he adds. “For the inconvenience of the hour and short notice.”

You lick your lips at the prospect of making additional funds. What would be fair to charge? “You need it right now? What’s the hurry?”

“Are you able to do it or not?” This now laced with irritation. His patience and good graces were wearing thin already. Best not to ire him further. You’re lucky to still be alive.

“Yeah, I can do it.”

“I’ll drive us there, then.”

“Where am I supposed to sit?” You glance around the front of the cabin. There’s only one seat for the driver.

You see his shoulders raise and lower in a shrug before he sits behind the wheel. You suppose your only choice is to sit on the floor.

“Your truck reeks,” you say, that sour smell assaulting your nostrils again as you lower yourself down.

The engine rumbles to life. “Deliveries didn’t get made today.”

“Did you…” You’re wondering what happened to the original, human operator of the vehicle. Had he suffered some grim fate? Were his remains sitting in the doppelgänger’s gut, being digested at this very moment? You shudder at the unpleasant thought.

He glances down at you. “No. I simply duplicated his form and stole the truck. You humans leave your body substances everywhere,” he says, lifting the cap off his head and tossing it onto the dashboard. “This one perspired all over that.”

That was all it took for a doppel to replicate a human. Just a little bit of something from the original. Sweat. Blood. Mucus. Probably other, even more unsavory substances, too.

It’s uncomfortable on the floor. The truck’s suspension jostles you roughly. Luckily you don’t have far to go. The driver eases behind the abandoned brick building, shutting off the headlamps. There are no functioning street lights in this part of town. You’re shrouded in darkness.

The doppel stands and you struggle to your feet, reluctantly accepting the hand he offers you to assist you to your feet. You’ve never touched one of the invaders directly before. It feels normal. Just like a human. You’re not sure if that makes it better or worse.

You’ve been working out of the manager’s office in the rear of the store. You’ve got an actual set of keys, pilfered once you’d broken into the building. Another of your talents, that. Breaking and entering. An additional skill this unfair life has made you adept at.

You’re not used to being here so late. It’s amazing no one’s realized the building is still on the electrical grid. You’re grateful for the mistake, switching on the light in the back hallway after feeling blindly for the switch. The doppel is just behind you. You unlock the office door and hit another light switch, sighing in relief. That was better. Familiar territory. No longer in darkness.

But there’s an anxious invader at your back, and that knowledge is less than comforting. You sit down in the office chair behind the steel desk and he settles into the hardbacked one across from you.

“So, um…about the fee.”

Without a word the alien digs into his pants pocket, extracting several bills from a wallet and sliding them over to you. “Will that be sufficient?”

You’re trying to keep a straight face. Where did he get this much money? “Yes, that’s fine. Do you…do you have a home address for the individual?”

Delving back into the wallet, he now produces a car registration. Francis Mosses. You recognize the area he resides in. A better part of town than the one you’re living in, but maybe someday you could change that.

Although, you’re about to make that area a lot less safe, you think, pulling the necessary tools out of the large bottom desk drawer, including a DDD logo stamp. That had been the hardest item to acquire. The rest were fairly routine.

“I need to take a picture. Do you just want to get that over with now?” He nods. “Can you stand in front of the door? It’s a good blank background.” Another nod as you stand. He closes the office door and positions himself, waiting for you to snap the Polaroid. Damn, he really is attractive. Exactly your type. You don’t even mind the little bend at the bridge of his nose or the shadows under his eyes. You take several pictures, one for the ID card and one for the entry request, with some extras just for…well, maybe just to have options if the others didn’t turn out well.

You’re not used to being watched while you work.

You typically have the doppels come back to pick the forgeries up later. These dark eyes watch your every movement like a hawk, from the way you print onto the request form to the drag of the scalpel blade around two of the photographs(they had all come out fine), carefully affixing them to both documents. You roll the stamp in the black ink pad and press it gently but firmly into each corner, waving a hand over the fresh ink to help it dry.

“You’re skilled at this,” he murmurs appreciatively, and your head lifts to meet his gaze. “I see why you come so highly recommended.”

“It’s not like there’s any competition,” you say, feeling a flush creep into your cheeks over the praise.

“True. Not many humans would betray their own kind, would they?”

Your lips press into a thin line of displeasure. You didn’t need the reminder. Was he mocking you?

“Forgive me. I didn’t mean to upset you. I’m sure you have your reasons.”

Somewhat mollified, you glance down at your work. It still looked a little moist. You need it to be completely dry before you apply the lamination to seal it in permanently.

The copycat is still staring at you. You, not the documents you’re working on. You clear your throat. “I want to make sure they’ve dried properly.”

“Of course.”

“It’ll just be a few minutes.”

“I don’t mind the wait.”

You lean back and the swivel chair creaks. Your shoulders are aching. You’d made a lot of forgeries today. Too much time spent hunched over the desk. Your eyes are a little sore, too, dry and burning. You needed a bath and maybe a snack and bed. Forget dinner. That sounded too complicated at this hour.

“You’re tired,” he observes.

“It’s been a long day.”

“I am inconveniencing you greatly, aren’t I?”

He doesn’t sound remorseful, exactly. You don’t know what he sounds like. It’s too difficult to process. You’re exhausted, that post adrenaline rush from earlier really depleting the last stores of energy. You don’t even think you’d protest if he decided to turn on you right now, taking the goods and making a meal out of you before he ran. The symbols are more of a professional courtesy than anything. It’s not like it actually prevented the doppels from physically being able to attack.

The legs of the chair he’s seated in drag across the dirty linoleum flooring, making a loud scraping sound. You watch warily as he comes around the desk, easing past a filing cabinet to reach your side.

“We haven’t really negotiated the full price yet, have we?”

Oh. Was that what was happening? He was going to stiff you. Suddenly that advance amount no longer seemed so generous. That was to be your total payment. Honestly, you should have been more demanding.

“I have more money,” he says, immediately canceling out your previous assumption, “but I don’t think that’s what you need most right now.”

“You’re right. I should be at home in the bathtub. Or better yet bed,” you add.

His hand reaches for the edge of the chair, turning you fully to face him. The abrupt movement catches you by surprise.

“Maybe what you really need is some good old fashioned milk.” His hand closes over your wrist, dragging your hand towards what you’ve somehow missed previously. He’s hard. Like full on, bulging, fit to burst out of his trousers. You should be terrified. You are scared, kind of. But turned on. Stupidly aroused because you haven’t had anyone give you this kind of attention in who knows how long. Sex had just kind of fallen by the wayside for you. There was so much else that needed to be accounted for.

You watch the hand pulling the leather strap of the imposter milkman’s belt in wonder, as if you can’t quite reconcile it’s your own doing this. Its partner joining, thumbing the button of the fly through the slot and parting the metal teeth below into a wicked grin. You shove the waistband of his briefs down and his cock springs free, flushed and thick and oozing precum. You stare at that clear bead of fluid as if hypnotized. Your mouth waters. You want it. You want to suck this creature dry.

Your tongue swipes over the crown of his erection and the doppel hums in pleasure. “Good girl,” he says encouragingly, and the praise sends heat right between your legs, your pussy tingling in response. You’re no longer thinking about your unfinished work on the desk beside you, about how dangerous it is to be alone with a doppelgänger in an abandoned building at night. You’re instead wondering how much of that dark pink length you’re going to be able to voluntarily sample before your gag reflex interrupts and he’s forced to fuck into your throat manually. Your sex throbs again. Time to stop wondering and find out.

Your lips close over the head and begin sliding over the shaft. Clean musk. A better flavor than perhaps you’d anticipated. You take a few experimental bobs, testing. He’s stretching you already. Your lips. The fat head bumping your cheeks, your soft palate. His fingers are in your hair, combing through the tresses with a strange kind of tenderness.

“So good. You’re so talented…”

You whimper a little, trying to reach more of him. There it is. That natural barrier of your body’s resistance. You struggle against it until you’re forced to withdraw, coughing and gasping, leaving a trail of thick saliva behind. You give yourself a brief respite, stroking the slick fluids over his prick. It makes a lewd squelching sound every time you massage the shaft. You can feel your arousal leaking between your legs, saturating your panties. You reach under your skirt, no longer caring about how depraved you appear. It’s a relief when your fingers make contact with your clit, dragging that wetness around the nub in frantic circles.

“That’s a good girl. Touch that pussy. It feels good, doesn’t it? So good…”

Your mouth engulfs his cock again. You roll your lips inward and massage the length in short bursts. Now relaxing and planting soft, passionate kisses on the tip. You spit on it and slurp up the liquid noisily. You like the sounds the doppel is making. You’ve never liked the men who were quiet, reserved. This invader isn’t holding back. He moans and groans and hisses. His teeth catch his bottom lip. His head tips back when the ecstasy of the blow job gets to be a bit overwhelming. And you love every minute of it. You savor every sound and gesture as you perform the obscene act while masturbating, grinding your swollen bundle of nerve endings against your pubic bone.

“You’re hungry, honey, aren’t you? Starving. I’ve got what you need, darling.” The nails of the hand you have curled around his hip dig into the cotton and polyester blended fabric of his uniform pants as you push yourself even further down his length, this time bruising your throat. You ignore the discomfort, grateful when the hand in your hair finally tightens and you feel him begin to fuck your mouth, battering the rear of that moist cavern over and over. “You want a drink, baby? You ready for it?”

You hum in agreement and he eases up, withdrawing until just the head of that thick phallus sits on the tip of your tongue. You’re panting, moaning, frantic for his release perhaps even more than your own.

“Here you go, sweetheart.” A couple of swipes along the shaft and that brief pumping is enough to send him over the edge, thick pulses of cum now spraying the inside of your mouth, pooling on the wedge of muscle his dick rests against. There’s a lot. An absurd amount. You can feel it leaking from the corners of your mouth. Bitter, but not the worst you’ve tasted. Sheer coincidence your body decides to shatter the instant you swallow that load, forcing that creamy baby batter down your gullet while your pussy spasms against your relentless finger.

“There you go, baby. Good girl.”

The milkman’s doppel bends to kiss you, surprising you with the gesture, now of all times, licking your face clean before thrusting his tongue between your lips and you crash right into another orgasm, moaning and twitching while the imposter fucks your mouth with his tongue.

Truly wrung out now, you collapse against the back of the chair, your chest heaving. The doppelgänger refastens his pants, but not before you notice it looks like he could go another round soon, and oh, doesn’t that make your cunt throb again in spite of being so recently satisfied, twice no less.

It takes great effort to smooth your skirt and your mussed hair back into some semblance of order, returning your attention to the documents that are certainly ready by now, the ink well set. The doppelgänger doesn’t return to his seat, instead remaining beside you, watching as the final protective layer is applied.

“There you go. Finished.” You glance up to see the doppel’s gaze fixed on you again, the money forgotten in his hand.

“Maybe…maybe we could work out a deal for the remainder of the payment.”

Your heart speeds up a little. “I’m listening.”

“Maybe I could make special deliveries. To your residence. For as long as it takes to cancel the debt.”

You hum, pretending to consider the offer even though you already know what your answer will be. “What happens after that?”

“We can renegotiate the terms when the time comes.”

“Interesting.”

“Interesting as in you want to think it over, or…interesting as in you definitely want more?” He bends to kiss you again. Gentler this time, but no less appealing.

“The latter.”

“Good. I was hoping you’d say that.” He sets the cash on the desk. “Consider that a tip then, for a job well done.”

You’re not going to argue with that. You hurriedly put everything away and lock the office again, soon finding yourself back outside next to the truck.

“Are you walking home, or do you want a ride?”

You weigh the discomfort of being on the floor in the smelly vehicle against walking home alone at an even riskier hour, where an encounter with another doppel would most assuredly not go as pleasantly.

“I’ll take the ride. But you need to clean the truck out.”

“I’ll do it in the morning.”

“The real milkman must have caught hell losing all these orders and the company car,” you murmur as you return to your former position inside the vehicle.

“Not my problem.”

“Every man for himself, right?” You can hardly condemn the attitude, given your current career choice.

“Exactly.” A flash of teeth in the darkness. He steals another kiss before starting the engine, bending low to capture your lips.

You’re delivered safely to your apartment building minutes later, personally escorted by the cloned milkman.

“I’ll bring you your next delivery tomorrow night, hmm?”

“Okay.” He’s standing so close. It takes just the slightest lean for him to kiss you again.

“Unless, of course, you wanted another advance…”

You shove the door you’ve already unlocked open, inviting the doppelgänger inside.

[neet-elite]

Tempted — (SDV) Sebastian

Pairing: Sebastian / Reader Genre: Smut 18+ WC: 9,457 Warnings: Heavy foreplay, cheating, virgin reader, manipulative sebastian, dubcon, creampie, brothers best friend, praise, cunnilingus Synopsis: All Sebastian has ever wanted is to fuck his best friends little sister. And tonight, you offer him the opportunity. Even if unknowingly.

A/N: Crossposting this from my AO3. I wont be reposting every fic, but the most “recent” that seem to be popular. For my full catalogue then find my AO3 account in my pinned.

It’s too good an opportunity to pass up. You, sat trembling on his lap while his warm hands rest gently against your exposed thighs, the skirt you had decided to wear today riding up just a little as he lightly strokes his thumbs up and down against the edges of it. There’s just something so… dirty about the whole situation, y’know? Which makes it all the more exciting, his heart positively fit to burst out of his chest at the shy look you give him, the small shake of your thighs every time his thumb swipes against you. If he didn’t know any better, he’d think that just maybe… This is where you’ve wanted to be all along, rather than the excuse you gave upon entering his room.

“You gotta start out slow, okay?” He sighs fondly, resolved in his decision to indulge in just a little bit of fantasy before you prance out of his room and back into the hands of your boyfriend. Even just thinking the word makes him feel sick, wishing deep down that it was him instead— but you’re off limits. Always have been, probably always will be. You know, being Sam’s younger sister and all that: he’s always been forced to swallow his ever growing feelings for you in the name of the bro code. Silly fucking code in his opinion, and yet alas, he’s remained faithful to it. At least up until today, until you timidly entered his room and graced him with your presence to ask one question and one question only.

How does sex work?

It’s obvious that you couldn’t have asked your brother such an embarrassing thing, and upon further questioning it seems you were too scared to admit your virginity to your current boyfriend too. And so here he is, sitting up with his back against his bed headboard with you placed dangerously snug on his lap. He promised himself he wouldn’t let things get too far, after all, you are taken. Like, ignoring the morality of fucking your best friends sister, he also has to account for the ethics of cheating with you, of which he’d like to avoid. Besides, you’re a good girl— evident from the fact that you’re still a virgin, so he can’t imagine you’d be up for more than just a few tips. Even if his cock stirs awake in an effort to convince him otherwise, exhaling a shaky breath before you to try and calm himself down enough to remain level headed about things. That skirt is so cute though, and the way you’re sitting has the backside of it flipped up, meaning that your ass is currently sitting directly against his—

“A-And, don’t let him pressure you into anything you don’t want, ‘kay? If he knows what he’s got, he’ll take it slow with you. But don’t be afraid to say stop.” His voice is low, almost whispered as a distraction against the demure eyes you look at him with. It doesn’t help that you’re so soft under his touch, your inexperience showing clearly from the way you don’t seem to know what to do with your hands, the slight squeeze of your thighs against his own as you effectively straddle his lap. He has to fight with himself not to lean further back against his bed and fuck his hips right up into your clothed cunt, swallowing thickly instead to remain on track. Right. Helping. “Start slow, yeah? You gotta build some tension, make him really want it, okay?” He smiles softly, waiting for you to nod down at him. “Watch, I’ll show you what I mean.”

It’s a selfish action, his words hiding behind faux innocence of just wanting to help, and yet still he allows his hands to wander. Just helping, he’s just answering your question, he tries to convince himself, ignoring the obvious nagging at the back of his mind over just how long he’s waited for this exact situation. Just. Helping. Starting with slow movements up and down the length of your thighs, both hands leaving a finger trail of goosebumps on your skin as you shake on his lap. Has to bite his lip in response to how responsive you are, watching your reactions through hooded lids. You’re so cute, you know that? So pretty as you avoid his gaze, letting your head hang just a little low while he stares you down, tickling his way up to the border of your skirt before placing both hands on your equally as exposed arms. You jump in response to the sudden change, but he hushes you softly. “Just relax into it, yeah? Feels good, doesn’t it?” He coaxes, still smiling casually, as if this were a normal thing for friends to do. Because first and foremost, you are his friend, and he’d hate to ruin things with you because of his barely contained lust. Focusing on running his palms over your shoulders instead of his thoughts, begging to turn his brain off and to just enjoy this moment with you, circling his hands over your skin, up and down your arms with intent on warming you up. Your breaths come out in gasped trembles and it’s how he knows he’s doing a good job, smirking more now at how receptive you’re being. “See? Just a little petting and it already feels good, right?” His cock certainly agrees, twitching at the meek nod you offer in return. He really didn’t need your confirmation, the state of you noticeable from the deep blush you wear all the way to how your hands have finally found home on his chest. The feeling of which causes his back to straighten up more, inadvertently pushing himself further into your touch, not that he thinks you’ve noticed thanks to his wandering hands. And how could you, since it seems this is your first time being touched at all, his fingers creeping under the sleeve of your shirt to thumb at your bra step, digging under it gently just to hear you choke on a gasp. Oh, and you sound so pretty too… Much better than how he’s always dreamed of. He’d like to hear more.

Plus, he thinks you’d like to give more seeing as how you pout down at his feather light touches, the cute look you wear drawing a low laugh from him. “What is it, sweetheart?” He affectionately calls to you, letting one of his hands drop to your hip while the other tilts your chin up, the sight of your cute furrowed brows causing him to sharply inhale air through his otherwise gritted teeth. He’s playing a dangerous game here, he knows, but with a gulp of confidence and a quirk of his brow he continues the private lesson. Just giving you some assistance for your boyfriend, just helping you learn how to act when the time comes.

He’s patient to wait for you to reply, but it seems you aren’t even aware of what it is you’re seeking. It’s cute just how needy you are regardless, fidgeting around on his lap in a quest for what he can only assume is more, but your virgin brain struggles to find the correct words for it. It’s all right, he knows how to help, looking over you once to double check that you still want to continue the lesson. Cautiously, the hand under your chin dips to poke lightly at your neck, right at the thin skin under your ear. “Y’see right here? It’s sensitive. I’m sure your boyfriend would like it if you kiss here.” He whispers, naturally allowing his head to follow his touch as he ducks down to press the smallest of kisses there— completely intending on leaving it at that, but the sweet sound you make in response convinces him to continue. He swallows a deep groan of his own before planting a few more faint kisses down your neck, doing his best to savor your taste when you inevitably have to leave his hold once the lesson is over. It’s not entirely self indulgent, anyone (including your boyfriend) would enjoy such soft and tender touches, and really when he thinks about it— that’s what he’s here to teach you. Though he can scarcely deny the butterflies that fill his lungs as you tilt your neck for more kissable surface area. Blessed with the small squeaks and sighs you let out, your sheer unfamiliarity with the situation stroking his ego so well as he grows more confident in his actions. Slowly rubbing soothing circles against your hip while he lines your neck with kisses, traveling his way across your jaw until he almost makes it to your lips. Though here, he stops. Allows a knowing smirk to tug at his lips at the way you shudder from feeling his breath ghost over your face before laughing a little breathlessly. Not at you, but rather one filled with love and awe. You’re so cute, it’s impossible to control his cock brained actions.

“Your turn.”

Not that he expected much else from you, but the soft shy reaction you give at his two words still sends a chill down his spine and a throb in his cock as he watches your eyes narrow, feeling the weight of your determination as you almost immediately start to mimic his actions by placing your curious hands against his bare arms. It’s a gentle action, one that proves endearing enough through how new you are at it, but he appreciates it nonetheless. He’s honestly a little surprised at how self-assured you are to be able to dive right in, but you won’t find him complaining. Shivering into the light playful rubbing you do up and down his forearms, letting his head lean back a little once you reach up to his biceps. “That’s it, just like that.” He quietly encourages you, letting you explore his body on your own terms without providing much more guidance. It’s more fun to learn hands on anyway, isn’t it? And you’re doing such a good job, too. For a virgin, anyway, but because it’s you he feels you carry this certain charm with you. Your actions send a pleasurable chill down his spine.

“Is this okay?” You suddenly speak, and he’s a little taken aback from how winded you sound from just a little foreplay. Oh, he can’t rightly leave you in the incapable hands of your boyfriend now, can he? He doesn’t trust him to look after you properly, to take his time with you like how he is right now. His mind clouded with you and your touch, ignoring the annoying reminder that you’re off limits— for now, at least.

“Mhm.” He nods, wanting to reassure you as much as possible so that you don’t stop touching him, his body hot with the thought of you feeling his hard cock beneath you. Been hard since you popped the question, if he’s honest. “Jus’ keep going. Remember what I taught you.” He hopes his words are convincing enough, allowing you a moments breather before tapping your thigh for attention. “You can do it. Felt nice, promise.”

And with that encouragement you start once more, letting your fingers linger on his arm before giving him a bashful look. He’s just about to ask you whats wrong but you cut him off completely as you promptly lean down, the feeling of your wet lips attaching to his neck causing him to bite down on his lip to swallow a moan. Thankful that your face is hidden so that you can’t see the way his eyes roll back at such a minor thing, though his hands unfortunately give him away as he accidentally squeezes your hips a little too hard as a way to calm himself down. It’s embarrassing for him to admit, but you truly have him feeling like a virgin again. The way his body reacts to you so easily, slipping down the bed just a little to subconsciously get closer. A small reward for your efforts, wanting to show you just how much you affect him by letting his sneaky hands play with the waistband of your skirt. A small ping here, a gentle tug there, all while you adorn his neck with increasingly confident kisses— just as he did to you. He makes a mental note that you’re a quick learner, a loving smile plastered on his face by the time you manage to kiss along his jaw, his cheeks warm at the sight of your fluttering lashes before him. Here, you also stop. Faces mere inches from each other as you pant against him. Not that he’s doing much better, mind you. His own lungs struggle to keep up with how his night has turned, squeezing once more at your hips as thanks. “Exactly.” He hums, all soft and low so as to not frighten you. “Don’t worry, we’re not actually doing anything…” He trails off upon seeing your wandering eyes, watching closely as they travel down to his lips and then back to his eyes, noticing how your lips part slightly at the minimal amount of petting you’ve endured thus far. And he’s not sure who he’s trying to convince more with his words, your pretty face or his cock— so rock hard just from your close proximity to him. But he leans forward anyway, lets his lips meet yours in just the softest kiss ever, and one he’s overjoyed to feel you immediately reciprocate. “Just practicing.” He whispers against your lips, smiling into the forbidden kiss before he has to pull away lest his tongue slips down your throat in horny eagerness.

He pulls back, takes in the sight of you looking so needy. The harsh heave of your chest, the pink of your cheeks and his saliva coating your lips. Must be your first kiss, huh? Ah, he laughs internally. You sure are a sight to see, and his crush is in full effect as you await further instructions after your stolen first. Your cautious hands taking root in his shirt, fisting it into a tight hold as if you were struggling to keep yourself steady— and all of that from just a small kiss. You’ve got to know just how intoxicating you are, right? How he’s beyond love drunk, smiling down at you with this dumb expression he can only put down to infatuation. “See, doesn’t that feel nice?” He coughs, trying to distract himself from the lewd look you stare back at him with, an attempt to hold onto the last shred of responsibility he has left. “Make sure you go slow with him before moving on to anything else.”

“What’s next?” You quickly ask as soon as he’s done speaking, and he swears you know just what your innocence is doing to him. Though that much is immediately known false, his cock can’t seem to agree. Straining hard against his gray sweats with greedy insistence, begging for you despite the fact that you’re off limits. “What about this?” You ask shyly, dropping your gaze to the fat bulge in his pants.

Well, a little more tutoring wouldn’t be so bad, would it? Especially since you’re asking for it.

“Hm…” He pretends to think, casting his gaze to the side in faux thought while you eagerly tug at his shirt. There’s so much he wants to do with you, filtering through all of his nasty late night fantasies before settling on a tame enough one for your experience difference. He can’t go too far, remember. “Wanna know how to really get your boyfriend going?” He cocks his head to the side to question you, sighing deeply to restrain himself when you reply that yes, you’d like to.

He’s kind enough to at least guide your hand, helping you hop off his lap momentarily to let you sit between his legs now. “Here.” He holds your hand gently, dragging it closer and closer to his cock until you can feel the heat of his arousal directly under your palm. A soft curse escapes his lips, a strained fuck as he feels your fingers twitch against him, the smallest gasp exiting your own lungs as his cock jerks in return. The corruption he’s putting you through only fueling his lust, feeling it pool in the pit of his stomach when you go wide eyed staring at the way his cock trembles for you. How long has he been waiting for this, for you to hold his perverted cock in your tiny hands? Too long, it seems, for the moment you eventually do wrap your hand around it he can’t seem to help but let a growled moan sound. He knows he’s going too far, but he’s wholly incapable of slowing down. Who would, when their dreams are coming true right before their very eyes? Surely your boyfriend wouldn’t blame him for that, right?

“Sebastian?”

“Don’t worry about it. It’s only natural, yeah? Of course I’d get hard, we aren’t gonna actually do anything. Promise. Just— Just bend down for me a little, okay?”

You seem confused at his instructions, and so he tries again. Applying a little pressure to the nape of your neck so that your head lowers, helping you situate your mouth right above his cock while your hand instinctively squeezes around the fat of his length. Oh, you’re such a good learner, aren’t you?

“Like this, okay? There you go.” He smiles wide, laughing lightheartedly at the strain in his voice. He’s got it so bad for you, and it seems you’ve got no idea. Expectantly looking up at him as you stay seated in the position he so kindly manhandled you into. Doggy style, though with your face almost pressed right against his leaking cock. Fuck, shit— maybe this was a bad idea after all, a fat bead of precum dribbling from his tip just from looking at you in such a lewd position. “Fuck— okay, just— Stick your tongue out.” He all but begs, quickly flustering to correct himself with: “Just pretend, remember? Practice.” He inhales sharply when you immediately follow suit, tongue out and pressed against his fat cock just like that. It’s all too easy for him, there’s no way he can hide a moan, looking down at you with such need that he’s sure even your virgin ass could pick up on it, though you’re quick to correct him when you don’t do much more than what he’s asked.

And while he loves the sight of your tongue flat against his hard and hot cock, he’s sure your boyfriend would want more. And by boyfriend, he means himself. “Lick it.” He gasps. And when you send him a questioning expression in return he sighs. “Just trust me, lick it. He’d love that—” his lies are cut off by your followed instructions, the feeling of your tongue gliding up and down over his still clothed cock causing his hips to buck up, voice caught in his throat. He’d apologize if he meant it, but God he doesn’t, not when you look so pretty like this. All eager to please and avoiding his gaze, the small wet spot from his leaking precum soon swallowed up by your cute tongue and leaving his front soaked in your saliva as you busy yourself with following his help until he says otherwise. You’re almost hypnotizing to him, his thumb coming down to stroke kindly at your cheek for your efforts. “Yeah, fuck, he’d like that a lot— I think.” He swallows thickly, his mouth hanging slightly agape as he watches you tongue at his hard on, the dirty nature of getting off without direct content to his cock causing his tummy to tighten. And he’s so desperate too, fuck, has been ever since he can remember. Can’t quite believe his luck knowing now that you’re still a virgin, happily accepting your clumsy experience with open arms. He deserves to be your first, doesn’t he? Been waiting long enough anyway, and as he buries a hand in your hair to help guide your mouth up and down his cock more to his liking he grows more convinced that you are his for the taking. Why else would you allow him to touch you like this? Be your first cock sucked, yeah? Even if it’s only over clothes, he has to take things slow with you. Has to, even if he doesn’t want to. Thing is, his resolve has never been the strongest with you. And his moral compass ever gray. So it’s no surprise that when you decide to look right up at him while licking him through his sweats he chokes. His eyes rolling back into his skull unashamedly while his grip tightens in your hair, fisting at the strands for some sort of stability in the face of your obscene purity. “Mhm—” his tone is almost smug, pouting back down at you as you flick your tongue directly over his sensitive tip. “God— Your— Your boyfriend is so lucky—” He laughs, releasing your hair to instead pet the crown of your head, cooing sweetly when you beam at the praise. Anyone would be lucky to have you it’s true, it just so happens that he’s decided you’re his now. “Sure this is your first time?” He teases, smirking wide at your sudden stop to defend yourself. You’re so easy, though he’s really got no leg to stand on with how hard his cock throbs for you too.

“It is! C’mon, you said you wouldn’t make fun of me…” You huff, pulling off of him and sitting up straight to reprimand him properly. Even like this, he thinks you’re cute. Even when whining he wants to fuck you senseless. Even when you’re clearly embarrassed and acting all shy he thinks you’re the hottest thing he’s ever seen. He’s fucking desperate.

“Oh, I wouldn’t dream of it baby.” He tuts, leaning over to caress your exposed skin some more now that you’re off him. “Besides. I was being honest. You’re really good at it. I really liked it…” He whispers his last words, hoping you don’t hear him before coughing to further obscure his true intentions. “Your boyfriend will really appreciate all your practice, I mean.”

His words seem to sate you for now, though he’s not quite done with you yet, placing both hands on your hips to drag you closer to him while keeping you sat neatly between his legs. “I can show you something else, if you want?” This is a bad idea. This is a really bad idea, but he can’t seem to help himself when you look so wanting before him.

You’re all too keen to nod too, happy with the praise he’s offered you thus far as you plead with your eyes for a little more help.

And he’s only too happy to give.

He’s cautious to remain calming, doing his utmost to care gently for your naive attitude. Because while you are such a good learner, he can still pick up on the slight hesitance on your face. The leftover worries regarding such a new experience— and he’d hate to ruin all that he’s built up tonight. Would never forgive himself if you walked out of his room worse for wear than when you came in, and so he’s soft with it as he taps on your shoulder. “Lay back, trust me.” Tenderly murmuring instructions so as to not overwhelm you too much. Even if his cock is practically ready to burst just from watching you do just that: lay back. The sight of you under him is one he’s only ever fucked his fist imagining, and so now that you’re actually on your back for him like this it takes him a second or two to catch up to reality. His vision hazy and his cock twitching, pointed directly at you and easily seen through to egregious wet patch you’ve not only left yourself but also drawn out from his dribbling tip. More than anything, he’s thankful you decided to wear a skirt today. It makes this private lesson a whole lot easier as he situates himself to hover above you, his pesky pervert hands finding their way to your inner thigh to pinch and hold while the other stabilizes himself by planting down on the bed next to your hip.

“Like this?” You seek his reassurance, and he sucks on his teeth from how small you not only look but also sound.

“Uh-huh, just like that baby.” His hand rubs your thigh up and down, his eyes unfocused and attempting to take in the whole view of you so submissive for him but he’s struggling. Never in his life did he think he’d actually pin you down like this. Fuck. The taboo nature of touching your best friends little sister gets to his head, his heart racing as he inches his fingers up, up, further until he reaches the hem of your hidden panties. His cock throbs at the little gasp you let out when he does so, knowing full well that you’ve no idea why you’re making those sounds and only that it feels right to make them. Exactly, he thinks to himself. If it feels so right, then surely it can’t be that wrong to help you so candidly. It’s all he need to tell himself anyway as he swallows thickly to instruct you some more, bunching up his bedsheets in a fist for some semblance of control. “So pretty like this baby. If you just lay back like this for your boyfriend then— Oh.” His fingers graze against your panties, thumb pressing gently against the wet patch over your hole as he seeks to please you instinctively. For a moment, it feels like he can’t breathe. All time stopped as he watches your reaction intently, more precum leaking from his tip when you scrunch up your face in interest. Has to stall himself abruptly and momentarily else he’s liable to just shove his cock in right there and then, face flushed and fingers twitchy. He wants to makes you feel so good that you forget all about your boyfriend, internally telling himself that to do just that, he has to remain patient. “He should— If he’s a good boyfriend then he should take his time with you, okay? I’ll show you what I mean.”

You tense up a little as he shuffles closer, bending down to mimic the position he had you in earlier. Both hands come under your ass to lift you up, meeting his face half way before you scurry to pull your skirt down over yourself. “S-Sebastian, wait—!” You panic, and his heart stutters at how cute you sound all confused.

“It’s okay, shh.” He coos at you, nevertheless not stopping despite your hesitance. “We’re not gonna do anything. Jus’ wanna show you what your boyfriend should be doing. So you know what to expect, remember?” He lies through his teeth, fully intending on doing that which he’s just promised not to. It’s just— he can treat you so much better, y’know? Has to take this chance while he’s got you literally in the palm of his hands, squeezing at your ass just to hear you gasp some more. There isn’t a prettier sound in the world if you asked him than you needy embarrassed whines while his breath fans over your thighs, his nose nudging knowingly at your skirt until he flips it up with his face in one swift motion— his hands too busy cupping your ass cheeks to do the job themselves. Besides, the squeak you let out at his flirty advance is more than worth it with how hard his cock jerks to fuck another one out of you. “You gotta make sure he does this with you. Otherwise, he’s not worth it sweetheart.” He confidently asserts, peeking out from between your thighs just to watch your eyes widen in surprise. Sure, you’ve no idea what he’s talking about, but thats why he’s doing this. To show you exactly what he means, wolf whistling once his eyes cast back down towards your plain panties. Even here looks pure, so innocent are your white panties that he can barely stand the sight of them. Not as a turn off, but because he adores them, loves you so much that even this small symbol of your innocence is enough to rile him up. Who was he kidding, there’s no way he was ever going to be able to last the moment you walked into his room. No chance in hell at keeping himself composed as you sit there obediently, his fingers itching to stretch you out properly already. But they’re too occupied absentmindedly squeezing your ass, keeping him calm and collected enough to at least still communicate his desires with you, his sweatpants growing insufferably tight with how hard his cock aches for you. Not a single thought given to the ethics of touching your best friends taken little sister any more now that he’s face to face with your virgin cunt. Unable to stop himself from sniffing at it like a dog, his cock drooling to the humiliated whines you let out. “Fuck—” he quickly shoves out his mouth, shuddering from your mere scent alone. While you may not know it personally, your body sure seems to want him.

And so he gives in to you once again, repeating the previous actions he had you endure by letting his tongue lay flat against your wet spot and sucking hard. Far harder than you deserve for your first time, but he can’t stop himself. Just one little taste through your wet little panties alone and he’s hooked, grabbing at the fat of your ass with much more urgency as he immediately flattens his tongue in an attempt to swallow you whole, running it up and down your hidden slit before placing a greedy kiss right over where your clit is. It's stupid how erotic things feel despite still remaining fully clothed, his cock harder than it’s ever been just from lapping away at your panties, huffing harshly at the primitive urge he feels to put you in your place. “Taste so good, yeah?” He pants, too deep into his delusions now as your cunt rests against his face to keep up the facade of just helping. “Jus’ a little more, okay? Jus’ need to— need t’move these.” He whispers against your underwear, his breath doing little to cool you down with the heated kisses he presses against you in between his gasped words. And he doesn’t even wait for your consent, dropping you down with an urgency that he’ll apologize for later before peeling your sticky panties off your cunt and down your legs, the shocked whine you let you and the immediate closing of your legs causing a growl to rise to his lips. He’s quick to move though, digging his fingers into your thighs to pry them open again and humming deeply at the sight that greets him. A wet and ready cunt. “Pretty.” He seethes, jaw tight and tummy tense with just how much he wants you, how eager he is to prove his worth to you. That, and the fact that you have the cutest little cunt he’s ever seen, salivating over you as you attempt to hide those adorable expressions he so badly wants to enjoy. It’s fine, he’ll see them soon enough, smiling away to himself when he lets go of your legs and you keep them open. Such a good girl, aren’t you? And for your first time too! He’s so proud of you, making sure you know just how much by trailing soft kisses down your open thigh. Murmuring sweet nothings on his way down to his goal, a trail of saliva in his wake until he once against meets your cunt with a grunt.

Not much else is said for a few long seconds, his own words lost on him at just how good your cunt smells, too focused on making sure he doesn’t bust a load before he has a chance to satisfy you to adequately voice his love for you, and he assumes you’re quiet out of sheer anticipation for what he’s about to do next. You’ve no idea, and that excites him to no end. Has his cock all twitchy, one of his hands lowering to palm over the too sensitive tip to release some of the built up tensions he holds for you. He’s got no time to tend to himself fully though, merely content to just palming at his cock while his free hand spreads your pussy lips apart. To any normal person, maybe even including your boyfriend, they might get embarrassed if they were acting as fraught with need as he is right now— but it’s hard to care about such things when his tongue rolls up your slit, openly drooling down it with a shuddered moan exhaled right against your puffy clit. Virgin cunt tastes so good, and he lets you know just how much he’s enjoying himself by lowering his head to make out with your hole. All messy and sloppy, he simply can’t afford to act any other way with you right now. Not when you make just the prettiest little whimpers, his efforts doubling the moment he feels your hand fist at his hair for stability. So good, such a good baby, doing exactly what he wants without prompting— this is why you should be with him and not your lame ass boyfriend. Look at how much you squirm on his tongue, the way your legs shake as he fucks it in and out of your untouched little hole, squeezing his cock hard at the thought of adding that to the list of firsts he’s taking from you. Getting off himself from getting you off, adding in the pressure of his thumb to your clit as he laps up everything your hole offers him, his head spinning with the sounds of your enjoyment while you claw at his scalp for any sort of purchase— but it’s no use. Hearing you cry out for him to stop, hold on a second! And feels funny, Seb—! only encourages him to keep going, the wisdom of previous sexual encounters he has over you looming between your legs as he sucks at your slick faster, incentivised to stroke the whole length of his cock over his (for all intents and purposes, see through) sweatpants when your legs clamp down over his head. Best earmuffs he’s ever worn, honestly. Though he can still hear the loud sob of his name loud and clear falling from your pretty lips as you very quickly, and easily, cum on his tongue. Not that he’d expected much else from a virgin, but still the speed at which you moan for him strokes his ego about as well as he imagines your cunt will in a minute, your back arching so nicely off his sheets as you ride his face to completion. He only comes up for air once he’s absolutely sure he’s drank every last drop of cum you offer him, and also because you start to push him away from overstimulation. You can’t rightly blame him for wanting to remain tongue pressed between your sticky thighs, you taste so fucking good, and now that he’s had that taste— he’s never gonna let you go. Big brother Sam and your boyfriend be dammed, he’ll brand your insides as his by the end of the night.

He’s gasping as he comes up, suddenly aware of his frenzied state as he has a chance to look you up and down. But oh, what a mistake that is. Your messy hair, body all blushed and shaking, a mess of fluids painting your legs pretty. He could cum right there and then if he’d allow himself too, stopping the shameful inevitable with a rough fist firmly choking the base of his cock. Something within him snaps when you reach out for him, all teary eyed and practically begging for more with the cute pout you wear. It’s enough to have him crawling up you, tugging his sweats down just enough to have his cock hang out before placing both hands at either side of your head. It’s difficult to focus on the task at hand rather than his selfish objectives when you offer yourself up on a silver platter like this, but he does his best anyway. “Make sure he makes you cum first, just like that, okay? He has to get you prepped enough for— Ah, fuck.” His exposed cock grazes against your slippery cunt and disrupts his teaching, instantly his hips buck into the warm heat and slip up to knock against your clit. And upon hearing your muted moan he reflexively repeats the action, humping his precum up your slit with infuriating precision. Can’t quite believe how close he is already, having to mentally remind himself to slow down, all the way until he’s eventually strong enough to stop. Difficult as it is, he still cares about you enough to give you a small breather before taking what was always his. “Oh, you feel so good. Just… Just the tip won’t hurt, okay? Only the tip, I promise.” He hushes your high pitched whines, tenderly brushing his open palm against your shaking shoulder for reassurance. “Promise, baby. It’s not cheating if it’s just the tip, okay? Just so you can see how it feels.” He hides behind a smile while whispering falsehoods down your ear, almost completely bent over you and pressing you further into the mattress below with no intention on keeping his word. Not that you realize, of course. A weak little nod as consent and he’s pouncing on you.

Sure he can’t just thrust it into you, but fuck if he doesn’t want to more than anything he’s ever wanted in his life. Wanting to go the same speed he usually fucks his fist to when thinking about his best friends little sister, all those festivals and band sessions you were present at while he was too busy petting his pervert cock— he wants to shove it into you so bad. But he’s nicer than that, or perhaps more cunning is the right word. If he’s slow with it now, letting his fat cock catch on gently to your dripping hole and stroking himself against it slowly, making sure you’re comfortable and happy enough for him to continue by rubbing smooth circles against your hips and praising you from his higher position, then maybe you’ll see just how much of a better option he is. “Look at you.” He mocks, though it’s said only with adoration, as if he can’t quite believe just how naughty you manage to look while taking cock for the first time. Your enjoyment apparent as he jerks off against you by your open mouthed mewls, your unfocused eyes attempting to beg for more from him, and he’ll give you it. Don’t worry, he doesn’t think he could stop even if he wanted to— and he certainly doesn’t want to do that. “You want it? Oh, your body wants it so bad— Can you feel that? Hear how wet you are? Ah, promise. Promise just the tip, okay? It’s only fair. It’s only fair since I made you cum first, kay?” He laughs lovingly, giving you only a second more to catch up to the situation before gently, far too gently for his tastes, pushing his tip further into you. A collective sigh shared upon his intrusion, his heart beating so hard in overwhelming pleasure from how tight your virgin hole is. So warm and wet, welcoming his leaking tip so well after he tongue fucked one orgasm out of you already. Still, he notices the pain wash over your face, his head lowering to meet your level with a hushed tone. “Oh, baby... I know it hurts, I know.” He sucks on his teeth, trying to bear himself to how snug this fit is, stretching your never fucked before cunt out with his fat cock, thankful for the copious amounts of precum he’s dribbling inside of you mixing with the slick you gush out each time he shifts a little closer, pushes his cock more in the smallest amount. He’d never want to hurt you, but he knows that if you put up with him for just a bit longer, he’ll have you crying from pleasure instead. Softly wiping your tear stained cheeks with another muted whisper. “It's all right, just breathe for me. It’ll real feel good real soon, and then— Fuck, and then what you gotta do to impress your boyfriend is— is wrap your legs around my back, yeah? C’mon, look at me.” He ends up begging, his brows knitted and thighs shaking as he takes you for the very first time. Patiently waiting for your eyes to open and rest on his, a small smile breaking out on his face when you finally manage it. “There ya go. Pretty girl…” He pauses, allowing you a moment to just breathe with his cock tip sitting nicely inside your cunt. And then: “My pretty girl.” As soon as you follow through with his instructions, keeping him pressed against you missionary style with your legs locked around him. He wishes he had taken the time to undress you, to love on your whole body as well as showcase his own, because he knows you’d love the skin on skin contact— but he’s not got the time nor the patience to go through that process right now. The heart wants what his cock needs, and right now that means being buried so deep in your cunt immediately so that all you can feel is him.

He moves without warning. Not that it was his intention, but the pitiful whine you let out at his words causes his cock to take control. A small hump, but it’s enough to knock the wind out of him with how ruined you sound immediately following. A matched cry from the way he splits you in two, despite his minimal movements, he knows this must be scary for you. “Just a bit more, okay? Promise, only a little more. You’re so close to taking it all, yeah?” He misleads you, his cock throbbing at the mere mention of fucking more into your poor little cunt. But still, you nod up at him. Even through babbles of pain and shaky breaths of uncertainty you trust him enough to keep going, and it proves fatal to his self control. Restraint forgotten about the moment you whisper his name. A soft, broken sound spilling from such pretty lips. There’s no way, no fucking way, he could hold back after that. And he’ll apologize to you later for his rashness, sure, but in this moment he’s absolutely powerless to stopping his hips from bucking into you. Pushing the rest of his cock into your warm hole until his balls finally rest against your ass, your skirt bunched up in your own small hands for some sort of comfort, but fuck it’s the cutest thing he’s ever seen. The oppositional sight of his cock stuffed fully inside your tight little cunt and the innocent action of tugging on your skirt goes straight to his balls, all tight and taut and want to mark you from the inside out— but he stalls. Lets his cock rest inside of you for now, taken to doting on you from above to distract himself enough to not cum already.

“That’s it— Look!” He breaks into a kind laugh. “You took it all in. Took me all in, yeah? Told ya, a natural. Fuck, you feel so good—” His cock throbs some more, thick beads of precum spilling out inside for your comfort, his eyes briefly rolling back from the way your walls choke his length at his words. “Promise to make you feel good too, okay? Show you how your boyfriend should be doing it.” He continues to lie, bending down to press a barely there kiss to your sweaty forehead only to pull back up. He wants to watch you fall apart. Needs to see the moment you realize that after all this time, he’s been right here, waiting, patiently, for you to realize his presence. That he could be everything you could ever want for and more. Gradually drawing his hips back and his cock with him, choking at the sight of your silent moan from the feeling, and then calmly pushing back in. The confused stare you regard him with makes him dizzy, working on autopilot as his hands come down to hold on to the back of your knees and gently pushes them down while he starts a lazy pace into you, biting down on his lip from his front row seating as your expression slowly turns into one of pleasure with the slow in and out he forces you to endure. He feels as though he’s melting into you, the stupidly lewd squelch of his cock steadily fucking into your hole, the wet pap! of his balls every time he fully sheathes inside of you, God, he’s so fucking in love. Simply mesmerized to the sight of you taking cock so well, and for your first time too! And the sweet sounds you make every time he forces his way back inside, molding your insides to the shape of his cock— he never wants to hear anything else again. Cursing lowly to himself at the realization of just how badly he wants— no, he needs you to be his. “Feelin’ good, pretty?” He asks you, a cocky smirk spreading on his lips when you mumble a subdued yes. “Told ya— Ah, told ya it’d feel good.”

This is just the start though, his hips experimentally fucking just that little bit faster into you to satisfy his forever urges, though your reaction is instantaneous. A quick breathy intake of air as you attempt to pull your skirt closer to your face, inadvertently flashing him more of your body despite your want to hide. Cute soft tummy that one of his hands immediately presses into, forcing a laugh out of his struggling lungs at your adorable display. And then it fully hits him. He’s fucking his best friends little sister, finally, after all those years— His pace snapping into a more brutal one at the thought, far too quick for your first time and only made more evident from the surprised wail you let you as he begins fucking into you like you deserve. Short snappy thrusts into your tight cunt, a resounding smack of his balls hitting against you filling the space left between his grunts and your moans, harsh huffs for air fanning over you as he adds a little more pressure to your spread legs. “O-Oh my God.” He manages to stutter out, unable to take his eyes off you as they flit between your puffy cunt and your pretty fucked out expression. He’s practically drooling over your reactions. “Jus’ for practice. It’s just practice—” he reassures you, filling your hole up so full, much fuller than you’ve ever experienced before with his quick fucks. Fucking so fast that his head goes empty, a babbled “Good girl, good girl—” over and over again down at you at the feeling of your walls squeezing him, your soft little mewls turning more high pitched and cracked with each eager drag of his cock. Can’t help but dig his fingers into your thighs, his head hanging low while he sits up a little off the back of his heels to fuck into you at a deeper angle. It’s obviously too much for you, the seemingly tell-tale shake in your legs letting him know that you’re close again, and he can’t fucking stop himself. “You gave me your virginity. You gave it to me.” He growls, a playful lilt to his tone at the embarrassment present on your face, the way you pull him closer at his dirty words like just hearing them was shameful, though he easily gives you the contact you’re seeking until his chest is pushed right against your own and his mouth latches on to your neck to suck just a little. A small reminder of your lesson, if you will. “You gonna remember everything that I’ve taught you?” He whispers down your ear, and he’s sure you can hear the smirk through his voice with how tight you clench around his speedy thrusts. Running his mouth more than he’d like just simply because your cunt feels that good, has him in a choke hold. “Maybe you don’t need him. Maybe you should just be with me instead, huh? Mhm. I think you should just be my girl.” His confession emphasized with slower but deeper thrusts into you. Really taking his time to fuck his full length into you, breathing deeply to continue his long awaited admission by way of letting his lips connect with your own. A messy kiss, more tongue than anything as he shoves it down your throat to drip saliva for you to drink up, openly moaning into your mouth just as much as he swallows your own for himself.

It feels too good, your little virgin cunt sucking him off better than anyone else has, persuading himself that this must mean that you’re his, right? “Only do this with me, okay?” He whispers in between sloppy sucks of your tongue. “If it feels so good with me, why would you wanna do it with anyone else? You should just be mine instead.” He all but groans, his tone throaty and dry despite the clumsy kisses, voice fucked out of him by how well your cunt takes him. And it’s clear you aren’t doing much better, able only to nod back at him with a cute dumb look on your face, his mind reeling with sadistic want to fuck it off of you. Grinding his fat cock into you with his hips flush against your ass, his rough thumb coming down to swipe over your abused clit only for a few seconds before he can feel you cream his cock. And fuck if it isn’t the best feeling he’s ever experienced, mind completely blank with the show you put on for him. One of his hands remains on your knee, pushing it down further so he has a better view of your cunt convulsing around his cock, his tip dribbling so much for you at the feeling of your slick trickling out at every small hump he offers you. It feels better than he could have ever imagined, your cute cunt already promising to ruin his every future experience unless it’s with you, and so he lets your ride your orgasm out with the addition of light flicks to your clit. A gentle push of his cock as he rests flush against you, at least until you’ve finally stopped shaking so much and your breathing is more stabilized from your first fucked orgasm.

“Look so pretty when cumming, angel.” He praises you, a sneaky smile on his lips as he once again returns his hand to your other knee, pushing your legs down as far as you’ll allow him while he completely rises off his heels now. His stance looming over you as he tenderly gazes at your barely open eyes, the dopey smile you wear telling him all he needs to know as he pulls his hips back hopefully for the last time tonight— and then fucks back into you as hard as he can. Practically bouncing you up his sheets from how powerful his thrusts are, his words gasped and trembling from the amount of weight he throws behind each thrust. Not that he hears you complaining, instead a stream of broken moans and half started cries of his name spill from your lips. Pretty. “Want me to cum inside? It’s only fair. I’m gonna be all your firsts.” He utters, voice all strained and forced as if it pains him to talk right now. And it does, your cunt wrapped so nice and tight around his cock that it’s difficult to make any sound besides moans, so warm and wet with your two orgasm that it’s a struggle to even think anything coherent. Though it doesn’t take him long to give you what you want seeing as he’s been hard practically since you showed up in his room in that cute outfit. At the very least he’s happy to have made you cum twice, and for truly being your every first. First kiss, first oral, first orgasm, first fuck. And now, your first creampie. Your name falling from his lips in a hushed gasp almost as quickly as you plead for him to finish inside, all breathy and barely there from how powerful his orgasm is when spilling his seed deep into your tiny cunt. His best friends sister, tainting you forever with his cum as he continues to fuck himself into your tight hole, fucking his cum deeper against your womb in a primal effort to mark your insides. The grip he has of your thighs tightens as he milks himself inside of you, nails digging into your skin with a soft apology, barely conscious of what it is he’s doing until it’s already done. And even as he’s running empty and satisfied with how stuffed you are, even then his hips won’t stop, continuing to stroke himself lazily into your overfilled with cum cunt until you whine for him to stop. “Sorry— fuck, I’m sorry—” he uselessly rambles, wincing as he pulls out of you only to stare down at your used hole. Shocked at the amount of cum that spills out of you, looking up at you apologetically until you smile wide back at him.

“Thanks, Seb.” You whisper, all cute and silly. It causes him to mirror your grin regardless though, tucking his spent cock away and shuffling to lay beside you rather than forcing your surely exhausted body into any further movement. You’re so attractive all the time, it’s no wonder he was unable to treat you any differently tonight.

“My pleasure.” He hums, laying an arm over your tummy and resting his chin atop your head. He’s so happy. So completely overjoyed with being able to be your first everything and managing to confess his love for you in one go. It’s a little dizzying if he’s honest, but he can’t help but be hopeful at the way you snuggle back in against him, turning to your side to nuzzle your face against his chest. Even the sound of your deep breathes is alluring to him, so obsessed with all that you are that he pulls you even closer, his softening cock slowly but surely growing harder at your soft affections. “I was being serious, you know.” He suddenly says, though there’s a hint of hesitance in his voice.

“About what?” You sleepily yawn, taking hold of his shirt once more. A comfort thing, he’s sure, but he’s still so in love with the feeling that it coaxes the words right out of his mouth.

“About you… Being with me. I’d like that. Makes sense, too. Since y’know…”

You don’t say anything back, and he thinks that’s fine. A lot has happened tonight, and he’s willing to wait for your eventual answer. Though he worries he’s maybe ruined the mood just a little with his heartfelt emotions, and so he flusters to fix the apparent issue with a breathless laugh. “Just… Y’can’t tell Sam, okay?”

“Promise.” You reply, and given the amount of promises he’s told you tonight, he’s not sure if you’re telling the truth or not. Swallowing the mounting fear of Sam finding out he’s messed with his beloved baby sister by kissing the top of your head a few times. Though he did thoroughly enjoy fucking you for the first time, he’d like to share more soft moment like these with you too. Delicate and giggly, the hand he has over your tummy drawing a hidden I love you against your skin while you cuddle into him. He’ll clean you up later, like the gentleman he is. But for now, he’s happy to simply exist beside you and praise you for how well you did for your first time. Sweet reassurances and smiled fondness. He loves you, and despite his less than kind actions tonight, he thinks you might just love him back.

[hqbaby]

two — are you in?

mess it up — gojo x reader & sukuna x reader

⁀➴ when i told you i’m fine, you were lied to. when the love of your life falls for someone else, you decide to move on—by pretending to date your best friend, the campus fuckboy.

previous — masterlist — next

word count. 1.8k content. profanity, alcohol consumption, sukuna being gross, drunken shenanigans

In your defense, you’re quite drunk. Not much of a defense, you know, but it still counts for something, right? Why else would you be at this party, standing in front of your ex, with your best friend at your side claiming that he’s now your boyfriend?

That’s right. Sukuna, catching you in a moment of weakness, dragged you with him to a party you had no intentions of going to. Sure, if you were feeling any better, not dealing with a major heartbreak, you’d go to the party with him, no questions asked. But you aren’t feeling better, you are heartbroken, and you don’t want to be here.

But who can say no to Sukuna?

You couldn’t say no to him when he forced you to get dressed—“No, you’re not wearing those pants, they’re hideous. Try this dress.”—you couldn’t say no to him when he pulled you to his car—“No, I do not have a used condom in my backseat.”—you couldn’t say no to him when he offered you a bottle of vodka—“Don’t get all prim and proper on me now.”—and you definitely don’t say no when you get stuck in an awkward encounter with your ex and Sukuna asks, “We were just waiting to get together, right?”

The three of you are in the kitchen. There’s a couple about to do it on the counter beside you, but you pay them no mind. You’re standing by the fridge with a stale beer in your hand and Sukuna is right beside you, his arm draped over his shoulder as he stares down Satoru who you’re pretty sure is going to pop a vein in his forehead.

“Really?” he asks, looking at you and pointedly not looking at Sukuna. “You’re together now?”

It’s Sukuna who answers for you. “Yeah, two weeks going strong.”

If he didn’t have such a death grip on you, you’re sure you would have kicked him in the crotch by now. Alas, there’s nowhere to go, no way to move, not with the way your best friend is clutching you to his side.

Satoru glares at him. “I wasn’t talking to you. I was talking to her.”

When he looks back at you, you can feel Sukuna’s grip get tighter. It’s something like twin telepathy, the way you’re able to decipher what he means just by a simple squeeze. Without even looking at him, you already see the snarl on his face. You can hear him screaming, This is your one chance to make him feel bad. Don’t be an idiot.

The kitchen door opens and you catch a glimpse of the party outside. It’s bedlam out there, that’s why you and Sukuna sequestered yourselves to the kitchen in the first place. Yet, despite all the chaos, you manage to see her.

The girl who, when you walked into the party, was stitched to Satoru’s side. Who had her tongue down his throat. Who he held by the waist, the same way he held you not too long ago.

The door closes, the guy who opened it in the first place probably realizing that the room is in fact not the bathroom, leaving you alone—save for the couple coupling in the corner—with Satoru and Sukuna and the terrible tension that’s managed to descend upon your little anomalous group.

You glance at Sukuna. He looks at you expectantly, an eyebrow raised. Are you going to do it? he asks.

You turn to Satoru. He’s ready to laugh in your friend’s face, already anticipating your denial of this whole charade. I know he’s lying, he says. Like you could ever be with him.

The words fly out of your mouth before you even realize it. It’s like something has taken over your body, an unbearable force, an innate sense of pettiness that you can’t quite control.

Be a big girl, it tells you. Grow up. And pretend to date your friend.

“We’re together,” you say. Your arm finds its way around Sukuna’s middle and you pull him closer to you as you smile. It’s wicked and charming and honestly doesn’t feel like you, but you do it. “Is that a problem?”

You spy the tiniest clench of Satoru’s jaw. Imperceptible to anyone else but you, the girl who has loved him for a whole year and will probably love him for the rest of your life. You almost want to break right then and there and deny what you’ve just said. You don’t know why you said it. It must be the booze. Satoru, please come back.

But you don’t. You’re a lot of things, but you are not weak. And you’re definitely not going to break now. Definitely not over him.

“Yeah,” Sukuna chimes in. You don’t even need to look at him to know that he’s got a satisfied smirk on his face. “Is that a problem, man?”

Satoru gives you one last look, one last chance to take it back, and when you don’t he turns to Sukuna, your apparent boyfriend.

“Nah,” he says. His voice is so cold it startles you. Has he ever sounded this terrifying before? “Goodluck.” Even if he isn’t looking at you, you know that you’re the one he’s talking to. “You’ll need it.”

He leaves the room and you immediately push yourself away from Sukuna.

“What the fuck was that?” you hiss. “Don’t fucking laugh!”

He doubles over, holding up a finger to signal that he needs a minute because, god, this is so ridiculous, isn’t it?

“Your fucking face!” He cackles, turning his finger to point at you now. “You looked so shocked!”

You step forward and bite his finger. Just chomp. It seems like the right thing to do in the moment.

“Kinky.”

You jump away and spit on the ground.

“Why did you do that?” you demand, stepping forward to attack Sukuna. You don’t know if you want to punch him or kick him, but you have to do something. And because you’ve been so lucky tonight, the bottle of vodka that you polished off a few minutes ago, hits you right then and there and you stumble.

Sukuna catches you by the wrist and his laughter only gets louder. “You’re kinda pathetic, you know?”

You push him away and steady yourself on the kitchen counter. “Why’d you tell him that?” you ask, closing your eyes as you try to stay upright. “He’s gonna think I’m stupid.”

“Stupid how?” he prods. “Because you’re dating me?”

Your eyes shoot open and you scowl at him. “I’m not dating you,” you say lowly. “And I never will.”

“Way to make a guy swoon.”

You give into your drunken stupor and sit down on the floor. You try not to think about the fact that it feels sticky beneath your thighs and try harder not to think of the possibility that you’re not sitting in spilled alcohol but something much more vile.

“Hey.” And he’s sitting beside you now. “Sorry, alright? But that guy had some nerve making out with his new bimbo for all the world to see.”

“Don’t call her a bimbo, that’s offensive,” you chide. You fold your legs and pull them to your chest, allowing your head to rest on your knees. “And he’s allowed to do that. It wasn’t his fault.”

“What do you mean by that?”

“I mean,” you say slowly, “I broke up with him.”

“You’re fucking with me.”

“No, I’m not.”

Sukuna chortles. “Good for you, tiger,” he says. “The guy’s dead weight anyway.”

You turn your head over to look at him. “Well, now he probably thinks I broke up with him to be with you.” You slam a fist on his leg, ignoring him when he yelps. “That’s a really terrible reason to break up with someone, dude.”

“You wound me,” he says. “I’m not that bad.”

“You have at least five girls on speed dial for when you wanna get it wet.”

“I have needs. Sue me.”

You groan and shake your head. “What am I gonna do?” you ask. “I just lied to my ex and told him I have a boyfriend that I do not have. How much more pathetic can I be?”

You feel his hand reach over to the top of your head. And he… pats it.

“I guess I have to be your boyfriend then.”

You roll your eyes at him. “Oh, sure, because you’re such boyfriend material.”

He raises a brow. “What?” he asks. “You think I can’t do it?”

It’s your turn to laugh now. “Are you serious? ‘Kuna, you wouldn’t know commitment if it shot you in the face.”

“I resent that,” he tells you. He turns his body towards you and grins. “Come on, how bad could it be?”

“Seriously?” you laugh. “God, it’s fine. I mean, I’ll figure something out. No need to commit to the bit.”

The look he gives you is so earnest, it almost scares you. “I can be your boyfriend,” he tells you firmly. “Let me do this for you.”

“You’re full of shit.”

“I’m not.”

You’re waiting for him to crack, to start laughing at you again, to say, “Did you seriously think I was gonna pretend to be your boyfriend? Grow up, bro!”

You wait.

And wait.

And wait.

And, “You’re not joking.”

He shakes his head. “I’m not,” he tells you. “It’ll be fun! A little experiment. I’m so down, tiger.”

“You,” you point at him, “want to be my pretend boyfriend.”

Without hesitation, “Yes.”

“I don’t get it.”

Sukuna beams at you, touching your hand with his. “We’ll pretend to be together for like a month, so Satoru doesn’t think you’re a loser who can’t move on like he has,” he says, laying out the plan like he’s already thought it over in his head. Screw him for being able to think properly while intoxicated. “Then, we break up. And all the girls who have been avoiding me because they don’t think I’m relationship material will come running and I get my happily-ever-after. It’s a win-win!”

You gape at him. “You’re gonna pretend to date me so you can get more girls?”

He nods enthusiastically. “It’s the perfect plan.”

“You’re a pig,” you tell him. “You’re like the biggest pig ever.”

“That’s no way to talk to your fake boyfriend,” he says. “Plus, I’ll also be abstinent the whole time we’re—” he uses air quotes, “—‘together.’ And you know what they say, sex is always better when you’ve been deprived for a while.”

“I am so telling on you to your mother.”

He nudges your shoulder. “This is a one-time offer, tiger,” he tells you. “So? Are you in?”

You think about the many, many ways this whole situation could go wrong. You think about the fact that Sukuna has no self-control whatsoever. You think about the fact that your friends will not like this plan at all. You think about the fact that you’re still very much heartbroken, unable to put yourself through this much stress right now.

Then, you think about Satoru kissing that girl. You think about your heart splintering into a million pieces. You think about that day, at the steps of the science building, when you realized what you had to do.

Are you in?

“Okay,” you say. “Let’s do it.”

notes. and so it begins ;) on another note, i'm actively ignoring the leaks like i KNOW what's happening but i'm just gonna plead ignorance

[fleurmiss]

ೃ⁀➷ one love, two mouths

- ,, ao’nung x fem reader

- ,, being bestfriends with aonung ever since you gained consciousness was pleasant, but comes with a side of flirting and realizations you want to be more than just friends, or bestfriends.

- ,, warnings - SUGGESTIVE! adults watch out this is a teenager ur reading abt. minors pls be careful if u dont like making out!! ao’nung is a btch but not to u, tanhì is na’vi for “star, bioluminescent freckle”, simp ao’nung yasss thats like all my characters lol gunna ignore that!!

ps : tanhì is not readers name lol, just a nickname that ao’nung gave her!!!

-‘๑’- sweater weather - the neighborhood

Ao’nung was mean, you’ve seen how quick he is to bite back and claw at any opportunity that gives him a moment of glory against his rivals, plenty of times.

Ao’nung is mean to everyone, everyone but you, and his family, and maybe Roxto.

Excluding those people, ao’nung has never tried to purposefully hurt your feelings, maybe in a moment of childish banter, he has said mean things that are fleeting, they go away as quickly as they come because he sees the look on your face, and says sorry with a heavy heart.

Some days he is not as apologetic, and delays his apologies until a day or two, you walk away with hurt, anger, and hesitation but he always comes to u, can’t bare being away from you, his girl.

You are sitting on the sand, knees up to your chest as you gaze upon the sea, muscles sore from swimming all day. You almost fall asleep as the peaceful sound of the waves lulls you but alas, your one and only makes his presence known with his loud greeting.

“My tanhì, you look a little lonely!” ao’nung chuckles and sits down beside you, right beside you. No literally, he’s so close that your arm and leg are touching his. Why’s he so close? There’s literally so much space? You’ve stopped questioning it, he’s been touchy with you since forever.

He ruffles the top of your head affectionately, the little smile on his face tells you he’s in a good mood. “hi ao’nung” you say softly and give him a sweet smile, god he almost just melted at the spot, “you seem happy today”

“i am” he replies shortly and you lay your head on his shoulder, letting out a satisfied sigh at finally seeing your favorite person.

his hand finds it’s way to your leg and he gives you a prompt squeeze on your thigh, affection came as naturally as breathing to him when it was with you.

Your eyes roam around the sea as you look at the people smiling with their ilu’s and splashing around in the water, you catch a glimpse of a group of 4 girls as you shudder with the piercing look they give you. You recognize those girls as Tsireya’s friends, remembering her telling you about her dislike for a lot of their decisions. She told you to avoid them, they’re no good.

You furrow your eyebrows in confusion when you see the said girls make their way to you and ao’nung, probably only having matters that deal with ao’nung, you’re pretty sure they’ll ignore your whole existence if anything.

You being this close to The Olo’Eyktan’s only son ignites some sort of resentment in them, automatically making you their competition and viewing you as a threat.

“bruh not these chicks again” ao’nung mutters quietly in irritation and lets out a groan into your hair, hoping they’ll go away if he can’t see them. You giggle but your smile is gone as soon as the girls stop right in-front of your bestfriend. “Ao’nung!! We we’re gonna go take a swim with our ilu’s, I think you should join us! Im sure sitting here watching the ocean isn’t that interesting” the girl’s giggle thinking Ao’nung will get up and follow them without a word.

For a second you believed so too, what you were doing wasn’t that fun, but you didn’t want fun, you wanted calm.

“fuck no” you hear pure distaste in ao’nung’s voice, it makes you cringe, the second hand embarrassment of straight rejection in the face. You smile, he’s really showing no interest in these girls, you almost feel bad, but whats it to you?

“oh- well- you can- you can always come join us later or whatever, whenever y/n lets you go” you’re a bit offended, you aren’t holding ao’nung back from anything, especially these girls, any choice he makes is solely his decision.

“nah im good i prefer y/n anyways”

“whatever” the girls huff and puff and stomp off the space you guys we’re currently sitting at

“bit mean, don’t u think”

“i don’t care” you smile at his quick response

“i think a lot of people dislike our friendship ao’nung, you’re the next Olo’Eyktan and they think i’m competition. They can’t let me ruin their chances of becoming Tsahik.”

“tanhì, what are you even saying?”

“i just.. what i mean is.. you’re almost ready to find a mate, and you must choose wisely, as your choice will be the next Tsahik for our clan, she must work with you as one, and i feel like i’m holding you back from finding a good mate”

Ao’nung pays attention to you, listening to your worries with furrowed brows, he’s so good to you, always. It makes your heart squeeze when you think of him being this affectionate with any other girl, you’re selfish, you want him to yourself.

As much as this hurts, you will be open with him, but you will not open your heart to him as of now. You sigh, he grabs your hand and his thumb rubs soothing circles, telling you to continue.

“i think.. i think re’yal is a beautiful girl, her parents are talented and she takes after them-“ you are cut off.

“i couldn’t care less for re’yal” you tilt your head in confusion

“na’yi is a good healer”

“she is a good healer.”

Ah. It’s Na’yi that he’s chosen then. You look up at him, unable to stop your head from moving. He smiles. Ouch.

“i have the stupidest girl sitting in front of me right now” you hit him gently in the chest, he catches your hand and intertwines his fingers with yours.

Woah. You’ve held hands multiple times but not this way. It feels different. You’re almost about to throw up.

Your eyes quickly drop down to his lips, god, you pray to Ewya that he doesn’t notice.

He does notice, and he thinks you’re so cute he could make-out with you right now.

“she’s so stupid but she’s also the prettiest, she’s really cute too, i think she’d make a great tsahik” you’re embarrassed now, what does this mean? why’s he such a jerk?

“i don’t think Na’yi wo-“

“tanhì, i don’t care about Na’yi, i do not want her.”

“Ao’nung.. allow me to help you, you cannot delay this anymore”

“y/n you just don’t get the hint do you?”

“what?”

Ao’nung groans frustrated, he looks around to see if anyone is watching, what he’s about to do right now might cause issues, he can’t find himself to care any longer though.

Ao’nung cranes his head enough so his lips are an inch away from yours, he looks at you with lidded eyes and you’re already looking at him

“let me kiss you” he asks and you don’t wait, you nod and he smashes his soft lips against yours, desperately. You’ve been wanting to do this, been wanting to kiss your bestfriend.

He grabs the back of your neck to deepen the kiss, damn, he’s a good kisser. Not that you’ve kissed anyone else before, but he’s making you feel really good.

It’s fast, and you both are desperate, impatient, and incredibly in love. He grabs your waist to pull you closer and you whine into the kiss. Sweet. He’s never loved a sound more. His confession comes between kisses.

“y/n, i want you,” kiss. “and only you.” kiss.

you pull away and you’re breathing heavily, you look at ao’nung, pretty sure your eyes have hearts in them. “i-“ you don’t know what to say.

“I see you” you whisper, only meant for him to hear, with sincere eyes.

Ao’nung looks at you and his lips twitch into a small smile.

He goes into kiss you again and your hands find their way behind his neck, he pulls back and trails a few kisses from your jaw to your neck, you gasp softly when he finds your sensitive spot and sucks on it, sinking his teeth into your soft skin, you’re so sure this is gonna leave a bruise.

He kisses you again but this time openmouthed, his tongue swiping against your bottom lip to ask for permission, you open your mouth more to let him in. “i love you so much” he whimpers into your mouth and you realize you wanna get out of here. Your feel yourself getting embarrassed as you realize the 4 girls probably saw your full on makeout session.

“what’s wrong baby?”

“lets get out of here ao’nung” you plead, doe eyes looking up at your lover. God, you make him crazy.

He takes your hand and leads you to his marui pod, you guys pass the 4 girls on your way there and by the look they’re giving you, you know they saw it, maybe even enjoyed it a bit. (jk) The girl’s eyes travel down to your neck where your fresh hickey lies and they immediately turn their backs around, unable to watch your love bloom any longer.

You laugh loudly and that causes ao’nung to turn around, your hands still intertwined as you giggle, ao’nung gets the hint on what you’re laughing at and smirks as he watches you, amused.

“bit mean, don’t you think?” he mocks you and you slap his arm, he throws that arm over your shoulder as you guys walk , the sound of your laugh rings in ao’nungs ears and he swears he’ll never love someone like he loves you.

[iznsfw]

Senior Year Isn’t the Only Thing That’s Hard

Momoland's Nancy McDonie x Jeon Somi x Male Reader Smut

20,859 words

Categories | popular!Nancy and Somi, threesome, blowjob, titjob, anal, spanking, fluff, also if you get the reference(s) I love you

Thank you for commissioning! Was tough to find time to write during exam season but fuck it we ball.

Stars in the sky, stars in their eyes—they’re truly something else. Shouldn’t they be up there themselves? They glimmer too bright to be left here on earth, with a guy like you who can’t hold a flame to them.

But maybe you’re one yourself. Stars only ever mingle with their own kind. So there's the possibility that the three of you are stardust, simmered onto this world to shine in other places where they need it. It’s a laughable way to put it, almost cliche. But when you look at them, you realize you’re not far off.

See here: you're young. It's too early to worry about reputation—(oh, what a word, by the way, with its promise of faint or fail)—but a great, great place to start. 

You didn't know about that second part until you met Somi and Nancy.

First, picture this: your story is a movie, the rare one where the male character is the lead of the story although—let's face it—it's them everyone's reading this for. Not you, not your style, not nada and zip. Everyone is and always will be here for them:

Jeon Somi and Nancy McDonie. They're teen royalty. Only a few students ever get to say they held that title. Not that it's of any importance later in life but what matters more than the present? The juniors look at them green with envy, and with the seniors, the ones who are all proud in their recent age of adulthood, either like them but hate to say it and "hate" them but like them too much to say it. It's that simple. It’s that complicated, too, at the same time. 

And, admittedly, it’s… a lot to take in.

Strangely, you're not in either of those categories despite being a senior yourself. The difference is that you like them, and aren't afraid to say it. After all, you owe them a lot for helping you get out of your shell.

-

Well, not at first. But that’s how it works, right? You, Somi, and Nancy don’t immediately become friends right from the get-go. There has to be some kind of story behind it, and you’re willing to tell yours.

-

It all started… well, like this:

You enrolled into a new school sometime after your eighteenth or nineteenth birthday. Yep, you really couldn’t remember. It’s all been in a flash with them, makes you feel a little dumb. All you know was it was the worst present to have: being required to join an institution that was as unfamiliar as it was unwanted. Like, fucking hell—this early? You were just a kid! Well, not anymore, but there had to be some kind of consideration for this, right? An exception that could be made?

Unfortunately, signing up for a new school was not a subject up for debate. It wasn’t something you could bargain yourself out of. No promises to be good, no extra chores, nothing. Your parents were firm on deciding that you were in need of a fresh new start.

And it just sort of happened that this clean slate you had? You ruined it completely.

Oh, it was classic teenage rebellion. You did almost everything you could to buy your way out of circumstances that didn't go how you wanted them to. You wouldn't say it was totally uncalled for. You had friends at your old school you thought you'd forever be with—the way you saw it, no one could just pull that away from you.

Alas, here you were. You'd been in this classroom more times than you could remember. Neither you nor the presidents spoke. No one was willing to break the ice.

Finally, sun melted the cold and replaced the winter with a fiery, hot summer. "You again?" Nancy McDonie leaned on the edge of the teacher's desk. Her expression was that of someone who's going through a cruel cycle of same-shit-different-day. You knew what that's all about. "I swear, we see you here every Tuesday."

And what a privilege that was. Sarcasm? A little. 

"Oh?" you said. You did your own leaning on the backrest of the chair and put your arms behind your head. "Well, it's not like I enjoy it here."

Maybe you did. Maybe you didn’t. To be truthful, you didn’t know either at the time, so… well—you’re left involved in another banter with the two leaders of the student government. You didn’t see why you had to be sent to them every time you did something even just the littlest bit of wrong, but here you were. This was routine already. As everyday and usual as brushing your teeth and showering.

Nancy squinted her eyes at you, and you stared right back unnervingly. Neither of you were going to give up a silent fight like that.

"If you did," Jeon Somi quipped, beside her best friend with her hands on her own hips, "we'd understand. I mean, look at us."

She didn't have to remind you. Both girls were prettier than they should be. ‘Cause look here for a minute: Nancy's got this long caramel hair going on for her, and it extends long beyond her shoulder blades, framing her amazing curves and slim arms. She's the push to Somi's pull—Nancy is the calmer one, the girl who takes things more seriously. 

To be fair, Somi does her own taking, too. Just not in the same way. She's blonder, bustier, more extroverted. She walks life with an unrestrained laugh unfit for such a gorgeous girl and feet clad with platform school shoes that always carry her in paces around the classroom. She's kind enough to cast a blind eye on some of your offenses, but too princess-y to keep her words about herself humble.

You say these in present tense because later on, when the circumstances change and so do the seasons, you'd find out that's truly who they are. Your relationship would change but they wouldn't. They're still the same Somi and Nancy who are always glued to each other, always giggling, always the it girls, always the most popular girls in school.

One day, the punishment for your routine offenses would be death caused by them, and even that you'd welcome. Oh, just imagine…

"Let me guess." The brunette girl tapped her finger on the desk surface. Lucky piece of wood. "You didn't pay the treasurer again?"

You sighed and fiddled with your pencil. Scratches from the pointed led were imprinted on the olden table attached to the seat. You bit back a remark about how the class treasurer was as corrupt as a politician withering away with the hope the graft charges would, too. "Wrong," you said, steadily. "I accidentally spray-painted miss Seo during arts.”

Your truth was met with silence.

“She looked like she came out of a unicorn's asshole," you helpfully added.

You remembered it like it was yesterday. Ah, well, of course you did—it was impossible to forget when it happened fifty fucking minutes ago. Yes, you counted down, because the surprise that took over you when you squeezed the nozzle of the can on a teacher you didn’t even know was behind you was everything to remember. Every color of the rainbow was soaking her dress pants and blouse, making her become the personification of a lively Pride parade.

(You didn’t leave that detail out for your poor victim not to hear, when you said: “Gay rights, anybody?”

Looking back, that was prooobably what got you into another meeting with the girls. The teachers had some real strange beliefs.)

Somi snorted, then started to laugh boisterously, so much that her body rocked downwards. To be fair, it started out as a small chuckle. Things went from this to that and suddenly it worked itself into a full cackle. 

She slapped Nancy on the shoulder and shook her head. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” she apologized; (it was useless), “but that shit’s so… fffucking—”

"It's not funny, Somi," Nancy said with a more solid voice than that of her friend’s. "Hey. Hey, it's not funny!"

“Just think about it, babe.” Somi, still snickering, tried to put some sense in her, tried to make her see what made it so funny. “Think of the gay flag. Now—listen—imagine it as mean old miss Seo. You see where I’m going?”

“Still not funny.”

"C'mon, prez," you told the unconvinced girl. You flung your hands in the air nonchalantly. "Live a little."

"Yeah, Nance," echoed Somi cheerfully, poking her best friend’s cheek. She was the only one who could ever do that to her. Any other person and they’d be found dead in a ditch alongside their reputation. And god, did it matter a lot to young’uns like you. "Live a little."

"Don't call me that.”

Somi shut her mouth. From what you noticed, she was the lesser contained of the two of them. She spoke with a sailor’s mouth that had the accent and vocabulary of a valley girl. Kind of true—she was filthy rich. You saw her parents during the senior acquaintance party and it wasn’t that hard to figure out she was wealthy when you saw her father slip her her allowance. Also, her mother was dressed in the best and latest trends, looking younger than she really was with how she held herself. Only rich people and really exemplary actresses could pull that off.

"And what was your offense the previous week?" Nancy went on. She was leaning forward now, unintentionally offering you the best view a horny senior could wish for: her bust struggling to be held inside her uniform blouse. 

A distraction, that's what it was. Oh, fuck, now Somi was doing it, too. Both girls are busty, full breasts begging to be freed from fabric. You should have really requested undressing them as your punishment, but it was clear that it was probably what they wanted and this was simply to coerce answers from you, unintentional or not. 

They still held their dynamics, even when they’re forcing words out of you. They went hand in hand, pairing up together like they were born to be friends: the angel that was Nancy, and the little devil Somi was; good cop (in a way) Somi, and bad cop Nancy.

You weren’t gonna say their methods didn’t work. You gulped. Since when did you sound like a shitty literotica author with two sales? "I started a food fight in the cafeteria."

"And the previous week?"

"I tripped mister Brown in the hallway because he failed me."

"And the week before that?"

"I started a campaign that Photoshopped Shrek onto teachers' faces."

Silence, as if all the world were a show that liked to take several beats.

“You think you’re funny, huh?” asked Nancy finally.

“You do,” you said. “You don’t think I can see you smiling?” There was something in her face that told you that hatred for you was not all there was to it. Something about the uplifted motion at the left end of her lips. Somi was barely hiding it with the giggles she was making.

“Don’t flatter yourself, dickhead.”

“Oooh, nice one for a first swear word.” You threw the pencil away and folded your hands together. Leaned forward, too, because if they were showing off their cleavages like that, you might as well do the same. “Got anything else for me?”

You promised you weren’t always this petty. These weekly meetings with the presidents just tired you out. It wasn’t your fault you were like this. It could all be traced back to your parents’ nth mistake: sending you off to this shithole of a school. For fuck’s sake, this wasn’t even where you envisioned yourself to be five years ago, when your teachers made you draw a visionary of yourself on white bond paper. Far from it, if you looked past your shitty skills at sketching.

“Detention, maybe,” Somi said helpfully after swallowing the last pieces of her laughs. “And a suspension.”

“Oh god.” You rolled your eyes. “Please, not you, too.”

“Yep. Real scary stuff, huh?” She smiled, raising her hands in claws before firing you a wink. Your breath shortened just for a while. Only just. “Don’t worry, you won’t have to go through all that if you behave.”

You smiled back. “Like a good boy?”

But there was your heart slipping into a knot as you said it. Joke-filled lines you exchanged with the girls were difficult not to stay upon when your hormonal brain kept each one dirty.

The two girls looked at each other for a moment. Then, they smiled. That was a rare one from Nancy. Somi, however, boasted her shining simper as she took a few steps forward to pat you on the shoulder.

"You're alright, newbie," was all she said. "You're alright."

-

A few months—

(Well, you could say it took fewer than that. Within a timespan of what seemed like seconds, Somi had you wrapped around the long hem of her ballroom gown. But she didn’t drag you around for long; she treated you like a fellow royal, helping you out with math though she had little time and greeting you in the hallways and therefore drawing looks, because why was the Jeon Somi talking to some random new kid? But attention was what came with being Somi and slash or being part of her life. It’s time you got used to it.)

—and a lot of bickering later—

(“You are the biggest dumbass I’ve ever met,” said Somi, fingers massaging her temple. “Who in goddess’ name doesn’t know dodos are extinct?”

You flipped the teacher’s copy shut. “Normal people,” was your answer to her, as you brooded over social studies homework at the library. 

“Shhhh!” the librarian, with her stereotypical glasses and graying hair, hissed at you from her desk. After a hateful glare, she was returning to her telenovela, which you argued was louder than your hushed conversation with your new friend.

Friend? What could you call this thing you had with Somi? She liked you, but that didn’t mean she was your friend or you were hers. You could like a modern abstract painting at the gallery and still not buy it. Maybe that was how she looked at you.

“The dodo is dead-o,” Somi said seriously. She looked at you with an equally resolute glare. 

“The dodo is dead-o,” you repeated. You could remember that.

“You’re so lying, did they never teach you that at your old school? Like at all?”

“Well I’m sorry I don’t spend time thinking if a stupid bird is alive or not.”

“See?” She raised her voice so that the poor juniors in the cluster behind you had to hear. “This, my friends, is what’s wrong in our society! Eighteen-year-olds in this prominent day and age are all like ‘I dunno what a dodo is!’!”

“For fuck’s sake, they’re all dead!” you yelled before the librarian could scold you again. “They won’t fucking care!”)

—things began to change.

-

She did say you were alright. You still had discourse over birds but in her eyes, you convinced yourself eventually you were alright. 

-

It wasn’t the case for Nancy. That smile she made back in that classroom apparently meant nothing. You were amusing to her, but that’s everything to it. Nothing more, nothing less. You were entertaining in a way a clown at a children’s party was: no one particularly cared about it days after.

“He’s tagging along?” she said. She looked you up and down suspiciously, as a guard would at an airport, then turned to Somi. “Somi, I thought we agreed on no boys on trips.”

And it—

… hurt you?

Not only that made you feel out of place, but the visible fact that both girls were dressed like they were about to go to a gala. They were both in skirts, wearing layers that vested upon expensive blouses and coats that even from miles away would look good. You, of course, were excluded in your simple tee and shorts. It was as if you didn’t even try to look presentable.

“Consider me one of the girls,” you said. You hoped that quick reply was witty enough, because if not, you were doomed. You already had a bad enough poor position to deal with. See? You weren’t lying when you said you didn’t want it.

And it wasn’t like going to the mall with them was something you wanted either. Somi texted you one day, having found your number through means that were probably illegal but were given a blind eye because oh look she’s Jeon Somi, and asked, hey, wanna come to the mall w me? 

Looking back, that message had a lot of undertones. 

You didn’t know Nancy was coming along, but you should have known that when the two girls were always together. Hoping that she would come along was what you did, and perhaps one of the reasons why you wanted to go (wait, you wanted to go? But didn’t you— never mind). Now that she had expressed clear distaste for your presence, you felt like an outcast again.

You didn’t want to go back to those days.

Somi nodded enthusiastically. Well, at least someone was happy to have you around. She was the first one to warm up to you, and you could say that you were friends with her now. Something told you she was okay with that. “Yeah, Nance! I promise he’s gonna be good, like super duper good. Just think that he’s Mina.”

“Don’t call me that. Oh, and remember what we did to Mina?” 

Everybody knew Kang Mina although she graduated a long time ago. She was a loner at first, but pretty. She didn’t know that she was beautiful, of course, not until she became friends with Somi and Nancy and suddenly—

“Oh no,” you said. You put up your hands. “No, no, no, no, no. You are not—”

“Giving you a makeover?” Nancy smirked, that being the first time of the day that she gave signs of a living smile. “Yeah, we are.”

The salon was right up ahead after the pavilion. You took a single look at it and saw its pink, glamoring state along with the hairdos it advertised, and knew that you were wholly, indefinitely, and irreparably fucked.

“God, what’re you gonna do to me?” you groaned as you were shoved into a disgustingly pink seat, accompanied by strange looks from strangers whose strangeness in their colored hairs and phrases shouldn’t give them any right to look at you like that. Masculinity this, masculinity that—but come on. It was… what year was it again?

“Hey, Jessa!” Somi called out loudly. Jessa was a plump, sweet woman with bayonetta glasses that made her slits for eyes look even smaller. ���Make him look like everything.”

“Yeah!” Nancy actually looked enthusiastic. You tried not to curl up into a snail-like position when she brushed her fingers through your hair. “Like a dreamboat, that kind.”

Jessa smiled. “You two are always in some sort of BS, aren’t you?” Fondness graced her elderly tone. It was clear the two girls were frequent visitors.

She swiftly curled the chair into the vanity table’s direction. Your reflection in the star-studded mirror made you wince. You had cysts in all the inconvenient places, a bread crumb at the side of your mouth from the breakfast you had at that niche cafe, everything. Even Jessa looked like royalty compared to you. What more next to Somi and Nancy, whose skirted long legs towered over you and reminded you that they always held the better deck, the better position? 

“Call us the Bullshitter Bitches, then!” Somi began to tap dance on her heels. It was her hidden talent. Well, it wasn’t really hard to tap dance when she had those long legs. “‘We’re the Bullshitter Bitches / We shit on snitch—”

“Somi, that’s disgusting,” Nancy snapped sourly. She clicked a haircut apron around your neck. Great. Now you looked like a goddamned infant who’s growing up with a princess complex.

“Sorry.”

“Just so you know,” you said, as Jessa snipped away at your head, “I’m not paying for this. I don’t need a makeover.”

“‘Course you aren’t. It’s all on the house.”

Brushes swished on your face, hiding the beginning foundations of new hormonal pimples and blackheads. They hid away your imperfections with just one slide. You never saw them as such, not until you got into senior high and therefore compared yourself to the bigger guys, the cooler guys. The ones whose sweat wrung from their hair but still looked attractive enough to get the girls. Maybe this was what you needed. You were gonna have to think twice about the whole operation.

“Makeup?” you asked warily. Not that you were against it. but you never really tried it on before.

Somi’s hand made an L-shaped gesture and branded itself in front of her forehead. “Boo, come on, it’s the big year of”—redacted, with an exclamation at the end. Nobody needed to know when this happened. The time will come when everything will reveal itself. She painted powder that almost matched the shade of your skin and hued it on your cheeks and neck. “Who said guys can’t wear makeup?”

“Makeup is for everybody,” chirped Jessa in agreement. “And that’s right, sweetie, you don’t need a makeover. Just a touch up. And everyone gets them, even handsome guys like you.”

Nobody had ever called you handsome. The last time it ever happened was when your mother buttoned your polo for preschool. It’s flattery, you knew, but your chest still felt as if it were knotted.

“Ain’t that right,” Nancy stooped to your level and brushed your nose with the tip of her finger—her soft smile was gripping, “new boy.”

Another one, and a roundness at the edge(?) of your throat you couldn’t swallow. Your Adam’s apple bobbed yet it was useless at downing it. 

You had to look away. Did she just agree that you were good-looking? You knew Somi thought that, too, but this was Nancy. Nancy McDonie, the girl who didn’t care for you much and didn’t want you here.

She still didn’t like you. But maybe that would change.

(Spoiler alert: it did. That’s how the story went.)

You wondered how rich they actually were to pay Jessa to be so committed to making you look your best. Your hair was purple for a few minutes (“Fuck no!” you shouted) and was easily returned to the black with a quick dye. Then she gelled it in so many directions that you’d think your blunt mane was a car being controlled by an overexcited student driver. That was already thousands of won by itself. But it went on without stopping, and Somi and Nancy still weren’t satisfied.

“I’m telling you, Somi,” said the brunette girl, twirling your chair to the mirror again, “he looks good with that slicked back do!”

“Be serious with me.” Somi blew-dried your hair and ran her hand along your whiffed locks. “Grody as hell. Doesn’t he look like 90s’ Brendan Fraser?”

“He does,” Jessa said. She returned with tools that looked so unfamiliar to you that they might as well be surgeon’s supplies. Fuck, were they gonna take out your liver after all that trouble?

“Ha! See?”

“He has some nice eyebrows. Just needs a little trimming and he’s good to go.”

“Thank god,” you said. They all looked at you as if surprised to remember you weren’t a doll to practice hairstyling on. Your scalp already ached royally. “I need to get out of here.”

Nancy shook her head. “Nuh-uh. You’re not going anywhere, new boy. You’re ours for today.”

You gulped. God, okay. You were good with that. 

A light edged metal ran along the ends of your brows. You were afraid they were going to make you look like Megan Fox in Jennifer’s Body, but it actually turned out alright. 

After all the ruckus, you were there, staring at your reflection.You could pass for a guy richer than you actually were, cooler than you actually were. Your eyebrows were cleanly trimmed, in a steady and one-way direction, and your hair was cut yet splayed in a way that made you actually look flattering. Then you had your cheeks to look at, which were clear of any of your open pores and pimples. You looked like what they told you would: everything.

“I… I’m one of the girls now,” you said out of the blue. It was like a moment of truth for you.

“Yes you are,” Somi said proudly. “Now can we go get some ice cream?”

Nancy glanced at the clothing shop a few blocks down the tiled path and shook her head. Nope. Not a chance in any galaxy.

-

It was also later on, when you saw yourself in clothes from brands you never dreamed of buying, you knew that this thing you had with the presidents would go on forever, an eternity that would last long after—

-

Senior year, your golden age.

"Hey, hotshot," a clear voice says into your ear. She's on the phone with you yet her voice is loud enough for it to be easily assumed that she's physically present. "Up to see me after class?"

That's Somi, by the way. Yep, the leader of the student body who sanctioned you years ago. She's a real life Korean-Canadian doll. She'd be the stereotypical one, the face and brand—she's tall and slender, owning the hallways like she was the first step to ever be made in them. Blonde, too. You've met her years before and not once have you seen her natural color replace her dyed yellow.

The thing about her is that she's always just that shameless and energetic. She has one default personality and that is extroverted. 

She's also naturally flirtatious, and you know it doesn't mean anything else when she calls you derogatory names in sweet tones but you remain attached to her. We’ll just keep it at that.

"Aren't we meeting in social studies?" you chuckle. This girl can't get enough of being around people. Around you, to be more specific. But that's what friends do.

"Not enough, obvi.” 

“Right.”

“Is Nancy coming, too?"

"I think so."

"Darn it. I was hoping to…." 

You raise your brows in suspicion. "What?"

"Nothing. I said we're meeting up."

Let out a soft chuckle. "I didn't say yes," you inform her, just in case she forgot.

"And I didn't say that what you think about it matters, butthead. You know you want to see me. Tata!"

And it ends off with that. Click. 

Your smile is wide. That's Somi for you: a brat at heart, always getting what she wants one way or another, with a vocabulary that matches that of a spoiled heiress. Maybe she is one? You don't know but the branded clothes she often wears to school are getting a little suspicious. Among other things.

The locker space is packed with students, both juniors and seniors, male and female. They see you and start whispering among themselves. Some even make way. That wouldn't have been possible in your first year, but then Somi and Nancy happened. They made you the way you were. They made you a centerpiece. Do you like it? Admittedly, it strokes your ego well on some days.

Where's your locker key again? There it is. Click it into the padlock and swing the door open. Notes and trinkets from your two best friends are stuck to its walls. They said it was "for motivation." You let them believe that because it's true. Seeing Somi's wild happy calligraphy on the sticky note “Yep :) totally got it - Jeon <3”, compared to Nancy's more contained handwriting “Let’s get going!!!” always brightens your day.

Collect your social studies book as well as the mathematics one for the next period. Shut it, and a figure suddenly appears next to you.

"Jesus fucking Christ, Nancy!"

Oh yeah, that's how the scene opens to introduce the present Nancy McDonie. She's the brunette and calmer duplicate of Somi, but with an equally amazing body—

You won't go there. 

She has one arm pinned to the neighboring locker door and a small smile. "Language, handsome," she chides, patting your shoulder. "It's just me."

Oh, and the less sarcastic counterpart as well. Nancy calls you sweet pet names and means them. 

She’s grown fonder of you over the years. Nancy hates hard, but when she loves, she loves just as much. You’ve become so much better as a person and a newfound friend that she’s got no other choice but to keep you under her wing. 

So, it could be argued that she loves you.

Never the same way you do, like you started to right from the very beginning, when unfamiliarity stepped between you and kept your hearts away from each other.

"Hey there," you say, clutching your chest. It’s just Nancy, your other half. You've been friends with her a little after your makeover. Quite a long time, if you do say so yourself; it seems to have happened so long ago. Long enough to have you become one of the girls.

It's not derogatory, like other boys would think. Being friends with the girls is more fun than hanging out with the vulgar rebels from your old school. For what it's worth, being one of Somi's and Nancy's is a huge compliment. Not everybody could say they were friends with the popular kids.

Gulp. It’s so hard to act normal in front of her when she’s naturally charming, and her uniform’s made to hug every bit of her curves, including her exceptional ass. You’ve come to terms with the fact that you’re strongly and sexually attracted to her a long time ago, but it still proves to be a challenge not to stare. 

Besides, she trusts you. You’re her best friend. If you make a move on her, everybody would know and ruin your life for it, even if you’re fairly popular yourself. You’d be surprised by how quick people turn against others.

You’re not going to lie: she’s gorgeous, and the last thing that would be able to scare you is her beautiful face, but she can’t just show up like that out of the blue. That little pet name gets your gears going though. Your spirits are already afloat.

"Hey." She pats you on the head and peeks at the schedule taped to your locker. "Oh, you got social studies, too?"

"Y-you got that right."

"With Somi?"

"Yeah, sure. So?" 

Nancy, sweet as a lollipop, shakes her head cheerfully. "Nothing," she says. "I guess I'll see you there."

"See ya there." 

Offer her a two-finger salute and walk as quickly as you could although you're leaving with her. It's strange how she has your heart all bunched up when she shows up. She's pretty, yeah, but there's a certain aura about her calm demeanor that captures your stomach and keeps it tight. You hope no one gets you wrong—you like Somi, too, but Nancy has you wrapped around her little finger. She could tell you to jump off a cliff and you’d rush to buy out parachute stores.

And you’re staring at her as you switch classrooms. Your eyes are locked to her smile, her every move, her charm. Nancy was the last person you thought you’d ever be in love with—after all, she was the one who gave you sanction after sanction whenever you showed up at her classroom. Somi’s the one who went gentle with you, right?

But things happen. Plus, in a way, she’s changed you for the better. 

Your style wasn’t the only thing they made over. They helped you with your studies, your personal problems, and everything they could. Your grades went up, much to the surprise of your teachers, and you stopped your troublemaking. That was also to the surprise of your educators, but also relief. You couldn’t be more grateful. It was comforting to find new friends in a place so new. And from the girls you least expected, too.

Nancy looks at you twice, then laughs. “Why are you looking at me like you’re in love with me or something?” she says, slapping the back of your head.

Well, what do you know? She’s not far off. You could say that you’re in love.

Just the tiniest, most speckling bit in love.

“Maybe I am.”

“Stud,” Nancy says under her breath. 

She wouldn’t have dared say that in a nicer tone years ago.

The roll of her gorgeous eyes has you thinking of a scenario where it’s caused by something other than your flirtatious remarks. It would start with a flirtatious remark, then evolve into something more. Something beyond that.

Abstain from that thought. Instead, you gasp as if you belonged to the theater club with Jiwoo. “Did you just call me a slut?” you ask her. Raise your voice higher. You really hang out with Somi too much. “Everyone! Nancy McDonie just slutshamed me! I repeat, president Nancy McDonie just slut—”

A rough shove to your shoulder that neither you or Nancy expected blocks your words before they create controversy. Blonde fills your eyes as its Rapunzel owner says, “Get out of my way, creep.”

It’s such a low snarl that it alarms you. What made you a creep? Do you have to fight?

When you look up, you see that it’s no other girl than Somi. Despite what she said, she wears a cheeky, large smile. Return the grin and make it as Somi-like as possible; right, how could you forget the thing you and she have going on? 

“Maybe you should watch where you’re going,” you say, crossing your arms in faux annoyance. Yeah, you really should have tried out for that play. You could make it big as an actor.

“Oh yeah?” Somi looks you up and down. Is that bite on her lip also part of the act? “Why should I? I don’t even know your name.”

“I don’t know yours either. Is it ‘bottle blonde’?”

“Shut the fuck up. 2008 called and said they wanted their My Chemical Romance hairdo back.”

Nancy covers her face embarrassedly. She’s too proud to join the joke you and Somi have, so she’s left having to deal with the unnecessary attention your fake fights warrant. It happens almost twice every other day and people still look on to find out what’s happening. It’s what amuses you and her blonde counterpart. She and Somi are alike in many ways, all except the latter’s thirst for childish fun.

“Madams. Sir,” the teacher says. She’s miss Kim Sejeong, your social studies teacher whom you swear has been here before you were even born. The university students and graduates who’ve found their tune visit often and talk about her fondly, yet despite their ages ranging, she looks like she isn’t more than twenty-three years old. Her gaze is stern yet amused. “Do you plan on getting in? The air-conditioner’s expensive.”

While Nancy blushes in humiliation, the class erupts into giggles, and you and Somi can’t help but do the same. Each repetition of your rivalry routine is funnier than the previous one. It might be corny, especially to the other students who despise you for no reason, but it keeps your friendship solid. And what’s a better friendship than one with a few inside jokes? A strange routine?

It’s an unspoken and universal law in every classroom that even if there isn’t any official seating arrangement as to who’s sitting next to who, you still choose the ones you first sat at the beginning of the year. You’re a proud follower of that rule, and that’s why you’ve been sitting here in the front of the class with Somi and Nancy for ages. You have a secret stenciled artwork under this specific chair with an equation of your trio’s initials. It would mark long after you’ve graduated and went to pass on that you three were once best friends, and nothing could change that.

Somi leans against your arm before turning her head to glare at you. “‘Bottle Blonde,’ huh?” she says spitefully.

“Not as bad as ‘My Chemical Romance,’” you reply. That one stung a little. Does your hair really need a cut?

“Fuck you. I don’t fucking care what you say, I’ll be a blondie as much as I want.”

“And I suppose I’m emo now.”

“Yeah, I guess.” Her brows curl together at the sight of Nancy looking sour in the seat to your left. “You aight, Nancy?”

The girl nods. There’s red coloring her cheeks and ears. Kind of cute, actually. “Still alive,” she says, “after the shit you pulled there. Surprisingly.”

You and Somi bump fists. This is how it is with her. Opposed to you and Nancy acting like best friends just two steps away from being a couple, you’re more of a teasing older friend to her. You act like brother and sister, though your bond is much deeper than that. There’s something lingering in the air between you, and Somi seems to have caught it. What could it be?

You don’t have to think about that for now, not when your arms are around your two best friends in the world and now keenly listening to Kim Sejeong. That wouldn’t have been possible in your first year of high school, when things were completely different.

But, like you said, things happen. Things change. It’s just how they work, and it’s about time you get used to it being like that. You wouldn’t have had it any other way with your two friends, though. 

Sejeong waits for the three of you to get settled, then smiles welcomingly. “Now that we all have ourselves safely in our seats,” a stress there as she looks at you pointedly, “I suppose we should get on with your missed activities.”

Wince. You’re crossing your fingers, praying and begging that one particular girl doesn’t—

“What about the declamation?” Nancy asks innocently. “I thought it was due a month ago.”

A collective groan. You’ve gathered the class before to develop a plan to stall the feared exercise. Popularity, you believe, ought to be used correctly and for the common good. Keeping that declamation away is for the benefit of all. Not only is it an individual performance, but it makes up forty percent of your grade. It takes a hell of an effort to do it instantly.

No effort, so it seems, to Nancy McDonie. She’s the gooder girl of the duo, the perfect angel in all the right ways. She’s still right for this one—a lot of you just don’t like that truth.

“I thought we all agreed—”

“Somi!” you cut in, but she goes on shamelessly.

Somi stands up and looks at the class with genuine disappointment in her eyes. “—not to remind miss Kim about it. My god, you guys are, like, absolutely two-faced.”

It doesn’t take a while for the realization to set in with your teacher. Her stare is, as always, something that cuts straight to the soul. It sheds your dignity and leaves you bare for the eagle to eat of you. To be clear, there’s a reason why she was one of the teachers you never dared mess with. She was quiet but stern—a deadly combination.

"Oh. You kids are too smart for me, huh?" Sejeong laughs sarcastically. Her smile strips you of any attempt to wash her scolding off with a laugh. Can’t resort to that. Again, Kim Sejeong isn’t one to mess with. “That was more disappointing than anything the other classes have done. Do you think that just because you’re popular you can suddenly hold it against me?”

She uses the same lines you’ve heard back in your troublemaker days. Each word untaps a memory. 

You all stay silent. Somi doesn’t for long, when she’s called up to go first with the declamation since “you thought of the plan, miss Jeon,” according to Sejeong.

“But, but, but it wasn’t even—” the girl protests. Her pupils are wide with rage. She’s so used to saying anything and getting away with it. She can’t believe it won’t work out like that for her today.

“Now.”

She groans dramatically, and rises with slumped shoulders so odd to be seen on such a duchess-like, pampered girl like her. After all, she’s the stereotypical rich, blonde teen with impeccable fashion and manners that range from the sweetest to the meanest. Right now, she’s veering in the middle of the scale as she gets to the front center.

You mouth her a deserved, and she says I’m sooo gonna punch you in the balls later.

“Now, miss Jeon,” says Sejeong, arms furled in front of her chest. Yep, she isn’t backing down. “What is your solution to poverty here in this country?”

Nancy raises her hand. “May I go first instead?” she offers in hopes to save her friend. 

“You may not. Miss Jeon, please be brief. Start.”

Somi pouts, but faces the class with steady eyes. She’s ready for this. Mostly. Wringing out a pink bubble gum from her pink lips with pink-polished nails, she begins.

“So, you know how there are a lot of poor people. A lot. I know because I see a whole bunch outside the clubhouse and middle classers are always like, ‘Oh nooo, don’t give money to them, they’re gonna use it for drugs!’. And I’m just there going, ‘Gag me with a friggin’ spoon, Becky. Where the hell can you find drugs for a dime? Where?’.” She pauses for dramatic effect, then nods smugly. “Yep, that’s what I thought.”

Nancy brings her palm to her face. You’re giggling in your seat, muffling it with a few fingers. Sejeong’s eyes are wide and appalled.

“Okay,” the confident Somi continues, “for example, there’re a lot of poor people somewhere. Let’s say fifty. Oh, maybe ninety! That's super many, right?”

You and your classmates look at each other. You’re not certain where she’s going with this.

“You can’t have too many people at the same place, like that time I had all of my geometrics class for my nineteenth and it was a total flop. You have to keep them fed, y’know. So I had to walk my pretty self to the bakers which is like ten minutes away then ask them for more chocolate cake. My daddy was super mad at me for maxing out his credit card, but by the end of the day, we had more cake! More cake equals less hunger equals more dessert equals less poor people.”

The jocks at the back nod in agreement, cheering her on. She acknowledges their reassurances with a flirty wave.

"So, if the government just maxed out their credit cards and let poor people eat cake,” she says, with real conviction for someone who’s dragging her chewed gum out of her mouth coyly, “I believe with all my heart that there will be no poverty in America. Who’s with me?”

The modern Marie Antoinette. You raise your hand proudly. Try to get Nancy to raise hers as well but she’s red in the face again. 

“And to conclude,” Somi adds finally, “it should be everyone’s knowledge that there's no law in this beautiful country that says ‘Republic Act Anti-Poor People and Rich People Eating Cake Together Bunch of Numbers.’ I offer dessert for all to help eradicate poor people– I mean, poverty, led by our government and me, Jeon Somi. That will be all, thank you.”

The whole class gets up on their feet and applauds her. Like the princess she is, your blonde friend waves and bows, even blowing kisses. Meanwhile, Sejeong contemplates retirement and realizes she’s actually considering it, salary and all.

-

"You killed it, Somi. You fucking killed it." 

That's what you say to your friend after leaving the classroom with her and Nancy. You mean it—you've never had a belly laugh that rocked your body that hard before. She deserved an A instead of that disappointing C-.

Sejeong’s sitting at her desk with her head in her hands. Somi’s speech was impactful, it seems. So impactful that it has her fingers jotting down a lengthy text message to… the principal? What’s that for? The speech was great!

Your classmates have filed out to go to computer shops or study. They tell Somi she did great with her declamation, which you’re pretty sure is intended to humiliate her, but Jeon Somi only ever thinks of anything said to her as a compliment. That’s why she blows them kisses and flirtatiously cocks her brows. Yep, that’s her. Nancy’s a different story—always quiet and reserved, but daring enough to hold Somi back before she causes more chaos. But the lid of Pandora’s box has already been lifted.

You three are already far behind your classmates when they go out, but you don’t mind. You like it when it’s just you. No computer shop or mall could compare to being in the hallways with your best friends, trading jokes and stories.

"Killed what? Poverty?" Nancy asks, still in a dilemma over the drama in the social studies classroom. "Somi, you really have to start minding your words."

Somi blows a satiric raspberry. She raises her hands in dismissal as she walks faster then turns around anyway to face her. "Blah blah, who cares? It was an awesome declamation."

Chuckle. "I feel like that's up for debate," you say. "Did you see miss Kim's face?"

It was a look of judgment and disappointment. While everyone cheered and whistled for the other half of the McDonie-Jeon duo, your teacher had a look on her face that could be likened to the one you make after smelling something bad. Laughs were passed around the classroom but her eyebrows and squinted eyes etched an expression of real concern. 

"What if someone recorded that?" Nancy says. She has a hand on her shoulder to try and make her see the darker but truthful side. "You could ruin your chances of getting to a good college forever."

In these four walls of the corridor, your heart twists. Right—you only have a few months until you’re done with senior year. That means having to choose a course and college to go to. You didn’t think time would pass by that fast. By then, would you still be friends with Somi and Nancy?

You hope so. You look at their pretty faces and their hands in yours and wish high school would just last forever. You’d choose them over your standing, your popularity, everything. Sure, being friends with them brings inescapable attention, but you’d be fine without it if it means you could still be with them.

You sit down at the bottom step of the staircase. They follow, too. Open your textbook to skim through it, hoping that your stock knowledge for science would suffice.

“Ugh, college schmollege,” Somi says, crossing her legs and throwing her head back. When her pretty face comes back to view it’s mocking your other friend already. "Have you seen student debt? College just makes people poor. How’ll that help with poverty?”

You wonder how Jeon Somi could sound so knowledgeable yet so insensitive at the same time. It’s a feat that couldn’t be done by others. It’s like it’s her trademark: to be the wealthy girl who always says the wrong and right things that therefore blends into one, confusing mixture. Should you be offended? Happy? Anything?

Nancy leans on your shoulder with a sigh that blows the runaway strands on her face back with their kind. Sometimes Somi could be too much for her. It’s like she trades places with you and realizes how a beautiful girl could be a handful. That’s why you two are particularly close: you understand each other. You’re close with Somi, too, but you just have a deeper bond with the calmer girl. You still don’t know how it happened when she hated you at the start for filling her schedule because of your troubles. Some things just change as time goes on. 

“You just can’t be fixed, Somi,” you tell her. “You’re always going to be insane.”

You know you’re right. She knows it, too. It would take years and years of maturity for Somi to grow out of her flirtatious personality. She’d be the girl in college whose laughable questions somehow also awaken strange inquiries of your own. She’s a little weird, to be honest, but she’s pretty and confident. Smart, too—she just has her own way of showing it.

“I’m a simple gal, what can I say?” She stops before she could go on, as if she’s just caught a memory in the slip of her hands. “Oh, and I forgot to do something.”

“And that is?”

Somi lifts a fist and heavily plows it into your crotch. You yowl in pain as opposed to her grin that could reach the ends of the earth. Where did she learn that? That hurt like hell!

Nancy’s jaw drops to the floor. “Somi!” she says, genuinely shocked.

“What the fuck was that for!” you screech in the midst of your laughs, clutching your core and glaring at the convict of the crime which is assaulting your balls.

The fact that the criminal’s too pretty is an unfair advantage. “I did say I was gonna punch your balls earlier.”

“You owe me one, Jeon Somi!” 

“Hey, I wouldn’t have had to do it if McDonie here wasn’t a grody teacher’s pet.”

Nancy blushes. She's forgotten she's involved in the mess, too. “I’m sorry,” she says in a small voice. 

“I bet you are.” Somi shoves her shoulder playfully. “Cause and effect, Nance. C’mon, if you didn’t want to be a good girl so bad, I wouldn’t have declaimed or anything. Not that it wasn’t amazing.”

What a ridiculous conversation to have. You place your arms around both girls and pull them close. “Alright,” you declare, still wincing, “fuck, you’re both at fault. Nancy made a butterfly effect that ended up getting my balls aching. I’m the poor girls’ guy that got pulled into everything. What’re you gonna do about it?”

Somi floats her fingers on her cheek, thinking a little. It’s like a bulb lit above her head when her eyes suddenly brighten. You hope that it’s a good idea this time because when she makes that look, it isn’t for any good at all. 

“Nancy and I will discuss this, if you don’t mind,” she says, rising to her feet and tugging Nancy up, too.

“Me?” 

“Yep!”

She pauses. “Jeon Somi,” the latter sighs halfheartedly, “what are you planning now?”

Yeah, what is she planning? You have no idea and honestly, it scares you. Somi can be unpredictable with her quick wit and schemes, but with Nancy’s added ideas? Whatever she’s dreaming up, it can’t be anything you’d expect.

“The perfect apology. Meet us at my house after school. See you later, cutie.”

-

Your classes are filled with sprites of anxiety that are unusual when compared to your daily jokes and butt-ins. Your head’s filled with plenty of questions, and you try to answer them as you go about the rest of the school day:

First of all, why did the apology have to take place at Somi’s house?

Maybe they’ll buy a cake for you from the bakery she cited in her speech. She has plenty of money to go around so a cake might actually be possible. If it weren’t a cake, maybe an apology combined with balloons and confetti that you’d laugh about years from now. All these possibilities you sift through and yet they don’t seem to be what’s in store for you.

Second, why did the planning that had to occur without you?

They might be planning a big surprise. Perhaps that’s it. But then—

Why such a big surprise for an apology that could’ve been done simply?

That’s where your mind goes blank. You don’t know. You have no idea, not even the tiniest bit. You’ve been friends with Nancy and Somi for years but they still have that mystery around them. You know everything about them, from their interests to what makes the three of you click, but never what they plan to do. That always remains shrouded.

So, when Nancy texts your group chat the plan’s done!!! ♥ ️ be ready & meet us where youre supposed to :), you move like a snail. You take your time playing and talking to other students, buying food from the cafeteria, everything. When you get on the bus to commute from your school to Somi’s home, you’re wrecked by hesitation. All this anxiety and nervousness for a damned apology. 

Maybe it’s because you’ve never had friends like them before, especially that pretty. 

You would never intend to act on your feelings for them if they don’t want you to, even if you’re hormonal as fuck, but what if that’s what they’re planning? To have an intimate night with them, just like in the movies? 

Or, hopefully, finally let you have something deeper: a love that fits three?

Nope, two wishes that’ll never come true, whatever star you make them upon.

Drag your heavy feet down the road. Sounds like Somi’s rich-ass neighbors are partying again. Take your precious time leering at them, noticing the manner they hold their wine glasses and the music only being stolen off Spotify’s Most Popular Songs playlist. It’s all a headache, honestly. You’ve never connected well with rich people, not until you met the girls. That’s where it all starts and ends, right? Them: Somi and Nancy, the yin and yang?

“You’re here!” shouts Somi gleefully, throwing her arms around you. She’s dressed in this tiny shirt that looks cute and simple but you’re sure costs more than a few thousand won. It also shouldn’t be worth that much when it’s too little for her anyway. “Why did you take so long?”

Nancy goes in for the kill. She comes in with only a camisole and the undershorts of her uniform plaid skirt, and it hugs right where it maims and shoots you. No, keep your mind holy. She’s your best friend. Also your crush but that doesn't matter here. “Bet he was scared to come.”

“Was not,” you reply too quickly. Tighten your jaw. “I—I got held up by traffic.”

“It’s a Wednesday.”

“Yes, but—” Pause. You realize you don’t have a proper justification. “Just get to it, will you? The apology?”

“‘Kay ‘kay,” says Somi, wrapping an arm around your waist, literally keeping you at arm’s length just in case you try to scamper away, “the apology is a girls and boy’s night. Here. Just to get away from everything. We all need it.”

“Who’s ordering the soju?”

“Soju?” Nancy asks indignantly, eyes all round and wide like she was a deer caught in headlights. You and Somi are like that to her: flashing lights, crashing into an unsuspecting her with a brightness a notch too much. No apologies when you don’t plan to change. This is what makes you young.

“What’re you, a nun? We’re adults, Nance!” Somi says. Her thumbs tap away at her phone screen, the familiar pink lights flashing back at her indicating she’s already ordering. “It’s on me.”

Of course. Who other than Jeon Somi? Of course, you can’t let that moment slip away without a snarky remark from your end.

“Must be nice having access to your billionaire dad’s bank account.”

Somi twirls her fingers in her hair and squints her eyes at you spitefully. “I’m using my mom’s, poophead.”

“Oh wow,” you reply, your statement blank of any emotion.

“Guys,” cuts in Nancy. Her voice is strained. She feels like a mother trying to contain two kids who just know how to push her buttons. “We can’t have soju delivery. Or beer. Or whatever alcoholic drinks there are. We can get in trouble. Think about our grades. The suspensions!”

Ah, sweet Nancy, always the one to pull you back down to sense. But when has that ever worked?

“Alright.” Somi clicks her device shut and throws it on the sofa space you’ve left empty beside her. “Fine.”

Wait—what?

Her best friend twists her head in shock. “Really?” 

Nancy simply can’t believe that this girl, whose whole trademark is being a spoiled brat, actually follows sensible orders. You're surprised yourself; you can’t believe it more than she does. Is it finally time for Somi to perform her arc of being the mature, behaved girl she simply isn’t?

“Yep. You won.” Somi rises and waltzes her way to the exit of her mansion. “I’m just gonna buy some myself from the convenience store.” 

“Somi!”

“Hey, you only said no delivery! You didn’t say I can’t buy some face-to-face!”

“Well, now I’m making it official. No—”

“See you later, alligators!” 

The door slams shut. 

Nancy groans loudly. Of course, the little brat. 

She lets herself fall to the floor in defeat. The massaging of her fingers on the sides of her head doesn’t do enough to cast away the stress. How in the world is she going to control Somi? She knows the two of you are practically twins, the same in every way when planning schemes to make her freak out. She has to play babysitter again. How many nights has it been since the start of her unpaid duty?

On your end, you're thinking. You’ve been friends with her for longer than you think yet you don’t know how to say the right thing in situations like these. Maybe with Somi it would have been easier to say the comforting words. After all, she’s the most extroverted and blunt person you know. But with Nancy, it’s different. Nancy McDonie is never blue. At least, not to the point where she’s on the floor and moping.

It’s always different between the two of them and you still remain unable to pick who you love more.

It takes a while to get the words out, but better late than never. God, you’re such a bad friend. Do you even deserve her? “It’s fine, Nancy,” you say, sitting down beside her. You rub her knee. “Like she said, we’re adults.”

“I know, but…” Her voice trails off, and she lets out another groan that twists as it reaches your eardrums. “It’s just so scary.”

“Tell me.”

“What if someone posted photos of us drinking? You know the school handbook, right? All that talk about maintaining a good and clean self inside and outside the school. If someone finds out—”

"Yeah? Well, nobody will."

"Yeah, but there's always the possibility…"

You sometimes pray that Nancy's allowed a day without worry, that she doesn't stress over things for once. She's precious—you don't want her to feel bad about anything. This strange protectiveness always takes you when you're with her. 

“Hey.” You massage her shoulder. She whines, and it’s so cute hearing her unusual sulking that you just want to wrap a blanket around her and kiss her on the forehead. Again, urges. Simply urges. Don’t mind those. “There’s only three of us here. As long as we don’t post pics online or boast about it, we’re safe. So don’t worry about it.”

“Easier said than done.”

“Not when you’re with a dreamboat like me.”

You just humiliated yourself with that. Hell, you probably gave everyone who knows and will know this story of yours secondhand embarrassment. It’s worth it all, however, when Nancy smiles. And oh, could you get lost in it. Her eyes curl up at the corners and emit all this gorgeous, positive brightness that you think everyone should get a chance to see. She’s so serious and reserved in school that a smile from her is closer to impossible than thunder coming before lightning.

“God, you’re such a gigantic ass sometimes,” she mutters, bumping your shoulder with hers.

“Did you just say I had a huge ass?”

“Keep your mouth shut.” She pushes you, joining you in your laughs, then opens her arms invitingly anyway. “Oh, forget it. Come here, you.”

You can’t even pretend to not want a hug when it’s all you’ve ever fantasized about: being in the warm, filled embrace of Nancy McDonie. You’ve fantasized about things that extend deeper than that, but you could settle for this. There’s Nancy burying her head in your neck and her hold being a little too tight for it to be a casual touch between friends. You’re delusional, but who wouldn’t be when you had a best friend this pretty? This… curvaceous?

God, you don’t know how to say that you like this girl without sounding like another one of the weirdos who stalk her at school. Are you just like them? No, you can’t be. You’ve liked Nancy and known her more than they could. It’s what you tell yourself to keep your sanity. 

“You know,” she says, still rocking the two of you side to side, “they did say not to trust first impressions. ‘You better take advice. Never trust first impressions.’”

“Didn’t Michael Jordan say that?” 

“Did he?” She looks up curiously. 

“Never mind,” you say, waving it off. You pull away. Lean against the curve of Somi’s sofa so that your ass doesn’t slide like a mop on her floor. "What’s with first impressions? What was your first impression of me?”

“You really want to know?”

“Why not?”

“Well, for the first reason…” Nancy hugs her knees and looks at you pointedly. “Not a lot of people would love to know that they were a real fucking pain in the ass.”

You burst out laughing. There’s chances as slim as a ballerina that Nancy curses, but when she does, she sounds hilarious. She doesn’t even say them a certain way; it’s just the instance by itself of her daring to use words deemed as bad that gets your tears of laughter flowing. 

To add to that, there’s that matter-of-fact statement she made that’s as honest as Somi’s everyday talk that makes you think they switched souls for a second. You laugh harder with that in mind. The next thing you know, you’re curled up on the floor busting out cackles that reach pitches you can’t even shout in.

“Seriously!” she says. She’s laughing as well as she shakes her head in disbelief. “I was always trying to keep the seniors in place, you know, being president and everything. And then I found out this new kid just spammed middle finger emojis to sir Fernandez in the Zoom chat after he made him answer a question. And I was like, ‘Hooo boy.’”

“Well, he shouldn’t have called on me while I was playing a game!”

“You’re so immature, he’s a teacher and you’re in class! He’s supposed to do that!” Nancy squeals, a hand on her mouth to muffle her rambunctious cackles.

“Fine, fair point.” You somehow manage to make a successful attempt to halt your laughs. “And then what happened?”

There's a lot of secret lore between you and her. You want to uncover all of them, especially knowing that Somi's gonna tease you to hell about if she heard. Her getting soju was a blessing underneath another blessing—you got alone time with your crush and some nice alcohol to ignite your system.

Nancy looks around at her friend's house. She admires every perfect painting bought for millions, every chandelier that mistletoes whoever stands beneath all its glory. They help her form her next statement.

"To be honest," she says, choosing her words carefully, "I thought you were in it to blackmail money out of Somi. To manipulate her. I love the girl, you know. She acts like she's all that, and she is, but she's… fragile. So I never let her be alone with you."

"Damn.” You admit that your heart sank a little, like a ship doomed by the ocean. “Am I really an ugly creep?" 

"No, it wasn't that. I was just afraid you were a player. Like one of the jocks who bully Somi but don't ever get to her because she's too naïve to see that they're doing it. And you're not ugly, you know. You're…"

She's looking at you strangely, in that strategic little way she locks on artwork flashed in a Powerpoint from a projector in school. She's looking at you as if you were a complex, layered painting she couldn't wrap her head around. But being unable to pick you apart thrills her; there's a smile on her face.

"I'm what?" you ask, ever the dumbass. Or poophead—you take whatever.

"Don't make me say it. You're so full of yourself already."

"Respectfully, Nancy,” you declare, “I have no idea what you're saying. How can I when I didn't even know what a dodo was before eleventh grade?"

"You're handsome, okay?" Her cheeks get into this furious red color that she tries miserably to hide with her palms, hide with a dismissive laugh. "Good-looking. Attractive. Whatever."

Chew at the end of your lip to fight back a giddy grin. Did she really say that? A star out there in the looming night just granted your wish. "Well, you gave me the makeover back at Jessa's."

"Look at you being the patron saint of humility."

"I'm serious. I looked like a loser before you came in like a storm and rained that magic in my life."

“And now you’re Shakespeare.”

“When a girl like you comes into a guy’s life,” you say, leaning forward, “who wouldn’t be?”

"Well." Nancy huddles her chin into her palm. Her voice is as soft as cotton. "With a guy like you, you could say I never looked back."

But her voice dips, and there's a hidden subliminal message in it that causes you to look up. You could read it clear off her face there, off Nancy, off her soul that's never looked more clear.

Nancy, with her chestnut brown hair, ever the princess of autumn.

Nancy, with her comforting eyes full of resoluteness, as if she's wanted this to happen.

Nancy, with her lips barely a breath away from—

“Who the freak locked the door?” shrieks a familiar voice from outside. Well, not too outside when its volume closes in on the interior vicinity of the large mansion. “This is my house! Let me in or else I’ll call the cops—”

Sigh. Fucking cockblocker brat. You rise from the floor and approach the doorway. This time, you spare no time—you don’t want to look back and identify the look in Nancy’s eyes as you walk away.

“Calm down, the neighbors could hear you,” you laugh as you let the blonde girl in. You’re a little disappointed that she interrupted what was beginning to happen, but there’s time for that later. Can’t spare her an annoyed look, though. It melts when you see the cans of beer in plastic bags.

Nancy takes a bag from her sullenly. “No drinking past twelve.”

“No promises.” Empty a can into your open mouth. Somi claps her hands happily and almost drops all the alcohol she bought.

You help the girls stock the cans and bottles into the fridge. It’s the large, two-door one that could fit an entire person. Wait, it can contain all of you three? You’ve been to Somi’s so many times and only noticed it now. 

But that’s the last thing you take note of, for here's what's new: ice cream overflows Somi’s freezer, yet a lot of them haven’t even had a crumb consumed from them. Somi says it’s because she keeps them for cheat days. 

“Is today considered a cheat day?” you wonder out loud.

“Go crazy.” Indifferent, Somi gives you a tub each. Chocolate. Vanilla. Double dutch for her. “It’s not like Walmart’s gonna disappear unless the aliens come to Earth and have the bright idea to go wacka over there. Nope, Walmart’s always gonna have some more.”

“Aren’t you the best, Somi.” Ruffle her hair fondly while you scoop a humongous chunk of ice cream into your mouth. Alcohol and ice cream are delicious together, but your stomach turns around. It strangely stays intact, as if preparing for what might happen later tonight.

“Of course I am, are you buggin' or what?” 

Somi licks the spoon of its sweetness, staring right at you. You don’t know how to react—her tongue’s gliding all over the utensil perfectly, collecting the studded white with nothing but clean performance. Her eyes don’t let up in their strong, connected gaze. Your breath gets lost somewhere in your airway.

Nancy watches amusedly. Okay, so maybe she does smile more than you think—it’s unlike any other one though. This one of hers is lined to the edges with smugness. “There’s our princess,” she remarks.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” The spoon catches somewhere sandwiched between Somi’s words. 

Nancy shrugs with a serene calmness. “I don’t know. You tell me.”

She walks away without another word or gesture. Suddenly tense in the bones, you and Somi close up together for reasons unknown.

“Is that just me being majorly freaky,” says Somi, eyes following her best friend with a new, imminent gaze, “or was that kinda hot?”

You don’t answer, but you think she knows. The two of you bond over shared experiences, and this one is about finding out how hot Nancy McDonie truly is. It’s not an unknown fact, but it’s the way her pupils settle over someone and linger just long enough to have them wondering; the way she commands a classroom; the way she rarely is vulnerable—it’s all that which leads to the very moment she leaned against the fridge door and watched silently, attracting the two of you even without the need for many words.

You’re droning again. Drowning, too, in her. In both of them—as you walk behind Somi, you can see that there isn’t a bra strap lining an imprint on her shirt and her ass is sticking out under her shorts. You barely could get yourself out of the waves as you wade your way to the stairs. 

At least that’s a familiar high place you could seek refuge from: the loft. It’s kind of like an attic, but you don’t really care. It’s where you hang out and watch all the movies with them from a crappy projector. You don’t care about the films due to your conversations with them eventually proving to be more interesting.

“Roof?” Somi asks. She peeks out of the triangular window pane. “The stars are pretty tonight.”

Never been there before. Not that you aren’t willing to try. “Just don’t fall off,” you warn, though you’re nervous yourself to get there. 

She slides a chair to you and then you’re climbing through a square-shaped gap at the low ceiling. You help the girls up onto the roof and become literally starstruck because—

Whoa.

Feels like a different world. The night is as vast as it is beautiful. Shining lights are embedded into the sky, the gray clouds barely visible with how they blend in with the color of the atmosphere. Each star has their own glimmer, but all of which share a common brightness—when partnered up with that large, pot-bellied moon, they become more perfect. The soft yet distinct sounds of the cicadas echo in your ears.

“Will anyone see us up here?” asks Nancy. Her vision is filled with shining galaxies, and her tone sounds dreamy. She says it in a way that isn’t out of concern for possible consequent trouble, but an appreciative one, as if she were wondering if anybody else could see how pretty it is up here.

“No one.” You shut the trapdoor and sit upon the curved edges of the roof. “It’s just us.”

“It’s just us,” she repeats this thoughtfully. You think that she’s smiling again, but you can’t be too sure.

Yes, it’s just you three. This intimate moment includes only you and the girls who turned your life around. Nobody else could get to bask in the simple happiness of hanging out all the way up here. This is for you, and no one else. Nobody could ever be friends with the girls the way you are.

You three take in the beauty of the night. All the way up here, the hills look higher than they already are. The sound of partying neighbors becomes static in the background. It becomes like foreign words in an uninteresting song—it’s nothing in comparison to the view of sloping roads, tall homes, and the trees swaying to the beat of the night wind. It can try its best to break your immersion and every attempt would be fruitless.

“Care for some double dutch?” Somi asks you. She juts out her tub of half-eaten chunks of ice cream. Appealing.

“As long as you don’t use the spoon you gave a blowjob to.”

Nancy snickers. She shoves your knee in reprimand, taking care not to put in so much force so you don’t topple down the roof and onto the main road. 

“I’ll give BJs to any spoon I want, thank you very much, but alright. Do what you want. No ice cream for you, more for me.”

“I could go for some.” Nancy parts her lips.

“Glad to see we still have someone with a brain around here.” Somi shakes her head at you disapprovingly.

You squint your eyes while she feeds Nancy some double dutch. Note dutifully that she uses the same spoon she violated. Well, that’s one thing you didn’t expect. But they’re best friends—they’ve been there for each other through thick and thin, bad and good. Sometimes simple gestures like that show that there’s something in the midst of them that beats mere friendship.

But then you see the way they look at you, and you’re briefly toying with the idea that whatever they have, they got it with you, too.

“I still remember the first time we brought you here,” Somi says, leaning in front of you so she can get to wiping some cream from Nancy’s lips. “You tried to act cool, but you were really starstruck. Like the house was Zendaya’s or something.”

“I guess so.” You freeze up when she holds your hand. “I mean, I’m not exactly the richest.”

You think of your own house—sweet little place with a tall tree and a low gate, nothing special—then compare it to hers: a mansion with six floors and rooms that could substitute for hotel clients. Nancy’s is amazing, too. But you don’t really care about that. It’s a whole other thing that bothers you about it.

Nancy shakes her head. “Doesn’t matter. You’re our friend. We’ll share it with you as much as you want.”

You’re finally able to name the thing. For months you’ve thought about it, but you never realized until this moment that it’s exactly what keeps you insecure about your friendship with them. That’s another thing they make you find out, besides style and bond.  

“Yeah, I get it. But, but I’m a loser. I was a punk who made school life hell for you. I’m broke. Stupid. I don’t get what made you want to be friends with me.”

Maybe you're like Somi, too. You act like a king in school with a red carpet draped down on the floor for you, but you fear that your crown is undeserved. Sometimes you feel like you're a peasant deluded by dreams of status and strength.

“Besides you being stupidly hot,” Somi says, albeit sincerely—there’s no sarcasm or flirtatiousness in her pitch, “you’re not in it for the cash. You’re not in it just to say you’re besties with us.”

“And trust me,” adds Nancy, “that makes you a prodigy among others.”

They're right. You aren't in it for the popularity, the fame, not even the everyday free treats and outings you get. You just… like them. Somi's bright confidence inspires you; you've never seen a girl more self-aware than her. And Nancy's someone who takes her studies seriously, an example you should follow, while still maintaining a social life. 

"What makes you so sure?" you say teasingly. They might've had some doubts along the way. 

"I dunno," Somi says with a shrug. Her eyes curve north. "We just are."

They just are. Short and simple, but it somehow explains everything.

Stars in the sky, stars in their eyes—they’re truly something else. Shouldn’t they be up there themselves? They glimmer too bright to be left here on earth, with a guy like you who can’t hold a flame to them.

But maybe you’re one yourself. Stars only ever mingle with their own kind. So there's the possibility that the three of you are stardust, simmered onto this world to shine in other places where they need it. It’s a laughable way to put it, almost cliche. But when you look at them, you realize you’re not far off.

"And I guess we know a lot more about you than we think." Nancy twirls her fingertips along your thigh. "Because we want to show we're grateful. And, y'know, sorry for the ruckus we caused back there."

"You already have. The soju, the ice cream… I'm already good."

She smiles. "You really don't get it, do you?"

Your mind can't keep up. What don't you get here? 

Somi leans forward and flashes you a smile that raises your suspicions. "You're completely clueless. Like, if it danced in front of you in a housewife apron, you would still order your dumb poophead ass some chicken wings."

"What? Why the hell would a hint be wearing an apro—"

You don't know why or how, but she's kissing you like you got the point she's been pushing across.

Now you do.

-

"Call this… a friend's sincere apology."

Somi's pushed you down on the old mattress of the loft, with a new look on her face that tells you tonight would be everything you expected and didn't.

"Two friends' sincere apology," adds Nancy. Her shorts are off? You didn't notice in the dark, but you can make out the supple shape of her hips and thighs, full and meaty in all the right ways. "Question is: would you let us do it?"

Your answer is locked and loaded in your throat. Can't pull the trigger when her ass muffles your face.

Alright, perhaps—just perhaps, you aren't saying it's real—you've devoted a few seconds of your time appreciating when the wind picks up her skirt at school. You tried not to be perverted because, of course, she's your friend. Your best friend.

A best friend doesn't push hers down a mattress with the weight of her core on his face. She doesn't let him feel her full cheeks suffocate him, or start to move like she would please a lover.

So what are you and Nancy when she's doing each of those things? 

Definitely not just friends.

"Fuck." The word leaves Nancy's mouth like a prayer. She doesn't pray often, but she religiously grinds her hips to and fro on top of you. The flat of your tongue massages her labia and tickles her prone clit. She's so wet that your lips quickly become coated. She looks back and moves her ass with stressed slides. "Your mouth is so good. So fucking good."

"Already?" Somi chuckles. She's not just your best friend either; her thighs hug one of yours and, like the girl she's always seen giggling and whispering with, she's grinding. Her movements are admittedly more fluid, but who's keeping note? "You talk real dirty for a prude."

Your pants slide off your legs as she finds the bare skin more appealing than denim. You flex and send a moan from her so carnal it might have literally clawed its way out of her throat. It's sharp. Needy. Wanton. Somi doesn’t speak like the rich princess she is when she moans for cock.

"I'm not a prude," Nancy says. Her breath is tinged to the tone with air. She's gasping as you tongue her and lick at her lips. "I just like being chaste."

"Please, sweetheart, you're aaanything but chaste."

"S-says the one who's sucking him off."

Both girls have mouths on them. Somi in particular. It's word-for-word how her lips trap your cock and start off with a strong suction. You moan right into Nancy's pussy. Said girl cries out when your lips strengthen their merciless suction on her pearl.

If you were to consider everything like a butterfly effect, you'd say Somi started it all: the sucking and moans. She's the one who's massaging your cock with those pink lips, effectively causing you to lose control and take it all out on Nancy. Poor Nancy, always the one to take it all. Now it's for good; she's squeezing her breasts and riding your mouth like a saddle. 

"Blowjobs don't count!" Somi quips. You moan again; the tip of her tongue toys with your balls. It's like she lit a fire there no wetness can put out. (Well, you still have to see about that.) "We'll show him how real good girls say sorry later. You know what I mean, right, babe?"

That fucked nickname does things to you, even if it's not meant for you, because it foretells the sight you have to fight to see with Nancy's back blocking it: Somi placing her hands on her best friend's hips and guiding her movements on your mouth. 

"Y-yes." You're surprised at how submissive Nancy sounds. So different from the commanding tone she assumes in morning assemblies. 

You didn’t expect you’d be in this position. Another thing you didn’t expect was how wet Nancy is, and how she tastes. She’s tangy yet sweet, filling your mouth like a new favorite flavor. She also moans a lot, which is strange when she doesn’t really talk much outside of this setting. You’ve changed her, too. Just not in the way like she did taking you to Jessa’s. No, this is your way: keeping her drenched little pussy filled with a soft muscle that’s hard enough to have her legs shaking. 

"That's right. Move that fat ass for him." Somi sits on the side with one hand on one side of Nancy's waist and another on your cock. She jerks you off hard, with a grip that's both too tight and too good. "Your nipples are sooo hard, Nancy. Just a hunch of mine, but I think you want me to suck on them. Make you cum on his handsome face."

Precum dribbles from your cockhead. How could Somi, the girl who speaks in coy accents, talk so filthy? She knows the time and place for that mouth, and it's right now and on Nancy's waiting breast.

Your length goes through bouts of impossible tightness induced by Somi's fist while your mouth (gladly) suffers another burden, which is Nancy's pussy and ass gyrating down on you. Your tongue doesn't know where to go so it goes everywhere: licking a wet line on her slit, diving into her drenched hole, teasing her clit. Nancy's thighs slam with your head in between. 

"Fuck!" Her moans are straight up pornographic. "Oh, oh, it feels so good, don't stop!"

Somi runs a teasing finger on your slit, keeping the heat in one place before resuming having her palm wrap your dick. "Who says we're stopping? Yep, nobody. Just keep moving those hips, lovie. We still got so much to give him."

You didn't think it was possible, but yes. Nancy does sprawl out more, her outed pussy lips all puffy and sore from your doings. You’re ruining her with how you lick and let her push down. Her core must be strong for her to keep a good stance in the midst of it all.

It’s not like you’re left out. Somi’s to thank for that, with her hand not stopping as it pumps and pumps and pumps. The pace is dangerous like a feared waterfall that’s got signs telling travelers to be wary around it. She pulled you into it. It isn’t that you wanted to suffer under the rapidity when you feel comfortable with the descent and rise.

"Ah. Ahhh, please!" 

Nancy never begs. She's above that, just like she is with everything else. But listen to her pleas and begs for more, for you to keep licking and sucking at the right places, for your hands not to pause in their journeys roaming the land of her perfect, curvy body. 

Somi spanks her, and you quite literally feel her cheeks bounce in your face. You'd actually be okay with going out this way. Heaven could be found in Nancy's full ass.

Oh, right, and Somi’s hand. You’ve never taken Somi as the kind to get around a lot even when she acts overly sexual sometimes, but she must have learned those skills somewhere. Her hand is neither too tight nor too loose—it’s just the perfect grip for you to almost cum into her fingers. She’s determined to wring a climax out of you, too, with how harsh she slams her hand down on your core.

It’s a cycle of pleasure that has no means of ending. With Somi fingering herself, you getting the best handjob you’ve ever had, and Nancy having her pussy eaten out, none of you are left to waste away. It’s sin, that’s what it is. It’s an act that, if anyone had caught sight of, would have guaranteed a swift suspension—maybe even the chance of getting expelled.

But in this warm moment, all of you forget about that. Even Nancy has that off her mind when all she’s thinking about is your tongue delightfully fucking her wet hole. 

“I’m… I’m cumming!” she wails. Her riding on your face spirals out of control, and again and again you’re blessed with her ass suffocating you. 

It’s too much for one girl to take: a mouth going crazy on her pussy and another doing the same, if not crazier, on her tit. Your sucks and Somi’s own increasing when she announces her imminent bliss doesn���t help her case either. But maybe it does—she’s never felt this good. Whenever she secretly, scandalously toyed with her pussy under the covers at night, none of those porn videos and literotica made her cum as hard as you and Somi have. It feels like a large bubble has burst inside her when she finally releases, tensing up and freezing similar to if a frostbitten cold finally took its last toll on her.

She sighs heavily while she comes down. Her thighs shake and you have to pin them down the creaky mattress to keep eating of her. She shudders and pushes you down. You stop, like she hinted.

“You alright, Nancy?” You remember Somi asking a similar question earlier, in a situation that’s nothing compared to this. Yep, far from it. A continent away. You weren’t eating her out like a last meal in the classroom, were you?

Well, you would have wanted to if you’d discovered prior that her ass is really as nice as it looks.

“Yes,” she replies weakly. 

You’re glad.

“I might have to try and get you to eat me out, too,” Somi says to you. She helps Nancy to get off your face after you got her off. “She was screaming, did you hear? You’d think somebody was like getting killed and– oh, wait, of course you couldn’t hear. Her thighs are just the perfect things to have wrapped around your head, right?”

Nancy blushes and looks away..

“But I think we should take the lead." Somi stops jerking you off. What quickly washes away your disappointment is when she takes her shirt off. "We’re the ones giving back.” 

The recoil of her large chest is amazing; it rises as it’s hindered by the tight hem of her clothing, and settles back into its natural position after she rids herself of the fabric. Her rosy nipples are things work gawking at; they’re as stiff and hard as diamonds, telling you of how much she wants this. And you think you’ve seen a few of Somi’s diamonds she could purchase a whole mine of, but you’d still have a desire similar to the blonde’s: you want her more.

“I’ve seen you looking at them. Don’t pretend and go all ‘oh nooo, that’s not true.’” She gives her own gifted bosom a firm grope. Her head throws back due to the pleasure. “You stare all the time. It makes me kinda assume that you want me to do something with them.”

“And what could that be?” you ask in a futile attempt to match her cockiness. Should’ve known that it’s a losing game trying to beat Jeon Somi in being a brat. It’s a god-given gift, a skill that needs no honing. She’s just like that.

“Duh. Like I said, I’ll show, not tell. This isn’t primary school.”

She shows a hefty amount, you’ll tell her that. Your mouth falls out at what happens. She takes her tits into her hands and leans down to envelope your cock in them. She seals it tight around your girth. 

Fuck.

She then starts to move. Up and down she goes, toying with her nipples on the way. It makes her core more drenched than it already is.

She’s the master of eye contact. She picked it up with her natural confidence. Why do you think she walks the hallways with a gaze that’s only directed straight ahead? Talks to new kids like she already knows them? She’s never seen weak, and tonight is no exception. Her fierce eyes speak of lust and strength of knowing she’s having her way. 

Jeon Somi always gets what she wants.

Again, this time is no exception. 

“Fuck, Somi…” you say in quiet groans. 

Someone needs to pinch you. This can’t be real. Never did you think what you’ve been dreaming would actually come true. The nights you touch yourself to the frequent sight of her tits practically bursting out of her uniform, you think of this same exact thing. You think of using her breasts like a toy, and now you’re experiencing it for real.

Perhaps one of the stars out there really took one for the team and granted two of your wishes at the same time.

Are you in wonderland? The movement of her tits provide a solid pace that’s hard to keep up with. Its warm, slick embrace has you on the edge of the mattress. You don’t ever want to run away from this feeling. It’s slick and tight yet rough, giving you a pleasure that’s confusing just as it is enjoyable.

“How’re you doing there?”

“I like it. More than like,” you breathe. Swallow what’s already been said.

Somi’s tits are a dream. They might as well have been made out of clouds with how soft they are, even when hugging your dick. You see yourself disappear between them and moan. Look up at Somi and see her seductively bite her lip; moan harder. Who knew all that barky flirtatiousness had a bite to them?

“Really?” she asks. She stops for a regretful moment to slap your cock against the side of her boob. The curve of your length heats up. “Couldn’t have guessed.”

She resumes, and you couldn’t be more thankful. The friction is everything to live for, and you’re a man who’s had no wish to die. Somi’s pale chest, guided by her hands trapping your cock between the massiveness in front of you, propels you to a close orgasm.

You switch your focus briefly to Nancy. She hums from afar. You notice that her fingers are in between her legs. She’s enjoying it as much as you are. “Could you stop being a brat for like, one second?” she chuckles, though it twists between her moans.

She’s sitting on the floor with her well-eaten pussy splayed to welcome her digits, and they definitely are welcome visitors. Her mouth is open though no more words come out.

“What? He likes it.” Somi jumps the pace to a rapidity you cry out for, and smiles that smile. The smile she only does when she’s doing or will be doing something she shouldn’t be. Explains a lot—if you two were just best friends, she wouldn’t be titfucking you. “And this is an apology, right? I’m saying sorry for punching him in the balls.”

“God,” you laugh out loud in spite of it all. “If this is the way you apologize, I’d have you punch my balls everyday.”

“I could do that. Say your apologies, too, Nancy. The way you’ll know he likes it.”

It’s as if she made your wet dream and worst nightmare come true. Can you even take more? It’s a question that apparently is disregarded of its answer; Nancy crawls over to the edge of the old, discarded mattress to suck on your swollen balls whenever Somi’s tits rise. 

They’re arsonists, and your whole body is the unfortunate victim. Although they attend only to your crotch except for the here-and-there brushes on your stomach and legs, your toes and arms burn. Somi and Nancy are sending heat waves everywhere. You twist and turn and propel and cry—none of those banish it. And it’s for the better because you’ve never felt closer to paradise.

You have to groan loudly. It can’t be muffled when the sensations are coming at you all at the same time. You can feel Nancy’s tongue dragging its edge along your sensitive flesh and her friend’s tits bouncing around you; see the two students’ sultry looks never breaking; hear one girl’s grunts as she fucks you with her bosom and the other’s moans; touch the mane of Nancy’s autumn hair to pull her deeper into your crotch; taste an orgasm that couldn’t really just come now when it’s this close—

“Oh shit, fuck!” The most senseless of curses come out of you after Somi’s titjob provokes a messy, violent orgasm. You’d be more coherent than that if she were letting up. Not possible when she doesn’t; she keeps bouncing up and down to jerk your cock off with her deep cleavage.

Somi hums delightfully at the never ending spray of cum on her tits. Nancy stops suckling harshly at your left testicle in order for her to be able to do it instead to the rod beside it. 

“Nancy, fuck, so good—” you say, hissing as your hips rise up.

You’re inadvertently facefucking her like this. Your hips move with their own will. They push up hard into Nancy’s beautiful lips. She in turn reacts with spontaneous downward drives of her head, welcoming you into her tight throat and letting you savor her mouth.

Somi fixes the girl’s hair into a ponytail of brown. She could see the bulge you’re making on her throat. She nods her on whenever Nancy looks at her with hesitation, and rubs your thigh to get your sensitivity levels to an all-time peak. She certainly got what she wanted and expected, as per usual, for you’re moaning with the tone of someone who gets paid to do it; shivering though it’s anything but cold here in this loft that’s gotten warm for other reasons besides the fireplace.

Nancy gags as she pulls away. Now she’s poured on by the white rain, too; some get into her hair while the others find a landing place on her shirt. God, that must have been expensive. You’re not here to make reparations, just to remind yourself; this is for you. They gave you this opportunity.

However, your heart pumps with anxiety hearing Nancy hack and cough. You quickly get to the floor, knees shaking on the way. “Hey,” you start, with a thumb on her chin, “you want to keep going?”

It doesn’t look like it for a second, but then those beautiful dark eyes connect with yours and suddenly all the discomfort is away. She smiles.“Y-yeah!” she says with a half-giggle. “All okay here.”

“Awesome.” Somi pats her back repeatedly and strokes her hair. “I was beginning to think I wouldn’t get you to suck on my tits.”

You look at said tits and gulp. Yeah, that beautiful chest covered with your release is tempting to be gawked at. But still, time and place even for jokes. Nancy’s about to have a goddamned asthma attack.

“You are so out of line sometimes,” you say to Somi disapprovingly. 

“It’s alright.” Nancy grins. Wipes her mouth with the back of her hand. “Nobody said apologies weren’t hard to do.”

The look of defiance and mischief softens on Somi’s face. “You don’t have to do this if you don’t want to. I’m sure he won’t mind, right, oppa?”

“Yeah,” you butt in, something you would have done even without Somi’s jab at your shin. Dear god, is the girl a bodybuilder in disguise or something? That hurt almost as much as the punch to your balls. “Nancy, I appreciate it and everything, but if you want to back out—”

Look, this is everything you wished for. You wanted to have intimate moments with them probably since  just a few months before the friendship was sealed. They’re beautiful girls, and you love Nancy especially closely. However, if they want to stop, you have to. Not to become a white knight or anything, but that’s natural law. You don’t force anybody into it.

“It’s okay, seriously.” Nancy’s relieving words now pass more smoothly through her lips. “Are you liking it so far?”

Alright, another thing to analyze. What else is there to answer? “Yes” is a painfully obvious reply to her question. You’ve had her ass on your face and Somi’s tits screwing an orgasm out of you. This is what wet dreams are made of, except that the white leak doesn’t end up on the fabric of your sheets anymore. 

It ends up on Somi’s amazing chest. Any man would die to catch sight of them. They’re round and full, settling at the perfect position whenever she breathes while covered from areola to nipple with your sticky load. Your semen even slides down to her midriff. You’re more convinced that she’s a bodybuilder—for this, it’s more obvious: her abs are hard and firm. You’ve worked out a lot and have not once gotten to that point of solidness.

Your cock can’t say the same.

“I loved it. You?”

“I liked it, and, and I—” 

“You want to answer him, brunette-ie?” Somi asks mockingly, swirling white on her collarbone. Yet another wonder to gawk at.

“That doesn’t work for other hair colors,” points out Nancy with a giggle.

“It does when I say so.”

Nancy tilts her head. Her smile suddenly doesn’t look too playful anymore. “Not everything’s gonna go your way tonight, blondie.”

“Is that so?” Somi curls her hair from her shoulders and tilts that pretty little head they hold. “Because if I have to say it again, McDonie, it’s—”

Nancy knows there’s no point arguing with her. It’s not the right occasion today. Fortunately, she has better ways of making Somi shut up.

It’s not completely shutting her up when all it does is make her create more noises. These are more pleasant to the ears in comparison. When Nancy attaches her pretty lips to her best friend’s tit, Somi’s words freeze in midair. You could see all her brattiness melt drop by drop. Her eyes are wide and she lets out a whimper. 

If your cock was flaccid already from the raunchy sex (because you started it all off with a bang, literally,) it isn’t now. It perks up hard upon seeing the most beautiful girls you know engaging in such obscene acts. Nancy’s already shown you how talented her mouth is, but she’s only hanging the knowledge out for everyone to see with how she cleans Somi’s right breast of your cum. The nipple she performs on is stiff, and she takes special care in gently guiding her teeth along it. 

“Fuck,” Somi says, voice breathy. All those little signs—her breathing shortening whenever Nancy dares to suckle a little bit harsher, bite a little harder; her legs suddenly shaking and weakening—lead you to a conclusion: they’ve done this before. Whether for rehearsal for this moment or for just mere curiosity, it’s hot nevertheless.

“Now will you shut that dirty mouth up?” Nancy uses that exact voice in the classroom, and hearing her use it in this moment makes her sound so much sexier. Gone is the passive prude that she is (or is pretending to be? That voice can’t be birthed from just leadership skills)—she knows how to put a brat in her place.

“If you think,” says Somi, with a laugh that’s too pitchy to be genuine in its sarcasm, “that sucking my boobs’ll make me a good little bitch, then you’re wrong.”

Is Nancy wrong? Probably. Somi’s the most defiant, outspoken girl you know. Nothing has stopped her from getting her way. You bet if Armageddon came into reality and all the world went to shit, Somi would be commanding the demons to get her a pumpkin spice latte and the angels to call her a limo.

“So you don’t want to be good and get on his cock?” 

Nancy stands up. You’re once again reminded of the eternally truthful fact that her ass is amazing. She shimmies it on your cock, slipping it between her cheeks but never really allowing penetration, and afterwards starts to bounce her butt beautifully for you. 

You can’t help but run your hands all over the perfect fat thing. You  lift the cheeks to let them ripple photogenically as they settle down, going as far as well to give her a few spanks. You’re lost in this sex-filled dream. You’re in a coma seeing the too-good-to-be-true ass of Nancy McDonie.

Somi twitches her mouth to one side. “I didn’t say that.”

“You don’t want to feel his big fat cock inside you,” and Nancy’s more dangerous than you think—she takes your cock and starts to tease its head on her lips and asshole, “and really get a taste of how he stretches you out?”

You bite your lip, enjoying what she’s doing to you and Somi. Your other friend has never looked more needy—large, rabbit eyes peer jealously at Nancy getting to have you for herself. Or is it the other way around? The looks she gives Nancy’s drenched pussy and your solid cock are equally full of hunger. 

“You want to answer, blondie?” An echoed statement, but it doesn’t lose its effect on Somi.

Nancy smirks. She’s a natural-born leader, often managing to fight her way to be in charge. It isn’t the same for the other, who’s been raised to have everything her heart desires. Right now, seeing you hint to fucking her best friend is making her needy. Really needy. She wants you for herself, too.

Nancy shrugs at Somi’s continued refusal to answer. “Suit yourself,” she says. She twists around to face you and commands, in a loud whisper, “I want it in my ass, oppa.”

“No!” Somi finally breaks. Her cheeks are pink. “I mean, like, not yet. Fine. Whatever, f-fine, I’ll be good. Just let me have him, too.”

“That’s more like it.” Nancy kisses her, a feat that has you blushing regardless of you not being the recipient of that gesture. “He and I can do that later.”

Somi scrambles to her feet the second Nancy leaves your lap. With no hesitation whatsoever, she plops herself down on you, filling herself to the hilt all at once. Her toned back is turned, but you can paint a picture of her face as she moans. Her mouth parts widely to cry out, and you could imagine her staring at the black insides of her eyelids as the wonderful filling results in getting her to see stars.

“Ohhh my god,” she drawls out. Her legs shake. “You were gonna fill your ass with something this big?”

You reach up from behind her to squeeze her tits. You can’t believe your dick had the chance to feel them before you did—they could do a role as stress balls; they’re soft, large, and you’d love to squeeze them any time of the day. Yep, also on the times you aren’t stressed in the first place. That’s how perfect Somi’s alluring breasts are.

Her pussy is the main attraction to all of this, however. She’s obviously so turned on—her wetness is like an avalanche of need on your cock for it floods your shaft without the need for an orgasm. Not that you aren’t gonna give it to her. When her pussy’s this snug and warm, this wet and tight, how are you going to do anything but make her cum?

You start to hump her rabidly. Your hips send her bouncing up and down on your lap, making it so that whatever happens, her starting point and ending point is always your cock. Somi’s moans cut and break into emphasized cries. In your hands, her tits make gravity look so appealing; they bob high in the air and rest heavily into your palms. There’s always a sharp rebound, a sharp cry from her. Her moans just make fucking your school’s signature brat a five-star experience.

“What did I tell you? I’m not a prude,” Nancy replies smugly. She spreads Somi’s legs to the point that she’s technically doing a split on your dick. “I also know how to suck on this little nub right here. Like I did to your big tits, remember?”

At first, Somi doesn’t get what she means. But then Nancy licks quickly at her vulnerable clit, and she understands it fully. “F-fuck, Nancy unnie!” she cries out.

She tenses up in your lap. As an effect, she gets impossibly tighter. You fight it with sharp thrusts, but she always ends up closing around you. You pierce her tightening walls and find that no amount of wetness and slick could get her to part her walls. 

“‘Unnie’?” Nancy licks up and down. In the face of it all the run of her voice remains gentle. You splay Somi’s pussy lips to help her out. “You never call me that. Do I have to suck your clit everyday to get you to have some manners?”

Oh, but Somi can’t be taught manners. Just a few licks around and on her bundle of nerves has her forgetting to use a proper inside voice. It’s hopeless when she’s screaming and writhing all over the place. That’s what the combination of your thrusts and her fellow council president’s tongue does to her: it turns her into this crazed nympho just begging to be touched and used.

She’s lucky to have friends like you and Nancy who are willing to be patient in teaching her. Your methods aren’t the most orthodox, you’ll admit—what kind of friend would team up with another in ruining her cunt?

“The princess here needs to learn a lesson, after all,” you whisper in her ear. Your hands on Somi’s wide hips, your fire pumps harshly into her without daring to slip out. Nope, you’re staying inside her forever. “You’re gonna be a good girl, aren’t you, Somi? You’re gonna let us fuck you into being a good girl?”

“You sound so stupid, you know that? Like you came from friggin’ Fifty Shades of Gray or something.” Somi sticks her tongue out at you, then it idly hangs from her lips after you reprimand her with a few scolding thrusts. She begins to whimper, eyes filling with tears of need. 

“Tell us to stop then.” You aren’t fazed. You know what that face she makes means too well. 

You propel up into her with the force of one who almost hates her to be fucking her like that. You spread her legs wider. Bury your face into her hair because she’s your blondie.

She says nothing.

You toy with her nipples, flicking and pinching them.

She utters not a single word.

Nancy slips her tongue inside for a brief moment, joining you, then places kisses on her inner thighs. 

She finally makes a noise, and it’s a couple sounds stringed into whines. 

It’s not the childish one she makes whenever she’s refused something as miniscule as a bite of a doughnut, but one of real weakness. She just showed the two of you where her Achilles spots lay. She’s a sucker for this, and all the same, you’re a sucker for her neck and shoulders that always smell of lilies. Take it all in before leaving love bites all over the pale, prone skin.

She takes deep breaths.

Nancy asks her if she’s cumming, and she screams—

“Yes yes yes! Just keep eating me out, Nancy unnie, keep fucking me, oppa! I’m gonna cum so hard!”

Nancy makes a show of licking the underside of your entering and exiting cock all the way up to Somi’s pussy lips. The two of you groan ecstatically. This she repeats until your precum starts to wet Somi’s walls and Somi’s clit is practically quivering from the abuse. It doesn’t stop there. She grabs Somi’s tiny waist and pushes the girl’s core into her mouth. 

“Shit, Nancy!” Somi gasps lewdly. The new position gives you ample space to take time in withdrawing then slamming every inch into her aching body. “I’m gonna cum, gonna c-c-cum, please—fuck!”

There she goes. She falters heavily into you as her orgasm takes over. 

You caress her rising and falling midriff, suddenly wrapped into the need to help her come down. You kiss the back of her ear and her neck. Whisper sweet everythings there (because you mean each one: you’ll take care of her all the way). Nancy stops eating her and rubs her thigh comfortingly. 

Through it all, Somi’s still your baby. The girl you tend to because you know she loses herself sometimes.

This is the calm after the storm. For a moment, it’s all soft. Somi may remain with her pussy filled with your length, but it doesn’t change the tenderness you have for her. For Nancy. For the relationship the three of you have.

“Are you all bright and happy there?” 

“Fuck you, of course I am.” That tells you she’s not tapering off lust-induced insanity that much. If she were, though, she’d still maintain that feistiness. “I can’t believe we did that. And I can’t believe you didn’t cum inside me.”

“Safe sex, princess.” Nancy’s back to her serious yet half-joking self. She brushes Somi’s nose playfully. “Didn’t you listen to sir Lars?”

“I’m safe today, though…” 

“Hmm. Next time?”

“Next time,” replies Somi with a bit more satisfaction. “For now, I want to see you get your ass fucked.”

Maybe it’s going too fast, like an amateur author’s prodded pacing with a debut novel, but in the flash of the moment you find that you don’t care. You and Nancy share one look and just know tonight is going to be different than all the other ones with hookups, exes, everything. This one runs deeper—it’ll define who you are for the rest of the evening.

Somi sits down at what used to be the headboard of the mattress. She’s good with just watching after the violent orgasm she had. Nancy really went all-out. Must have still been thinking about that speech she made.

Your mind stalls on Nancy right now. She’s on her hands and knees, and she’s looking back at you with this nervous yet crazed desire. It’s written clear on her face. Then there’s the rest of her beautiful body—that back, her full thighs, that ass. You knew she was beautiful with a great body to go with it, but you didn’t really figure it was an unfiltered truth until now.

“I—I brought lube,” she says timidly. She looks away, and it’s so unlike her to be this meek that your instinctive reply is a laugh.

“You came prepared.” 

Somi throws you the bottle, and while you lather some of its content on Nancy’s asshole, you’re faced with millions of questions. “I assume you planned this? Or do you just bring lube whenever I’m around?”

Nancy rolls her eyes. God, do you love to make them do that. You were born to. You were made to make her roll her eyes at you between her laughs. “Stud,” she whispers.

“You say that like it’s a bad thing.” She still hasn’t figured out it isn’t derogatory with you. Or with any guy for that matter. You chuckle softly. Love how her hole closes tighter the second you wipe some of the handy liquid on it. “Ready?”

She nods. There’s hesitation, but the upward perk of her ass can’t mean anything else than transparent want. 

“Boooring!” Somi yells out, arms in an “X”-sign in front of her. You’re the actors, and she’s the disapproving film critic. And god knows how insufferable film critics are. “Ever heard of porn without plot, you absolute doodooheads?”

“Porn without plot? You read way too much fanfiction, Somi. Like, way too much.”

“Hello? Peepee in the poopoo hole now, if you please.”

You give her a tired look in spite of your small laughs. “Can you make it sound any less sexy?”

“She’s right,” Nancy says in a tiny voice. “I want you now.”

There’s the (with a trademark after that) look again, somber and wide. She needs you. You need her. So why are you stalling? Idiot. You need to put yourself together.

Slip past the defiance of Nancy’s asshole, and curse immediately. It isn’t even halfway in and you’re already close. She’s too tight that it almost beats the tightness of Somi’s pussy. You’re not sure you’re ready for this. Run your hand along Nancy's back and feel the sweat stick to your hand. She’s nervous. In pain. At least, you assume so.

“Need to breathe?”

Nancy winces and nods. “A few seconds.”

It’s hell itself trying not to give in to your instincts and pound away into her ass. It’s just so perfect, the way it trembles and shakes and unintentionally sends vibrations your way. Sends those full cheeks bouncing.

Even in a state of need-to-get-it-together, Nancy still looks her prime. Her hair, all those chestnut locks, sticks to her back as she pants. Her face has never looked prettier. She’s gorgeous as could be, and you realize that it’s these moments—not her beauty pageants where she’s all dolled up by attending stylists, not when she manages a glow-up (when she already is the most beautiful woman you know) weeks before class pictures are taken—that take your breath away. She’s just there, just existing, and you maintain your preposition: down bad.

“Tell me if you lovebirds need to stop,” says Somi. “Because what I’m seeing here is– oh my.”

Nancy starts to fuck herself on you. She wants to do this—Somi’s words are her motivation. Her ass constricts tighter and tighter as you penetrate her, but you make it work. Make it fit. She’s so stretched out but she doesn’t stop. It makes you temporarily heed the idea that a glitching robot is controlling her. The recoil and push of her ass are too rough.

“Fuck,” she whispers, eyes squeezed shut firmly. “Feels so fucking good.”

If you’re making Nancy curse, it’s either really good or really bad. You’re betting on the former. Her ass rotates and circles before you, welcoming her into its depths, and you can’t find your breath again. You must have lost it, lost it somewhere in the atmosphere that smells of sex and sweat.

There isn’t even any foreplay to go by. She simply pushes back and takes every inch of your dick. While you lost hold of your breath, Nancy’s found hers, and puts it to good use with her moans. 

“You’re… opening me up so much,” gasps Nancy. She looks back to see that you’re forming a steady reciprocal rhythm that’s starting to gape her hole. 

“Should I go slower?” you ask hesitantly. You slip a hand to her mound then settle a thumb over her clit. It throbs, still sensitive from the sucking.

“No, god, no. Go faster. Please.” Her words are broken off like blunt phrases, but you catch on to her meaning. She wants it fast even for the first time.

It’s lucky you took your time rubbing lube on your shaft and her hole. As time goes by, Nancy’s ass only grows tighter. It clings to you, afraid to let go. Her legs shake yet they’re strong enough to push and pull, receiving you into her backside.

The mattress starts to creak. Its old springs are resurrected and the first thing they do is make squeaking sounds. It’s drowned out by the sound of Somi touching herself. Her wet pussy is slick as her finger rubs firmly on her own clit and her mind runs with the idea of her being in Nancy’s place. Her toes are already curled tightly.

Nancy’s words don’t lose their eccentric tone even if she’s being plowed from behind. The broken mirror discarded to the corner reflects her expressions. One minute she’s smiling drunkenly, and the second minute her eyes are dazed, as if she were taken straight out of an 18+ anime magazine. The next minute she’s suddenly gasping for air. No, air isn’t what she needs. Everything that’s essential is hidden right inside your cock, and she’s going to get it.

“Need it, need it, need it.” 

She squeezes tighter, and you wince. It feels good. Too good, in fact, that you chase after the feeling with quick pumps. 

“H-hah, I know you want to do it,” she says, turning to you. She kisses you and smiles weakly. “So cum in me. Cum in my ass, I need it so fucking bad—”

She interrupts herself with a sharp draw of breath. Your fingers have entered her and are frantically moving, filling her over and over and jabbing at her walls. You take advantage of her sensitivity more than you should, and she loves it. 

Nancy cries out. She folds herself over the mattress more, muffling her face in its olden softness. She feels so full. With your cock stuffing her sweaty ass and your fingers wiggling around inside her, there’s only one path this is destined for. But she wants to make the journey last. She doesn’t want it to end too soon.

“P-please, I can’t take it,” she whines.  She muffles a scream. It doesn’t help; her next words are shouty. They don’t sound so intimidating when they come out pitchy and needy. “I’m going to cum all over you, for you, just please do the same. Please. Please, oh—”

Perhaps it’s your natural way of catering to whatever Nancy requires, which is to mean what you do everyday, but you end up exploding inside her. She moans happily, and you feel her drip a little as she comes to her climax as well. The little leak grows stronger as you firmly rub her clit. Your thighs soon suffer the damages of her flood.

Whimpering and overstimulated, Nancy’s screams almost make the windows shatter. Through all this, she pounds herself back into you, and you do the same. None of you want this to end.

Be that as it may, nothing lasts forever. It could be that it’s a gift, for when you pull out of your crush and spray the remaining shots of cum onto her beautiful back, you realize you’re stark exhausted.

-

“Cinnamon rolls, anybody?”

Here’s how it goes after that: the three of you showered and are ready to go rest. You couldn’t try for shower sex, not when all of you are spent. You’ve sprayed and fucked and came too many times to count that it’s for the common good that you take a break. 

Bruises litter your jaw but it’s alright. Nothing a little makeover can’t fix. Nancy still worriedly brushes it with a tender finger.

“I swear, Nancy,” you laugh, “I’m fine. You should be worried about yourself.”

Nancy nods obediently, but her eyes still linger on the purple spot.

“God, get a room,” says Somi with a groan, handing you your dessert. Is this her way of aftercare? “Oops, you already did. Silly me.”

You’re all wrapped in comfortable bathrobes. They’re the ones with the really silky fabric, the kind that feels like clouds dropped from heaven and onto you. They settle comfortably on your sore bodies. You go to the roof even with only those “clothes” on. Not one of you cares for decency; considering what you did earlier, it’d be hypocritical to try and salvage some self-respect.

Oh, who minds anyway? Not you three. All you want is some rest.

“Not funny,” Nancy says. She takes a careful bite of her roll, licking her lips with a glare.

“My bad. Should try again the next time we stop fucking.”

You stop chewing. “Wait… so you’re saying we’re doing that again?” you ask, suddenly flustered. 

You’re not complaining. It only took a few minutes for you to discover that sex with the duo is the perfect mix of soft and rough. Exactly your kind. Okay, so maybe the rough part outweighs the other, but you aren’t turning back. Your concern is your friendship—would you still see each other as reliable people, or would that be warped by lust?

You’re young. Nothing is permanent—that’s what you’re taught. What if that counts for the relationship you have, too?

“You don’t want to do it?” Somi asks in a voice so small you barely could make out the words.

“No, no, I do.” Scratch the back of your neck. How do you say this without sounding super attached? (You are.) “But… are we still friends? Are we still good with each other?”

Nancy gives you an amused look. “Why wouldn’t we be?” she inquires, genuinely curious.

“I—I thought—”

“Look, we all know what we feel.” Somi takes your hand and presses it to her thigh. Her face portrays a solemn yet caring look. It feels foreign seeing such a serious face on such a spunky girl. “But that doesn’t mean we can’t be friends along the way. You’re still our Frankenstein. We made you.”

“Is the alcohol plus hot choco combo doing something to you or what? Frankenstein is the name of the crea—”

Somi groans and mashes you in the face with her cinnamon roll. “Get outta here with your nerd BS,” she says. She’s smiling, though. 

“Get out of here with your own dodo BS, bottle blonde.”

“Dodos are essential knowledge, not some facts about a stupid ass mon—”

“If you two don’t stop,” says Nancy, knowing when a playful fight starts and how to stop it before it does, “you’re both getting out.”

Are these the girls you fucked in that small loft just a few hours prior? They don’t ever change, do they? They might be hot as hell, but they’re still Jeon and McDonie, the girls you’re friends with. Your hearts remain in the places they were before.

But maybe deeper, delving into the core of your chests.

Somi directs her eyes up at the moon floating in the night sky and smiles. You’ve always loved it when she smiles, menacing as it could be sometimes. She looks like a giddy girl who was just taken to a candy store. There’s this pure, sweet grace to it that infectiously makes you grin, too.

“The moon is beautiful, isn’t it?” she says dreamily.

“It is,” Nancy agrees. She’s looking cute herself; her cheeks are stuffed with cinnamon rolls. 

You look up as well. They’re right. The moon does look prettier tonight. You’re no selenophile, but you swear the large spots of gray and black on its rounded curves make it look more serene. It feels like a once-in-a-lifetime experience.

“Well,” you say, smiling, “I can die happy.”

It was supposed to end like that. You all know what you meant. This was supposed to be a memory you’d keep stowed in the drawers of your minds to look fondly at later in life. But you just had to ruin the moment by suddenly sitting up straight and staring with wide eyes at your hands. What have you done? You can’t believe you could do such a thing.

“H-hey, Nancy…”

“What’s wrong?” Nancy asks.

“You know that quote you said earlier about first impressions?”

“Yeah?”

“And how I said Michael Jordan was smart for saying it?”

“What are you getting at here?”

“I remembered it wrong.” You gulp. “Michael Jackson said it, not Michael Jordan.”

“Are you in your right mind? How could you even think that?” asks Somi, cackling. She almost topples down the roof. “Like, seriously, oppa, are you okay? Are you okay? Are you okay, opp—”

“For fuck’s sake—”

[french-goodbye]

To Be Alone With You

Pairing: Steve Harrington x Fem!Reader

Summary: Steve’s parents are never home, until they are. You learn to deal with it.

Warnings: Kissing; fingering; oral (m receiving). MINORS DNI, 18+.

Notes: This all started because I kept thinking about giving Steve head. That’s it, that was my motivation. Part of the same universe as In The Low Lamplight, but can be read as a stand alone. Also title from the Hozier song To Be Alone. MINORS DNI, 18+.

Steve’s parents are not really nice people. It’s a fact of life, kinda like how the sky is blue or the trees are green, it’s something Steve himself has come to slowly accept over time and that he’s learned he’ll never be able to change.

One of the few good things about Steve’s parents, however, is how often they travel. Especially considering Steve’s dad is a husband who can’t be trusted not to cheat on his wife, Mrs. Harrington just accompanies him everywhere. Which basically leaves Steve with a huge house all to himself and no one to reinforce the “no sleeping over rule”.

The “no sleeping over” rule was established early on in your relationship with Steve, his dad dictating that you can’t sleep over at their house, ever. Apparently he’s afraid you’ll get pregnant as if you 1) aren’t on the pill; 2) can’t fuck his son literally anywhere else, any other time of the day. Alas, you both obey the rule - at least when Steve’s parents are around.

Despite the Harrington household rule, you have gotten pretty used to breaking it and regularly stay over at their house. Some of it has to do with how obsessed you are with your boyfriend, but also with how much Steve hated it, coming home to an empty house and cooking a meal for one, only to wake up to a silent house and do it all over again, until he met you. So now, instead of coming home to a ghost house, he comes home to find you sitting pretty on his couch as you wait for him or you in the kitchen badly singing along to the songs in the radio or you haunting his bedroom even when he isn’t there.

Sometimes though, out of sheer (bad) luck, his parents will come home to stay for a while, no trips in sight. They usually only stay in Hawkins for a week before they travel again, but this time it goes on for what seems like a long time. Forget about his parents’ nagging, Steve can handle that, has handled that his whole life, what Steve can’t handle is not being around you for that long.

Of course he’s seen you since his parents got home, you went on a movie date ast Saturday, you visited him at Family Video on Monday and the two of you even snuck in some alone time on Tuesday night near Lover’s Lake in his car. So it’s not that he misses you per se, it’s that he’s so used to being in your orbit that he just misses being around you. He misses the shared showers and the cooking together and the falling asleep together. He misses the domesticity of it, of knowing that even when he’s not home, you’re still in his space.

All that being said, he manages to get by just getting glimpses of you in the meantime. Sometimes he’ll give you a ride to and from work, or you’ll sneak to Family video so you can have lunch together and he cherishes these moment like a man starved, like he haven’t been waking up and falling asleep next to you every day and night,

He’s getting through it until he realizes it’s been a whole month since his parents got home and they have absolutely no plans of leaving. That’s when he gives up on trying to at least pretend to follow his dad’s stupid rules and sneaks you in through the back door after his parents go to sleep. He’ll sneak you outside again the next morning and pretend you’ve just arrived or something, it’s not like his parents are that attentive or concerned about what he does.

You’re both giggling like teenagers by the time you slip into his bedroom, unnoticed. He’s barely locked the door behind himself and you’re all over him, pushing him into bed and climbing on top of him to kiss him silly.

“God, I’ve missed you” he says when you finally pull away, his lips red and spit wet. You start pressing kisses to his neck, like a girl starved, your hand tugging his hair to tilt his head to the right to grant you more access.

“Missed you too” you mumble against the skin of his neck, pressing open mouthed kisses there and sucking a pretty little mark at the spot where his neck meets his shoulders, next to one of his many freckles.

Your hands start to wander then, letting go of his hair to sneak down his chest and lower and lower. You’re about to slip your hand into his sweatpants when he stops you, his hand tangling with yours midway there.

“Come on, Stevie. Do you not want this?” You pull away until you’re sitting up, still straddling his hips and watching his mussed hair and red lips, a familiar heat climbing up your stomach at the sight.

“It’s not that I don’t want it” he explains, making his hair more of a mess when he runs his fingers through it.

“Then what is it?”

“My parents are totally gonna hear us”

“Their room is on the other side of the house, there’s no way they can hear us”

“I don’t think you realize how loud you can be” you huff on top of him, crossing your arms over your chest.

“Are you serious? Why did you sneak me in then?”

“I told you… I missed my girl” he says softly, his sweetness chipping away at your annoyance over not getting laid. Just a little bit.

“You’re too sweet on me” you laugh happily, cradling his face in your hands. You lean down again and he pulls you closer by the waist to kiss you, kiss you, kiss you until you’re lost on the feeling of it again, his tongue in your mouth and his fingers in your hair and his half hard cock rubbing against you through your jeans. You’re moving before you can stop yourself, slowly grinding your hips against his when he stops you again, digging his fingers on your waist through the fabric of your top.

“Babe…”

“I know, I know. I’m sorry” you drop your head dramatically against his chest, shaking slightly on top of him when he laughs underneath you and hides his face on your neck. You can feel the warmth on his cheeks as he hugs you tightly to his chest and you gently card your fingers through his hair.

“Fine” you sigh, gently pushing him away and getting up and away from him.

“Where are you going?” He asks with a frown as you start digging through his drawers until you find one of his t-shirts you can put on.

“I’m changing” you answer as you pull off your own top and jeans. His eyes travel the length of your torso to your legs, not being particularly subtle in his staring.

“Why are you so far away?” He whines in complaint, rubbing his hands across his face.

“Because you said you don’t wanna have sex with me?” You say like a question, throwing him a confused look over the collar of the shirt you’re pulling through your head.

“I didn’t say that”

You throw your balled up clothes onto the floor next to his dresser, instantly making a mess of his otherwise organized room. He can’t even be bothered to complain about it, missing even the mess you leave in room, as you crawl towards him and balance on top of his thighs again.

“You kinda did,” you interrupt him before he can argue. “But that’s okay. I’m a big girl, I’ll get over it”

“We could make out a little bit” he suggests, his hand creeping up your now bare thigh.

And that you do, until both your lips are swollen and his neck is bruised and his hard cock is pressing against the thin material of your now wet underwear.

“We should stop” you breathe out when he’s sucking your earlobe between his teeth, hands on ass and definitely coping a feel in the meantime.

“Why?” He asks, still not stopping.

“Because I really wanna fuck you and we can’t” you complain, not exactly pulling away, but just tugging on his hair to keep his mouth on your neck.

“Wanna fuck you too. Missed feeling this pussy around my cock” he groans against your neck, and you can feel yourself clench around nothing, wishing it was his cock instead.

“Okay, we’re done” you push on his chest until you’re sitting up again.

“We don’t have to stop” he complains, still gripping on your thighs to keep you on top of him.

You press a kiss to his cheek and he tries to chase after you to kiss your lips again. You push him away giggly and climb off of him, laying next to him and looking at his pretty face as he lays on his back, face turned to watch you.

“We do have to stop because you’re a tease and I have no self control”

“Fine, we’ll stop. But when my parents are gone again…”

“You’ll have me all to yourself, handsome” you assure him confidently. He presses a quick peck to your lips before you can complain again, pulling away smugly.

“It’s a deal”

“Now come on, I haven’t been sleeping well without you” you tell him, turning your back to him and tugging on his hand until his chest is pressed to your back. He tries to keep his hips away from yours, as if you weren’t literally straddling his lap seconds ago.

“You haven’t?” When you shake your head in reply, more concerned with wrapping his arm around waist, he continues. “Shit, I’m sorry, sweetheart. I wish you could stay here without having to sneak in like a teenager but-“

“Hey, I know. I don’t you to get in trouble because of me” you link his hand with yours and brings his knuckles to your lips.

“I really missed you” he says in a sweet and sticky voice, his face sinking in your hair.

“I missed you too”

“Goodnight, sweetheart”

“Goodnight, Stevie”

Despite the recent late nights reaching through empty cold sheets for your boyfriend who isn’t there, you can’t fall asleep. Steve’s hips are pressed against yours, his hard cock wedged between your bodies and you can feel he’s still awake too, his breathing still too quick behind you.

You take a deep breath and squirm a little as you try to get comfortable, his arms almost too tight around you. When you’re finally settled, you close your eyes and just will yourself to fall asleep, despite the uncomfortable wetness pooling in your underwear and your boyfriend’s hard cock on the curve of your ass.

Barely five minutes have passed when you feel Steve sigh loudly against the back of your neck.

“Fuck”

You huff out a laugh, “what’s wrong?”

“I’m hard” he complains, adjusting behind you and accidentally making his cock drag through your ass and both of you sigh at the feeling.

“It’s your fault”

“How’s it my fault?”

“You were the one saying we should make out”

He huffs this time, pulling you closer to him.

“Not my fault you’re irresistible” he mumbles, hiding his face between your shoulder blades.

You can’t help but laugh again, despite the sigh of pleasure that escapes you and turn your head slightly to see his big brown eyes watching you over your shoulder.

“You’re horny, pretty boy?”

He leans over you, almost squishing you to the mattress to press his face to your neck, “don’t say it like that”.

You giggle and place your hand on top of his, moving your ass against his cock deliberately, all bad intentions. You feel his breath hitch in his throat and his fingertips dig on your hips to guide your movements.

“What did you say before? How I’m too loud?”

“You are” he mumbles against your neck, biting you there almost too hard and rutting against your ass.

“Doesn’t seem to bother you when you’re telling you love the sounds I make”

“I do love the sounds you make, just not when- fuck” he groans quietly against your ear when you hold tightly to his hair.

You keep moving your hips backwards, both of you trying your hardest to keep quiet. One of his arms wrap around your body, and the other start slipping underneath his borrowed t-shirt to move teasingly through your tummy, skimming the edge of your underwear.

“Steve…” you sigh when his hand hand starts creeping lower and lower to mess with the elastic band of your underwear.

“You gotta keep quiet, pretty girl. Can you do that for me?” He whispers near you ear, his lips barely leaving your skin as he speaks.

“Yes, just please touch me” you beg, clinging to the arm holding you and digging your nails there.

His hand finally slips through your mound and finds you, soaking wet and so, so warm, his cock twitching between your ass cheeks at finding you so ready for him. He slides his fingers through the wetness in your entrance spreading it all the way to your clit and you have to hide your face in the pillow under your head to keep from moaning too loud.

“Right there?” He asks unnecessarily, because he has fucked you enough times to know by heart the way you like it, just to tease you and feel you nod against him.

“Right there, baby. Keep going” you plead quietly, moving your hips to feel his cock behind you and his whole body surrounding yours.

He swirls his fingers around and you keen underneath him, sinking your nails on the arm of the hand touching you to get him to move faster. He keeps going, rubbing small circles in your clit in a dance you’re both so familiar it’s almost painful to imagine being away from it for so long. Suddenly he stops and you whine, he shushes you and dips his fingers lower until you they catch on your entrance. You moan against the pillow when he finally slips his finger inside and his hand leaves your waist to roughly grab the inside of your thigh and spread you open.

“Fuck, you feel so good” you mumble against the pillowcase, following the movement of his finger with your hips. “Missed your fingers”

He finally slips a second finger and you jut your spine, his cock digging between your ass cheeks.

“Gonna fuck you so good when we’re alone,” he murmurs somewhere around your ear, so quietly it’s almost like he’s talking to himself. “Gonna fill this pussy up the way she deserves, just the way you like it. You want that, baby?”

You nod dumbly, clenching around his fingers at his words. “Can I have another finger? I’ll be quiet, I promise”

He slips a third finger in and even if it’s not the same as his cock, you feel it stretching you open. It’s all you can think of as he fingers you, you imagine how his cock would be stretching you out in this position, how fucking full you’d feel, how he’d fill you up with his cum.

His thumb shifts to flick against your clit and that’s all you need to get there, hurling to your orgasm in a way only Steve’s ever been able to give to you. You release a particularly loud moan before you can stop yourself and Steve’s free hand’s there, quick to clamp over your mouth, his other hand still fucking you and rubbing your clit through your orgasm.

You moan loudly against his hand one more time, the sound distant and muffled before you gently touch his arm to signal him to stop. His hand slips from your underwear and from over your mouth and he fixes your panties for you as you calmly try to catch your breath, his cock still digging on your lower back.

“Oh my god” you pant, feeling a gust of air on your neck when he laughs. “You’re amazing, Steve Harrington. I can’t believe I still haven’t gotten used to that”

You turn in his arms to see his face, his wet hand digging on the knobs of your spine. He’s still laughing, almost smugly so.

“You wouldn’t say I’m amazing if you ever saw yourself cum”

You’re giggly as you slip off your underwear, now sticky and wet against you and climb on top of him. You pick up his hand and bring his still wet fingers to your mouth to suck on them, tasting yourself on his skin. His eyes darken almost instantly, watching you avidly as you suck it and pull away with a wet lewd sound.

He’s pulling you in before you can tease him or say anything, his hand cradling your face in his hands, his spit wet fingers on your cheek as he kisses you deeply, tasting you on his tongue. You pull away when you notice he’s getting too into it, his hips jerking underneath you, rippling off his t-shirt.

“Babe, we can’t fuck. They’ll-“

“Yeah, yeah…” you wave him off, now proceeding to get rid of his sweatpants and underwear all in one go, his cock bouncing up and hitting his belly button. You eye it sinfully, almost drooling in your desire to get your mouth on him. “We’re not fucking. I’m gonna go down on you and you’re gonna be quiet for me, is that okay with you?”

“Babe-“

“You never let me go down on you” you complain with a whine, resting your hands on your own thighs.

“Because I always blow my load like a teenager when you blow me and it’s fucking embarrassing” he complains, gripping your hips and pulling you until you’re laying on top of him.

“Well, I think it’s hot” you pout, resting your hand on his cheek and giving him a lingering kiss. “Let me go down you,” you kiss him one more time, “please, handsome?”

“Fine” he sighs dramatically, like you’re ask him a huge favor.

“You know, a lot of guys would die for a girl who likes to blow them” You complain matter-of-factly, sliding down his body to straddle his thighs as his cock prods your stomach.

“Well, I like it a little too much” he answer shakily, as you press open mouthed kisses to his chest, his ribs, the spot above his bellybutton. His hands rest in your head, to pet your head lovingly and you manage to find it in you to forgive him.

“You look so hot like this” you comment against the skin of his hip, sucking a mark there and thumbing it gently. “Gonna make you feel so fucking good”

“Jesus, just… go slow okay? It’s been a while” he stammers, still petting your hair softly. You glance at him skeptically, raising your eyebrows.

“You’re telling me you didn’t jerk off once this whole time? We were literally on the phone the other day-”

“I didn’t say that…”

You snort and spit on your palm, getting it wet and watching the pre cum pooling at the slit of his cock. “You’re so full of shit”

“Hey-“ he cuts himself off with a groan when you lick the pearly liquid on his tip, one of your hands wrapping around the base to jerk him off slowly.

His fingers tighten their grip on your hair as you lick around around his tip and continue to move your hands around him, reaching his base and going all the way up again. Your free hand rubs against his upper thigh, occasionally scratching him lovingly.

You spit on it and lick along his length, following a vein back to his tip, trying to him as wet as you can, just the way he likes it.

“Fuck” he pants when you finally take him into your mouth, widening your lips so you can reach the middle of his cock as you work the rest of him with your hand. You gulp around him, breathing through your nose as you progressively take more of him, working your way up his cock so you can reach his base with your mouth.

You’re starting to get into the rhythm of it, the way his cock feels in your mouth and the slightly salty taste when he gently pulls a strand of your hair to catch your attention.

“H-hey, slow down or I’m gonna cum” he warns.

You pull away from his cock heaving, still stroking him in your hands slowly. “Isn’t that the point?”

“Wanna enjoy this” his hand finds your cheek, rubbing the skin with his thumb and you press a kiss to his palm. The gesture’s almost too soft for the moment, but it’s always been like this with him.

“Whatever you say, handsome” you agree, pressing a single kiss to his tip. Your hand still stroking him slowly as you lean down to press kisses to his thigh and suck another mark there.

You keep jerking him off as your free hand slides down to fondle his balls and you spit on them too, for good mesure. You finally suck one of this balls into your mouth, your hand still massaging the other one.

He groans loudly above you and you pull away with a muffled moan of your own, reluctantly pulling away.

“Remember what we talked about, handsome?” you remind him, stroking him torturously slow now. He nods absent-mindedly, eyes still focused on the movement of your hand. “You have to be quiet or I’ll stop”

“Baby, please don’t stop, please” he begs, his hand gripping your head to keep you close to him.

“Don’t be loud and I won’t” you promise.

“I promise, I promise”

You go back to sucking on his balls and his hand meets yours where it rests on his hip, squeezing your fingers tightly between his. He looks like a mess above you, hair sticking to all side from running his hands through it, cheeks red and his eyes so sharply focused on you it’d embarrass you if you hadn’t done this before.

You lick around his tip one more time, sinking your mouth to the middle of his cock and working the rest of him with your hand until you finally manage to reach the base of his cock, the trimmed hair surrounding the base tickling your face.

He releases a muffled groan above you and glance up to see he’s biting his fist. His eyes meet yours and his hand finally forces you to gag around his length, a moan of your own leaving your throat.

It doesn’t take long for him to come after that, between gasps and muffled moans and random babbling, he warns you he’s gonna come and you keep your mouth around him, gagging around him until you feel his cum shoot into your throat, salty and not particularly good but so Steve, you swallow it eagerly.

You keep your mouth around him until he’s too sensitive and pulling you away by the arm almost roughly. You let him and he guides you to lay on top of him, kissing you forcefully.

He tastes himself in your mouth and you both groan at the feeling. He keeps kissing, kissing, kissing you until you’re breathless and pliant on top of him and he’s all loose limbs underneath you.

“I’m never going that long without seeing you ever again” he pants, his fingers massaging your scalp where your head rests on his chest.

You huff a breathless laugh as you draw nonsense shapes on his skin, “no complaints from me.”

“Good, you’re totally staying over tomorrow night” he decides, still relaxed underneath you.

“We can try your shower,” you point at the closed door of the bathroom connected to his room. “They’ll definitely not gonna be able to hear over the running water”

He freezes beneath you for a second, and then he starts laughing. “Can’t believe we didn’t think of that until now”

“Add that to list” you mumble tiredly against his chest, finally slipping into the best sleep you’ve had in weeks.