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jjkbambi · 6 months ago

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frat flu luigi mangione x virgin!reader 18+

summary!!! (smut inspired by this request) you’re set to interview frat president luigi mangione for the penn newsletter!

note: fratboy!luigi but not reallyyyy associated to that cheating demon storyline. written as a standalone but could be seen as a prequel if you squint. unedited but happy new years

warnings: long fic cuz we need a reason to be fuckin, sad bc luigi’s sad, comfort, an attempt at fluff, and of course smut, dubcon (he grinds on you while you’re sleeping), so dry humping, p in dis v (VIRGINNN)

luigi mangione, as described by his fraternity brothers: “cool,” “mega smart,” and “totally chill.” all phrases you could blindly draw from a hat to describe a stranger walking down the street.

surely, this couldn’t be your debut in penn today. a spotlight on the brightest mind on campus, phi kappa psi fraternity president luigi mangione. top of his class at a mysterious luxury private high school, started a hash brown business at sixteen, and, according to his linkedin, volunteers at local libraries, elderly homes, and animal shelters during breaks back home. he’s got a first aid/cpr certification, a bartending license, and a squeaky clean record.

“he doesn’t even complain on yelp,” you groan.

your friend, lacy, sits in the drivers seat, shaking her head. “maybe he’s just nice.”

you shoot a glare at her.

she raises her hands, defensive. “i’ve only heard good things!”

“oh, well, if he was really so nice, he wouldn’t have canceled on me a hundred and one times.” as if he’d heard you, your phone pings—his name flashing on the screen.

from luigi Hey pretty! Something came up today. So sorry. Can I see you another time?

“one hundred and two,” you declare, showing her your phone screen. at this point, it felt less like inconvenience and more like cruelty. his constant rejections, delayed responses, and last-minute reschedules were a relentless reminder of your looming failure to finish the piece on the phi kappa psi house. journalism club was going to fucking kill you.

“y/n, he literally could not have been nicer.” she finally puts the car into park. the both of you look outside.

frustration had been simmering for weeks, growing with every missed promise. almost two months ago, he’d smiled big and earnest, assuring you he’d meet for the interview—yet here you were, still waiting. the distance between you two seemed to stretch with every passing day, and you couldn’t summon the energy to pretend you still cared for niceties.

you’re outside his fraternity house, calling him, he surprises you by answering almost immediately, his voice low and hoarse, like he’s just woken up. “hello?”

“hi, it’s y/n.”

“oh,” he says, tone dipping as he cleared his throat. “hey, how are you?”

“yeah, i’m fine,” you say, unbuckling your seatbelt. “i just wanted to talk—”

“yeah, i know ‘m sorry,” he tells you, sincerity to be debated. “i’ve just been a bit all over the place these past few weeks.”

lacy mouths, “im staying in the car.”

nodding, you hop out, a familiar sense of anticipation lingering. it’s not your first time at the fraternity house, but each visit feels different. the mansion, though grand, has a worn charm—earth-toned walls and overgrown grass, with boys constantly darting across the yard. trash cans overflow with aluminum cans, remnants of the never-ending chaos.

“no, i get it, i do. i, you know, am busy all the time.”

“oh, i’m sure,” he says. “are you free next weekend?”

you didn’t even have to check your schedule to know you were free. but you were already here. “well, actually, i just, um…” you feel a bit of your confidence deflating as you trespass their yard. your face flushes and you suddenly feel the eyes of the other brothers staring at your silhouette like curious dogs, unsure of whether to bark or bite. “i was just passing by the neighborhood, i was wondering if i could come over now?”

he yawns. “what? you mean right now?”

“is that alright?”

“how far away are you?”

“yeah, uh, i’m outside your front door.”

“oh?” he says, clearly taken off-guard. the embarrassment finally settles in. what the hell were you doing?

“you know what, never mind. i’m so sorry,” you flush, spinning on your heel and rushing down the steps, avoiding eye contact with the other guys.

you’re not sure if it’s your heart stopping or the phone call ending, but it’s in that moment that the blackwood door opens. you turn around, and the brown-haired boy steps through, looking disheveled, with dark bags under his eyes as if he hasn’t slept. though, despite that, he’s in gray sweatpants and a long sleeved black compression shirt.

“y/n, come on in,” luigi says, his voice booming, almost too loud for the quiet pennsylvania street. he glances toward the team of players in the front yard, bringing attention to you all over again. “this is the journalist for the penn.”

you shuffle up the steps again. “it’s called penn daily.”

“right,” he nods, eyes searching your body up and down. “you want a jacket?”

you’re in leggings and a tank top. you’re shivering. “no, no, i like the cold.”

the brown-haired boy shakes his head, grabbing one off the coat rack anyway and tossing it over to you.

“you’ll like the jacket even better.”

as he guides you through the house, the weight of the silence surrounds you. you’ve only ever seen the place during parties—neon LED lights casting strange shadows, tables covered in empty Solo cups and suspicious piles of random powders. it always felt like a place of unrecognizable chaos, where everyone was too busy to think about much else but the next round of shots or whatever game they were playing. but today, in the quiet of the late morning, the house feels different. the lights aren’t flashing, the music isn’t blasting, and there’s no throng of people rushing around. it feels oddly intimate, even though it’s still just as cluttered as always.

“is this what it looks like clean?” you ask, only half-joking.

“be nice,” luigi barks, tone plain as he rolled his eyes in faux annoyance. “we had a long night yesterday,” he gestures to the crowds of twentysomethings outside, one group cleaning off the mountain of soda and beer cans off the plastic gray tables, the other playing ping pong. “another long night ahead. you should come.”

the invitation doesn’t sway you, you’re distracted by his face. though his curly hair is neatly cut, and his chocolate brown eyes hold a quiet, dark intensity. his tall frame fills up the room, the way he stands commanding attention without trying. his features are sharp, framed by thick eyebrows, and his smile is small, barely there, and it doesn’t quite reach his eyes. he offers it to you as if it’s expected. there’s an underlying feeling you can’t shake. it’s like you can tell it’s forced. you’ve seen enough of him in passing (and in stalking) to know this isn’t the usual “luigi” you’re used to seeing at parties or around campus.

you bite the inside of your cheek. “you know, if today’s a bad day, you don’t have to—”

“no, babe, it’s fine,” he says, the term rolling off his tongue like it’s second nature.

in the short time you’ve known him, you’ve picked up on his knack for nicknames and gathered you probably shouldn’t be flattered—all the boys in this frat were entirely too flirty.

he pushes the door to his bedroom open, stepping aside to let you in. “shouldn’t take too long, right?”

“sure,” you lie as you slip past him, fingers brushing over the notepad tucked in your back pocket, your mind racing with questions you’re suddenly too aware of.

“well then, it’s no rush,” he says.

quickly, you notice the collection of allergy medication at his desk. a heinous amount of nyquil, half-empty bottles scattered among crumpled tissues and unopened water bottles. it’s almost comical, the way his organized chaos betrays the “untouchable golden boy” image you’d pieced together. his desk, once probably neat and deliberate, now looks like the scene of a losing battle against the flu. curious, you ask, “bad fever?”

luigi laughs dryly. “something bad, that’s for sure.”

you feel yourself sink at the admission. instinctively, you reach up to feel his forehead, your fingers hovering just shy of his skin. it’s a simple gesture, something you wouldn’t think twice about doing for one of your roommates, but as soon as your hand makes contact, he stiffens, his body recoiling ever so slightly. the movement is subtle but enough to make you hesitate, pulling your hand back as his lashes flicker up to meet yours.

“jesus christ,” you gasp. “you’re burning up.”

luigi doesn’t answer immediately, his gaze lingering on you just a moment too long, his eyes a little softer than usual.

“think i’ll be fine,” he says, but there’s an edge to his voice, like he’s trying to brush it off. it feels more like he’s saying it for both of you than for himself.

a pang of guilt hits you hard—a reminder of how you’d pushed for this interview while he was clearly feeling terrible. all those ridiculous, relentless messages, the nagging about deadlines while he was probably just trying to get through the day. god, you feel like an idiot.

you cup his cheeks, serious. “you should really get to bed.”

“what, and miss the privilege of being interrogated by the penn’s finest?” he teases, leaning into you. you’re struck at how warm he was, how utterly unprofessional you were coming off as, how awful it would be to pull away.

the article, you remind yourself, inching away. “if you pass out mid-question, it’s not going to make for a great article.”

“least i’ll be a shoo-in for the sympathy vote next semester,” luigi says with a wry chuckle, his tone light but laced with something deeper as he glances back up at you, almost as if testing your reaction.

“come on,” he reaches for your hand when you frown, interlocking your fingers and swaying you. he doesn’t pull you too close, something about the way he’s looking at you has you sure he’ll never give you the satisfaction, but your fingers interlock and there’s a hint of a smirk playing at the edge of his lips, smugness plain. “i couldn’t let you walk out here so fast. you know what they would say about me if they thought i let down a pretty girl like you?”

you feel your face go pink but your ego won’t let his flirting power last. his forehead was burning hotter than sauna, he probably didn’t know what was even happening. “you look like you haven’t even slept,” you say, matter-of-factly. “would you just sit down?”

“trust me, this headache’ll be gone before you can even say sto meglio con te,” he says, his voice a little softer than usual.

he grins as your brow furrows. “you could put that in your article. successful, speaks italian, looks like shit.”

“i didn’t mean that. i’m just worried.” ignoring the fluttering in your stomach and his persistent gaze, you turn your phone over. “i could order you some soup. there’s a really nice pho place down the road—”

“what’re you, my girlfriend?”

“mangione,” you sigh. “you’re being impossible.”

“baby,” he says, the word slipping from his lips with a teasing familiarity that catches you off guard. it pierces straight through your ego, sharp and unexpected. “i promise, ive got way more interesting things to talk about than allergies. come on, ask me.”

before you can react, another voice calls from outside, and you hear hurried footsteps approaching the door. luigi hesitates for a second, glancing at you. a younger group of fraternity brothers peeks in, looking urgent.

“hey, we’ve got a problem with the fundraising paperwork—someone made a mistake with the donations, and it needs to be fixed or we’re going to miss the deadline,” one of them explains, his voice tight with stress.

“who was in charge of that?” luigi asks, a lilt of accusation in his tone.

the younger twentysomethings look around, feigning innocence, avoiding eye contact. “whatever, it doesn’t matter,” he mutters, rubbing his eyes. “i’ll take care of it.”

he squeezes your hand before he leaves the room, saying, “stay put for me.”

so you sit on his navy blue bed, stiff and idle, your mind wandering as you wait. you text lacy and tell her you’ll catch up with her later as the constant sound of chaos fills your ears. you hear the house scrambling through the halls and luigi’s answering calls and questions, directing people, moving them out the way. the speakers for the party this weekend just got delivered, the delta 3 girls are inviting them to volunteer at their annual car wash, and there’s a leak in the basement that needs immediate attention. after what feels like hours, you can’t keep your eyes open anymore. exhaustion pulls at you, and without even realizing it, you fall asleep on his bed, the rhythmic noise of his busy life buzzing around you.

“y/n,” luigi exhales as he finally re-enters the room, his exhaustion evident in every step.

he’s greeted at the sight of your body sprawled across his bed, eyes fluttered shut with his jacket blanketed over your silhouette. he’s not so sure what comes over him, but he locks the door. your peaceful slumber is a stark change from the drunk mayhem on the other side of the door, and he’s intent on keeping the peace. the bed dips under his weight as he sinks down beside you, too tired for niceties. without a word or a second’s hesitation, he pulls the jacket off you and brings your tired body closer to his.

it starts off innocent. his arms are wrapped around your stomach, your body limp against his. he cradles into the nape of your neck—and you’re so soft and you smell so good, he can’t help himself. he tells himself he won’t take it too far. starting with small, sweet kisses against the side of your neck, almost tickling you out of your unconsciousness. you sleepily squirm under his hold and he’s straining in his sweatpants before he can make sense of it.

“you’re so pretty,” luigi whispers. it would be a waste, really, to have you this close without touching you. using you.

he grinds his hips against your plump ass. he’s so fucking hard, he really can’t help it. he has to have you, but he can’t bring himself to wake you—you’d been so sweet to him earlier, doe eyes wide with concern—he figures he has to return the favor somehow, right? letting you nap in his bed feels like the least he can do.

“you’ve got no idea how often i lose my mind thinkin’ about this, about you,” he confesses. the noise outside is loud, chaotic—a world away from the quiet intensity between you. it’s too loud for anyone else to know of the secret unfolding here, in the space of his touch and the weight of his gaze.

he’s rougher now, tightening his grip on your hips as he jerks himself into you. you were so worried about him earlier. you’d want this, wouldn’t you? to help him out, make him feel better?

his defense of plausible deniability falls apart piece by piece. one of his hands stray from your hip to your clothed core, rubbing you, desperate for friction. he groans into your back. you were wet, he was sure of it, he had to make sure of it. he slips his hands down your leggings and rushes to palms your wetness. he has to make sure you’re feeling just as good as he was.

you shudder at the touch, slowly bringing yourself from rem to reality. the room is hotter than you remembered, and you almost shriek as you realize luigi’s hands had been all over you. he’s quick to put his hand over your mouth, talking in your ear, “‘m sorry baby, couldn’t resist.”

his sloppy wet kisses are hot against your neck, so frantic, so desperate, so needy, his stubble unnerving you as you squirm under his hold. you can hardly make sense of what’s happening. “luigi.” you mewl as he grinds his clothed cock into you. “what’re you doing?”

he moans at the perfect blend of innocence and surprise twined through your voice. its undeniable now — he can’t spend another second not experiencing you.

“you said you wanted to make me feel better, yeah?” luigi grunts. before you can respond, he’s slipping a finger into your wet pussy. you jolt at the wild unfamiliar storm that grasps you, trying to turn your head over to him, to look at him, to ask him what the hell had gotten into him. he kisses you when your head tilts, his free hand wrapping around your throat.

“that’s so much fuckin’ better,” he tells you, stretching your core out with another two fingers. he’s so eager—so intent on making a mess of you, you’re almost humiliated at how easily you fall apart underneath.

you quiver and shake, and try to twist out of his groping hands, but he doesn’t budge, pressing harder into you. “you’re doin’ so fuckin’ good for me, sweetheart,” he swears.

“luigi,” you cry, helpless. the friction felt so hot it made you light-headed. the pleasures storms out any logical part of you. “i don’t—i don’t know what to do.”

of course you don’t. you were entirely too sweet, too well-meaning, too fuckin’ stupid to realize how badly he wanted you. running up to him after his gym workout, bright-eyed as you asked him to hang out. not on a date, not even as friends, but for a stupid fucking college paper. he should’ve taken you right there, in the parking lot, let you scream on it so loud the entire campus knew you were his, saved all this goddamn time.

“you’re a fuckin’ virgin?” luigi asks. he needs to hear you say it.

he rips his hand from your aching cunt and you cry out at the loss of friction.

“yes,” you pout.

“any good journalist knows to use specifics.” you see a cocky grin etch onto his lips before he flips you over and brings you in for a proper kiss, your arms wrapping around his neck as he sinks into you. you kiss him back. you wanted this, whatever it was. “tell me again.”

“i’m a virgin,” you admit, reddening.

he smiles against your cheek before kissing you again—“been waiting for me, yeah? you want me to take you?”

“luigi, please.”

“what’s that?” he says, cruel.

you pout again and try to please him, rushing into another kiss. he captures your lips gladly, but refuses to bring you to the satisfaction of salvation.

all too mean, he points out, “you don’t even know what you’re begging for.”

at this point you were sure you could get drunk off the warmth of him. if you bucked up into the air, you could feel his bulge raging against his sweatpants.

“i want you,” you whine. “i mean—i just—i thought you wanted me too..?”

“of course i do. look at you.” luigi grunts before he strips off his shirt, ripping down your leggings with a force that pulls your body down the bed with him. his dark gaze drifts down.

you flush at the sight of the wet mess all over your legs. “you did all that just for me?” luigi mocks. “you want me that fuckin’ bad?”

“yes,” you have no idea why but you do. you can’t imagine a world where you walk away now and never experience him.

luigi never had any intention of being nice about this. his morals and his plans for the night unraveled the moment his eyes found you sprawled across his bed. harshly, he grips your hips—sure to leave marks, hoping for it—before pounding the entirety of his length into your purity.

the stretch scorches, searing into you. you see white, red, and hell all at once. “luigi—!” you cry out.

“you’re so good,” luigi assures. he tries to pace himself as you fall apart underneath him. he tries he tries he tries—but your inexperienced pussy molds around him, so perfect and wet, he can’t help himself.

you feel everything but perfect. unnerved and wild and overwhelmed, whimpering underneath him like a sick puppy. he fucks into you like he’s itching to see if you’ll break.

“it hurts,” you whine.

“you look so fuckin’ pretty with your legs spread,” luigi says. “can’t get enough of this perfect pussy.”

you paw at him, desperate for sacred ground, grip landing on his arms, hard and toned underneath your fingertips. he smirks. “feelin’ me up, sweetheart? you like my arms?”

the sound of skin slapping overtakes your corner of the world. you’d seen him before, but never like this. you’ve never had anything like this.

“luigi.” you whimper. “i can’t, you’re so big—”

“i know, pretty, i know,” he murmurs, kissing the running wet tears down your cheeks. “d’you remember the night you went up to me after the gym? d’you remember what you were wearing?”

you can’t help but claw your fingers deep into his arm muscles, desperate to find a vice for the pain. “oh my god,” you gasp. he pounds into you relentlessly and before you realize, you’re rolling into waves of foreign pleasure.

“stupid fuckin’ tank top,” luigi groans. pleasure storms you as he gets more brazen. he pulls down your camisole, lapping at your tits, biting you, marking you. “wind blew over and i got to see your perfect fuckin’ nipples. wanted to tear you apart right there.”

“what? really?”

“had to jack off in my fuckin’ car thinking about you, about this,” he murmurs before smashing his mouth back onto yours—and this time, you feel more prepared to bear it, melting into his warmth, lips perfectly reunited. you’re shivering under the heat. he fucks you hard into the mattress, hellbent on breaking you in. you’re sure he’s accomplished it already. you’re dizzy and light and on top of the goddamn world.

he sees through you. “fuckin’ close?”

“i-i think so—”

“so fuckin’ stupid,” he muses. “stupid fuckin’ virgin, doesn’t even know when she’s gonna cum.”

“you’re so mean,” you whine.

“yeah, you think so?” he growls, his voice low and dangerous as his hand strikes your cheek. the sting blooms like fire, another cruel signature of his dominance, a mark left behind in his endless quest to tarnish the golden purity you wear so effortlessly. his wicked touch moves down to your delicate clit and the sparks of pleasure turn into storms. you’re done for, waves of white gushing around him as you cry out his name.

“oh god,” luigi groans. “such a good girl, creamin’ on it like that. so perfect.”

the jolt of pleasure within you only makes you more sensitive. this time, when his hands return to your body, they’re clamped around your neck. he’s pulling into you, punishing your delicate cunt. as you quiver and froth, his thrusts grow sloppy and he rasps again—this time more guttural, more intense—and soon enough you feel his huge cock twitch inside of you, sending streams of his seed into your stomach.

he joins your silhouette on the bed, his warmth melting into yours as he pulls you close. his arms wrap around you, steady and secure, and his lips press softly to your forehead.

“‘m sorry,” he murmurs into your hair, his voice low and soothing. “didn’t mean to get so rough.”

you struggle to find the breath, then the words, “no, i—i think it was fine.”

he looks at you, his smile fading into something more thoughtful, his gaze deepening with quiet admiration. “just fine?” he asks, his voice laced with a hint of playful disbelief.

you meet his gaze, your heart fluttering, and with a mischievous glint in your eye, you hum,

“penn’s finest.”

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jackabbotsfakeleg · 2 months ago

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As Above, So Below I Chapter 1- I'll Tell You Everything is Copacetic

Synopsis: Two attendings, one new psychologist working both the day and night shifts on a rotation. You could have sworn you heard both of them call “dibs,” and you’re more than willing to entertain the both of them. Pairing: Michael "Robby" Robinavitch x Fem!Reader and Jack Abbot x Fem!Reader Word count: 2.1K Warnings: Talk of mental illness and other psychological things, violence, dark humor, and some smut along the way :) A/N: I couldn’t decide between Robby and Abbot, so I present you with BOTH. Chapter 2 Chapter 3

As Above, So Below. "Quod est superius est sicut quod inferius, et quod inferius est sicut quod est superius." -- That which is above is like to that which is below, and that which is below is like to that which is above.

It based on the notion of Hermeticism; the idea that God was a magician.

The religious and philosophical idea that the universe is broken into the Macrocosm (the universe), and the microcosm (the individual).

That which is above, corresponds to that which is below in order to accomplish the miracle of one thing. In simplest terms—whatever happens in the spiritual world, also happens in the physical world, and vice versa.

Your spiritual and physical world existed on two equal and opposite sides; day shift and night shift.

Two very different shifts.

Two very different paces, senses of humor, and inside jokes

Two very different attending doctors.

And you were vying for the attention of both of them.

Part 1: I'll Tell You Everything is Copacetic

The promotion from the career you had grown comfortable, came unexpectedly and as the result of a physical altercation with a patient. You, the staff psychologist at a maximum-security prison, had come face-to-face with a makeshift weapon during a routine therapy session. The irony, which had not been lost on you, had been that your patient had been so worried that he’d never get out of prison, he had no insight into the fact that stabbing someone in the back with a sharpened toothbrush, would surely end in those exact consequences. He was one of your favorite patients. It was a real “Et tu, Brute” type of moment, both figuratively and literally.

The thing they don't tell you about being stabbed in prison, is that the threat needs to be cleared before life-saving measures can be started. There you were, on the ground, bleeding from a stab wound that barely missed your spinal cord, waiting for EMS to arrive, while you almost choked to death on the pepper spray canister that had been deployed by security as they watched on in horror. The other thing they don't tell you about being stabbed in prison, is how motherfucking painful it is and how that trauma will likely linger long after the pain.

Leaving that job wasn’t a suggestion as much as it was a directive. You were medically cleared after 12 weeks, but the optics of the entire situation made it difficult for management to move forward without shouldering most of blame. The split was mostly amicable; they wouldn’t have to feel any guilt about a weapon making its way all the way to your therapy session, and you’d never have to wear khaki cargo pants and a "stab vest" again that clearly was just for show.

You applied for the job of Chief Psychologist at Pittsburgh Trauma Medical Center as soon as it popped up on your archaic Linkedin profile, and got the job the following week. The long-waited return to your hometown and all of the skeleton's in your childhood home's closet. The emergency room didn’t exactly sound like a soothing retreat for the recently stabbed, but it did promise the perfect distraction – 12-hour shifts, vacillating between days and nights, and no time to think about all of the things that had happened up to this. And, as a cherry on top, you’d be the first in this position, a long-awaited overhaul of PTMC only relying on psychiatry and social work for their mental health needs. To have someone on-site, in the emergency room, was PTMC's big wet dream; and you were happy to give them that happy ending.

---

Your shift starts at 7am and you take the long way to work to clear your head. The city you once called home has hardly changed, but the feeling of being back was heavier than you expected.

Your phone dings, a familiar face and name.

Dana: Hey kid, come find me at the nurse's station when you get here. you're gonna fit right in

Your physical therapist told you to take it slow, and walking was about as much as you could handle still 12 weeks post-injury. The pain shot down your back from your shoulder blade to your hip, a lingering limp still evident. The scar was "gnarly" according to your best friend, but you had been too afraid to look. PTMC sat at the top of the delightfully named "cardiac hill" -- One of the steepest hills in the city, home to several of the best hospitals in Pittsburgh and the University of Pittsburgh campus. According to local legend, more heart attacks happened here than any other place in Pittsburgh.

Your injury forced you to relocate with the distance in mind, but you weren't exactly thrilled to be sharing the sidewalk with undergraduate college students and their roller backpacks who barely look up from their phone. You were, however, thrilled to see one of the seven wonders of the world on your way to work-- Dunkin'.

America does run on Dunkin', and you know why? Because it's trash, and so is society. You don't walk into a calm environment of espresso machine and jazz music, surrounded by independent filmmakers discussing their film adaptations of David Foster Wallace like you would at a hipster coffee shop. Dunkin' welcomes you with bloodied open arms into a warzone. An absolutely unhinged battlefield, people screaming, the excitement of giving your order to someone who absolutely could not give a fuck. You let Dunkin' tell you what you need, and not for lack of trying. You give the order but they rarely listen. Today you walk out with a large iced mocha, with whipped cream, after ordering a large vanilla latte with oat milk. The universe just feels right, a little off its axis and sickenly sweet.

You walk through the double doors to the ER sliding in between two gurneys on their way to the ambulance bay and make your way to the nurses station, Dana waiting with open arms

"It has been far too long, my girl," Dana hugs you tightly, "and boy am I glad you are okay, and you are here. Your mom told me what happened, how you holding up"

"Almost recovered. You should see the other guy" you reply, "and you look great."

"Thanks kid," Dana smiles, her eyes shift to someone behind you "Oh captain, my captain."

"A patient?" You hear his voice before you see him, and when you turn around, it's hard to look away. He's all tall, dark, and handsome, a real father-figure vibe towering over you. Cargo pants, black scrub top, a fancy watch, a faded hoodie. This must be the place, and this guy definitely fucks. He must have clocked you the moment you walked in--looking like a lost puppy with a limp and a cup full of coffee. Of course he thinks you're a patient.

"My daughter's best friend, and your new psychologist," She corrects him, "This is Dr. Robby."

"Sorry, I saw you come in and were limping, just wanted to make sure you were okay," He nods, confirming that he did, in fact, notice you as soon as you walked in

"The limp is more of a talking point than a medical emergency, but I wouldn't say no to someone taking a look at it. I almost got laid out by an undergrad with a roller backpack on my way here." You smile, outstretching a hand, "I'm Y/N Wheeler, the new head of the psych department."

"Michael Robinavitch, but everyone calls me Robby," He shakes your hand, noticing the tattoo stretching from your wrist to your elbow and under the sleeve of your shirt. He instinctively tilts your arm to examine the ink, a thumb rubbing over your wrist softly, without even noticing he's doing it. Ooooph. You clear your throat and his eyes meet yours, face turning a deep shade of red.

"Don't worry, it definitely goes all the way to my shoulder. If you're good, I'll show it to you." You quip, maintaining eye contact until he looks away, "and yes, the nose ring is real too."

“Wheeler! I see you've met Robby" John Shen takes a step next to Robby, a matching Dunkin' cup in hand. He raises his glass to yours, knocking the two together, "Cheers, bitch. Never thought I'd see the day you moved back to Pittsburgh. Welcome to the thunderdome.”

Shen looks at Robby, “She's straight from the feds. You didn't see her on the news--”

You interrupt before he can divulge any gruesome details of the trauma to your new colleague, “He means that I was a psychologist at the federal detention center not that I was in prison. Although always keep your cards close to your chest."

"Sorry, You two know each other as well?" He raises his eyebrows as the dynamic playing out in front of him, "Jesus Pittsburgh really is small world."

"We met in grad school. Gave him therapy the whole way through residency” You reply, "taught him everything he knows about screaming internally while keeping a straight face."

"Ah" Robby nods, "That really does explain his shockingly chill demeanor."

“Oh great, you're all here." Gloria interrupts the conversation, coming up behind you in a pastel purple pantsuit. Over teams she seemed less, up tight. In person, she's all business in the front and even more business the back, "Our newest chief psychologist. We now have our own consult, and she's overseeing the entire department."

"Figured I could help the ol’ pill pushers up in psychiatry. And plus, these patients seem like a breeze compared to prison." You make a joke, trying to assess the humor of the group. Shen gets it, and laughs. Robby gets it, wants to laugh, but stuffs his hand in his pockets. Gloria doesn't get it at all.

"She’ll be spending her time between day and night shifts, the full 12 hours, so use her as an appropriate resource," she continues.

"You save 'em and I’ll keep them from jumping off the roof" You say quietly, nudging Robby with your elbow, a smile spreading across his face as Gloria turns around and heads off to whatever upper-management office she spawned from.

"So where did you go to school?" Robby asks, hoping your answer reveals something about your age.

"I went to Pitt for undergrad and then Drexel for graduate school. Did my internship, post-doc, and forensic fellowship with the feds" You nod, "we had an infirmary unit, which closely resembled a hospital, but more security forward than anything. I'm board certified in forensics, but my internship focused mostly on neuropsychology."

"Don't take this the wrong way, but fuck am I glad they hired someone like you." He responds, rubbing a hand over his neck,"Hell, some of us could probably use an evaluation."

"I'm excited to be here, but I'm definitely going to have to learn the sense of humors around here. I'm pretty fucked up from the prison, i don't have a great filter, but i work hard and I care about my patients."

He stops walking and turns to face you, "you'll fit in great. So why did you leave the feds?"

"Honestly, I was tired of getting pissed on." The way you say it, so matter-of-factly, with the ability to maintain a serious expression causes Robby to snort. It catches him off guard, a genuine laugh erupting from his throat. He looks at you like he's not quite sure what to make of you yet, but his gaze lingers, a smirk on his face.

"Speaking of getting pissed on" another attending comes up behind you, shorter than Robby, but equally as handsome in a way that screams he's got his own trauma, “Kraken is in two if you’re into that sort of thing."

"Dr. Abbot" Dr. Robby shoots him a look like he's trying to corral his kid. These two know each other. Maybe not biblically, but you know they've definitely cried in front of each other. Something you wouldn't be opposed to seeing.

"Who is the kraken? And do I look like I’m into that sort of thing?" He wasn't expecting you to shoot the same level of bullshit back to him,even as a shit-eating grin appears on his face.

"Never met a nose ring that wasn’t," He shrugs

"A little early for kink shaming, Jack, "Shen interjects, unable to help himself.

"Can't wait to see what my tattoos suggest" you raise an eyebrow

"Sorry, Do you two know each other too?" You can't tell if Robby's annoyed with him or the conversation, but Abbot ignores him.

"Military?"

"Feds."

He nods his head in approval, narrowing his eyes like he's trying to figure out if you're worth his time, "You on nights?"

"Next week. Running a support group on how to dive off the roof and land on your feet at 1am." You don't miss a beat.

"Right up my alley" Abbot responds, "you're going to be trouble."

You catch the look between Robby and Abbot, something unspoken. For a second, you could have sworn they were calling dibs.

#the pitt #the pitt hbo #the pitt fanfiction #the pitt fanfic #the pitt x reader #michael robinavitch x reader #dr robby x reader #jack abbot x reader #dr abbot x reader

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vanillasyrupsblog · 2 months ago

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The 6 Month Project

the concept of 'glowing up,' is a popular one. a simple idea that you can change yourself, and be more attractive. and now i can't pretend that the idea of 3 month, 2 months and 1 week glow ups haven't motivated me. of course, there's some truth in drinking 2 litres of water and sleeping 8 hours, that brings a change to your life. but i want to focus on something bigger, more than just simply appearance. i want to turn my life around and be me again. so this is my plan for the 6 month project.

step 1) establish goals

whilst i'm sure that success is possible without absolute direction, i'm not willing to risk my chances. therefore the first good step to any project, is to establish the goals or what i want by the end of these 6 months.

to make everything absolutely organized i split all my goals into 7 areas:

physical health (this refers to diet, sleep, exercise)

image (skincare, haircare, style, makeup, etc.)

finances/current career

future career (networking, becoming a linkedin warrior, etc.)

hobbies

intelligence (any sort of learning, or hobbies that push me further)

mental health (coping mechanisms, general wellbeing, managing stress)

step 2) research

this step, i'd argue is the most time consuming. for every goal, i did a bit of research to fully understand how i could achieve it. for example, for the 'physical health' goals, i researched how to sleep better and how to eat a more balanced diet. or for 'image,' i researched skincare and different styles to figure out which one fits me. although, this can be done in extreme detail, i've tried to not use this step as a tool to procrastinate actually getting started

step 3) make a timeline

to make sure that i stayed on track with all my goals, and due to the sheer amount of steps/goals i made a timeline. as to not overwhelm myself, i decided on picking up around 4/5 habits everyday, cutting out 3 negative things and doing one off changes (mostly to appearance) once a week.

step 4) start

with nothing else left to plan or prepare, simply start.

#becoming that girl #glow up #100 days of productivity #it girl #pinterest girl #that girl #vanilla girl #gaslight gatekeep girlboss #girl blogging #100 days of self discipline #productive #girlblogging #clean girl #pink pilates princess #it girl energy #motivation #online diary #girlblog #gaslight gatekeep girlblog

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seobinghard · 5 months ago

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FASHION DESIGNER!HONGJOONG x PA!READER

imagine being designer!joong's personal assistant. yeah, your life's hell. is the pay good? not even. you're only doing it for the experience because a year of working for kim hongjoong opens a million doors for the rest of your career—at least that's what you heard from the grapevine (linkedin), and they're right. your boss, as pedantic as he is handsome, is a 'somebody'; a book of the industry's most valuable contacts.

the hours are gruelling; long nights, early starts.

and don't get you started on the four am fittings and god forbid, seoul fashion week. hell on earth. there's no such thing as sleep, oh no, hongjoong will put you on iv drips if he has to keep you awake. and he did—thrice (he fed you steak and bought you prada afterwards tho).

sometimes, he'll call you at three in the morning for cappuccino—searing hot, and of course, you deliver because you're—get this—competent. yes, the brightest of all the pa's joong's ever had. anything he wants. you produce. archive rick owens, sixteen skirts from calvin klein, "get jarrod from dsquared on the phone", unreleased gq, "find out if byeon wooseok's attending the vogue afterparty"—anything he wants, you deliver on a silver platter with a crisp white napkin on the side.

hongjoong convinces himself the reason he's kept you around for this long is because you're good at what you do, not because he has a soft spot for you or anything, no, no.

until he accidentally overhears you whispering to your stylist friends about leaving the job. leaving him.

his heart sinks. in rage and betrayal.

you're in joong's car, he's driving today. weird, you thought. you always drove.

"heard you wanna quit," he mutters. it's not a question.

you swallow the shock on your face. how did he find out? "what? me? no way!" that totally sounded convincing. you turn towards the window, cringing.

hongjoong chuckles, "you're a shit liar." there's something in the air you can't quit comprehend. unspoken tension; it feels intimate, warm. "i know it hasn't been easy for you. but if you're planning to quit, don't." the next thing he says leaves you breathless. "i need you."

you don't know what to say. you want to scream at him; yell in his face to stop being hot and cold with you, stop sending you on cappuccino runs at three am, stop treating you like shit then buying you prada afterwards AHHH—but alas, he's your boss. a hot one too. makes you nervous. so you spit out the first thing that's been on your mind since you first took this job.

"ten percent raise," you blurt out meekly.

hongjoong nods, as if he's known. "how bout fifteen, and come to paris fashion week with me?" he glances at you, eyes expecting. this time, it's a question.

"do i get to keep the designer gifts and pr packages?" you press, feeling a bit cheeky.

hongjoong smiles, "you know i always let you."

"put it in writing."

his eye twitches. you little–

m.list

#hongjoong #hongjoong fluff #hongjoong x reader #hongjoong fic #ateez fic #ateez x reader #ateez scenarios #ateez drabbles #hongjoong drabbles #hongjoong scenarios #hongjoong imagines #ateez imagines #hongjoong soft hours #hongjoong designer #hongjoong fashion #ateez fashion #ateez soft hours

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concretejunglefm · 25 days ago

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Will you wait me out?

Summary: You were once the best of friends—maybe a little bit more—and maybe, if life hadn’t gotten in the way, things could be different now, but instead, a decade after you once knew Noah, you see his face again and find yourself chasing ghosts in the form of old memories, before finally coming face to face with the past.

Part 1 here

Pairing: Noah Sebastian x f!reader.

CW: includes mentions of old feelings, soft reunions, fluffy moments, protected sex (p in v), fingering & oral (f receiving).

WC: 6.8k.

Smut below the cut 🔞 Minors DNI.

The first time Noah receives a postcard, the other guys laugh and admittedly, he does too. They’re no strangers to odd fan mail. Letters declaring undying love or detailing how much the band means to someone are typical, normal even, but a postcard that essentially mirrors his own words back to him? That’s a little strange. Most people use email these days, so a postcard feels out of place. Peculiar, even, especially one unsigned, and yet, the longer he stares at the handwriting scrawled across it, the more familiar it feels, though he can’t quite place it.

Weeks go by before a whole pile gets dumped in his lap. They’ve been on the road, touring on and off, and a quick trip back home to California gave them a chance to swing by their PO box—Davis, at least.

“More?” Noah asks.

Davis just shrugs with a quiet, “I guess so.”

More laughter erupts from the rest of the guys, followed by a comment from Jolly. “I think someone’s got an obsessed fan,” the Swede remarks.

Noah laughs in agreement, brushing it off, until he starts reading them. One by one, he flips through the postcards and it’s the details—small, intimate details—that start to hit him. Mentions of places, shared memories, little ideas he once spoke of, but only with one person in mind. That’s when the realization hits him, these aren’t just any old fan mail, they’re from you.

Admittedly, it’s a little insane to assume you’re out there, somewhere, sending him these postcards. Postcards that contain oddly specific details from conversations you once had.

He remembers when you confessed your fear of rollercoasters after a senior class trip was announced for Six Flags. You didn’t want people to think you were scared of the rides—even though you knew you were, and Noah had agreed, without hesitation, to stay back with you the entire trip. Later, you’d made a promise: you’d conquer the fear together, after graduation, but after that, you left.

You both made a lot of promises back then—some spoken, some not—but plenty of them stuck. With each read-through of the postcards, Noah still doesn’t know how to feel. Happy? Sad? Angry? Why reach out now, after all this time? You left, didn’t you?

Or maybe it was him.

The details from a decade ago have blurred at the edges, both of you swept up in teenage hormones and diverging dreams.

“It was her. I’m sure of it,” Davis tells him one night—referring to the girl who supposedly showed up at a show and left early, bumping into him on the way out.

“You’re sure?” Noah asks, skeptical, but maybe now, it’s his turn to go a little insane with the idea of finding you.

Searches across social media turned up almost nothing. Either you’d changed your name completely or disappeared off the grid. Either way, he drove himself halfway to madness trying to find you. A couple of LinkedIn profiles came close, but no pictures, no details concrete enough to know if they were really you.

It’s like chasing ghosts, searching for someone who’s been leaving a trail just for him to follow, only to vanish the moment he gets close. All it’s done is stir the memory of you that once lingered quietly in the back of his mind. Now, it’s no longer a fleeting thought, but something he carries every day, wondering when—or if, another postcard will arrive.

Gradually, your face becomes the one he looks for in the crowd. Every night. Hopeful that maybe, this time, he’ll spot you among the sea of strangers and each time the chords to Just Pretend begin, it’s like tearing open an old wound. When he wrote it, he thought he was past it, past you, past the unspoken weight of everything that once lingered between you, but now, it’s all come flooding back—resurrected. Everything he buried instead of confronting, all the what ifs echoing too loudly in his head.

Between the relentless touring, the quiet obsession of chasing your ghost, and the burnout from overworking and writing new music, he’s slowly becoming a cliché. The performing monkey, doing what he’s told, when he’s told—wearing the familiar mask everyone’s grown to love: the sweet, shy frontman, but behind closed doors, he’s unraveling. People keep telling him to take a break, to slow down, to stop putting so much pressure on himself, but the truth is, it never sinks in. He doesn’t stop. Even when he pretends to.

Even now, sitting at the back of the bus, he’s scrolling through yet another batch of profiles—every possible variation of your name, your nickname, anything that might lead to you—and still, nothing. Every search turns up empty.

It’s like you really are a ghost.

When he hears your voice say your name for the first time in a decade, Noah has to convince himself he’s not hallucinating. He looks up and sees you. Your name rolls off his tongue with practiced ease, as if it had never left his lips.

Noah glances over at Matt, torn between slipping away and silently apologizing for holding everyone up, but then his gaze returns to you, and instinctively, his hand reaches out to grasp yours. It’s an unconscious motion—part disbelief, part grounding. You feel solid beneath his touch. Real. Warm. Your skin is softer than he remembers, and his hand feels larger now, enveloping yours with ease. You might’ve felt embarrassed by how clammy your palm is—if his weren’t just the same.

“Do you have to go?” Noah asks.

“Uh…” You hesitate, because no, you don’t have to go anywhere, but you didn’t exactly plan what to do if he actually wanted to see you.

“She can wait with me,” Davis offers, stepping out from behind the Bad Omens banner erected behind them. Your mouth opens—an apology on the tip of your tongue, or maybe an excuse, but before you can speak, Noah is already nodding.

“Yeah. Go hang with Davis. I won’t be much longer,” he tells you, guiding you around the edge of the table. His grip tightens slightly, reluctant to let go, and truthfully, you’re not ready to either.

When your eyes meet his, it’s there—the flood of things left unsaid, the echo of the hope and dreams you once shared as teenagers. Somehow, that spark still lingers. You feel it in his touch, in his gaze. He never stopped caring.

Behind him, Jolly leans toward Nicholas, whispering a question. Nicholas murmurs something back, both of them giving you the space to have this moment, even with fans still in line and crew buzzing around.

“I’ll be over…” you start, gesturing vaguely, your eyes unwilling to leave his face.

“Yeah…” Noah nods, his voice softer now, as he finally lets go of your hand and the weight of Davis’s hand on your shoulder pulls you back into the present.

You murmur an apology—you’re not even sure what for. For bumping into him at the concert? For showing up now? For holding up the meet and greet? Your thoughts are spinning, but Davis seems to sense it. Gently, he suggests stepping outside, offering a reprieve—a quiet place to gather yourself.

“So… postcards, huh?” Davis says, leaning beside you as your back meets the cool surface of the brick wall.

You take a deep breath, inhaling the fresh air in an effort to steady yourself. Tilting your head toward him, you shrug, heat rising to your cheeks as your gaze drops to the ground.

“You know he’s been going crazy over them ever since the first one.”

“Really?” you ask, your voice soft—unable to hide the flicker of hope in your tone, as if maybe this could fix everything, as if it could erase ten years of silence and missed chances.

Davis glances over at you, his tone gentle, free of judgment. “What made you do it?” He sounds genuinely curious. Not prying. Not skeptical. Just trying to understand.

You briefly consider telling Davis the truth—how it all started when you came across that magazine. How everything spiraled from there. It hadn’t been entirely intentional. More like some strange twist of fate. A coincidence, maybe, but somehow, everything that led you to this moment doesn’t feel like coincidence at all. It feels inevitable. Like the pull between you and Noah had always been there, quietly waiting, ready to snap you back into each other’s orbit.

You open your mouth to answer, but the fire exit creaks open, cutting you off.

Noah steps out and his eyes lock onto yours immediately, wide and disbelieving. For a second, he just stands there, stunned. Like seeing you again is something he still hasn’t convinced himself is real. He looks at you like you’re a dream he’s been chasing, one he’s terrified might vanish the moment he blinks.

You barely catch Davis slipping past you both, heading inside—too caught up in the sight of Noah slowly approaching.

“Is it really…”

You see Noah’s hands trembling as he reaches out for you, his palms gently cupping your face, cradling you as he gazes down in awe—like you’re some unholy treasure he’s unearthed. You swear you see the shimmer of tears in his eyes.

“It is,” you whisper, nodding softly as you look up at him. Your hands reach for him in return, your fingers threading through his now much shorter hair. “You cut your hair.”

“Yeah.” He chuckles—soft, gravelly—and it stirs a warmth inside you. You’ve missed his laugh. You’ve missed him, probably more than words could ever really convey.

You look at him like you’re trying to commit him to memory. Comparing the boy you once knew with the man standing in front of you now. He’s changed in subtle ways—beyond the haircut, beyond his features. There are more tattoos on his skin; he’s a walking piece of art, and yet, the way he looks at you—like he wants to kiss you, like he’s desperate to hold onto you and confirm this is real—that hasn’t changed.

“Are we going to stand here all day?” you tease, laughing softly, glancing around the alleyway behind the building he met you outside of, after you’d slipped out for some air.

Noah pulls back just enough to look around, but his hands never leave you. They slide from your face down the sides of your neck, resting on your shoulders before he wraps you in a full embrace—a big, warm bear hug that tucks you beneath his arm, snug against his chest.

“Only if you promise you’re coming with me,” he mumbles, his mouth pressed against the top of your head. You exhale a soft sigh, content with the idea that he still wants you close. You’re not sure you could’ve handled him sending you on your way—as if a five-minute reunion could ever be enough.

“Promise…” you whisper, but there’s a hollowness in your voice, a quiet ache as memories stir. You think back on all the promises you once made to each other. Part of you wonders if he hears it too—if he can sense the guilt, the shame, the weight of everything left unkept between you.

Room service becomes the meal for your reunion, as you order everything you can from the basic menu, enough to keep you both satisfied, because the idea of leaving the hotel room he’s invited you back to isn’t one either of you wants to consider. You’re both content to shut the world outside out.

Neither of you are tired, too buzzed on the adrenaline that finding one another has ignited. Despite the bags beneath Noah’s eyes, he fights any attempt sleep makes to take over him the later into the night you talk—catching up, reminiscing, just being in each other’s presence.

“Best international artist,” you tease, a grin stretched across your face. Noah ducks his head, bashful, hiding it in the crook of your neck, mumbling something almost unintelligible.

Your bodies fit close to one another—like two pieces of a puzzle. His leg slips between yours, keeping you drawn close as your arms wrap around one another, clinging as though letting go would cause the other to disappear. You’re back to being those two kids you once were—secretly in love and finding any excuse to stay close.

Some moments, it feels like no time has passed at all, and he’s still the same guy you once knew. Other times, you’re reminded of the lifetime that has passed—how he’s already lived multiple lifetimes in the past decade alone.

“So why LA?” you ask, curious for the answer. For a guy who often complained about LA, calling it a ‘piece of shit city’, he seems to have found himself a home there.

Noah tugs you a little closer, watching as your fingers trace the fresh tattoos on his arms—the ones you never stuck around to see. For a brief second, he contemplates telling you the truth. His eyes flick up to your face, searching yours for a moment until your own flicker back, causing his to flint away again.

“There wasn’t really anything left in Virginia for me anymore,” he shrugs, his voice a little cracked, a little pained. Suddenly, it stirs a whirl of guilt inside you.

You don’t blame yourself—not entirely. Your family kept you up to date with things that happened over the years. Sad news travels fast through a community, even one in a city that big, but you know the truth behind his words—home stopped being home when you were no longer there. You know this because that’s how everywhere since has felt for you. Every place you’ve been, every attempt to find somewhere to settle, there was always something missing—someone missing.

Now, you can’t help but worry that you’re too late.

Neither of you want the spell to break, but with the early signs of morning sunrise creeping in through the gaps in the curtains, the new day threatens to do precisely that. Noah has obligations, and you have… nothing. You’ve spent so long being a nomad that your responsibilities aren’t as set in stone as his, but you also have no plans going forward. You never thought about what would come after—when you both said your peace, whether that would be a goodbye or a reunion.

Before you can drown in the upcoming storm, it’s as though Noah detects your silent distress, throwing you a life preserver before you crash into the waves threatening to pull you under.

“You should stay.”

“What?” Not because you didn’t hear him, but because you can’t believe what he’s suggesting.

“Noah, I can’t just—”

“Stay? You can. We have a couple of shows left. You should come—since you walked out of the last one you were at.” He raises a brow at you, as though to say he knows all about that, but the grin on his face tells you he isn’t upset by your choice to walk out.

“Noah, I don’t…” you trail off, unsure whether it’s a good idea—not when you already feel the slow, growing dependency on him reemerging. You spent so much of your time together hanging onto him, onto his every word, looking at him like someone who hung the moon and stars—completely unaware he looked at you the same way, and now, you feel like you’re inserting yourself into a life you no longer belong to as being part of.

“Please?” He steps toward the bed, running his fingers through his ruffled hair. Even after not sleeping, he still manages to look good—the shadow of his facial hair is more prominent in the morning hours. He always had a baby face, but there’s an unmistakable shade of stubble. As he draws closer, you lift your hand to cradle his face, feeling the prickly sensation beneath your fingers.

“Just for the last two shows, and then you can continue on to whatever it is you had planned.”

You don’t know how to tell him you have nothing planned after this—that you’ve been traveling, walking through life feeling like a ghost, and finding him has brought some form of life back into you; that he’s revitalized you just by knowing he was out there.

“Okay…” you say softly, an unmistakable grin breaking out across his face—wide, prideful, like a kid who’s just been told he can have ice cream for dinner.

You stroke his cheek, your thumb tracing the outline of his lips, of his smile, wanting to commit it to memory, wanting to commit him even more to memory. Every second of this, of being with him—you don’t want to forget it.

It’s magnetic, like second nature, the way Noah’s hand instinctively reaches for yours as you sit together, walk together, spend your time with the band and crew—his friends. Each time he takes your hand in his own, you’re pulled back from the thoughts you’ve been ruminating on—the ‘what ifs,’ the things left unsaid all those years ago—because right now, he’s treating you like none of that matters. Like the time spent apart is a void easily filled and forgotten, no longer the ache that once resided in your chest.

You agree to stay for the show—the last two shows on the tour—with the strict instruction to sit in at the sound booth with Matt. You’re being babysat, Davis nearby looking like the guy who’s just kept on the payroll to hang out with his friends.

“So you’re the one Noah’s been pining after all this time?” Matt’s question takes you by surprise, mostly because you hadn’t anticipated Noah had been pining after anyone—let alone you.

“He’s not—”

“Come on, you haven’t seen him. Ever since he got that first postcard, he’s been mumbling about you, on his phone day and night, probably searching for you.”

Your cheeks heat a little, though you wonder if the tech should even be saying this—as his friend, especially—but Matt continues to rattle on, his focus on the soundboard in front of him, moving smoothly across it as though it’s second nature—by now, you suppose it is.

Towards the end of the set, Davis slips up behind you, gently urging, “Come with me. You can meet him backstage after the show.”

You feel like some kind of VIP getting special treatment, especially the moment you take your spot at the side of the stage, watching the final roar of Dethrone as Noah falls to his knees, looking both fearful and like a god. It’s hypnotic, though arguably the whole show has been, your eyes glued to him the entire time, onto the way he moves, the way he sings, everything coming together perfectly.

The moment he steps off the stage, you charge toward him, his arms quickly enveloping you and lifting you off the floor in one large swing. You throw your head back with a giggle, demanding he set you down, and when he does, you hover for a moment, your gaze fixed on him.

The urge to kiss him right now is palpable, the way his eyes sparkle, the feeling of his heart racing, and there’s a huge surge of pride blooming in your own chest. Last time, you’d been too preoccupied with your own thoughts and emotions to appreciate the performance, but now you’re seeing the grandmaster on stage—the performer you always knew Noah could be—albeit with a little confidence and a push.

“Ew, you’re all sweaty.” The tension between you breaks as your hands move down his chest, feeling the sweat soaking his tank top. Instead of being offended, he just scoops you back up, dipping his head and shaking it like a dog as he nestles against the side of your neck with a playful, “Yeah? Am I?”

You giggle, and he laughs, you attempting to pull away as his arms tighten like an anchor, holding you to him as he walks. It’s like you’re teenagers again, the familiarity of your former friendship resurfacing like no time has passed at all. You like it. You like the familiarity of him, how complete it makes you feel to be around him, even in these goofy moments.

“Will you two get a room already?” Folio calls out, a cheeky grin stretched across his face.

Your eyes roll, opening your mouth to refute him, but Noah silences you as he turns his head, his arms still wrapped around your shoulders, holding you from behind.

“Just ’cause you’re jealous,” he retorts to Folio.

“Soooo jealous,” Folio chuckles, quickly moving out of the way when Noah reaches a huge paw in his direction, using Nicholas as his shield.

“Dick,” Noah grumbles, but there’s a sly grin pulling at the corner of his mouth.

His attention falls back to you as he presses a faint kiss against the side of your head, proud as a peacock, as though he’s somehow defended your honor. In a way, it mirrors the times he did back in high school, when guys tried to make snide comments, they were quickly shut down whenever Noah barked in their direction. Granted, he was skinnier and a lot less threatening looking, but somehow he had enough presence to silence them and protect you.

Suddenly, you’re mortified by the fact that the notion of getting a room together—despite technically already having one in the form of his hotel room, sounds like a good idea. You can’t lie and say the idea of kissing him—and possibly more—hasn’t crossed your mind since you finally reunited.

Back at the hotel, you’re left to your own devices, and your own thoughts, as Noah takes a shower, washing off the sweat and the show. To your surprise, when he steps out of the bathroom, he’s wearing just a pair of boxer shorts, and your mouth goes dry at the sight of him shirtless, water still trailing down his tatted chest. You don’t know where to look, but Noah clearly has no shame—even when he tosses the towel in your direction, chuckling.

“For your drooling.”

You gasp, narrowing your gaze at him. “I was not drooling.”

“No, but you were gawking.” He teases, the bed dipping beneath his weight as he joins you.

“No, I wasn’t—I was just…” you stumble over your words, struggling to find an excuse while Noah hits you with a raised eyebrow—skeptical.

“You just look different, that’s all.”

“Good different?” he asks, his hand reaching out toward you as he strokes his fingers along the outer part of your thigh.

“Yeah… good different.” You smile softly, feeling goosebumps rise across your skin.

Noah pulls you onto his lap. You don’t know what prompts him, but you slip easily and seamlessly, fitting like two puzzle pieces all over again. His hands settle at your hips, fingers just skating the hem of your shirt, while your own hands fix their purchase on his shoulders, one hand slipping around the back of his neck, playing with the ends of his damp hair.

“I wanted to kiss you, you know. After the show.” You whisper your confession, a soft hot breath between you, your forehead pressed to his.

Noah doesn’t move, doesn’t even flinch—just asks, “Why didn’t you?”

You shrug. Scared, you think to yourself, but the word doesn’t come. His fingers slide beneath the hem of your shirt, trailing softly along the dip of your back as he shifts around.

“I wanted to kiss you back in the alleyway after first seeing you again.” Noah’s confession makes you draw back slightly, your eyes searching his, as though they hold the answer to your next question.

“Why didn’t you?”

“I didn’t want to ruin things.”

You can attest to that, so many times you were afraid that kissing him, giving in to your desires back then, would’ve been the end of everything, and yet now, nothing feels more right.

“I want you to kiss me,” you offer, your fingers curling into the ends of his hair.

“Don’t say that. Not if you don’t—”

“I mean it, Noah. Please… kiss me.”

You inch closer, your forehead resting against his, his mouth so close to yours there’s barely an inch between you. His breath feels warm against your lips. He hasn’t even kissed you yet, and still, a shiver ripples through your body—the closeness of him setting you on edge, your senses heightened, your body thrumming, receptive to every movement, every touch.

When his mouth finally brushes against yours in a soft, tender kiss, something warm bursts low in your belly. His fingers tighten on your hips, drawing you in, holding you flush against him. You’re pulled forward by a magnetic force, your bodies fitting together so seamlessly it steals the breath from your lungs. It’s everything you ever imagined, and yet somehow more—more real, more consuming. Every second of anticipation feels worth it, every moment you fantasized about this.

It’s quick to descend into something hungrier—deeper, more need spilling through than either of you intended, but it’s you who pulls yourself closer, your hips pressing down against him as though trying to erase the space between you, needing more.

For a brief moment, you fear he might pull away, declare this a mistake, but then he’s following your lead, giving in, unleashing his own desire. Soft, breathy sounds spill into the kiss, and in a swift motion, he switches your positions, rolling you beneath him with practiced ease.

Layers are shed—mostly yours—and you feel the heat of his hands against your bare skin as they travel along your sides. His head dips to your chest, leaving fervent kisses, worshiping you with soft whispers against your skin as your fingers tangle in his hair. You’ve thought about this more times than you’d ever dare to confess, back when he was still in your life, and in the lonely nights since, when solo relief was your only comfort, but no fantasy you ever conjured comes close to this, to the way he makes your body burn and tremble with barely a touch.

“Noah…” His name slips from your lips like a prayer—soft, reverent, like it belongs there. Like you’re claiming him, just for yourself, and truthfully, you are.

You’ve wanted him for as long as you can remember.

When his mouth closes around the peak of one nipple, your back arches, a hissed moan escaping your parted lips. His other hand cups your other breast, caressing gently, taking his time, entirely focused on your pleasure—on the way your body responds to him, even as his own arousal presses hard against the front of his boxers, the thick heat of it nestled between your thighs. He’s so close that you know, just one shift of your hips could give you both the friction you’re aching for.

But he doesn’t give in.

Instead, he growls softly against your chest, dragging his hands down to grip your thighs, pinning you to the bed. “Stop. Do you have any idea how hard you’re making this?”

“I have a little idea,” you breathe, a teasing smirk tugging at your lips as you squirm beneath him, trying to lift your hips toward his.

You expect it to break the tension, his laughter, the way he pauses, but instead, it only fuels him. Slipping his hands beneath your thighs, he tugs you closer with ease, and you feel him sink between them, the unmistakable size and heat of him pressing firmly against your panties, making your breath hitch and your heart race.

“You really are a little minx,” he taunts, dipping his head to tease his mouth along the column of your throat, letting his teeth graze over the more delicate areas.

“And you’re a tease.”

That earns you a sharp bite, and you hiss in response, Noah making it abundantly clear he’s more than happy to mark you, to leave behind a reminder of himself etched into your skin. The thought only deepens the ache between your thighs.

“Tell me what it is you want,” he whispers against your neck, his lips brushing kisses over the same spot he bit into moments before.

“You.”

You say it without hesitation, confident and open. You’re done holding back, especially now, especially with your hands roaming over his broad shoulders, squeezing at his biceps, feeling the way he hovers above you like he owns the space between your bodies.

“You have no idea how long I’ve thought about this, how long I’ve wanted this,” he murmurs, his lips trailing across your throat, along your jawline, and finally back to your mouth. You can’t even whine your impatience, only melt into a soft moan at his words.

“I’ve thought about you so many times. How it would feel to finally have you beneath me like this.”

“Then take me,” you breathe, gasping as his fingers slip beneath the edge of your panties.

“You’re not going to rush me, baby. Not when I’ve waited this long. I want to take my time with you—I want to savor every second of this.”

His mouth meets yours again in a heated, claiming kiss, and you moan into it, your body arching to meet his. Your hips lift instinctively as he eases your panties down, sliding them off completely with practiced, reverent care.

Every kiss is drawn out, like he’s trying to memorize the taste of you, his tongue exploring your mouth with deep, languid strokes. His touch follows suit, unhurried and deliberate, exploring every inch of your skin, and when his fingers finally slip inside you—thick and skilled—you feel just how soaked you truly are.

The moment he sinks his index and middle finger into you, you clench around him, your back arching in response. They’re longer, stronger, more purposeful than yours ever could be, curling just right, finding spots you didn’t even know existed, sending sparks through your core that make you feel like you’re seeing stars.

He’s gentle but thorough, driving you steadily higher with each stroke, each slow thrust. He whispers praise and filth in equal measure against your lips, your jawline, your ear, his mouth touching every bit of you he can reach as he begins to trail down your body.

He kisses his way lower, worshiping every inch as if your body is a map he never wants to stop exploring. By the time he settles between your thighs, his mouth replaces his fingers, latching onto your clit with aching precision.

You’ve had sex before. You’ve been fingered, eaten out, but nothing compares to this, to Noah. The way he devours you is almost reverent, as if the act itself is sacred. Each groan he releases vibrates against your clit, sending aftershocks through your entire body. His tongue moves slowly, purposefully, savoring your taste like he’s waited years for it.

Your thighs twitch and try to close around him, overwhelmed by the sensation, but his strong hand catches one and pins it down easily. Then, gently, he reaches up and grabs one of your hands, guiding it down to the top of his head. Your fingers thread into his damp hair instinctively. A moment later, he catches your other hand too, intertwining your fingers together as he continues working you over—anchoring you to him, body and soul.

It’s sensual—intimate in a whole new way. You feel him guiding you, lifting you into the pleasure that’s steadily blooming in your stomach, a heat that rips through you and erupts with a moan as your body trembles beneath him. He’s quick to hold you still, to keep a firm grip on you as you ride out your high, his name falling from your lips in the softest, weakest breath as you begin to come down.

“Are you back with me, baby?” he whispers.

Your eyes flutter open to find him hovering above you, his fingers stroking gently through your hair as he presses a soft kiss to your lips.

“That was… more?” you ask, your voice still shaky, eyes softening into a quiet plea as your hands slide down, tugging at the waistband of his boxers.

Noah can’t deny you, not when he’s painfully hard, straining against the fabric. He quickly shoves his boxers down, kicking them aside, and reaches for his wallet on the nightstand, pulling out a condom.

“Please don’t tell me that’s your lucky condom from when we were teenagers,” you say, raising a brow at him.

“What? No, it’s been replaced since then!”

You scoff, lightly swatting his chest. “Don’t make me think about you fucking other girls while we’re about to have sex!”

“I’m sorry, I’m still a virgin—is that what you wanted to hear?” he teases, tilting his head with a smirk.

“Yes, it is. Good boy.” You giggle, cupping his face and pulling him into another kiss, already addicted to how it feels to have him this close. “Let me,” you whisper against his lips, taking the condom from his hand.

With a tear of the wrapper, you slip the condom out and reach down between you, watching as you slowly roll it onto his cock. Your hand strokes along the length, feeling how it throbs beneath your touch.

“God, you’re so big…” you murmur under your breath, and his hand wraps around yours, helping to guide himself toward you.

“We’re gonna go nice and slow, okay?” he says softly, using his free hand to slip beneath your chin and tilt your face up to his. Your eyes lock onto his as you nod, not daring to look away. His fingers squeeze yours, silently asking for trust, and you respond in kind, gripping the shaft with him as he angles himself forward.

With a slow, deliberate press, he drags his cock along your soaked slit, drawing a soft sound from your throat. He begins to push forward, inch by inch, sinking into you, and you hold his gaze, lips parting as you adjust to the stretch.

“Do you feel that? Fuck… fuck, you’re so—” His words dissolve into a deep, guttural groan. His head drops back, eyes fluttering shut, overwhelmed by the way you clench around him as he continues to sink in.

The moment he bottoms out, your hands fall away and his fingers intertwine with yours once more. He lifts them to press a kiss to the back of your hand, while his other hand settles at your hip, holding you in place with a firm, grounding grip.

He draws his hips back slowly, his cock dragging against your walls, and you squirm beneath him, gasping and moaning at the intensity of each movement, especially with how sensitive you already are. Noah’s breath catches in his throat as his head drops to the crook of your neck, his hips finding a steady rhythm, chasing the slow, exquisite build of his own release.

When it comes to the heat blooming in your stomach, it feels like chasing after a train you’ve already missed—you can’t quite find your way back. Maybe it’s because your first orgasm has already passed, leaving you floating somewhere in the afterglow, but it doesn’t stop you from savouring the feeling of him inside you, the slow roll of his hips, the drag of his cock between your walls, the way you clench around him, pulling him deeper with every movement. Each thrust draws a soft sound of pleasure from his lips, and you drink them in like they’re meant for you alone.

Cradling the back of his head with your free hand, you pull him down into another kiss. Your mouths move in tandem—hot, slow, sensual—punctuated by soft whimpers and moans, a perfect echo of the rhythm between your bodies.

The air is filled with those quiet, reverent sounds: whispered names, gasps, and the faintest rustle of sheets as your bodies move together. His pace builds steadily, and you cling to him, legs wrapped tightly around his waist, as if keeping him close might somehow draw him even deeper.

“Fuck, you just feel so… I never could’ve imagined it,” he groans, thrusting deeper, and your breath hitches as the sensation stretches through you.

“Keep going, baby. It feels so good. You feel so good,” you croon in his ear, and you feel the way your words make him shiver against you.

There’s no denying your own climax isn’t building the same way—it’s not a sharp, roaring wave or a tightly coiled spring about to snap. It’s quieter than that, a soft hum of pleasure rippling beneath your skin. Not overwhelming, but still so good. Still everything.

“I can’t… I’m gonna—fuck, I’m gonna cum,” Noah gasps, and you turn your head, pressing soft kisses along his jaw as your fingers stroke through his shorter locks. You’d briefly missed the longer hair, but now, you find yourself loving the slightly overgrown look, the way it feels between your fingers as you curl them into it, tugging gently, coaxing him closer to release.

Part of you wishes he could’ve come inside you, the thought sending a flutter of butterflies through your stomach. Maybe next time. You can’t help but consider the idea of there being a next time—even though there’s so much to think about, so much that could complicate things, but you won’t let yourself spiral into worry, not now. Not when you can feel him falling apart inside you.

Noah’s hips begin to buck faster, chasing the tight coil of heat winding through his stomach. He’s so close he can taste it, and you feel it too, the way his cock throbs inside you, just before he finally spills over. Your name falls from his lips in a ragged breath—half a moan, half a plea—his fingers tightening around yours, the other digging into your flesh, leaving marks you know you’ll find later, but you won’t mind, not one bit.

Even in the aftershocks of his orgasm, he trembles, his cock still twitching inside you as your walls clench around him—milking him, holding him there. You feel the warmth blooming in the condom, and the sudden awareness of what it might’ve felt like without it overwhelms you. The idea of him filling you up, dripping from you—it’s a fantasy you didn’t expect to crave this badly.

“Next time, I’m gonna fill you up nice and full,” he murmurs against your jaw, and you smirk, turning your head to brush your mouth against his.

“Is that a promise?” you whisper.

You know it is, feel it in the halfhearted kiss he gives you in return, tender and spent, still savoring every second of this moment.

Neither of you could recall when you’d fallen asleep, both wrapped in the warm afterglow, Noah’s arms tight around you, but when he wakes, it’s to the sight of you admiring him like he’s a piece of artwork, your fingers gently tracing over his tattoos, moving between the old ones you remember and the newer ones he’s collected.

“I can give you a tour if you want,” he murmurs, his voice gruff and heavy with sleep. It startles you, making you jump slightly within his hold.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to—”

“You can look,” he chuckles, gesturing for you to continue. He stretches out a little, adjusting himself and tucking one arm behind his head to prop it up as he gazes down at you, still curled up against his side.

“You just have so many more now, it’s… wow,” you breathe, still amazed by how beautiful he is, how somehow, with every new piece of ink, he manages to look even more ethereal.

“Did this one hurt?” you ask, gently brushing your fingers over the tattoo on his neck—the apple, the snake, the hand.

“Like hell.”

You giggle at the irony, at the symbolism of Eve’s apple and all the religious undertones. “It’s beautiful,” you whisper, and a soft, tired smile spreads across his face, his eyes never leaving yours.

“Yeah…”

When you catch him staring, a familiar surge of butterflies rises in your stomach, but you can’t quiet the nagging voice at the back of your mind—the same one that stirred the moment you woke this morning, still wrapped in his arms, your bodies naked and pressed together like they belonged.

You try to fight the urge to ask, but the moment Noah cradles your cheek and you instinctively nuzzle into his palm, the question slips out.

“What is this, Noah? What are we doing?”

“What we’ve both clearly wanted for a long time,” he replies without hesitation. He says it with such certainty, like he knows—truly knows—that this is everything he’s ever wanted, and truthfully, it is. He’s spent so long thinking about you, wishing for you. Now that the moment is finally here, he doesn’t feel foolish for giving in to it.

“We’ll figure it out, baby. We always do, don’t we?”

You nod softly, your hand coming up to cradle his against your cheek, because he’s right. You’ve always figured things out—somehow, and he’s never let you down before.

tagged: @fadingangelwisp @deathblacksmoke @geminigirlfromfinland @fuck1ng-queen @xxkittenkissesxx @lacy1986 @ami--gami @floodflameschosen @dominuslunae @tosoundlessdarkistare @alwaysfightforwhoyouare @lonelydragonlady @th4t-em0-k1d @amelia-acero @dollieomens @sitkowski @athenexe @trvshdxddy @collapsedglasshouses @overmydeadbodysblog @xmads-omensx @ajordan2020 @astronoids @courta13 @oobleoob @bluehairpunklol @follow-me-down-to-wonderland @swissy23 @i-love-the-smell-of-your-blood @kenjipepsi1 @birdie-in-arcadia @blackcherrywhiskey @concretenoah @death-ofpeace-ofmind @ichoosetenderomens @chey-h @blade-dressed-in-red @limerinseme @lilgarbitch @pipidoll @heyyoplayer @iconic-taurus @flowery-mess @jesuisunchaton @bloody-spades @bluestdai

#bad omens fanfiction #noah sebastian fanfiction #noah sebastian fanfic #bad omens fanfic #noah sebastian angst #bad omens angst #noah sebastian fluff #bad omens fluff #noah sebastian smut #bad omens smut #noah sebastian x reader #concretejunglefm fics

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moregraceful · 18 days ago

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this is great. not only have i not done dishes or showered, i also made myself mad about something that happened several years ago AND entertained a beautiful alternate universe in which warso specifically was leaving the prompts that made me lose my mind AND got into an argument about ko over whether i count as an x reader girl on staff of [redacted]. i love the san jose sharks and they love me.

honestly awesome that brodie brazil handed me something to be dramatic about. i was just complaining that i was sleepy but i'm not allowed to nap or i won't sleep for a 2nd night in a row and was listing options of activities, but this is much better. love to be baited by a former nbc broadcaster into posting

#like am i crafting imagines in my head about guy no. 20 of course. is that monetizable no unless amazon unlimited gets involved #i mopped the dining room floor though! i did do that #ella and lorna sent me the tai ig account to laugh at and i nearly died over tai retconning mgc out of the band #like i am sorry your hillsong import bassist played madison square garden before you did and probably will again too #but i fear you simply can't unsuck his dick on warped tour #sighs sadly. i should have known i'd come back to the church when my favorite member of the fbr miasma was michael guy chislett #i have a really annoying sleep hygiene problem that i don't know how to solve also. idk how to even approach solving it #i mean therapy. gross. oh my god we did psycho education about attachment styles today and that was so interesting #by interesting i mean i was sorting all my relationships into attachment style boxes and went oh i see why [x history] has become #[y problem] with [z situation]. huh! well if i don't look at it is not my problem. and that's how i ended up in a php i guess #begging my brain to do something with itself that isn't chewing itself alive #i need to start doing cardio again my god. actually i just need my mfing job back so i have more interesting things (sexism in the #workplace) to be mad at #actually i need both. not sexism i mean i need cardio and a job #anyway post canceled i opened linkedin bc i forgot i needed to update something and immediately got distracted by a man #writing an absolute SCREED about how his ketamine therapy company is being misrepresented to the public via wsj #which is bad ig but like you have a ketamine therapy start up and you agreed to be interviewed by the wall street journal?????#play stupid games win stupid prizes????? hello #god i need to go to bed. and i miss my dog so much. what i am supposed to do now that i have the whole bed to myself #and not 1/16th of it crammed against a wall. ugh #fresno oilers.txt

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jazzthatonewriterchick · 8 months ago

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Babysitting Has Its Perks (Choso x Dabi x Black!F!Reader 18+ One Shot)

Pairing: Big Bro!Choso x Black!Fem!Reader x Big Bro!Dabi

Synopsis: You’ve been babysitting kids as a side hustle for a while now to get extra money. You have your regulars, one of them being a doctor’s cute little son Yuji. Though the pay is good, you admit that the main reason you come back to babysit the kid is because of his sexy older brother Choso. On Halloween, when Choso gets caught up in a pinch, he hits you up last minute to babysit Yuji and his bandmate’s little brother. You think this will be an easy night…until you meet Choso’s bandmate Dabi…and you decide to wear a bunny costume…and you realize just how much your secret crush and his hot friend love bunny girls.

Warnings: Smutty Smut; 18+ (MINORS GTFO); Musician!Choso + Dabi; Big Bro/Family AU; Band AU; Nerdy!Reader; Highkey Flirting; Weed + Alcohol Consumption; High + Drunk Sex; Dubcon; R*pe; Threesome; Sex Tape; Facefucking; Cunnilingus; Fingering; Nipple Sucking; Double Deepthroat; Choso + Dabi Got Big Cocks; Degradation/Praise; Dom!Choso + Dabi/sub!Reader; Roleplay; Doggystyle; NO CONDOM; Reader Cums 2x; Facials; Aftercare

Disclaimer: I own none of the characters mentioned in this fic. However, as this is my writing, I do not give permission for my work to be reposted on any other sites that are not from my own accounts. Thank you!

Writer’s Note: I’ve had this nasty little idea for a hot minute now tee hee!! 🤭 Originally, it was supposed to be just a Choso one shot, but then I thought “Damn….it’d be so hot if Dabi did this too”. So I made a lil crossover one shot for spooky day. I hope y’all enjoy! -Jazz 💋💋

***********

“Are you my big bro’s girlfriend?”

This was the first thing little Yuji asked you the first time you showed up to babysit him. You stood on the steps of the white picket-fenced house belonging to Nanami Kento, a busy doctor who sought you out for your babysitting services on your LinkedIn.

It was September then and a mild night that only called for light layers. You were dressed in a cardigan that you paired with a clingy, white baby tee, hip-hugging jeggings, and flats. You wanted to be casual but still mild mannered since you were at a doctor’s home. You had giggled at the boy’s cuteness and replied, “Close. I’m your new babysitter!”

The little pink-haired boy with the rosy cheeks and a gap tooth had grinned happily at you before turning around and yelling, “CHOSO, YOUR GIRLFRIEND IS MY NEW BABYSITTER!”

“YUJI!” someone yelled back. You had giggled at Yuji’s antics until you actually saw Choso for the first time and started thinking that maybe being confused for his girlfriend wasn’t such a bad thing. As soon as he came to the door in his sweats and polo socks, your smile fell.

The man was fine. He had a face straight out of a dream with his black hair in two spiked ponytails that reminded you so much of Garu from your favorite cartoon ‘Pucca’. He was tall and big, much bigger than you thanks to your cursed short stack height, with broad shoulders and big arms roped in tattoo sleeves that started at his shoulders and cascaded down to his wrists. His thick fingers were coated in metal rings and his nails were painted black.

You thought briefly of what they’d feel like wrapped around your throat or…somewhere else.

The man was also shirtless. His porcelain skin looked soft to the touch, only touched by some tattoos here and there that added to his sexiness. There was one of Yuji’s name on his collarbone; a black heart with a knife jutting out of it on his right neck near his pierced nipple, a silver ball glinting back at you from both of the pebbled, pink peaks; a serpent slithering from his narrow left hip bone down, down, down under the waistband of his sweats that sat dangerously low on his hips, revealing his smooth, toned stomach and V-line.

You must’ve been standing there looking like a damn idiot because Yuji tugged on your hand. “Hellooo?” he sang. “Hey, are you okay?”

You blinked, suddenly back in your body after going up and beyond. Choso was also staring at you, his pierced brow raised in confusion.

“O-Oh, yeah!” you squeaked, wincing at your high-pitched voice. Quickly, you fixed your glasses and cleared your throat. “Yeah, sorry, m’fine. I-I’m—"

“The new babysitter,” Choso finished, his lips quirking into a small smile. His bottom lip looked so plump and soft, pierced with a silver ring you wanted to tug on. “Yeah, my dad told me about you. Sorry about…” He motioned down his bare upper torso, his cheeks turning a soft shade of pink.

His blush was so attractive that you nearly melted at his feet. He was so endearing and so sexy. “I was changin’ and wanted to stop this rugrat from answerin’ the door when he’s not supposed to.” He tugged on Yuji’s ear, making the boy giggle and swat at his hand. “Y/N, right?”

Realizing he was asking you your name, your brain stopped short-cuiriting for a moment to answer. “Y-Yeah,” you stammered. “And you’re—“

“Choso,” a deep, firm voice said from inside, prompting Choso to roll his pretty, violet eyes. “What did I tell you about answering the door without a shirt on?”

The older brother turned to the even finer blonde who came to the door in a pristinely clean tailored suit. “I only did that one other time ‘cause of those stupid kids prankin’ us,” he scoffs. “Lock the doors next time so Yuji doesn’t answer.”

Nanami went to argue back, but realizing you were standing there awkwardly, he stopped. “Oh, Y/N, I’m sorry. I didn’t realize you were here this early.”

“I hope you don’t mind,” you replied as he and Choso let you into their tasteful, cozy home, Choso holding a giggling Yuji under his arm like a puppy. “I know you have a doctors’ dinner to go to, so I figured I’d come early.”

“Not at all,” Nanami sighs, sounding relieved. “I thank you for that. Please come in.” You did so and you were officially introduced to Nanami’s two boys, little Yuji and his big brother Choso before Nanami left for a doctors’ banquet.

Choso was in a rock band as a drummer and songwriter, so he had to leave too for a gig. Yuji had begged and pleaded to go with him to which Choso reminded him that kids aren’t allowed in 21+ spaces. As soon as you discovered that he was in a band, you were way more intrigued to know Yuji’s sexy, 6-foot-something brother.

No wonder he had such big arms! You’d glad let him wrap those guns around you and squeeze your head like a melon, giving it a personal bear hug. However, you kept your deviant thoughts to yourself.

You were professional. You were good. You were…kinda nerdy. You’d like to think your profile pic of you in your glasses was what gave Nanami the final impression to hire you as his personal babysitter. Since he is a busy doctor and Choso is a busier musician, someone had to look after little Yuji.

That night, you and Yuji played games, watched cartoons, and you ordered pizza and French fries for him that you both scarfed down with some orange soda (Yuji’s favorite). When Nanami came home, he paid you handsomely and thanked you again for watching his son.

Since that night a month ago, you’ve been Yuji’s personal babysitter. You watch him most weekdays when everyone is at work or on Saturday nights if no one else is around. Out of all of the kids you currently babysit, he’s your favorite. He is just too stinking cute!

You love babysitting that boy, plus the money is great. As a college girl, you need it. But there is also one more perk to your babysitting service that you refuse to admit. You feel like a pervert even thinking it, but getting an eyeful of Choso every time you walk into his house is more than enough for you to stay.

Your pathetic crush on the drummer has grown since the first night you met him. You can’t help it! Not only is he cute, but he’s also a great brother to Yuji. Seeing him goof around and tickle the tiny boy is enough to make you want to be bred by him and have his babies.

He fills your thoughts at night, prompting you to cum on your fingers and use your trusty rose until you’re sobbing his name into your pillow. You’ve thought so many times about asking him out or attending one of his shows. You want him bad like a habit…

But you won’t dare say anything. This is your job! You could fuck up some good money just because you want to fuck the kid you babysit’s big brother. And you won’t dare do that to yourself or Nanami who trusts you with his child. So you bite back your feelings and admire Choso from afar….until one night.

On a cool Halloween with autumn finally here and the leaves crunching under your feet, you leave a local cafe, your other part time job, and arrive at an empty house. Your mom is working overnight at the hospital as a nurse and has left you to your own devices. You know she’ll be late since it’s Halloween which means endless hours of greasy takeout, reading, spooky movies, and private time with your toy. No Halloween parties for you.

After changing out of your clothes, tying your kinky hair in a quick puff, and taking a hot shower with your cinnamon roll-scented body wash, you wrap yourself in a towel and head to your room to begin your quiet night in when your phone rings.

When you check your phone, you nearly drop it at the caller ID. Choso. He gave you his number along with Nanami for work purposes and to contact him if anything went wrong while you babysat Yuji. You take a deep breath to ease your vigorously pounding heart. ‘Just be cool, bitch. You know him. He’s just the older brother of the kid you babysit.’

After some seconds of mental preparations, you answer and clear your throat. “HHello?” you breathlessly stammer, very clearly affected by Choso’s call.

‘Fuck!’

“Hey, Y/N, it’s me, Choso,” he answers, his voice causing a warm feeling to curl in your core. He has such a sexy voice. “Of course, it’s me. You’ve got my number. Sorry, forget I said that.” He sighs, sounding like he’s fed up with himself the way you are with yourself.

He becomes even more endearing and much more boyfriend material-y right there. “It’s cool,” you giggle, lying back on your bed in your towel. “What’s goin’ on? Is Yuji okay?”

“Yeah, he’s fine,” he replies with a chuckle. “He’s been askin’ about you. I swear the kid’s got a crush on you.” You laugh, taking your hair out of your scrunchie and running a hand through your kinks. “Well, he’s a wonderful kid.” And you mean it. Yuji is so goofy and sweet and listens to everything you say, probably because Nanami made him promise to. Either way, he’s a joy to take care of.

“Listen,” Choso begins, sounding uncertain, “I feel really bad for askin’ you this, but…are you doin’ anythin’ tonight?” Your brain suddenly short circuits and your cool bedroom feels stuffy and hot. “Uh….n-no,” you stammer. “Just at home watchin’ Halloween movies and stuff, but that’s it. I just got off from work at the cafe.” You hope that didn’t sound too lame.

“Oh, I forgot you had another job,” Choso tsks, sounding stressed out. “Shit, I’ll probably just have to cancel then.” You sit up now, concerned. “What? What’s goin’ on?”

Choso sighs once more and you feel bad for the guy. He sounds positively frustrated. “My dad is out of town until tomorrow for a doctor’s conference and I was put in charge of watchin’ Yuji, but I forgot I got a gig for a Halloween show at a bar tonight. One of my bandmates is already here and we need to leave in, like, two hours.”

“Oh, okay!” you immediately perk at the chance to see him and make more money. “I can be over there in, like, twenty minutes.”

He lightly laughs at your eagerness. ”Well, before you say yes, there’s a catch: my bandmate Dabi needs someone to watch his kid brother too. He’s the same age as Yuji but very quiet and chill, won’t give you any trouble. If you’re okay with watchin’ two kids at the same time, we’d really appreciate it and pay you double when we get home from the gig.”

You don’t even have to think it over. “I’ve watched five kids at once before. I can handle two. I’ll be over there in twenty.” Choso exhales in relief. “Fuck, Y/N, you’re a lifesaver,” he sighs. “I could fuckin’ kiss you right now. Oh, and Yuji and Dabi’s brother are goin’ trick-or-treating tonight if you wanna go with ‘em. See you over here soon and thank you!”

He hangs up before you can make a fool out of yourself over the ‘kiss you’ line. When you take the phone away from your ear, your face is flaming. Quickly, you hurry to brush your teeth, slather on some deodorant, and drown yourself in your favorite vanilla coco body mist that makes you smell like a baked goodie.

Then you dig into your closet for a costume for the kids. You find your costume from last year—fluffy, white bunny ears and a cotton tail. Basic, but it’ll do. You pair it with a white, body-con bodysuit, a skirt that stops mid-thigh, some stockings, and Mary Jane shoes. After applying some Fenty Gloss and mascara, you finally feel cute enough. Quickly, you grab your coat, phone, and bag before heading to your car.

Nanami’s house is only a ten-minute drive, so you get there by 7:45 PM. After parking, you hurry to the front door and ring the doorbell, mentally preparing yourself for another shirtless Choso (hopefully). But to your shock, it isn’t Choso who answers the door.

This man is fine if not finer than Choso. He is just as tall and slightly lanky but sinewy with muscle that is exposed underneath his loose-fitted tank top. He is all tattoos—roping up and down his arms, across his chest, on his thick neck.

Piercings, too. You can see two silver balls glinting through the exposed armholes of his tank puncturing his pink nipples. His left eyebrow and bottom lip are pierced too, giving him an almost dangerous look. The jet-black hair, ripped jeans, boots, and piercing blue eyes are the icing on the cake. He is the damn poster child for the guy good girls shouldn’t want.

His eyes lazily trail up and down your form as he leans against the doorframe. “So,” he says in a raspy drawl that nearly steals your panties, “you’re the little babysitter Choso’s been talkin’ ‘bout. Y/N, right?”

You struggle to find your voice. You feel so small and bug-like standing before such a man. You feel uncomfortable yet aroused, your panties tightening beneath your skirt. “Y-Yeah,” you stutter, gulping. “Dabi?”

He nods, the corner of his mouth tilting upward. “The guitarist,” he explains. “Sorry to interrupt your night, but we’re in a pinch. Somebody had to watch our kid brothers and apparently, you fit the bill.” His eyes roam up to your ears before trailing down your body, checking out your outfit. “Clearly.” You don’t know if you should’ve worn your skirt or not now.

“Dabi, stop flirtin’ with my babysitter!” Choso yells from inside before showing himself. Just as you hoped, he is shirtless except for a mesh top that shows off his impressive upper torso and tatted skin, jeans, and boots. His spiked hair is down for tonight and his eyes are rimmed in black liner.

It’s like the universe is playing a cruel joke on you putting you here with two sexy guys despite your awkward ass. “Hey, Y/N,” Choso greets you, flashing those whites at you. “Come in. Yuji is changin’ into his costume and Shoto is right here.”

He practically yanks Dabi out of the way to let you inside. Sitting on the couch is a little boy with multi-colored red and white hair and blue eyes like Dabi dressed in a vampire costume. You nearly swoon from the cuteness. He stares at you mutely as you come into the house.

“Sho, this is Y/N,” Dabi says, nodding at you. “She’s your babysitter for tonight. You say hello?” The little boy mutely looks at you. “Hi,” he says in a soft, bland voice. You wave at him, keeping a bright smile on your face.

“He’s a lil’ shy, but he won’t give you no trouble,” Dabi whispers as Shoto eats some carrot sticks. “Thanks again for doin’ this. I would’ve asked my siblings, but my brother is a big-time athlete and my sis is an overnight nurse.”

“Oh, it’s no problem,” you say, offering a kind smile. “I wasn’t doing much tonight anyways.” Dabi’s brows raise curiously and you immediately know that this was the wrong thing to say. “On Halloween? What, no parties or nothin’?”

You slowly shake your head, nervously smiling. “I just got off work earlier when Choso called…a-and I’m not much of a party person.” It’s so lame, but it’s true. You much prefer your books and solitude to sweaty bodies and drunk messes.

“Really?” Dabi asks, sounding humored. “Then that’s some outfit. You wear that for the kids?” His eyes, as blue as Arctic water, intensely stare at you like he’s attempting to turn you into a puddle.

Before you can think of an answer, footsteps thud down the stairs and you all turn to see Yuji in a Spider-Man costume. “Look, Y/N! I’m your friendly neighborhood Spidey!” He jumps down, lands on the bottom step, and hits a squatting pose.

You clap your hands at his superhero landing. “You look amazing, Yuji!” you squeal. “You and Shoto are gonna get sooo much candy!”

Choso walks up to Yuji with a backpack and a leather jacket, checking his water. “We’ve gotta go, squirt,” he says, ruffling Yuji’s pink hair. “Be good for Y/N and don’t eat all your candy unless you wanna be on the shitter, okay?”

Yuji giggles hysterically, slapping Choso’s arm. “You said a bad word, Chosi!” His big brother puts a finger to his lips before turning to you. “Thanks again for doin’ this. A couple of kids will be over soon to go trick-or-treatin’ with them around the block, so just let ‘em in.”

You nod, sending Choso and Dabi off with a wave from the door along with Yuji and Shoto. Five minutes later, four little kids come walking up to the door wearing costumes—a green-haired, freckle-faced ghost, a platinum-blonde werewolf, a brunette little girl dressed like Gwen Stacy, and a black-haired Venom.

“Well,” you coo, smiling at the group, “look what we have here! Are y’all Yuji and Shoto’s friends?” The ghost and Gwen Stacy nod. “Is Shoto here?” the ghost asks. “We’re here to go trick-or-treating with him!”

“Yuji too,” Gwen Stacy adds. “He’s trying to beat Megumi for the most candy bars.” She nudges Venom—Megumi—who rolls his eyes.

“Well, let me go get ‘em and we’ll go together,” you say before hurrying to scoop up your boys. Once everyone has their candy bags together, you lock the door with the key Choso left for you. “Now, let’s get some candy!” You shout, earning some cheers before Yuji and the werewolf—who you learn is Bakugou—race off to the first house.

For the next two ½ hours, you slowly walk behind the group from house to house, knocking on doors for candy, keeping the kids out of the street, and politely declining pervy men who take interest in your costume.

By the time you get home, you’re exhausted and trick-or-treating kids have long since gone home. Shoto’s brother Natsu comes to pick up Shoto to bring him home while you put Yuji to bed after too much candy. For the rest of your time there before Choso and Dabi return, you clean up wrappers, read your book, scrolling through Pinterest, and watch horror movies.

By midnight, you’ve fallen asleep on the couch in your costume, and the end credits to ‘Coraline’ on the TV. When you hear the door click open, you shoot up in surprise, your bunny ears falling off of your head and drool dripping down your chin.

The door cracks open, revealing Dabi smoking a cigarette. “Oops,” he chuckles, grinning at you. “Looks like we woke the bunny.”

Quickly, you wipe the spit off of your face and fix your bunny ears, blushing in embarrassment. You didn’t realize you fell asleep. Choso walks in the house with him, smelling of cigarette smoke and sweat. He gives you a warm smile as he shuts the door. “Hey, you. How were they?”

You smile and stand, smoothing out your skirt. “Like little angels. Yuji is asleep and Shoto was picked up by his brother.” Dabi rolls his eyes at the mention of Natsu as he stubs his cigarette out in an ashtray on the coffee table near your leg. “Yeah, the asshole called and told me to crash here tonight ‘cause he knows I’m fucked up.”

Now that he’s closer, you can see the slightly unfocused look in his blue eyes that can only be accomplished with alcohol. “I’m guessing the gig went well?” The guitarist nods, moving to sit on the couch where you just once were. “Well, we made a bunch of money and signed some titties, so yeah.”

Choso rolls his eyes, chucking a pillow at him. Dabi catches it with one hand. “Shut up. Speakin’ of money…”

He digs into his bag for his phone and clicks a couple buttons. Seconds later, your phone dings with a CashApp alert for $550. “From Dabi and me to you for your services,” he says, giving you a wink that makes your stomach flip.

“Oh, it was no problem, really!” you say with a reassuring smile, though your body sings with joy over the money.

Choso walks over to the couch and plops down with a tired huff, throwing his boots up on the table with Dabi’s. “So you goin’ home?” he curiously asks. “Y’know, you’re welcome to crash here tonight till tomorrow. The streets are packed tonight and those ears might attract the wrong crowd.”

He gives you a joking smirk, evident that he’s kidding. Dabi snickers as he rises from the couch, passing by you with a glint in his eye that makes you feel as if he isn’t joking. “Like we aren’t?” he asks, his voice causing chills to slither down your spine like a snake.

He walks to the kitchen, his walk lazy and slow like he doesn’t have a care in the world. Choso sits on the couch, arms slung over the back and his thighs pried open as if attempting to convince you to stay. “Thanks, but I couldn’t.” You pause, grabbing your bag. “I don’t wanna overstep or—“

“Please,” he scoffs, cutting you off. “You’ve been watchin’ my kid brother for a month! You’re practically family. Plus, we’ve got beer and some weed if you smoke.” Dabi comes back minutes later with three beer bottles, chilled and appetizing. “We’re celebratin’,” he announces with a crooked smirk as he sits down next to Choso.

“An hour then? Just to wait out the traffic?” Choso suggests as Dabi passes him a bottle. You watch the guitarist slip a baggie of marijuana out of his back pocket along with a pack of papers. “But only if you feel comfortable,” Choso adds as if sensing your apprehension.

The two make it a point to leave a space for you between them. You gnaw on your bottom lip, gripping the strap to your bag. You know if you say yes then a world of trouble could open up for you…but you also don’t want to say no. They haven’t done anything to make you feel uncomfortable or uneasy. “Just an hour,” you decide. “I’ll take a beer.”

You slowly place your bag within arm’s reach and sit between them, keeping your thighs clenched tight together and your hands in your lap. You sit rigidly, unsure of what to do. “I didn’t think you drank,” Dabi comments, sounding interested. “You don’t look the type.”

He pops the cap off of the bottle with his teeth before handing it to you. “Ignore him,” Choso says, smirking at his friend. “He teases, but he’s got a thing for the glasses.” You take a sip of the beer to calm your frazzled nerves, the different scents of the two men—cologne, cigarettes, some kind of spicy-smelling soap—mingling into one intoxicating mixture.

“You mean nerdy girls,” you correct him, cracking a smile. “It’s okay, I know I’m a nerd.” Choso laughs, taking a sip of his beer. “Nothin’ wrong with that. I think it’s cool.”

His cheeks glow with a slight blush that somehow turns you on. Dabi snorts from beside you, gently sprinkling crushed weed into one of the papers on the coffee table. “You mean hot. Don’t try to front.” Choso gives him the finger. “Shut the fuck up and roll the damn blunt, asshole.”

Dabi gives him the bird right back but continues to roll his blunt. You watch his fingers expertly work to pinch, roll, squeeze. You would think he’d be good with his hands since he’s a guitarist. They’d probably feel so good inside of you, curling up against that spot that would make you see stars.

“Wanna hit?” he suddenly asks. You blink, realizing that he’s talking to you. He holds the blunt between his forefinger and thumb, smoke billowing from between his lips. You grow hot suddenly, both out of embarrassment for fading out on him because of your dirty mind and uncertainty. “O-Oh, I’ve never…”

Dabi’s brows raise. “You never had weed before? Not even an eddy?”

It doesn’t take a village idiot to figure out that he means an edible. You slowly shake your head, glowing with embarrassment over your squareness. The guitarist breaks into a humored and interested smile like a wolf who realizes he’s got his prey. “Well, shit, aren’t you proper. We’ve gotta fix that.”

“Dabi, don’t corrupt her,” Choso barks. “She’s still our babysitter.”

The guitarist shoots him a bored look. “And she deserves some relaxation after a long, gruelin’ day.” He turns to you, his blue eyes a sea of sin and hot promises. “Don’t you, bunny?” he whispers before puffing on the blunt.

You watch him wrap his lips around the blunt and his cheeks hollow as he inhales. When he pulls away, he puckers his lips and sends an O-shaped smoke ring floating out from between them as well as releasing a steady stream out of his nostrils. He then turns and hands it to you.

With a gulp, you take it and hold it to your wavering lips. You look at Choso for help who is happy to assist with his words: “Inhale slow, hold, and then exhale.”

You do as he says and wrap your lips around the blunt before slowly inhaling. As soon as the smoke invades your lungs, you hold it and then slowly exhale. Though you cough a bit, making the bandmates laugh, the weed already takes effect and makes you feel light, fuzzy, and warm.

“Good girl,” Dabi draws, watching you with a rather predatory gaze. “So she listens, too.” Choso watches you too, creating a very uncomfortable feeling for you in your stomach that you stupidly try to squash with some more beer.

“S-So…uh, tell me about your show tonight,” you stammer, wanting desperately to change the subject and take this situation somewhere less risky.

They respect your decision and tell you about their night playing in a small, sweat-and-alcohol-soaked bar. They also talk about you, asking you about classes, work, your hobbies. You initially feel uncomfortable talking about yourself, but the more you drink and the more you puff on Dabi’s blunt, the less harder it becomes.

You should’ve stopped at one puff. You should’ve stopped after a few sips of beer too. But it’s too late for you now. The weed and the alcohol work their magic on you before you even realize it.

Everything around you feels fuzzy and your skin feels tingly. Choso and Dabi’s voices are thick in your eardrums which feel as if they are stuffed with cotton. You can’t quite comprehend everything they say because they sound so far away and your brain is processing everything at a glacial pace.

You slump against the couch, your eyes fluttering closed and your head feeling heavy. You want to sleep. You want to shut off the movie playing—some 90s slasher flick that Choso put on—, stick your head under the covers, and be plunged into darkness. “Y/N?” Choso asks. “Baby, you still here with us?” He is suddenly closer to you, his hand on your knee. It feels warm and makes your body tingle…especially one part in particular.

Dabi sounds closer too. He’s actually moved closer to you and you just didn’t realize it. When you open your eyes to stare into his piercing, blue ones, he smiles. “Ooooh, the weed’s got her,” he chuckles. “Look at those eyes. She’s gone.” Choso stares at you worriedly, keeping his hand on your knee.

In contrast, Dabi is more daring and lays his hand on your thigh. The surprise contact causes you to giggle, nervously and shyly. The weed has created a thick fog around you where everything feels good and nice. “You’re both so pretty,” you deliriously say. “So sexy.”

Despite your sluggish mind, you know you weren’t supposed to say that. Choso and Dabi share a look, one that you can’t identify. The guitarist smirks at you, his hand trailing farther up your thigh and giving it a firm squeeze.

“Oh, yeah, baby? We think you’re sexy too.” His other hand moves to cup your chin, emitting a small gasp from you. “And pretty…so goddamn pretty.”

His thumb gently pries your bottom lip down, showing him your teeth. He watches intently as the plump flesh pops back into place, his pupils dilating at the sight. He is so close…too close.

You don’t know what to do. Your heart hammers rapidly against your ribcage as he leans in. Or do you lean in? You can’t remember quite well when his lips are on yours.

You squeak in surprise, your shoulders tensing. It’s the only movement you can make with his hands on you. You’re like a terrified rabbit frozen in place as his hand grips your jaw, keeping you still as his mouth envelops yours. His lips are soft yet rough and demanding, practically bruising your lips as he kisses the lipgloss off of them. His piercing is cool against your tongue which swirls against his, only because he demands it. You felt it swipe against your bottom lip at one point, forcing himself inside of your mouth.

You’ve never been kissed in such a way before. Dabi takes and takes and takes yet forces you to take what he gives you. His hands find your ass, trailing up underneath your skirt, drawing a soft moan out of you. “You like that, baby?” he murmurs against your lips. “I knew you wanted this. It was just a matter of time.”

“Mmm-mmm.” This is all you can say or even utter as his tongue dances with yours, giving you a taste of his piercing dug into the pink muscle. His hands squeeze your ass so hard that it hurts, his fingers digging into the soft flesh. You’re helpless to stop him.

You become even more helpless in the situation when you suddenly feel another set of hands on you caressing your body. “Don’t be fuckin’ greedy, Dabi,” Choso growls. “This is my house, remember?”

Dabi pulls away and gives his friend a cocky smirk just as Choso’s hand presses against your cheek. He turns you to face him and his eyes, hooded from the weed and lust. “C-Choso…”

All you can utter out is a soft exhale of his name before his lips covers yours, swooping you up in a hot, wanton kiss. His kiss is less rough than Dabi’s, but it’s just as sloppy, your tongues hotly swirling with each others. At one point, Choso sucks on your tongue and stares into your eyes as he does it, leaving you a panting, wet mess.

“You taste so good,” he whispers. “I’ve been wantin’ this for so long, baby. You have no idea.”

His hands cup your cheeks, bringing you in for more. You find yourself pressed against him and Dabi both, their bodies like brick walls trapping you between them. “I think she has too. Why else would she wear such a slutty lil’ outfit?” His hands trail up your bodysuit, cupping your tits over the fabric. “I bet you wore this just for us, didn’t you, slutty girl?”

He begins roughly massaging your breasts, causing goose pimples to explode over your skin as Choso kisses your neck. You whimper at Dabi’s degrading words. “I-I’m not a—“

You’re cut off with your own gasp as Dabi pinches each of your nipples through the bodysuit, sending sparks of pain throughout your nerve endings. “Shut the fuck up,” he growls. “That’s what they all fuckin’ say until they’ve got a cock in front of ‘em…and I bet that’s what you really want, ain’t it, bunny?” He leans in and trails his tongue down your neck, creating a line of his saliva on your skin.

A soft moan escapes you as Choso begins playing with your left ear, gently nibbling along your earlobe. Dabi follows suit and plays with your right until both of them are teasing your ears with kisses, licks, nibbles, and moans that have you squirming between them.

Your body feels like it’s overheating and your pussy…you’ve never been so wet before. Is it from the weed? The alcohol? Them?

Choso trails a hand between your thighs, prying them apart to get a feel of your panties. “You look so cute in this costume, baby…so fuckin’ cute.” His index and middle fingers press into your panties, making your toes curl. “Choso, please,” you whine.

He pulls away from your ear, staring deeply into your eyes. “What is it, baby?” he asks. “What do you need? You want us to stop?”

You blink at him, overwhelmed and hornier than you’ve ever been in your life. “I….I….” You don’t know what you want or need. You want to leave, but you also don’t. It feels wrong, but also so right.

Dabi disagrees, yanking the straps to your bodysuit down. You yelp as your tits fall out and are exposed to the two musicians who ogle at them. “Her body ain’t sayin’ no,” he chuckles. “Check out these tits. Look at how hard these nipples are.” He begins to slurp your nipples, his tongue and teeth running over the sensitive peaks.

You gasp, biting your lip as Choso begins stroking you through your panties that continue to secrete moisture. “Fuck, babe, look at you,” he sighs, pressing a kiss to your cheek. “You need attention, don’t you?”

Dabi bites your nipple, sending shocks of pain throughout your body. “Ah!” you cry out. “W-Wait! Yuji might hear us!” Choso chuckles, still stroking, “He won’t. That kid can sleep through a murder.” Dabi tears himself away from you, glaring. “Now shut the fuck up and open your legs for us.”

With your nerves frazzled, you slowly open your legs…with some help. Choso and Dabi’s big hands pry you open to reveal your soaked panties underneath your skirt. “Just as I thought,” the guitarist tuts. “Look at how wet she is for us, bro. She barely knows us and yet, here she is with a soaked fuckin’ pussy.”

He pries your panties to the side, revealing your puffy, pretty, wet cunt to them both. You gasp as the cold air hits your sensitive skin. “Wow, baby,” Choso says in awe, his eyes slightly wide. “You’re so, so wet for us. Good enough to taste.” He sucks on his index and middle fingers before proceeding to gently rub your clit.

Two other fingers do the same, rubbing up and down your slit. “Good enough to eat,” Dabi adds. “You’d love that wouldn’t you, bunny? You want the big, bad wolves to eat you right up, don’t you?” He sinks his fingers into your pussy, just stopping at his fingertips.

You moan, gripping the duo’s big, beefy arms for dear life as the two play with your gushing pussy. “Fuck!” you gasp. What else can you say?

Dabi tsks disappointedly, teasing you further by curling his fingers up. “That ain’t an answer, baby girl.” Combined with his fingers shallowly fucking you and Choso rubbing your clit, you can’t process anything but how good you feel. “Yes! Yes, please!” You whine, your toes curling in your Mary Jane’s.

Like a killer who has caught his next victim, Dabi grins. He slides his digits out of you, sucks your wetness off of them, and slinks off of the couch to kneel in front of you. “Keep these fuckin’ thighs open,” he demands, eyes glaring into Choso’s. “I don’t want her doin’ shit while I’ve got my tongue in her.”

Choso grips your left leg and pins it open while Dabi takes the right until you’re completely open and exposed to Dabi’s pierced tongue. “Look over here, baby. Look at what you’ve done to me.”

Choso turns your face to meet him where he is fumbling to unzip his pants with his other hand. You watch him peel down his briefs to reveal his happy trail and a very hard, very pretty, very much throbbing and dripping cock.

Dabi nips at your thigh, scowling at you. “Well, don’t just leave him like that,” he scolds. “Stroke that dick. Take some fuckin’ accountability.”

With a shaky hand, you wrap your hand around Choso’s cock and begin to stroke it while Dabi begins to sloppily eat your pussy.

You and Choso moan at the same time, both of you overwhelmed by the amount of pleasure you’re receiving. Dabi’s tongue is skilled, teasing your folds as he slides it along your slit and up to your clit. You stroke Choso’s cock in time with his bandmate’s tongue strokes, trying to focus on two things at the same time.

“Shit,” Choso groans. “You’re so good at this, baby girl, fuck…”

His cute face is etched with pleasure, his eyes hooded and his cheeks flushed as he stares at you pumping his cock. Dabi stares too, still slurping away at your cunt. When the silver ball in his tongue hits your clit, you jump and let out a squeak. “You like that tongue piercing, huh?” he cackles. “Such a little slut. You can’t get enough of this.”

As he dives back down and sucks on your clit, he gently begins to finger you, aiming upward as he strokes your walls. You toss your head back at the euphoric feeling, your brain growing fuzzy. “Watch Dabi eat that pussy, baby,” Choso coos. “But don’t get too distracted.”

You don’t know if you can help that. The way Dabi is sloppily eating you out and finger-fucking you is too much for you to not focus on.

You finally cannot take anymore and let every loud, bottled sound inside of you escape as Choso plays with your breasts and Dabi sucks on your clit. “O-Oh, my God!” you cry out. “Fuck, fuck yes!”

The guitarist flinches, scowling up at you. “Plug up that hole, would ya?” He asks Choso, annoyed. He then goes back to fingering you, a slight, wet sound leaving your pussy as he coats his digit in your juices.

You suddenly feel a hand on your head and Choso’s deep, soft eyes are staring into yours. “Open wide, bunny. I’ve gotta keep you quiet.” He gently pushes you down towards his hard dick standing at attention for you. “You wouldn’t want Yuji to come down and find you like this, right?”

Instinctively, you open your mouth and cover your teeth with your pillowy-soft lips to avoid scraping Choso as his cock sinks into your mouth. “No ‘cause you’re a good girl,” he pants. “You’re my good, sweet fuckin’ girl. Fuck, baby, your mouth is so good!”

He proceeds to fuck up into your mouth, using it as just a fleshlight. A toy. And you allow it. Drool drips from your mouth and down his balls as he continues to assault your mouth, soon sinking deeper and deeper into your throat. You gag a few times and nearly feel triggered to throw up, but you just remember to breathe through your nose. Breathe.

Soon, it becomes easier for you to take Choso’s hard cock down your throat. Dabi watches, still fingering you. “Ooooh, she’s good at that,” he chuckles. “Look at her workin’ that mouth.” He hums in arousal to himself, palming himself between your legs, unbeknown to you. “Fuckin’ little cockslut is gettin’ me rock hard.”

Choso chuckles, his laugh breathless as he fucks your mouth like the hole that it is. His hole. Dabi presses a kiss to your clit, emitting a whimper from you. “Does our little bunny need two big carrots tonight?” he smirkingly asks. Choso pulls his cock, wet with your spit, out of your mouth, allowing you to take a proper breath.

“Oh, I think you do,” Dabi answers for you, “and you’re gonna fuckin’ take ‘em.”

He suddenly stands up between your legs, looking down at you as if you’re nothing more than a cock sleeve for his own use. “Get on your knees and look up at us,” he demands. You look at Choso for help, but he looks too lustful and sex-drunk to even begin to think about rescuing you.

On wobbly legs, you get off of the couch and sit on the floor on your knees. You stare up at Choso and Dabi, suddenly staring at two different cocks. Different in length. Different in girth. But still hard and throbbing. In addition, Dabi’s cock is pierced just at the underside of the head which drips in pre-cum for you.

You bite your lip as you stare up at them, kneeling in just your skirt, stockings, and shoes with your tits out, your pussy wet, and your lips coated in spit. The duo look as if they have fallen in love with you. Dabi cocks his head to the side as he slides something out of his back pocket. “Now that’s a sight.”

You close your eyes, humiliated and embarrassed by this moment, but also by how aroused you are. Your pussy has never been wetter than now sitting in front of these two men that you barely know, letting them see you naked and use you like a—

Click!

You open your eyes as a flash goes off and realize in horror that Dabi has his cell phone out. And he’s taking photos of you. “N-No!” you gasp, covering your breasts. “Don’t!”

Click!

Dabi rolls his eyes at you, still keeping the camera on. “Relaaaax. Nobody is seein’ this beauty but me and your little boyfriend.” He nudges Choso who is busy stroking himself at the sight of you, looking like he wants to eat you the fuck up.

He and Dabi get closer to your face, holding their cocks for you. “Nuzzle ‘em,” Dabi orders. “Put those cute little lips on us.”

Feeling like you have no choice, you do as ordered and nuzzle, kiss, and lick up their cocks. You bump your nose against their bulbous heads, run your lips down their shafts, and gently suck on their balls. The two groan in encouragement at your ministrations, hypnotized.

“You look so cute like this, baby,” Choso moans. “I need to see my cock in your mouth.”

He grabs your hair and, without warning, sinks into your mouth to fuck it dumb. “Fuck!” He groans. “You’re so good at suckin’ my cock, baby.” You have no choice but to breathe and let him do as he wants, your eyes watering from the ache in your jaw and your that button in your throat being triggered.

Dabi watches you, his phone in your face and the blinding, white light of his camera in your eyes. “C’mooon, you can fuck her mouth harder than that, can’tcha?”

Choso glares into the lens as he grips your hair harder. “Fuck you,” he growls but ends up fucking your mouth a little rougher anyway. You gag and sloppily gurgle around his dick as he pounds your throat like it’s your pussy, gripping your hair for leverage.

Dabi grins at his bandmate, enjoying the scene before him. “No thanks,” he cackles. “You ain’t my type, but this little doll is.” He taps his cock against your cheek to get your attention. “Look into the camera, bunny. You love bein’ our little toy, don’t you?”

You squint into the blinding light as Choso pulls his cock out of your mouth, leaving a strand of saliva in his wake. “Slutty little thing,” Dabi whistles. “Now it’s my turn. Get it on camera, will ya?” He passes Choso his phone before roughly yanking you towards his cock by your hair.

With a gasp, your mouth falls onto his cock. He is just as rough, aggressive, and desperate as Choso as he fucks your throat, pulling you back and forth like he owns your entire head.

“Deeper,” he growls. “C’mon, slut, take me deeper.” He sinks himself in deeper, nearly touching the back of your throat. Unable to avoid possibly throwing up, you desperately push at his hips to make him stop.

With a sigh, he pulls himself out of you, allowing you to take a breath. You sputter and gulp down air, unable to get it in your lungs fast enough. Figuring you’ve had enough time, the guitarist grabs you again for more throat-fucking.

“D-Dabi, wait!” you cough. “I-I can’t breathe!” But he doesn’t listen to you, instead plunging his cock in balls deep until the heavy things hit your chin. “Bunnies don’t talk, stupid girl. C’mon, you’re embarrassin’ me on video.”

He turns and smirks into the light as Choso records him plowing your mouth, his cock moving in and out of your throat at a fast, rough pace that nearly knocks your brain out of your skull. “You’re doin’ so well, baby,” Choso coos, gently tapping his cock against your soft cheek. “Such a big girl takin’ those big dicks.” He taps it once against your nose too, chuckling to himself.

Dabi wraps a hand around your throat and squeezes, tossing some rough into the mixing pot of sugar that Choso gives you. “Look up at me. Show me your eyes.”

You do so, staring deep into those blue orbs as his cock strokes the walls of your throat. “That’s it, my little bunny. That’s what I like.”

“Just remember to share her, asshole,” Choso hisses. “She likes my dick more anyway.”

Dabi lazily stares at him, squinting at the camera flash. “Oh, really? Then maybe she’ll be able to choose once we’re inside her.” He pulls his cock out of your mouth, using it to slap your cheek. “Turn the fuck over,” he growls.

Nervously swallowing your spit and his pre, you slowly turn around on wobbly limbs only to be hiked into position by an impatient Dabi: all fours. You feel his big hands on your hips, drawing you toward him. When you feel his cock slide against your pussy, you feel immense fear make your stomach turn.

Then he starts to push the head in. “Dabi, wait,” you gasp. “Condom! You need a condom!”

Smack!

His hand comes down to smack you hard on the ass. You flinch at the stinging pain. “I don’t need that shit,” he scoffs. “Now shut up and take this dick, little bunny.”

And then in he goes, sliding his full length into your pussy one inch at a time. Your mouth falls open as you feel him stretching you out, making his place in your cunt one stroke after the other.

He groans, his hips slamming into your ass a little harder and a little faster until he is fucking you onto his cock like you’re his toy, pulling and pushing you by your hips. “Much better than money, right?” he cackles. He leans down to bite your ear, tugging on your earlobe. “Bet it feels good. Bet it’s everything you need, right, bunny?”

You can’t form even one coherent word. Moans and whimpers are all you can manage as his cock drills into your pussy, emitting wet sounds like a moist macaroni and cheese casserole from his dick repeatedly pounding your cunt. Your head feels like mush, your tits jiggle, and you can’t get a grip on yourself.

“Too much!” you sob. “P-Please, Dabi! Slow down!”

He doesn’t, instead gripping whatever he can of yours—your jiggling tits, your stomach, your ass. “Shut her up, Choso,” he irritably grunts. “She’s killin’ my fuckin’ buzz.”

Choso moves in front of you, pushing his erect cock against your plush lips. “Shhh, baby,” he whispers. “Yuji is sleepin’. Just suck on my cock, okay, good girl?”

Before you can answer, his dick is pushing inside of your mouth. With a moan, he begins to fuck the side of your mouth, his head rubbing against the soft, wet wall.

The two begin to fuck you at both ends, using your body for their pleasure. Dabi grips your skirt, nearly tearing the fabric with his aggressively tight hold. “Fuck!” He grunts. “She feels so fuckin’ good! Gonna shoot a load in her soon at this rate.”

Your eyes widen at the terrifying mention of a creampie. Sure, you’ve always had a kink for that and maybe eventually, you’ll want to experience it, but not now. You can’t get pregnant! Luckily, Choso becomes your savior. “Switch with me then. I need my turn.”

Dabi chuckles, the sound sending shivers down your spine. Moaning in unison, the duo pull their cocks out of you before switching spots. Dabi takes your front while Choso takes the back, his hands massaging your ass. He presses soft kisses on your back as he rubs his cock against your soft asscheeks, almost rutting against them.

You look back at him, unintentionally making him harder as you stare at him over your shoulder. “Choso—“

You can’t finish the rest of your sentence because the drummer is already sliding his cock deep inside of you, sinking himself down to the hilt. He begins to fuck you almost immediately, grabbing your ass for leverage. You moan and whine at the feeling, unable to think about anything but how good his cock feels.

Choso uses one hand to fondle your tits while the other stays on your ass, massaging both sensitive zones as his cock massages your walls. “I’ve wanted this for so long,” he moans. “Wanted to fuck this pussy for so fuckin’ long. All you do is tease me.” He grips your body to his like it’s his prized position, his hips hammering against your ass again and again and again.

Every time he slams into you, you’re propelled deeper and deeper into a hole of molten pleasure that you can’t crawl out of…and you’re not sure if you want to.

“Choso!” You whine. “Oh, my God, Choso, fuck!” His stroke game draws the loudest, most pathetic sounds out of you, only muffled by Dabi’s cock.

He laughs as he slides into your mouth as you moan around it. “Damn, you’ve got some pipes, girl,” he chuckles, biting his lip as he watches you suck on it. “Might wanna look into bein’ a singer. We might have an opening for ya if you can make us nut.”

He takes his cock out once and taps it against your tongue before sliding back in, proceeding to fuck your throat. Choso laughingly moans, still massaging your insides with his cock. “That won’t be a problem…ssshhhit, her pussy is so tight!” He lets out a shuddery breath as he slows himself down, edging himself inside of you. You can feel him beginning to swell, his cock growing thicker.

Dabi nods at him encouragingly, gripping your hair and forcing you to throat his dick. “Then beat that pussy up, man. Don’t fuckin’ slack—give her what she needs.”

And together, they do just that. They fuck and use your holes until you’re a gagging, whimpering mess, dripping from both ends. Your fake ears fall off and your skirt is ripped so tightly in Choso’s fists that you hear it rip. They fuck you as hard and as fast as they want to, taking you on a bumpy ride.

You feel your core begin to tighten into a knot and your clit swell the more Dabi teases it with his fingers. Your second orgasm is approaching quickly.

Choso must feel it because he focuses heavily on that spot inside of you, fucking it until you’re a puddle. “You gonna cum, bunny?” he whispers. “You gonna cum all over this cock?”

Your mind is blank, the pleasure too numbing. You can feel the urge to cum building, building, building. Choso pinches your nipples while Dabi swirls his fingers around your clit, the sensations getting you closer. “Mmmm!” You scream around Dabi’s cock. “Mmmm, pweeease!”

Dabi nods, pleased with your begging. He grips your hair tighter, forcing you to take his cock deeper. “Go ahead and cum with us, slut. We fuckin’ need it.” Choso nods encouragingly, still pounding your pussy with the intention of making you both cum your brains out. “Do it,” he begs. “Cum on that dick. Give it to me, bunny, please! Cum right fuckin’ now!”

His begging and pleading triggers something inside of you that immediately flips your O switch on. “Ohhh, fuuuuck!” you moan as you finally cum all over Choso’s cock. He keeps fucking you through each intense wave of your orgasm, extending it until you’re writhing and thrashing between him and Dabi.

“Oh, God,” Choso groans as your pussy clenches around him. “I’m ‘bout to cum too.” Dabi shakes his head, pumping his cock in your face. “Unless you want a baby, I suggest you follow my lead.”

Despite the feeling of disappointment as your heavenly cunt leaves him, Choso pulls out and takes his place next to Dabi. The two stand over you—little, pathetic, cum-drunk you—and jerk themselves off in your face.

“Not done yet,” Dabi hisses, damn near feral. “Look up at us, bunny. Show us that pretty face.”

Slowly, you do as he orders and stare at their cocks as they furiously chase their orgasms with their hands. Dabi cums first with a raspy groan that sends warm shivers throughout your body. His creamy, hot cum shoots all over your face and tongue that you slip out of your mouth to catch some droplets.

Choso comes next, his face flush red and looking oh-so pretty as his orgasm peaks. Finally, with a moan, he cums too. “Ohhh, fuck,” he groans as he sprays his load all over your tits. Some of the droplets also splash onto your tongue and on your stomach, coating your skin in the creamy substance.

Their muscles tense and their faces screw in pleasure until finally, the cloud of pleasure fades and they relax. Choso tilts his head back, eyes shut and looking winded. Meanwhile, Dabi takes his phone from the floor and once again puts the camera on you. You squint into the white light, wanting to cover yourself.

“That’s a pretty sight,” he sighs, getting up close and personal. “Now was that good, bunny? Did ya have fun?” He takes his thumb and wipes some cum away from your lips. “Y-Yes,” you softly reply.

The guitarist smirks, pleased with your answer. “Mmm, good girl. You look so nice with my cum all over you.” He makes sure to get all of you—your tits, your stomach, your pretty face all covered in his and Choso’s nut—on his phone. You have no choice but to sit in it…and your embarrassment.

You can’t believe you just got fucked by two men you barely know after babysitting their baby brothers…one of which is sound asleep upstairs.

Dabi finally turns off his phone, chuckling to himself. You don’t ask why. After fetching some tissues, Choso bends down on the floor to wrap his arms around you, using the tissues to dab the cum off of your body. “You did so well, baby,” he sighs. “You were so, so fuckin’ good.”

His big, strong, inked arms wrap around your middle as he drags you into his lap. He then picks you up and walks you over to the couch where he cuddles you, naked and satisfied. He gently strokes your back and kisses your forehead, almost making you forget all about your humiliation….almost.

And then you hear a knock. It is loud and it is abrupt. You gasp, jumping in fear. Someone’s at the door. Could it be Nanami? Is he home early?

Dabi, putting his undies and jeans back on, zips up his fly before sauntering over to the door. He peeks through the peephole and smirks at you. “Relax, girl,” he cackles. “It ain’t no trick-or-treaters.”

Despite the fact that you and Choso are still very naked, Dabi opens the door to reveal two more hot, tatted band members—one with long, wavy white hair and tired gray eyes and the other with spiked pink hair and vermillion eyes.

“Took you long enough,” Dabi scoffs, opening the door further. “Get your asses in here.”

The two strangers walk in, laughing to themselves. When their eyes lock with yours, they each smirk to themselves, menacingly. “Damn,” the pink-haired hottie laughs lightly. “Guess we missed the party.”

“Nah, you guys came just in time,” Dabi chuckles, tossing an arm around his white-haired friend. “We just finished up with her.”

The white-haired man tilts his head to the side, his eyes roaming over your body. “Tiny little thing. You two horn bags corrupt her already?”

Choso squeezes you to him, smiling at his friends. “Baby, this is Tomura and Sukuna, our bassist and one of our other guitarists.”

The two bandmates’ smirks grow wider, causing a twirl of fear and anxiety to appear in your gut.

Choso presses lips to your ear. You can tell he’s smiling. “They’ve got a thing for bunnies too,” he whispers.

THE END.

#black fanfic writer #smutty smut #my works #black coded reader #my one shots #black writers #choso x black!reader #dabi x black!reader #anime crossover #jjk smut #bnha smut #poly smut #happy halloweeeeeeen #bunny girl

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insertdisc5 · 11 months ago

Note

game development question, howd you get the music for your games done/find musicians to work with? what was the process like and how hard was it?

id love to make a game of my own some day, but the scariest part of that to me is the music because i can learn to code and i can already draw, but music just seems. a bit too hard

thank you in advance ^^ sorry if you already answered this somewhere

this is perfectly timed because we're almost done with our search for a composer for project ts!

tldr: just get someone to do it for you. you don't have to do everything.

for isat, i was already in contact with Lindar from my first game Serre! I think I was just saying on twitter that music was hard, and Lindar DM'd me with some samples, so she was hired on the spot lol

as for project ts, Amazing Producer Dora put a few posts out on social media (twitter and linkedin iirc?) asking if people would be interested, and we got a good chunk of answers.

looking for musicians yourself and asking for their availability would work too!

as for what you'll need imo, your budget is the most important to figure out imo. How much can you spend on this? Songs are usually X$/song, or X$/minute of song. Look for rates online! Or ask them for a quote! Or just tell them "i have this amount of money what can i get for this"!!! Also you need to know when you'll need this by. Give them a deadline! Even if the deadline is something you work on together later!

After that, how many songs do you need from them? It doesnt need to be COMPLETELY set in stone, but try and keep to it. Give them moods-- you probably would need a title song, a happy song, a sad song, a tense song, a "walking around" song, and go from there.

And then, the Mood. You don't need to know EXACTLY what you want, but just something to get them started! Or at the very least, have a primer with the story/look of it, and a couple of mood words, and let them do what they're good at. Don't stress too much about not knowing music words, so far I've worked with musicians who don't mind me just going "this needs more oomph" lol, but every musician is different!

for reference, this is the sheet i gave Lindar for ISAT's soundtrack:

those are my thoughts as a person who hires composers, i'd be curious to know what composers think!

#ask tag #in stars and time #reference #tutorial #music #i also just woke up so i KNOW i forgot something. oh well

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atinystraynstay · 1 year ago

Text

Off Limits - Jeong Yunho

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

Synopsis: Going to college for you was very serious. Nothing could stand in the way which meant often rejecting social events and saying no to anything to risk. That was until you met Yunho, someone you would risk it all for.

Pairing: College!Jeong Yunho x fem. reader

Genre: mutual pining, strangers to friends with benefits - MINORS DNI

Contains: mentions of celibacy, mentions of alcohol consumption, nudity, oral (f. receiving), fingering (f. receiving), dirty talk, slight begging, protected intercourse, characters losing their virginity, orgasm

Note: based on a request from @jonghoslvt ☆ no joke, I adore you and never thought you'd take up my offer. I really hope this doesn't disappoint because I literally fell in love with the idea the moment you hit my inbox

Word Count: 7.8k

"But y/n, it's not even a frat party," your best friend whined. "Yeah! We're too old for that anyways," your other friend chimed in.

You currently found yourself in a standoff. At first, you had situated yourself in your bed with your textbooks to have a quiet night in. Your friends, however, took it upon themselves to propose an alternative idea. One that you often rejected.

"Are you forgetting that we have midterms next week? I would like to start spring break stress-free."

Your entire life has been focused on going to college. If asked about your childhood, you would always recall how happy you were growing up. But you never overlooked the sacrifices your parents made for you. Going to college was never realistic or them, so they worked overtime I order to provide you with the opportunity to live a better life than they ever got a chance for. Their struggles were something you can never ignore, which made you want to work hard to make them proud.

And since getting to college, it was about doing well to be able to show them why their hard work was worth it. You also had a personal goal of being able to afford to repay them for everything.

To get to that point, that meant often saying no to social obligations so you could study. Your weekends often looked like you were crammed in the library. Or, if you needed human interaction, propping yourself at a coffee shop to mix in with the crowd.

Breaks were the opportunities to let loose and have a little bit of fun. Yet, your breaks often looked like doing work for internships. Now that senior year has arrived, you are also adding in time to scroll through LinkedIn and Indeed for potential job openings

"Y/n, I adore you, and what a little studious bookworm you are. However, it is senior year. We have less than 3 months to make stupid decisions before adult obligations. There is also the chance we might not be living even in the same state or country! Do you really want to live life only when we come to visit or you visit someone else?"

You never went to a frat party. You never had a random hookup. You always played things safe.

You couldn't help but let out a sigh as you gazed down at your lap where your textbook rested. She had a point. While you were very excited about being that true adult version of you, you weren't ready for the hard parts of it like no longer living with your best friends or really having little interaction.

"And I'll tell you what. We don't have to stay all night. If you get overwhelmed or are over it, we will come straight home and watch Love Is Blind."

You perked up at her compromise. When you looked up, hopeful eyes were staring back at you before you silently nodded. That was enough to send them into squeals and start to drag yourself out of bed.

What were you getting yourself into?

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Little did you know, across campus, a similar debate was going on.

"Guys, I really don't like house parties like that," Yunho huffed. "And how do you know if you've ever been?" Mingi challenged him.

Yunho couldn't help but narrow his eyes on his best friend. He had a point, but damn, did he hate it when he was right. Out of the two them, Mingi was the more social one. Before a party was finalized, Mingi was already receiving texts about the details so word could spread like wildfire.

On the other hand, Yunho often opted for quiet nights in. He would spend nights either gaming with Seonghwa or drinking at home with a few friends. What was the point in going to a house party when they already had beer in their apartment?

There was also a part that loved hearing Mingi's retelling of what went down. Yunho simply didn't like parties, the situations that could arise from consuming too much alcohol, and the morning recovery.

"You owe me!" "For what?!"' "I mean," Mingi began. "I am your best friend. I'm sure you owe me something!"

Yunho rolled his eyes but couldn't fight the smirk curling onto his lips. It amused him greatly the antics Mingi always tried getting into, and how he basically became a whimpering puppy for attention.

"What will you do for me if I go?" Yunho challenged. "I will literally never ask you to come out again if you absolutely hate it. Or I will do all the chores in the house for the next month."

That caught Yunho's attention instantly. He liked to consider himself a very clean man, never knowing who might step into their humble abode. However, Yunho still liked to maintain a welcoming household and seemed like he had things together. First impressions mattered the most to him. And it was no secret Mingi often dirtied up any clean space, no matter how recently Yunho finished cleaning.

"Wait? Are you being serious?"

With Mingi cleaning, that meant that Yunho could just spend time the way he wanted to - playing video games and chilling with his friends. Yunho definitely was a person who liked being around people, but he didn't like situations that could get messy quickly. Hence why there was a slight aversion to going to parties where things could go 0 to 100 too quickly.

At home, Yunho was in control. He was the mood maker who kept a warm, welcoming environment. That meant one that was clean and safe for everyone. An oasis from the chaos of university.

"I'm dead serious, Yunho." "Deal!"

Little to Yunho know just how overwhelming the atmosphere would be. Even though Yunho certainly liked making memories with his friends, he was almost intimidated. All around him were drinks being passed left and right, not even knowing what was in the drink but it made his noise scrunch up as all he could smell was cheap perfume and alcohol. It practically burned his nostrils.

"Relax, Yunho," Wooyoung laughed. "You are about to give away that you've never had pussy before."

Yunho's head snapped towards his younger friend, a look of shock on his face. "Do you ever not think with your dick?"

"Will you ever sleep with someone? Come on. You're in college. Make a bad decision." "I'm fine with sticking to this one," Yunho sighed.

It wasn't that Yunho didn't want to have sex. However, he knew just how special being intimate with someone is. What mattered to him was waiting for the person he felt like he could be that vulnerable with. Just finding a random person and doing it sounds disgusting. Not how he wanted his first time go.

Nobody has caught his attention yet.

"Oh ease up, Yunho. Woo just is looking out for you," Mingi laughed. "But if you do find someone, bedrooms are open upstairs.

I think I'm going to be sick.

"Well, to be the bearer of good news," Jongho called out. "It seems like Yunho has a pair of eyes on him."

What was he talking about?

Slowly, Yunho looked over his shoulder whereas his friends seemed to wipe their heads around. Way to be subtle. There was this pattern that always occurred where girls seemed to have taken an interest in Yunho, but he never reciprocated. He was just content with the way things were in his life - no drama, no mess.

His eyes widened slightly at the sight behind him. There's no way.

Yunho has seen you around campus before. The two of you have never had a class together, seeing as your respective programs were in two different buildings. Yet, there were always ways you two crossed paths. You were heavily involved on campus or often in the library studying. Yunho did frequent the library, but if there was no immediate open spot available, he would leave. He always thought you were cute, but the opportunity never presented itself where he could make a move.

He didn't quite think that asking someone, a complete stranger, out on a date in the library when they were obviously busy was romantic.

To be honest, he never saw you as a party girl. You were often studying out of your mountain of textbooks or typing like your life depended on it on your laptop. He adored that side of you. When your hair was pulled back and your glasses framed your face, highlighting your big eyes.

Tonight, you opted for a different look. You ditched your sweats for a short black skirt that had a small slit on the right side. You wore a white shirt but that was mostly hidden underneath the leather jacket you wore. Your hair was downing loose curls. Your makeup also looked like it was light, but he was drawn to your cherry red lipstick.

I wonder if it also tastes like cherries.

Yet, tonight, you seemed like you had no agenda. Your eyes did glance in his direction, followed by whispers and giggles from your friends. To say his interest was peaked is an understatement.

You were someone who caught his attention. And his friends seemed to notice.

"Hey y/n," Mingi called out.

Yunho's head immediately turned towards Mingi who wore a smirk on his face. He wouldn't.

But it was too late. Mingi was already halfway across the room to greet you and your friends. And Yunho was hot on his trails.

"See you finally are breaking out of the library to join the rest of us," he commented.

You rolled your eyes before greeting him with a hug. Of course, Mingi knew you. He knew everyone. How did you two meet though? You weren't an ex-girlfriend or else you would have been over to the dorms. And you had a face that was impossible to forget. Maybe Mingi got tutoring from you?

"Don't hold your breath, Mingi. I was offered an out if I want to take it," you warned.

Your voice was just as angelic as Yunho imagined it. You often studied alone, unless you were shoved into a group project by your professors. Hearing how you speak made his heart flutter.

"Well maybe I can offer a reason to stay?"

You tilted your head in confusion. Mingi nodded over his shoulder which caused you to instinctively look over.

Everything else froze the moment your eyes met. It was like a scene from a romantic movie where the lights highlight the dream girl, music fades out. Nothing else matters at the moment besides you.

"Y/n, I want you to meet my best friend, Jeong Yunho. Yunho, be nice. This is y/n."

I was brought back to reality by Mingi gently patting me on the shoulder and giving me a slight shove. Luckily, I was quick on my feet to prevent myself from stumbling into this girl and making a fool out of myself. The wouldn't be a great first impression.

By your body language, Yunho could tell that you were out of your element. But so was he. Your eyes bounced around as you noticed your friends and his had left the two of you alone.

"Why don't we head out of here? Maybe go to the kitchen? Away from the crowds?"

Your eyes instantly lit up at his offered. The sight of you feeling relieved made Yunho felt proud, but also served as a motivating factor to ensure you always felt that content especially around him.

With a hand on your lower back, Yunho escorted you two out of the main part of the house. His eyes flickered all around to see where there were less people. However, people were playing drinking games in the kitchen. He glanced down at the cup in your hand to see you still had something to drink. The stairs, on the other hand, were vacant.

"Come on, let's go upstairs. I've been wanting to get to know you, y/n," he confessed.

Instantly, you felt your cheeks heat up. You nodded before following Yunho's lead. Your friend groups watched almost in astonishment at how quickly things progressed. Mingi was the proudest, as he played cupid after all.

As the two of you descended up the stairs, you could hear the bass of the music from below but could not quite make out the words. The loud conversations faded out to where you could just hear the footsteps of you and Yunho. You swore though you could feel your racing, and you were nervous Yunho could hear it too.

He flashed you a warm smile as he began trying the doorknob on the first door he saw.

"Occupied!" Someone shouted from within. The two of you felt yourself get hot in the face.

Quickly, he maneuvered the two of you to the bedroom across the hallway. Luckily, the door was slightly cracked and lights were off. An indicator that it was unoccupied. And to confirm, Yunho stepped in first by gently pushing the door. He let out a sigh of relief as there was no one.

"Perfect. Now I can actually get to know you."

He wanted to know me? The girl who is always studying?

He stepped out of the doorway, his back against the bedroom door to allow you inside. You thanked him with a soft smile before stepping into the room. You did notice he closed the door but also left it unlocked. It honestly made you feel a bit safer just by his gentle gaze and consideration.

Whenever you've seen Yunho walking around campus, you've always taken note of his soft aura. Maybe that's why it was so easy to lean into the potential friendship with him.

You found yourself walking into the room, sitting on the edge of the bed. Your hands flattened out the skirt so it covered a bit more of your legs. Yunho joined you, keeping a bit of space but nothing too much. Just enough so you could speak one another but be respectful and mindful of your own personal space.

"I'm surprised to see you here tonight," Yunho commented, a smile still on his lips. "You just never seemed to be the party girl." "You know me already," you laughed. "I'm honestly not but my friends want to make lasting memories before graduation," you explained.

Yunho couldn't help but chuckle which caused you to raise an eyebrow. He quickly cleared his throat, a light hue coating his cheeks.

"Sorry, I'm not laughing at you, I promise. It just seems that our friends are in the same mindset since that's why I got dragged out of the apartment tonight." "I guess it isn't so bad now that I'm here with you."

You swore that Yunho's cheeks got darker. You also noticed how his smile widened to the point his eyes became hidden. He was just too adorable.

"So mystery girl knows who I am," he chuckled again.

God, his laugh was so infectious. I could just sit hear and listen to it all day.

"And I'm surprised my campus crush knows even who I am." "Oh? I'm your campus crush?" He smirked.

Now it was your turn to blush a bit. Damn, caught red-handed.

"Well yeah. I've seen you all over with Mingi or when you are trying to study in the library. Guess you could say I've always been curious."

Yunho's ego soared. He didn't come here to get lucky, but he was. He felt as if he had one the lottery.

"There's something else I've been curious about," he admitted.

Your upper body had turned towards him. The moonlight shining from the window made your eyes sparkle. It was as if you had the whole universe in your eyes. Your head was tilted slightly, a habit Yunho was quickly learning about you and equally adored.

One hand remained at a respectful spot in the space between the two of you. Yet, his right hand reached across to cup your cheek. His thumb caressed your cheek affectionately as your eyes widened slightly. Yet, your body felt relaxed underneath his touch.

He never wanted to take things too far, but a little kiss never hurts, right?

"Is it okay if I kiss you, y/n?" He whispered.

Your name coming from his lips sent butterflies in your stomach. "Yes," you whispered back.

He offered another gentle smile before he leaned in to press his lips against yours. His lips felt soft and gentle as he didn't want to pressure you to kiss him back. But you would be a mad person if you didn't. You matched his tempo, allowing him to lead the kiss.

Tiny electric shocks were sent throughout your body. You couldn't help but allow your arms to wrap around his neck, which gave him the green light to move his hand off the bed to your knee. His warm hand caressed your exposed skin.

"I like the feeling of your hands on me," you murmured against his lips.

Fuck, Yunho, you're in trouble. Your statement made his brain all fuzzy. Yet, he didn't want to get too ahead of himself. He was almost positive you meant innocence in your statement.

His hand moved from your knee to your hip where he lifted you with ease. You gasped softly, pulling back from the kiss. You never expected him to be so strong! Your mouth was slightly open as you were positioned on his lap.

"Fuck, I'm sorry," Yunho said. "Did I move too fast?"

You turned towards him and shock your head. Your heartbeat was felt throughout your whole body. If it was anyone else, you might have gone running out the door by how overwhelmingly intense the moment felt. With Yunho? All you wanted was to stay.

"No, this is perfect," you confessed. Your one hand stayed wrapped around his neck, your fingers running through your hair. "Is this okay? I mean, I've never done anything like this before. I don't just kiss cute boys who I barely now."

Yunho couldn't help but smile softly at your sentiment. You were too sweet. "Well, maybe we can become more than strangers?" His hand caressed your side affectionately, easing any nerves left in your body.

"I'd like that," you whispered.

You were about to go in to kiss Yunho again when the bedroom door busted open. You gasped as Yunho gently moved you off, shielding your body. The people who busted in just gasped before quickly closing the door behind them, muttering apologizes.

Way to kill the mood.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

That was three weeks ago. Yunho and you kept in good contact, especially now that Mingi prided himself in bringing two of his favorite people together. Even though you and Yunho were as far from being a couple as anything else. If anything, you two were beginning to deepen your friendship.

Yunho now had a reliable person to study, with who would keep him accountable for actually getting work done. And you had someone who made life fell less lonely.

And it was a bonus that each study session ended with a makeout session at your apartment. It was almost a ritual between the two of you. At the end of the night, Yunho would make sure you had eaten before walking him. You would then offer to come in for some water or coffee, depending on what else he had going on in the evening. Which were ultimately excuses to go to your bedroom.

Never before had you felt so safe with someone. Yunho looked after you, which honestly blew you away considering how new the friendship was. Yet, for Yunho, taking care of you was a duty. Even if you weren't official, he always wanted to make sure you knew someone was looking out for you.

That was as evident as ever when you two were behind closed doors. Light kisses led to light touches. His hands often wondered to your lower back, maybe underneath your shirt to cup your bra-covered breasts. Your hands would fall on his chest, sometimes down his abs towards where his belt was. Kisses on your lips led to neck kisses then to hickies which your roommates teased you relentlessly about.

Nothing more though. You had told Yunho that you were always anxious when it came to sex. You didn't want to jeopardize everything you worked for. And Yunho always respected that, especially since he was waiting for the right person. He didn't want to regret something so meaningful. And you respected that too.

Yet, you couldn't ignore your own urges anymore. There was something powerful between the two of you. You just weren't sure how to tell Yunho how you were feeling without scaring him off.

The past three weeks have been the time of your life. He made you feel warm and fuzzy, as if you were the main character in a Nicholas Spark's novel. And Yunho felt like he was on Cloud 9 with you. He never wanted to lose that feeling.

Buzz buzz

You were currently in the kitchen of your college apartment, slicing up an apple and peanut butter. A favorite study time snack of yours. Your eyes warned over to see Yunho's name flash on your phone which instantly brought a smile on your face.

"Oh! Y/n must be talking to Yunho," your roommate teased.

You rolled your eyes but couldn't fight the smile growing on your lips. Yeah, you were down bad for him.

"Hey pretty girl, what are you up to today?" "Not studying! I got everything done." "So you have time for me?"

Your smile grew wider at his text. You literally felt your heart flutter.

"Maybe.. is it worth it though?" "Oh darling, don't you worry. I'm going to make sure you feel on top of the world." "Where are we going?" "My place? 7pm?"

You glanced at the time at the top left corner of your phone. 5:41pm. Not much time to get ready.

"Anything I should bring over?" "Just yourself. It is all I need."

Lord have mercy.

Your snack was long forgotten as you ran up the stairs. The excitement about seeing Yunho, being alone with him drove you in ways academic achievement and goals accomplished never could.

You wear wearing a loose sweatshirt and a pair of leggings. Nothing too suggestive but also easy to remove. You never wanted to go in assuming any situation, but you couldn't help but be hopeful. Your roommates also noticed your change of perspective since Yunho came into your life. They liked seeing this side of you - the side where you were allowing yourself to enjoy life rather than focus on work and outcomes.

"Make sure you say hi to Yunho for us," your one roommate teased as you rushed to grab your wallet and keys. "Should we expect you tonight or tomorrow afternoon?"

Your cheeks were a bit red, not from embarrassment. There was not one ounce that was ashamed to be so scandalous with Yunho. Maybe it was because it was your little secret, the part of your that you were allowing to flourish for the first time, that was being exposed. While you weren't sure if you and Yunho would be anything more than friends, you were safe to say you were no longer strangers.

"I'll just text you guys when I'm heading home," you laughed, trying to ease your own nerves. Yet, you felt all the butterflies in your stomach which mad you jittery.

"Oh, no need. We have your location, y/n." "Creeps," you huffed. "Or just care about your well-being! But we also know Yunho will take care of that part."

I need to get out of here. Glancing at the clock, you saw it was 6:47pm. Yunho was just a 5 minute walk away from your apartment, so you were in no rush but any excuse to get to Yunho quickly.

"Hey, I'm heading over now :)" you texted him. "Can't wait to be with you."

You waved goodbye to your roommates who sounded off in encouraging cheers. You shook your head playfully before walking out the door to Yunho's apartment. With each step, your heartbeat is faster and louder. He had you wrapped around his finger and you didn't even know how to tell him.

"Hi pretty girl," Yunho said, answering the door. His height always left you breathless. You knew you were down bad when his height is something you adore. He was dressed in a grey sweatshirt with a yellow smiley face in the middle and black sweatpants.

Gently, he stepped out of the way to allow you to enter. You smiled appreciatively before walking in and slipped off your shoes. Mingi was in the kitchen, wiping down the countertop after dinner assumedly.

"Hey y/n. I'm about to head out!" He exchanged a look with Yunho, but you were too hyper-focused on Yunho's hand on your lower back. You could basically turn into Jell-o. "I'll see you around," he snickered.

"Bye Mingi," Yunho muttered. His demeanor softened when he turned towards you though, offering that gentle smile that makes you want to do anything he says. "Wanna go up to my room?"

You nodded before taking the lead. You've been all too familiar with the staircase that led up to Yunho's bedroom. Each time you walked in front of him, Yunho struggled. He surely had the best view in the world but wanted to do his absolute best to remain respectful.

Once you arrived in his room, you were a bit taken back. This wasn't the usual setup. You were much accustomed to the floor lamp being on, his laptop ready for a movie.

Tonight, the no lights were on. Instead, he had lit a few candles that were new additions to the top of his dresser. It created a glow in the room that was warm and welcoming. It also had a smell of vanilla and cashmere, two of your favorite scents. He was a good listener. Soft, sensual music was playing in the background from the speaker by his desk.

You stepped into the room but didn't go to the bed this time. You turned towards him, keeping a bit of distance but yearning to be close to him.

"What's all this for, Yunho?"

He loved the way his name sounded from your lips. It sent shivers down his spine. He smiled gently before taking a step closer, closing the door behind him. Once again, he didn't lock it right away. Yunho was the exception in a world of boys where he was a gentleman. He always offered you an out, always a way to leave if you so choose. Yunho never placed expectations on you. He followed your lead.

"Y/n," he began. One of his hands gently reached out for yours, fingers gently wrapping around your own but not quite holding it just yet. It was endearing. "You mean so much to me. I mean, I've always been mesmerized by you, but I never knew someone could have such a large impact until you came into my life. I've never wanted to open up to someone the way I open up to you."

Your eyes widened slightly, stepping even a bit closer to Yunho. Your mind was jumping to conclusions but you did everything to stay calm.

"There is just something special between us, angel," he whispered. His hand fully slipped into yours as the other gently moved to hold your hip, keeping you close. His touch was gentle yet firm, almost as if he was begging you to say but also allowing you to move if you desired. "You complete me in ways I never imagined. Both emotionally and mentally, and our physical connection is something I'd like to explore more."

Oh my god.

"I understand if maybe that's something you never wanted with me but-" "But just kiss me. Please."

His eyes now widened this time. You were biting your lip gently as you gazed up at him with your big doe eyes.

Come on, Yunho. Get it together.

No longer hesitating, he leaned in fully to press his lips against yours. His hand squeezed your hip affectionately. Unlike the other times he's kissed you, this was more passion. He had a certain level of assertiveness that made you melt. Your hands moved from holding his to resting on his chest and the other on his arm.

With ease, Yunho picked you up which caused you squeal. He pulled back from the kiss to look up at you. You noticed this time his gaze was a bit more seductive which made you feel all tingly.

"Oh darling, I'll get you squealing for another reason soon enough," he promised you.

Your legs wrapped around his waist. You knew he'd never let you fall, so your action was more to lure him in closer. His hands moved to hold your ass, giving a playful squeeze which indeed sent your squealing again. Even though the sensations were newer to you, it felt so good when it was Yunho touching you.

Gently, Yunho tossed you on his bed. Your sweatshirt moved a bit to expose your midriff. Your hair was sprawled out on his comforter. And with the glow from the candles, Yunho swore you looked angelic.

"You can say no at anytime, darling," he promised you. His voice was in a soft tone but firm. This was serious for him which made your heart swell.

"I trust you. This is new for me too, but I want to experience it with you."

At first, he remained standing at the foot of his bed. Just enough so he could slip his own sweatshirt over his head. You couldn't help but stare at his exposed chest. He was built so beautifully.

Yunho noticed which caused him to smirk. Not wanting to be apart from you any longer, his hands gently then moved to your exposed skin. "What do you crave first, darling? I want to make sure you're all wet for me."

His words caused your cheeks to warm up tremendously. Your brain was all fuzzy just coming to realize this was actually happening. You were about to have sex with Yunho, your campus crush. This felt just too good yet nothing extraordinary has happened yet.

"Could you eat me out? I've always wanted to know what it feels like," you confessed. "Your wish is my command, princess."

His hands moved from your hips to the waistband of your leggings. He glanced up at you once more to make sure you were comfortable and okay with proceeding. You couldn't help but giggle before running your hand through his hair comfortingly, giving him the nod he needed.

"So gorgeous, y/n, baby," he murmured. His lips kissed the exposed skin of your tummy before both of his hands began to move your legging dow your legs. "You look amazing in these leggings, but I'm so honored to be the one to take them off of you." His eyes then noticed the pink lace panties that you were wearing underneath. A tiny bow was in the front which made his mouth water.

You shivered as his hands gently began to tug off your panties. It was a bit chilly in the room for which Yunho smiled apologetically.

"I'll warm you up in no time, darling." "I have no doubt, baby. I know you always look out for me." "Always," Yunho vowed.

With your leggings and panties on the floor, Yunho crotched in front of you. His hands rested on your knees gently, thumbs caressing the outer part. He was a bit surprised how you opened them almost automatically for him, but he was overjoyed to know you wanted this just as much as him.

His cock twitched at the sight of how wet you already were, a slight glisten already noticeable. "My baby girl needs me, hmm?"

"I like when you speak to me like that," you confessed, letting out a shaky breath.

Yunho moved your one leg over his shoulder as the other rested on your thigh. He wanted to make sure you were comfortable. "What? You like knowing that I want you all to myself? That I want to be selfish?"

You were propped up on your elbows, gazing down at him. Your teeth were sunk into your lower lip in anticipation. All you could bring yourself was to nod in confirmation.

"Well, y/n, sweet girl. You are mine. You've been mine since the party, so don't doubt it again."

His tongue then licked a long strip along your pussy up to your clit. You let out a loud gasp, head tilting back. His hot breath hit your pussy causing you to shiver and spread your legs a bit wider, offering yourself completely to him. He hummed in satisfaction before letting the tip of his tongue circle your clit.

Your back arched slightly off his comforter. Your eyes fluttered shut as you let yourself immerse fully into the pleasure.

He loved the taste of you. So sweet. His tongue ventured up and down your pussy before sticking into your tight hole. You let out a soft moan. It was music to his ears, knowing that he was capable of making you feel so good.

His cock was hardening by the sounds you were making. Twitching and began for attention. Soon though, he would get the relief he's always fantasized about.

You were his main priority though. He wanted this to be just as special, as meaningful for you as it was for him.

He pulled back which made your head snap down. Yunho couldn't help the small pout that formed on your lips. "Don't worry, darlin'. I'm not going anywhere." His lips began to press kisses into your thighs as his one hand left your knee to gently trace along your pussy.

"Is it okay if I finger you, angel? Just want to make sure you're stretched out for me. Don't want to hurt you."

His speech was a bit slurred, almost as if he was drunk off the taste of you.

"Please. I want to feel all of you, want to feel of this for the first time with you."

Yunho leaned down to kiss your thighs. He moved his kisses towards your clit. He could imagine the feeling might be a bit uncomfortable for you at first, so he wanted to help ease you a bit.

When his lips met your clit, he kissed it delicately before wrapping his lips around it. He began sucking on it which had you moaning sweetly. He couldn't help but smile before sliding one finger into you. His eyes looked up at you to see your mouth slightly open. Yet, your body remained relaxed on his bed.

He moved his finger in and out of your pussy slowly. He let out a groan at the feeling of how warm, how wet you were. You just felt so inviting it sent him into a frenzy. He craved more that he was struggling to hold himself back but he knew all good things come with time. His cock was straining against his pants painfully.

"I'm going to add another, sweetheart, okay?" He murmured against you. The vibration of his voice against your pussy caused you to whimper out in euphoria as you still nodded your head.

"Can I hold your hand, baby?" you begged softly.

Instantly, his free hand left your thigh to rest against the comforter for you to hold. He didn't need to be told twice. Whether it was for reassurance or to feel close to him, he would do anything for you.

Slowly, he slipped another finger into you. This time, at the feeling of how full you were, your body tensed a bit. Yet, Yunho kept his fingers still inside of you. He didn't want to rush in as he kept his gaze on you. Feeling your fingers slip into his hand, he squeezed your hand reassuringly. And this time, you squeezed back. "Keep going. Please."

His fingers moved slowly. He couldn't help but stifle the moan from his lips as he wanted to suck on your clit a bit harder, to make sure you were still feeling good. When you started moaning again, he began to curl his fingers gently into your g-spot. That made you moan louder than before, an encouragement for Yunho to proceed.

He then began to spread his two fingers apart, stretching you out properly. Your eyes widened, your breathing becoming shaky and shallow.

"Speak to me, baby girl. How does this feel?" "S-so good, baby." "Tell me what you need." "You. Please." "How do you want me? You've already got me. Right here, angel." "I want you to fuck me."

His fingers stilled inside of you as he pulled back from your clit. He looked up at you as he knew there was no going back. He knew he wanted to continue, but he just wanted to make sure you weren't too caught up in the moment. He didn't want you regret such a vulnerable moment with him.

"Are you positive?" He asked in a gentle voice. "I've never been more sure of anything."

Slowly, his fingers slipped out of your pussy. You whimpered at the lose of contact but quickly moaned when you saw his fingers enter his mouth. He sucked on them gently, humming against his digits. You've never witnessed something so attractive before. Your cheeks were flushed at the sight too.

"So delicious, angel. Thank you for letting me have a taste."

Now standing fully at the end of his bed, his hands moved to undo his belt and unzip his pants. Your eyes widened when you saw the tent in his pants. You couldn't believe he got so turned on by tasting and touching you.

Seeing the effect you had over him made you feel powerful.

Noticing you were staring, he winked at you. "You are the only one with this effect over me. Only one I ever want." His belt clinked against the floor as his pants soon joined, exposing his grey boxers. He was so hot. Does he even know that? You were going to move up to offer to jerk him off or suck him but he stopped you before your upper body could even leave his bed.

Did you do something wrong? You frowned a bit as your eyes quickly landed on his. Was he regretting going this far with you?

"Tonight is all about you, sweetheart." "But I want to make this special for you too," you frowned. "You just being here is enough to make this special. I promise."

You were a bit hesitant, wanting to be insistent on making him feel good. But with the look in his eyes the lustful gaze, you knew it was not a topic up for debate. You settled back onto his comforter as he moved to grab a condom from his bedside table.

He was a man prepared for any scenario. Whether it be one of his friends needing a condom or when a moment like this finally presented itself.

His boxers soon joined the floor. His cock instantly slapped against his abs. You noticed the veins running around the sides and the angry red tip, begging for attention. You made a mental note that you just had to suck Jeong Yunho off.

He grabbed the gold wrapper to tear it open. His right hand grabbed the base of his cock to hold it still as his left hand skillfully slipped the latex on. It just made his cock glisten, make it more appealing.

Finally, Yunho joined you on the bed. His knees rested in between your legs to keep you spread for him. His one hand rested by your head as the other cupped your cheek. You felt his forehead press against yours but not once did he look away from you.

"I mean it when I say we can stop at any point, angel. Just say the word." "Yunho, you're too sweet to me but I need you."

You needed him. God, his eyes nearly rolled at the words you spoke.

He pressed his lips to yours for a moment. Even the room felt hot and heavy, he wanted to remind you just how important you were to him. You kissed him back for a moment until you felt his tip against your pussy. He kept his gaze on you, wanting to make sure you were okay with what happened.

"You ready?" "Yeah," you breathed out.

As slow as ever, Yunho pushed his tip into you. You bit you lip as you kept your eyes trained on him. It felt familiar, just like when his fingers entered you. You nodded slowly before he began to push more of himself into your pussy. His head nearly rolling back at the feeling of how warm and tight you were around him. "Fuck," he breathed out.

The sound of you letting out another whimper caused him to snap back to reality. He frowned when he noticed the tears in your eyes.

"Oh angel," he whispered. He didn't dare move another inch. This wasn't about his pleasure, this was about you. "What's wrong?" "It's just a lot," you confessed. Salty tears began to leave your eyes as you let out a shaky breath. "Do you want me to stop?" "No, no," you begged. "I just need a moment."

Yunho nodded understandingly. He began to press soft kisses along your cheeks, your nose - anything to distract you from the pressure and temporary pain. He wanted to kiss you fully but he noticed you were breathing in deeply, trying to collect yourself and he didn't want to be inconsiderate.

"Take your time," he whispered. His hand moved to wipe your tears. "I go when you say go. I stop when you say stop." You took in another deep breath, really being able to feel how deep he was as your puss instinctively gripped his cock. He bit his lip to not moan, not wanting to do something that pressured you to say go.

However, in the few seconds of regulating your breathing, the pain began to feel like pleasure. It felt good. It was an odd feeling for sure, but one you wanted to continue with.

"Yunho?" you called out gently.

He pulled back so he could look into your eyes. His lips were curled up into that signature soft smile.

"Keep going. Please."

His eyes were trained on yours, almost as if he was looking for any hesitation. Yet, when he didn't see any, he nodded his head gently.

Before continuing to slip himself into you, he offered his hand for you to hold again. He really was a gentleman. Your fingers instantly slipped into his and you gave him a reassuring squeeze. That's all Yunho needed to continue slipping into your pussy.

Your breathing hitched again, but you remembered to breathe through it. And while it was a bit uncomfortable, it wasn't as bad as when you two started. You moaned when he eventually filled you completely.

"You okay, darling?"

He kept still but you could feel all of him inside of you. You felt so close, so vulnerable with him. It was overwhelming in the best sense.

"Never been better," you breathed out.

Satisfied, he began to retreat his hips before thrusting into you. Your head rolled back against his pillows and he rolled his head back at the feeling. "God damn," he breathed out. "You feel so good, angel. All for me."

His thrusts were slow at first, at an even pace. He was treating you as if you were the most delicate thing in the world, something that needed to be fiercely looked after. And while you might have enjoyed the sentiment, you just needed him.

"Baby, go faster, please." "Fuck, are you sure? If you say yes, I might not be able to hold myself back anymore." "Let loose, baby boy." That's all he needed to hear. His hand planted firmly on the space by your head, his other hand still holding yours. However, his thrusts became quicker, became deeper. It was as if something primal took over him.

Your moans were louder as you felt all of him entirely with each threat. He was so big, so thick. He filled you up just so heavenly, in ways you couldn't describe besides perfection.

"That's it," you whined out. "Right there, baby." "God, I could die a happy man this way."

You couldn't help but giggle as you moved your free hand to rest on his shoulder. Your fingernails dug slightly into his skin which seemed to send him pounding deeper into you.

The sound of wet skin slapping made him nearly delirious. He never imagined this would be happening especially not with you. Yunho truly won the jackpot. He watched as your eyes rolled back, your cheeks a light pink color. Your lips were slightly parted as you moaned without any control.

"You're so gorgeous, y/n."

Your walls began to tighten around him, a fire-like feeling taking over your stomach. His jaw was clenched, almost as if he was concentrating. You were a bit curious but began to notice the veins protruding out of his forearms from how hard he was thrusting.

You began to put the dots together.

"Are you close, baby?" "So fucking close," he huffed out. "Are you?"

His eyes were practically glued on you. All to make sure you felt on top of the world. He loved knowing that you two were sharing this experience together. The grip you had on his shoulder further encouraged him to give you everything he had.

No room to hesitate or overthink. "Yeah," you whimpered.

Sweat was beginning to coat his skin. You early drooled at the sight of how delicious he looked. How did you get so lucky?

"Let go, y/n, baby. I'm right there with you."

With one particularly hard thrust, you lost it. You felt like you were being sent into another dimension but the intensity of your orgasm. Nothing could have prepared you for the feeling as you truly believed you saw stars. Your legs shook slightly as Yunho groaned loudly, spurting his hot cum into the condom.

The heavy breathing from the two of you filled the room. The world outside of his bedroom seemed so far away as you felt so consumed by Jeong Yunho. You wouldn't want it any other way.

His cock started to soften inside of you but you two couldn’t bring yourselves to move. Your arms moved to wrap around him softly as he laid gently on you, keeping you close.

There was no other place you wanted to be. I guess sometimes you do need to take a risk and do something that might seem like it is off-limits.

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