#is kind of a perv this issue

[cherrygirlfriend]

☆⋆｡𖦹°‧★ GAMER BOY >⩊<

pairing: nerd!rafe x perv!reader

summary: rafe is gaming and isn’t giving you attention so you decide to take it.

warnings / tags: smut, cockwarming, unprotected PIV, sub!rafe tries to be dominant but reader puts a stop to it, choking, dirty talk, mildly degrading language, edging. MDNI! WC: 2k

author's note: hi gamers!! if you're curious about what my gaming setup looks like, you can kinda see it on the picture i put above!! anyway... freakrina came out again. oops!

PERVERT MASTERLIST ★ RAFE MASTERLIST

you laid on your stomach, your glossy lips in a slight pout as your long nails trailed the edge of the page of the most recent issue of vogue, occasionally glancing to your boyfriend, rafe's glasses lit up by his dual monitors and his light-up keyboard, headset over his ears.

"josh, what the hell?!" your boyfriend groaned, "you're supposed to be support, just because you're playing as moira doesn't mean you can just ignore healing us." you bring one of your hands to his hairy arm, pawing at it like a puppy. "hm?" rafe moved his headset partially from his ear. "what is it babe?" he glances at you, "shut the fuck up, caleb, it's my girl." rafe groans, pressing mute and turning to you, "yeah?"

"attention..." you look up at him with puppy-dog eye, pursing your lips as adorably as possible, pawing at his arm again, an adorable smile taking over his pink lips. rafe moved his hand to cup your chin, bringing your face closer to his, your lips meeting his in a brief, gentle kiss that left some of your gloss onto his lips. he tugged a few loose strands of hair behind your ear and pressed a quick kiss on your forehead, before letting go of your chin and pulling away, causing you to let out a whine that made him let out a breath of a chuckle, "i'll play one more round and then i'm all yours, 'kay?" he asked and you rolled your eyes, letting out an exasperated "fiiine."

rafe turned back to his game, unmuting and putting headset back on properly, rolling his eyes at comments his friends were surely throwing at him and scoffing out a, "yeah, yeah, laugh it up, you're just mad cause no one would touch your gremlin asses even if they got paid.

you never really got boy logic. there you were, in his bed, wearing nothing but a short, sheer lingerie dress, and all he cared about was playing a stupid shooting game with a bunch of guys? what kind of a man would ignore their hot, clearly willing girlfriend for a bunch of guys??? no. this just wouldn't do.

you sat up, rolling your shoulders and stretching, before you stood up, walking on tiptoes on his plush carpet, until you were right behind rafe's gaming chair, bringing your hands onto his shoulders. rafe looked up briefly, a small smile on his face, until he turned back to the game.

you slid onto rafe's lap without difficulty; the boy staring up at you with wide eyes, "ray, fucking move!" you heard through rafe's headset, "yeah, fucking do something"

"shut the fuck up or i'm gonna cut all of your balls off in succession with one machete." you said into the microphone with a smile on your face, the sound of your boyfriend bursting into laughter echoing into the microphone. "got it?"

"yeah, got it..." you heard through rafe's headset, your boyfriend grinning slightly, "alright, baby, i'm gonna play now. behave." he squeezed your side, and you simply nodded, the boy oblivious to your plan.

rafe got started on his game, and you repositioned yourself slightly in his lap, making sure to press against his crotch as you did. he let out a low breath, clearing his throat slightly. you giggled quietly, continuing to wiggle slightly on his lap.

"what are you doing?" he asked quietly, and you simply looked at him with your eyes wide in feigned innocence, "i'm not doing anything." you purred, able to feel rafe starting to harden underneath you. your hands went to the waistband of his sweats, trying to tug them down, and even though rafe mumbled "not right now..." he still lifted his hips off the chair and let you tug the fabric down, a visible bulge in his briefs.

"ray, the fuck's going on?" you heard through his headset, making you grin, getting up off his lap, covering rafe's monitors. you bent down slightly, slipping your panties off. "n-nothing, hold on." rafe mumbled into the mic before muting it. you positioned your entrance over the head of his cock, both of you letting out a slight groan the moment you allowed yourself to sink down on him. you rotated slightly in his lap, so rafe could see his monitors.

you lifted his headset for a moment, a devious, enticing smile on your face as you spoke in a sultry tone, "if you win, i'll fuck you. but if you don't..." you got off his cock, making him whine as you brought your mouth to his ear, "i won't let you touch me for a month. are we clear?"

"we-we're clear..." rafe mumbled, and you smiled with feigned kindness as you positioned his erection at your entrance once again, smirking back at him and placing the headset back on his ear. "good." you moaned as you sunk down on him, rafe's eyes pressing closed and letting out a long, ragged breath. "now focus." you turn back to face the monitors, and turn the mic back on.

after taking a deep breath, rafe cleared his throat and turned back to the monitors, "alright, let's go, boys." he said gruffly, "just drop it, it was nothing, man."

as the game went on, occasionally, you wiggled yourself on his cock, making rafe let out a sharp breath before trying his best to focus back onto the game. rafe occasionally spoke into his mic, only for you to lift your hips slightly or clench your walls around his cock in a way that made his voice strained and slightly high-pitched, making your lips twist into a mischievous grin.

momentarily, rafe let go of his keyboard to bring his hand to your bare thigh, landing a smack on it that echoed around the room. "behave." he muttered, only for you to face him, lifting your hips up off him and slamming back down, making your boyfriend let out a groan he tried to muffle. you grabbed his jaw and forced him to look up at you "do not tell me what to do." you said, in a sharp tone that made his eyes widen. "focus."

he took in another deep breath before focusing back on the game, his cock twitching desperately as he was buried inside your warm walls. the screen flickered in various colors as he kept shooting his opponents, each clench of your walls making him nearly miss, but eventually, 'victory!' appeared in bold, yellow text.

"alright, guys, i'm gonna go now." rafe mumbled into his headset, closing the game along with the discord call before his friends could say a thing. he took in a sharp breath as you got off him. "get on the bed." you said, and rafe nearly tripped onto wires as he scampered off his chair and onto the bed, making you grin.

you climbed onto rafe's bed, crawling over to him with your head cocked to the side. his cock was soaked with your arousal, the sensitive tip of his cock an angry red. you bent down so you could lick a stripe on the vein on the underside of rafe's cock, twitching with sensitivity as he let out a shaky breath.

"you know..." you looked up at him with pursed lips, "i don't think it's fair that i need to compete for your attention with a game." you tsked, pushing your tits together using your forearms, the swell of your breasts showing through the sheer fabric of your lingerie dress.

"i-it wasn't..." rafe stammered out as you moved to straddle his lap, taking the base of his cock into your hand and bringing it to your entrance, but not sinking down on him, "and then you tried to tell me what to do." you shook your head, moving your hands to rest on his shoulders, "that's not how we do things, rafe." "i'm... i'm sorry..."

"are you sorry? are you really sorry?" you asked, and you could see his adam's apple bob with the force of his swallow, "ye-yes... it... it won't happen again..."

"it better not." you said in a soft, sickly-sweet tone as you started to lower yourself down on him, making him whine, "or you're never, ever going to get to feel me around you... again." you slammed down on him, making rafe let out a groan, his eyes squeezing shut, "look at me. you got it?"

"i-i got it..." he breathed out, looking at you with half-lidded eyes. you smiled sweetly at him as you lifted your hips up slightly and sank down on him once again. your manicured finger trailed down his sharp jawline, "what a good boy."

you started riding rafe, holding onto his shoulders as you moved yourself on his cock, his hips thrusting into you automatically. heavy breaths, the sound of your ass slapping against his thighs and the squelch of his cock inside your arousal-slick cunt filled the room.

"feels... feels so good..." rafe choked out, making you chuckle as you continued moving, picking up your pace, "yeah? yeah, that feels good to you?" you tutted, sliding your hand up to his neck. when you squeezed slightly, you could feel his cock twitching inside of you, causing you to clench around him, making him arch into you.

"this feels good? hm?" you moaned as you put some more pressure onto his throat, your boyfriend nodding fervently at you. "aww, you're such a little freak..." you brushed a strand of hair behind rafe's ear as you slammed your hips down on him, bringing your lips close to his ear, "who knew that my innocent little boyfriend was such a dirty pervert?" you whispered, his hips thrusting up into you.

"c-can't- can't take it..." rafe whined, making you squeeze slightly harder, your sweet voice turning steely, "you're gonna take it. you're gonna take what i give you. rafe, look at me." you said sharply, and he looked to you with a pouty expression, "if you come before i tell you to, you're not touching me for a month. understood?"

"ungggh-" rafe pressed his eyes closed before nodding, "u-understood.." "good boy." you purred, eased up your grip on his throat slightly and took hold of his wrist, slightly easing up your pace but still continuing to move, bringing rafe's hand between your legs, "touch me." you whisper, rafe beginning to draw small, lazy circles on your clit, "faster."

after a bit more coaxing, rafe's fingers found just the right pace, your head starting to feel hazy, the pressure in your lower stomach getting more and more intense, and you begun to pick up the pace of your hips once again as you rode him, small whines leaving rafe.

"p-please..." rafe whimpered almost painfully, "please, just let me come..." you rolled your hips, "it's okay, baby." you mumbled against his temple and replaced his finger on your clit with your own, rolling the sensitive, throbbing bud, "you can come..."

and almost as if you'd flipped a switch inside of him, rafe let out a noise that was between a moan and a groan of your name as you felt spurts of warm cum spill from the head of his cock, the stimulation you were giving yourself making you gasp as moments later, you followed him, clenching around his still-twitching cock as you came undone.

both of you stilled, the room quiet except for the heavy breaths you were both letting out, before you pulled away slightly, brushing a strand of rafe's sweat-slick hair behind his ear. "you did great..." you said breathily.

"yeah?" he asked with half-lidded eyes and a hopeful smile.

"yeah."

TAGLIST: @raahosh @purpleplumpudding @rafesheaven @nemesyaaa @esotericcangel @mattyskies @dollyfiles @bakugouswaif @littlelamy @izumis-salty-penis @nonietosay @my-name-is-baby @tinythebunni @cameronsbabydoll @fratbrochrisgf

[gutsby]

Who’s Your Daddy?

Pairing: Stepdad!Joel x Reader

Summary: You get stuck in the washing machine. Thankfully, your stepdad is around to help you out.

Warnings: 18+. Unprotected piv. Deadbeat-Perv-Peepaw LOVES corny porn tropes and women over half his age. Stepcest & dubcon technically bc Reader’s locked inside an appliance, but she’s into it (getting fucked, not stuck). One (1) kick in the dick. Spanking. Brat-taming. Choking. Daddy issues. Size kink. Praise kink. Infidelity. Creampie.

Note: Saw this post by @ovaryacted and started BARKING. For my Old Man lovers/daddy issues crew, this one’s for you.

Word count: 8.3k

It was the closest thing to porn you’d ever done before.

Still, you weren’t quite ready to call it that.

And why should you? Financial straits were no anomaly to a girl your age, especially in this economy, and almost everyone you knew had a side gig of some kind. It just so happened that your job required slightly skimpier attire. And a webcam. And some very special…accessories that would likely send your grandmother into cardiac arrest if she ever took a peek inside your bottom dresser drawer.

Okay, it was definitely porn.

But you never showed your face, so it didn’t really count as the same kind of stuff that your family condemned.

You scampered out of your room the second you heard the front door to the house slam closed all the same. Arms laden with G-strings, stockings, satin bralettes, lace and tulle bodysuits of almost every style imaginable, you ran a quick, perilous path to the living room window and made sure to keep your head ducked low as you did. You peered out through the gap in the curtains and had to squint hard to see anything in the midafternoon sun.

Then you saw it and felt instant relief—they were leaving.

Your grandma for one, your mother for second, and wherever the latter was headed, you knew her shadow would be soon to follow. You saw a thick plume of smoke outside and surmised that Joel was somewhere around the other side of the SUV, smoking and droning on about how he was perfectly fi-i-i-ne to drive, don’t be like that.

By ‘like that’ he meant sensible. And by ‘perfectly fine’ he meant two Miller Lites shy of completely shitfaced. You could already imagine the wry smile on your mother’s lips as she tried prying the keys from his hands. Your stepdad would probably plant a wet, sloppy kiss on her cheek to win a ‘yes’ in return—and when she shyly reminded him that he couldn’t afford to get another DUI, he’d get pissed and yank them out of her fist anyway.

Fucking loser.

Fucking triple-the-legal-limit dumbass motherfucker.

It didn’t bother you as much today because you knew they were only driving a couple blocks away to get to the farmer’s market, but you’d be lying if you said you didn’t hope he’d get caught. Again. Maybe blow a 0.25 this time and land his old, ungrateful, law-breaking ass in Travis County Jail, where his little brother Tommy was likely keeping a cell bench warm for him, per usual.

At any rate, you didn’t have time to be fantasizing now. It was your turn to embody some guy’s grossest wet dreams for the next two to three hours. Stripping away layer after layer of your latest, tightest ‘costume’ while catering to whatever requests happened to float in your inbox, you knew you’d be up to your eyeballs in work. Though almost routine by now, you had to hurry up.

If you could just get the rest of this ridiculous gunk out of your clothing, you’d be all good to go for the job.

TRMAN22: Pour honey on your tits in the next vid???

TRMAN22: Milk too. All over you.

Looking back, you probably shouldn’t have obliged that request. Now you were facing the consequences—forced to throw all your clothes in the washing machine because the milk and honey you’d dumped on yourself for that video had gotten everywhere, and then swiftly congealed while wasting away in a pile of laundry for over a week.

The whole heap smelled rancid. Still felt sticky, too. Presently, you chucked each one inside the washing machine while holding your breath, and as soon as the last was discarded, you sniffed the shirt you had on.

Tolerable. With the rest of your stuff in the wash, you hoped to get at least one request off the checklist:

TRMAN22: Bet you’d look sexy in a schoolgirl outfit!!

TRMAN22: Why don’t you try one on for me?

It was gag-worthy and gross. Slightly alarming for a man who was more than likely twice your age and old enough to remember Watergate, but you agreed to play along. Your old school uniform was, after all, the only clean clothes you had left, and ‘TRMAN22’ was, unfortunately, your top subscriber. He’d paid $300 for this video alone.

TRMAN22: Wear some NEON pink panties for me too ;)

You squatted in front of the washing machine and stuck a hand inside. You sifted around, furrowing your brows.

The brightest undies you owned were in there, soiled, but you figured you could get away with one gross article of clothing, all things considered. You reached a little further and continued to dig. When you couldn’t find it by feel alone, you peered inside the circular, metallic cavern of the washing machine and craned your neck.

Not here…not here…not—

You tilted forward, venturing a closer look with your head, then shoulders, pushing into the machine.

—here, not here, not—

“EW!” you shrieked.

In your search, you’d inadvertently brushed up against a mildewed piece of clothing that had gotten wedged between the grooves of the washing machine’s interior.

A pair of boxers, it seemed.

You recoiled as soon as your fingers grazed the wet and smelly thing. Your skull went crack against the low-sloped ceiling of the appliance, and a jolt of pain was quick to course through you at the contact. You groaned.

Of course Joel had forgotten some old, cum-stained scrap of fabric out of his last load. Always leaving his shit around for you or your mom to pick up like he owned the place. And here you went, again, angrily plugging your nose and pulling as hard as you could on the shorts to get them free from the washing machine. You hardly thought twice, just made a face and then yanked on it.

The boxers wouldn’t budge.

You tugged even harder. The fabric stayed put.

Something akin to a grunt and a whimper, only far more pathetic, slipped out of your mouth, and you slapped the half-hollow steel wall in frustration. Surrounded as you were—fully encased in metal—the sound just echoed.

“Fucking…CUNT.”

You weren’t sure if you were talking to the shorts, the machine, or Joel Miller in the abstract. Or maybe all three. You just hated the thought of washing your lingerie with your stepdad’s skivvies, and no amount of rational thought or practical reasoning could hold you back now.

The tip of your index finger sank deep beneath the same ridge of the wall where the boxers had gotten stuck. You curled it inward, trying to loosen the material up a little. You wriggled your knuckle even further. And just when you managed to get a hold of the cusp of the tangled fabric—just when it seemed the green plaid cluster was about to give way—you heard a low pop. You felt it, too.

Shortly, your finger was pinched inside the deep, blunt valley of steel that had similarly snagged Joel’s boxers. It seemed you’d pushed the tip of your finger so far that you were caught straight down to the second knuckle—trapped between two grooves of unforgiving alloy inside the washing machine tub with no clear means of escape.

You jerked your arm back, panicked. When the metal sank its teeth even deeper, you didn’t stop. Completely heedless of the pain, you operated on impulse and by the feeling of needing to get the fuck out of that little space, quickly, and instead yanked your hand back even harder.

To your horror, your finger was stuck.

“FUCK!”

You stared down at the poor digit, only half-visible inside the wall at this point, then glanced down at the heap of sweaty, sticky, slutty pieces of clothing that were presently strewn about you, and felt an even deeper stab of dread. Stuck inside your family’s washing machine with every bit of damning evidence one could hope to have—and wearing your old school uniform to boot—you realized at once you were fucked if you didn’t get out.

You slammed your palm against the nearest wall once more, shaking your other wrist like an unruly child.

“FUCKFUCKFUCKFUCK!”

You weren’t good at solving problems. In point of fact, you sucked at all things prudent resolution-related and regularly made it a habit to capitulate whenever you sensed loss inevitable. You were a little like your mother in that way, quick to give in to life’s uglier challenges. The only way you could conceivably claim to be stronger, the only place you always had the strength to say ‘no’ was—

“Aw, shit.”

—Joel.

Your throat tightened as soon as you heard the voice. Your eyes went wide, and the rest of you went numb.

Bent at the waist and kneeling with half your body inside the washing machine, you remained there, motionless. Back arched and ass out. Thanks to the way you’d rolled your old plaid skirt, the fabric covered almost zero cheek.

Someone behind you cleared their throat. Then coughed.

And coughed again, again, and again. Evidently trying to clear the smoke out of his lungs and the surprise from his eyes as he drank in your sight from the doorway.

“What in the—wh—th��” You could hear Joel wheeze, beating his chest with his fist, “What— in— the hell?!”

“Help me,” you hissed.

You weren’t sure why you chose that as your go-to. It just sounded like the right thing to say, and frankly, you weren’t sure how else to distract from the fact Joel was probably gawking at your ass as he coughed up a lung.

“The fuck do you mean ‘help’?! What are you doing?”

The coughing subsided, if only momentarily. You tried pulling back on your finger again to get out, but couldn’t.

“I-I’m…I was just…” you stammered, heart racing.

You heard the tread of heavy footfalls. You felt them.

“Just—trying…” you ventured again, suddenly at a loss for words and breath alike as you felt a presence draw in.

You could smell him.

That realization alone made you want to stop taking in air altogether. It happened out of instinct, really—feeling the shift of two huge boots settle behind your feet and then flinching inward, further inside the metal tub for…safety? A pang of abject humiliation? You were far past the point of civility with the man, caring what he thought, or fearing for your modesty in a position like this, but something about the proximity now just made you itch.

You wished your finger wasn’t jammed inside this appliance so you could give that feeling relief, somehow.

At length, Joel’s voice dragged you back:

“What’s stuck?”

Too calm. A second passed. Then he added, more stern,

“This some fuckin’ joke’a yours or somethin’?”

“No!”

“Then what—”

“My finger. My finger’s stuck.”

You tried to crane your neck to see behind you, but all your eyes had to feast upon was denim. Bluish-grey stonewashed denim, faded with years of use. Joel stood back for a second, as if considering what to do, and then you saw two hands descend to brace themselves against his knees. He bent at the waist to get a better look below.

When his eyes locked with yours, you got the same twist in your gut as you’d felt before, only sharper. Shameful.

The look on Joel’s face was abnormally bright.

“And how on earth did that happen, dumbass?”

Your shame morphed into chagrin in a blink, seeing the ghost of a smile bleed into your stepdad’s features.

“‘Cause of you, leaving your shit in here!” you snapped. Your chin jerked toward the green fabric, “I was just trying to get your boxers unstuck—and my finger…”

Your finger was kind of fucked.

Joel cast a look inside at the source of your frustration. He extended his left arm and reached over your torso, and as he did, you felt the slightest, albeit solid, sort of warmth press in. The man let out a low groan of exertion—likely at the strain the movements placed on his joints.

The warmth got worse. You weren’t sure where it started.

Vaguely, you were aware of Joel’s thumb pressing into your hand. Gliding down your finger, stroking across the spot where your knuckle had gotten caught, he circled over it, slowly, and made another sound in his throat.

“Well that ain’t…good.” Not one to mince words.

By now, your whole body was on fire. You barely had the strength to keep kneeling, much less speak to the man thumbing your hand and pressing his heat so close—

“Just get me out!” you shrieked.

You heard your mother’s voice in that. A shrill, impatient lilt in her speech that came out, invariably, around Joel. Normally, he would have done something to deserve it. But today, with his hand splayed over yours and his breaths as calm and even-keeled as he could hope to have them while he tried to help, he was blameless.

Evidently, he heard a trace of your mother too, because you heard him laugh. You felt the reverberations of his amusement travel up from his belly all the way to his lips.

“Cool your pits, kid.”

For that, you would’ve loved nothing more than to reach back with your free hand and hit him in the balls. But, as it was, this man was your only hope for escape, and he was being tolerably polite, anyway. He pinched your finger between the tips of two of his and gave it a tug.

“Okay, lemme just—” Joel started.

“Why are you home, anyway?”

The question came out more clipped than you meant it.

“Why are you dressed like that?” Joel countered evenly.

“I asked you first.”

“I asked you second.”

You reckoned he could probably feel you roll your eyes, even if he wasn’t able to see you do it right now. He waited another moment, then leaned back on his haunches and withdrew his arm from the tub.

“Mama don’t like me drinkin’ and drivin’, you know that.”

With that, the warmth was gone. Joel retreated.

“Like that’s ever stopped you before.”

You heard him exhale a little harder through his nose. When he’d steadied himself against the washing machine, gave his knees another second to prepare for getting up again, you could feel his eyes back on you. Maybe he lingered longer than his legs really needed.

Maybe if he hadn’t stayed crouched like that, he wouldn’t have gotten the chance to give your surroundings a second look. He wouldn’t have stopped to watch the rate of your breaths pick up or the way your skin startle to bristle with some strange, unknown sensation. He certainly wouldn’t have felt for himself the fever leaking out from the base of your spine right then.

Today just wasn’t the day for keeping secrets, it seemed.

“And what’s this?” You could feel Joel lean back in.

He was looking again. Peering inside. Steadying his weight with the edge of the washing machine gripped in one hand, while the other snaked its way back inside.

You’d already squeezed your eyes shut by the time Joel got a hold of something. You didn’t know what it was.

But it became painfully clear that it wasn’t just one ‘thing’ that had grabbed his attention at all, but rather a series of items that his hands were just now getting to explore. You didn’t have to see his broad and tan, callus-streaked fingers to feel them roaming over your clothes.

Gross.

Gross.

“Gross,” Joel agreed, as if he’d read your mind. Grinning.

If you thought the embarrassment was bad before, you really only knew a fraction of what humiliation could be. Your finger throbbed along with the pulse in your skull.

Your mother’s husband whistled and lifted something.

“Darlin’, this is just…disgusting.”

You winced. You tried not to pry an eye open, to steal a covert look through the frame of your lashes in that dim and crowded spot, but the inducement was too great—Joel was dangling one of your lime green G-strings like it was a fish he’d just caught out on the lake. Boasting it.

Doting, almost.

“Well I’ll be—”

“Will you quit?!” you snapped.

You grabbed the thing out of his hand and threw it aside.

“Can you be serious? For one fucking secon—”

“Oh, I’m bein’ serious, sweetie,” Joel cut in. Cool as ever, “Serious as the business end of a .45, I swear.”

He paused. Then he reached for a white nylon bustier, drenched in a layer of honey that was as hard as a rock.

“Do you always keep your little…skank tanks so filthy?”

That was it. You kicked your heel back—and up—and made a pass to hit your stepdad square in the balls.

Your aim wasn’t the best it’s ever been, seeing that half your body was trapped inside a home appliance at the moment, but what your jab lacked in accuracy, it made up for in force: your foot plunged into the seam of Joel’s jeans full throttle. From the way the back of your heel plowed into his crotch, and the sound that clawed out of his throat the same instant, you reckoned you did okay.

What you weren’t expecting was a smack in return.

An answer in kind—delivered by the palm of Joel’s hand.

A taut, thoughtless THWACK on the swell of your ass.

Your mouth fell open. Your body barely had the chance to recoil when, shortly, another blow landed on your cheek.

Joel spanked you.

Spanked you.

“Fuckin’ brat,” he spat. His palm had slid up with the weight of his last slap, and now his fingers were clenched in a fist in the back of your skirt. You couldn’t see it, but you could feel him gripping fabric. It was firm.

He was firm—unrelenting in his hold.

Kneeling behind you, yanking back a handful of tartan skirt like it was nothing, then sidling up behind you.

And just when your attention was drawn to some other firm thing, it was shortly diverted by another sensation.

“JOEL!” you shrieked as he gave you another spanking.

The bare skin of your cheeks was on fire. Joel hit hard. Just when you feared you might legitimately whimper with the sting of that last blow, and while the imprint of his palm was still fresh, you felt it move again. Lower.

“Joel.”

That came out more like a whine than a cry of protest. And how could you, now, when he was soothing the raw bite of his hand with a touch that was kneading the skin?

Working the soft, supple flesh of your ass in his hand like he’d never dream of being anything else but gentle to it.

“Good?” Joel said.

Your head flinched to nod, but your brain thought better.

It did feel good. So good, in fact, that your eyelids were starting to droop just a bit and your back was subtly arching into the touch, but those were only instincts. Stupid, useless, brain-rotted reflexes born of years of paternal neglect and replete indifference, the likes of which could bring a grown man to his knees, begging—

“Please.”

But the entreaty was your own, and the voice that spoke it was hoarse. Your belly sank into the circular aperture of the washing machine, and you could feel your ribs scraping close to metal. Nevertheless, you didn’t mind. That ditzy lizard brain of yours was starved for physical touch, and who were you to deny her at a time like this?

No, not when Joel was squeezing like that.

Groping was the more appropriate word for it, really. Notwithstanding the decades of sexual experience that no doubt preceded the man that was standing before you—behind you—today, Joel was unduly coarse. His broad, weathered hand made as if to cool its former sting, but the motions themselves were jerky. Desperate.

He needed this worse than you, the fucking pervert.

Just when the realization had begun to settle over your mind and your legs were getting to feel a little less like jelly, knowing you weren’t the only weak one here, Joel’s palm slowed down. He pressed the heel of it into your flesh as if to force himself to stop, then he took a breath.

“Now use your words.”

“But—” you sputtered.

“I said,” Joel resumed, and you could sense it was through gritted teeth. His movements came to a halt.

“We use our words when we want somethin’, hear?”

It was the first you’d heard Joel attempt to enforce anything close to discipline with you in your life.

That had to warrant a little defiance, no doubt.

Under your breath, quiet: “So ‘we’ includes ‘you,’ too?”

Beneath that one, seemingly innocuous question was lurking another, and both of you knew it: Remember that time you put a fist through the kitchen wall? Was that a good example of what it means to ‘use words,’ Joel? Whether it was adequate provocation or not, you could sense what was coming next before you’d even finished. When the spank landed on your right cheek so loud that it echoed, you didn’t flinch. You did snag your lip between your teeth to keep a sound from spilling out.

“A dad makes rules. Ain’t his to follow,” Joel growled.

You blinked and bit down harder. Watched the broad, amorphous shape of the man’s reflection shift along the back metallic wall in hues of grey and blue and wished you had the strength to turn around and face him then.

“You aren’t my dad.”

“Said ‘a’ dad, didn’t I?”

“You’re not that either.”

Heat was rising to your cheeks again, this time for different reasons. For a cause you were far better acquainted with to date—annoyance at Joel.

“So that means I’m—”

“Nothing. You’re nothing to me,” you finished, tone wry.

Nothing to anyone, you wanted to add. Not with a shiny gold band latched onto your left hand to tell the world that you’re married to my mother, a pack of smokes tucked away in the jeans she washes every week, or a couple years spent under the same roof as me. Nothing.

Your teeth clamped back down—and almost sank clean through your lower lip this time—when next you felt a touch at the plush, covered mound that was normally shielded between your legs. The spot that was hardly ever tilted up in a position like this, exposed to the air and a man’s hungry gaze, now invaded by the press of a single thing: a warm and soft middle finger at your core.

Joel brushed the tip of it against your entrance, through your panties, and sucked a breath through his teeth when both of you felt a tiny squelch at the pressure.

He pressed harder, and the wetness only spread.

You didn’t have to be in Joel’s position to know what he was seeing, but the feeling from his finger overpowered any better sense to speak—or tell him to stop. He traced his slow, cruel circles against your warmth and moved it up to where he knew he’d find your bud, and when you whimpered, he simply added his index to the mix. There wasn’t a doubt in your mind you were leaking heat at that point. You could feel it seeping beneath his touch.

“Nothin’, huh?” Joel breathed, voice low. Your arousal made a sickening hiss beneath his fingers as he rubbed you even harder, “This feel like nothin’ to you, honey?”

You couldn’t speak. He knew you weren’t capable of it.

“‘Cause this sure don’t feel like nothin’ to me.”

Wet and tacky beneath his touch, your warmth supplied the answer that your mouth couldn’t form. It came out in more of a tap, tap, tap, punctuated by breaths that were toiling in earnest not to turn into moans too soon. But, as hulking and clumsy as his hands had once shown themselves to be, the old man knew where to put them, at least. He made circles on your clit with practiced ease.

“You can try lyin’ to me, but she can’t.”

He was right. ‘She’ was a traitor.

You could deny it all you wanted, but the proof was there.

Indeed, she was crying. Aching. Bleeding with desire. Throbbing beneath the pads of Joel’s fingertips and growing only more desperate as he increased the speed of his touch. When he notched the drenched cotton to the side, you had to grit your teeth to keep in a whimper.

Joel whistled.

“See? Seems like she likes me just fine right here.”

Your jaw stayed wired shut with the weight of your own humiliation. Instead of answering aloud, you hummed. Made a sound low and soft in your throat like, ‘Uh-hmm’ and tilted your hips, as if you didn’t know how else to ask. Joel couldn’t see inside the washing machine, but he must’ve felt the gesture, because he greeted it with a motion of his own: he chuckled, and he puckered his lips.

And when you felt the warmth of his spit hit you between your folds, your shame should’ve tripled. Should’ve made you flinch away from his touch and tell him that was so fucking gross, Joel, stop, but then he smeared it up your slit. He pressed in and mixed it with the rest of your arousal; any reproach died on your tongue in an instant.

A part of him was on you now. Trickling in, sticking to the most sensitive part of you, and settling into your skin like a glaze. With his other hand, he found your skirt again.

“Who’re ya wearin’ this for, sweet pea?” Joel murmured.

“No one.”

Another glob of spit landed between your cheeks. Now, the man used the lubrication to sink two fingers inside you—pushing them in until the rim of your cunt met his knuckles. You whined at the stretch, felt him coax your walls open with a consciousness and a carefulness that felt almost mean, but then he stroked down the base of your spine with the hand that still held onto your skirt. He soothed your startled cry with a curl of his fingers.

And he found the soft, spongy patch of flesh inside that made your eyes roll straight to the back of your skull, quickly. Working his fingers in and out, flattening the base of his free hand over the skin exposed by your flipped-up skirt, and watching your body give way to the force of his fingers, he was uncharacteristically patient. Exacting in the way he worked your body open to him.

“What do you care?” you groaned. You winced when you felt a squelch signal that he’d stretched you even wider.

“‘Cause,” Joel started, slow. Pumping his fingers through your folds and likely wondering when he’d add a third, “You got your hand stuck in a fuckin’ washing machine, a treasure trove of this slut stuff piled in a heap…I mean…”

“They’re just clothes!”

“Just clothes?”

In the wake of those terse, incredulous words, you tried your best to match his tone—call his bluff—but the only sound that came out of your mouth was punctured by a pitiful whine. He tried another finger but couldn’t fit it in. As wet as you were, and as strong as he was, your cunt wasn’t quite ready to accept all three of Joel’s thick, probing digits inside. You’d fit more than a thing or two with a girth even greater than that in the past, but you figured your nerves might have something to do with the way you were tightening around the man’s fingers now.

Why you couldn’t take more of him in, as much as you wanted him there, felt, at present, like something of a shortcoming, and a pathetic one at that. You let out a breath, and a second later, Joel slowed his motions.

You didn’t expect him to stop. Didn’t hold out a hope he might curtail his pace and talk you through a quiet, gentle arrangement for fitting a third finger inside you—that just wasn’t him. You didn’t have to share a paper-thin bedroom wall with your mother and her husband for the last however many years to know that Joel Miller was not a tender lover. It simply wasn’t in his nature to care.

So when you heard the clink of a belt coming undone a moment later, your senses strangely flooded with relief. He wouldn’t care, wouldn’t inquire, wouldn’t coddle with false, romantic ideals of how a woman should be treated.

In that way, Joel shared something in common with your father after all: he set standards as low as they could go.

“Just clothes?” he repeated, snapping your underwear against your ass and jerking the fabric further aside.

Then somehow send those expectations even lower.

There was a hand splayed out across the small of your back. Another fiddling with the front of his pants, wrestling the button and zip of his jeans in little more than one, two, three careless seconds, before he drew in closer to your rear. Your slit was messy, wet, and exposed to his eyes once again. For a second, you almost took comfort in the fact that your hand was still wedged inside a groove of steel and you couldn’t meet his gaze.

That was, until Joel slid his bare length along the seam of your cunt. When the inability to see him made it so you had no other choice but to be surprised when he finally touched you was unnerving, to say the least.

And when the head of his cock blended seamlessly between your folds, was drenched in less than a blink and nearly notched straight into the place you needed him most—well, that had an effect on him, too. Joel moved his flat and sweaty palm up your back, found purchase in the hem of your blouse, and gripped it. Tugged it down a little more and let a low groan billow out of his throat while he rocked his hips back and forth.

Desperate, clumsy, pussydrunk Joel was back before you’d even realized he’d left. Only now he was keen to put the disquiet and hesitations to rest; he needed to fuck you before either one of you wisened up just then.

Your parts and his commingled again. First, with the lethally warm trail of precum leaking out from his tip. Then the intrusion that followed, inevitably, glossed with self-indulgence and desperation—soiling any semblance of platonic affection or parental attention—as he fed you the first inch of him. Barely half the head got fitted inside and your grip on that was like a vice. Joel’s was bruising.

Suddenly firm on your hips, carving crescents in the skin:

“When’s the last time you got fucked, baby?”

You reckoned Joel had a guess—and it wasn’t correct.

“Last…week,” you whimpered, words punctuated with a sigh as his cock tried to make room for more of him.

Joel sucked in a breath that almost sounded like a laugh. He’d barely gotten an inch past his tip, facing more resistance than he’d felt in a long, long time, and you were wet, but so tight. He was big but not so massive as that. He couldn’t fathom what you were saying was true.

“That…fratboy fuckstick you went out on a date with?”

“Didn’t think you even saw me leave.”

Joel withdrew, gripped your hips even tighter, then drove his cock to nestle three solid inches inside your cunt. It was extra snug, but he made sure to try to loosen you up with a couple short, shallow thrusts and a hand gradually drifting down between your legs. Of course he saw you.

The circles on your clit and slow-growing movements may as well have been kerosene in your veins. With what limited range of motion you had in that grey, compact space, you let out a sigh and dug the fingers of your free hand into the closest scrap of fabric beside you. Joel’s own touch gradually moved from your hip to drag your hand behind your back, clasping his. He fucked in deeper

“So that’s who this is for?” Thumbing your skirt.

“Y-Yeah,” you lied.

“Wanted to send naughty pics in the schoolgirl getup?”

“Yes,” you lied again. You closed your eyes when Joel sank his cock even deeper and made you stretch inside.

“‘Atta girl,” he praised.

It might’ve been the first he’d validated you in your life.

“Grippin’ this cock extra tight, ain’t ya, sweet girl?”

Never in a million years would you have imagined it’d come this late—or leave Joel’s mouth in a way like that.

‘Elastic’ wasn’t a word you’d ever used to describe your body, either. Frankly, there was no need for it to be; every one of your partners before had been average-sized, and every other object that went inside you, too, had almost always been a comfortable squeeze between your walls. Outside of maybe your first time and a once-off awkward hookup now and again, you were never forced to feel a stretch to this degree. Joel felt huge moving inside you.

He was nearing your cervix and still nowhere close to the base of his cock. Meanwhile, you were stuffed to the brim, saturated with arousal and his spit, and practically keening at every stab of his hips. You couldn’t reach back because Joel’s fingers were still enmeshed with yours, gripping them hard behind your back. As wore down, fucked out, and desperate as you already were, you were less than only a second away from asking him to ease up.

And then he stopped.

Joel pulled out, let go, and pressed onto the old washing machine, where you heard his touch echo through metal.

He was leaning against it. You were about to turn around. Before you could, though, you felt his form mold into yours—this time not in it, but on it, as he drew closer and once more reached into the space where you were stuck.

“Can you be brave for me, baby?” Joel murmured.

“Wh—” you started, soft, only to feel the words plucked straight from your lungs as Joel leaned his body inside. Carefully, and with concerted effort, it seemed, he was trying to squeeze his way into the O-shaped hole of the washing machine, snaking his arm around your torso.

Pinching your finger again. Breathing just gently enough for his exhales to tickle at your shoulders and your neck.

“Can you be brave?” he repeated, and you weren’t sure you’d ever heard him so soft-spoken, or felt him so close.

You nodded, not knowing why.

Without another word, your stepdad pinched the digit even tighter and yanked it out from where it was stuck.

It all happened so fast. Joel freeing your finger, squeezing it tight, helping you out of that hot and crowded space while your legs gave way like mush beneath your weight—and your hand throbbing in pain. You’d never thought a single finger could cause a feeling as strong as that, but it stung like hell. You almost raked your nails through the man’s arm when he tried to hold you back, holding you up just as well as you stood.

“Joel!” you screeched, like the whole thing was his fault.

You flexed your hand and wanted to sob. You could feel the streaks of pain start to claw up your wrist, were just about to shove Joel aside and wallow in agony, when at length, he did something strange and unexpected again.

This time, he lifted your index to his mouth and kissed it.

It wasn’t a sensual kiss. Coming from Joel, it hardly even seemed affectionate. His lips were so warm and firm and decidedly unacquainted with anything approaching a threat of tenderness that his act read almost aggressive. He let your finger rest loosely against his mouth, and he kissed it again, while his eyes burned holes into yours.

‘You’re okay’ came out muffled against your hand.

“You’re okay—hey—baby, you’re good. Don’t cry.”

You hadn’t even noticed the tears had started to form. You blinked and felt one trickle down your cheek. With the hand that wasn’t holding your wrist, Joel brushed his thumb against that lone trail of moisture. He didn’t cup your face, hold you close, or stroke your cheek in the seconds that followed, though he did keep kissing you.

Or, rather, it—your finger.

Joel didn’t have to care for you at all. He just feared he might’ve pulled on your hand too hard in getting you out.

‘You’re okay’ was being mumbled away like a fractured refrain, touch descending gently to your hip, and his eyes grew softer by the second, surely he had to be thinking it.

Sinking inside you, again. He was standing; your hips were tilted to his, and your ass was pressing flat against the front of the washing machine. All it took was an inch or two off the ground and your limbs hanging limply around his hips for Joel to fuck back into you. He sucked on your finger so hard you feared the skin might actually bruise—a hand hickey, of all fucking things—and when his grip tightened on your side, you knew he felt it too.

His teeth succeeded his lips in an instant, and he was biting, gnawing pathetically as a groan shuddered through his chest. If you didn’t know better, you might’ve said the sound was veering perilously close to a whimper.

Fully sheathed inside you, Joel Miller didn’t seem to care. His lids fell like lead across the upper half of his brown, glossy eyes, and the expression behind them was blank.

Safe.

“‘S’alright, baby,” he grunted. Maybe he’d just seen you wince, as he cradled your hand and withdrew another inch, “Keep squeezin’ me, it feels real good. Right here.”

Out of instinct, your gaze drifted down to the spot where his body joined with yours. The sight was hardly a shock, but the feelings it evoked were not—he had you split along two-thirds of his dick, a pretty shelf of belly protruding beneath and gleaming with the arousal he’d drawn out from your body. Tufts of silver and grey littered his skin in every direction, aged muscles tensed with the weight of each thrust, and the warm weathered hand that hadn’t dared touch you once before today was now cupping your chin. Tilting your head closer to him.

“Right here, baby. Look at daddy.”

Wild, unbridled heat flooded your brain in a second. The thing seared the insides of your skull with all the force of a fire and stole the air from your lungs just the same—still, you couldn’t refrain from making a face in disgust.

“What the fuck, Joel?” You shouldn’t have liked it.

His hand ascended your throat in a blink.

“Ain’t that what you want, sweet pea?”

“I—”

Just as you started to answer, though, his cock took a dizzying plunge, hitting exactly the right spot inside you. Like clockwork, your mouth fell open, a whine tumbled out, and Joel took that as his chance to grip your neck even tighter and push your hips against the washing machine, where his height afforded him an easy hold.

“What you want—”

He squeezed harder.

“—what you need—”

You gasped, starved for air. It wasn’t every day a man took your breath away. Not like Joel could, anyway.

“—is me, ain’t it?”

The gaze fixed on your face was alight with desire.

“Bet you miss him somethin’ awful, huh? Been needin’ a man to fill that spot ever since he left, haven’t ya, baby?”

‘He’ required no further clarification. The words stung. You communicated as much by wriggling your hips back and pressing your hand against Joel’s chest, just quit it.

Keep fucking me, but shut the fuck up about my father.

“I don’t miss shit,” you sniffed. Felt the head of Joel’s cock carve a shape somewhere deep inside your body and couldn’t pretend it wasn’t filling a metaphorical void someplace else. You hadn’t got this much attention from a man as many years your senior since…well, ever, really.

You preened beneath his touch. Wanting to feel. Wanting to please. Wanting, more than anything, to be needed.

Joel sated each craving with a simple hand smoothed over your face. His palm moved from your throat to your chin to the hinge of your jaw before coming to rest at the nape of your neck. This time squeezing lightly, bringing your face in close while he fucked you. He pressed a kiss to your forehead, and your stomach tightened inside you.

“That’s alright,” he said, words hardly above a whisper, “No need to miss that man at all, ‘cause I’m right here.”

For once the assurance came as somewhat of a comfort. You suspected it had something to do with the fact he was balls deep inside you and pushing you closer and closer to the brink of release with each painstaking stab of his cock. You fisted his flannel, holding him there. Spreading your legs, accepting his thrusts, taking each movement with ragged, shallow breaths and moans that blended with his own, you felt your body grow warmer.

Almost febrile beneath him as he tilted your head again.

“Who’s your daddy now?”

You winced, shaking your head. You hated that word.

“Who’s your daddy?”

Joel lowered his hand and began to thumb at your clit. Hot pleasure coursed through you, made you whine at the contact and dig your heels even deeper in his back.

“Who’s your daddy, baby? It ain’t that hard to say.”

But it was. Joel stroking your clit, stuffing you full, ghosting his lips against yours without ever furnishing a kiss, just goading you on with: ‘I know you wanna say it.’ Tough grey stubble teased your mouth with each word.

“I know she needs to cum, sweet girl. Know that poor little pussy’s taken a beating—and she’s done so good for me—but she needs to let it out now. All over me.”

His gaze held yours. You couldn’t turn away.

An unmistakable tenderness pervaded that look, and it didn’t seem keen to depart. No matter how tightly you pursed your lips, made fists in his shirt, or choked his cock between your walls in fluttering, desperate pleas, the man remained calm. Attentive. The eyes didn’t stray.

“It’s okay to say it.”

“C-Can’t—”

“Sure can. Be the easiest thing you ever do—D-A-D-D—”

“Please. Please.”

You hardly even knew what you were asking for at this point, only beholden to that big, swollen something in your tummy starting to give way beneath the push of Joel’s cock. Tightening up, leaking out, practically drooling down the length of this man who seemed relentless in his current pursuit. Two more circles on your clit and you were keening, whimpering pathetic as ever:

“Pleasepleasepleaseplease.”

“Say it now. Who’s it for?”

Above you, Joel’s teeth gleamed in a smile—or a snarl, you couldn’t tell. All you knew was the pleasure, the concomitant pain of having to contain this desperation while his thrusts sped up. You were bouncing on him, getting fucked against the washing machine in the raw and terrible central Texas heat wearing a sheen of sweat and a set of clothes that no longer fit your body, but that was just fine. You were okay. Joel was here, and he was holding your head, lips hovering less than an inch away.

“Who’s. Your. Daddy?” His words were slow. Coarse. Spilling into your mouth with every short puff of breath.

You couldn’t take it. You felt a band of pressure come to a head in your belly and the brush of Joel’s cock making its rounds in and out of your swollen cunt, pushing hard, and you knew that you’d had enough. He knew it, too.

“Y-You.”

“Who?”

“Joel.”

“Who?”

Your wet, pearly slick rang a deafening pitch. Enough.

“You, daddy! Daddy—please, fuck—I-I-I’m gonna cum.”

“Gonna cum for me? Make a mess of your old man?”

“Make a m-mess— yes, daddy, yes—” you slurred.

Joel drove his cock, fully coated in you, down to the hilt. He captured your lips in a kiss and didn’t even mind your mouth was whining, hissing, whimpering its filthy pleas for him to fuck a nice, big orgasm out from your body.

“—want yours inside,” you added, without realizing it.

“Sweet girl…” Joel groaned.

You didn’t know what you were asking him for. How badly he wanted it, too. His cock dragged in and out of your precious cunt and was barely more safe from the threat of its grip when you spasmed, at the last. Joel should’ve expected no less, after all the time he’d spent teasing and edging, then begging you gently, in grunts, ‘Cum for daddy, baby. Let me have it, that’s it, good girl.’ Still, somehow, he wasn’t prepared in the slightest.

When you squeezed your eyes shut and kissed him back—that was all it took. When you clenched on his cock, gave the front of his shirt a tug, locked your ankles about his hips so you could more properly increase that friction by fucking him back, grinding in place, he feared he might fairly make an irreparable, unforgivable mistake.

And when the whites of your eyes appeared again—eyelids fluttering open while your lips were glossed with his spit and a lazy smile—and said what you said next, he sensed that his fate was sealed. The old man was fucked.

“Cum inside me, daddy. Please.”

Joel couldn’t have stopped himself if he tried. He shuddered, then flooded your insides with rope after rope after rope of his spend, burying his face in your neck and taking your hips in his hands like a looser grip might lose you to him forever. He fucked his cum deep, deeper, darlin’ don’t move, can’t lose a drop, baby, please, he let out a whimper that made your walls pulse again. You felt him fill you to the brim and keep rutting his hips. Your body and his were shaking by the last of it.

And when he was finished, Joel dropped a kiss along your limp, glistening lips. He slid you back on the metal. By the expression on his face, it was plain to see he was loath to withdraw, but he had to. That tender little hiss and the sounds of your shared fluids trickling out were all the impetus he needed to act quick. As soon as he’d pulled out, Joel was back leaning against the washing machine—tilting your hips back a little, then lowering his sweaty, handsome head to the spot between your legs.

The wrinkles to the sides of his eyes grew more pronounced when he smiled. A happy grin, plastered across his lips, would have struck you as almost smug, were it not for the look of sheer adulation that followed it.

Joel was enthralled, watching his cum leak out of you. He kissed your thighs, flickered his gaze to your own, briefly, then damn near sank his nose inside the place he was watching before your fingers stopped him cold.

It was your body, after all. He had already had his fill.

Hardly knowing what came over you in that moment, you sank two fingers inside your wet, drooling hole and watched the eyes of the man beneath you go wide. He soaked in that sight completely: you pushing his cum back in, drawing it out, using the viscous white liquid as a lubricant of sorts before releasing a pleased little sigh.

Joel closed his mouth reluctantly. It took him more than a second to tear his eyes from that place, but when he did, the motions were quick to grow assured, by turns.

As if remembering something.

In a second, the innocent smile you’d seen before was being infiltrated, slowly, by a look you couldn’t place. Joel’s grin morphed from gentle to contented to plainly enthused and beaming ear-to-ear with a conceited glint. With his finger, he tugged your panties back into place.

“Baby—” he started, only to be cut off lightning-quick.

“What? What is it?”

His smile stretched even wider. By that act alone, you were half-tempted to forget the events of the last hour and set your jaw in a scowl. You looked down, unamused.

“What?”

“It’s just…” The man trailed off, and as he did, his gaze descended with it—straight down to your bare pantyline.

You cast a look there too—“What the fuck is it, Joel?!”

At that, two brown eyes flitted back up to you.

“I thought I asked for neon pink underwear, baby.”

Your breaths slowed. His gaze didn’t waver. Your heart came to a standstill in your chest, and you were amazed you had even half your present willpower then to speak.

“Wait, Joel, wh—”

“Shame you couldn’t get around to filmin’ today. Had me hard as a fuckin’ rock with all that milk and honey stuff.”

You nearly choked on your spit. Joel kept grinning.

“You’re—”

The guy. That fucking subscriber. The one who’d paid almost $500 in commissions in the last month alone.

You stared at Joel with eyes as wide as saucers, and were about to press on, when you heard the front door to the house shriek back on its hinges. Two sets of footsteps followed it, and their entry inside was loud.

Immediately, Joel rose to his feet. It seemed that grin wasn’t meant to stay long on his lips, because the next thing you knew, he was dropping a kiss somewhere soft and sweaty on your face and flipping your skirt back into place, holding his index up to his lips and stepping away. Your mouth twisted into a frown but stayed zipped out of sheer necessity. Seeing this, and likely unable to help himself, your gross, depraved, grinning old man leaned back in and planted his hands on either side of your hips on the washing machine. His nose nudged into your own.

“Between us—” he began, slowly.

“Get fucked,” you finished for him.

Joel nodded his assent, smirk faint. He cast a look over his shoulder, and, hearing what sounded like your mother’s footsteps drawing closer, lowered his voice.

Rubbing his thumb under your chin, making you tip your head back to meet his for one final look—then a kiss:

“You keep my secret, I keep yours, alright?”

—

Note: I’ve never done a real writing challenge before, but hopefully this fic will work for #hotdilfsummerchallenge !!! @hellishjoel this is such a fun ass idea & i hope you enjoy❣️

[urlovebot]

cw: perv!sunghoon. sunghoon does your laundry so: panty sniffing.. and licking, possessiveness, exhibitionism, praise, overstim, hands free orgasm again (?), dry humping but solo (???), sunghoon creams his pants twice lmfaoooo what a loser.

a/n: nastiest thing i've ever written so if it isn't for you, i get it 😭

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── ⋅ ⋅ ── ✩ ── ⋅ ⋅ ──

sunghoon knows its wrong. he knows its gross, a little fucked up but he can't help it. especially not when you ask him to wash your laundry with his to save on some money.

he couldnt help but dig through your pile, searching desperately for it and- oh! he's found it.

a worn pair of your panties. they're different than he imagined. he's spent hours thinking about it before. he thought they'd be plain, no lace, no pattern. multiple pairs but not alot of difference in color. mainly ones that match your skin tone. you wear alot of light clothing and he sees nothing when his eyes scan your body, spending more time on your ass than anything else. he knows that you dont wear low rise anything so they must be high cut? maybe hipsters? he's sure its nothing out of vanilla for you.

so why would you own a pair of white, bikini shaped, lace trim panties? this soils the picture he had of you in his head. all of his research- all of this knowledge he had of you.

he inspects the garment in his hand. this can't be yours right? sunghoon brings the thin, thin piece of clothing to his nose. it's definitely yours. he can smell the faint scent of your body wash on them.

now he's upset; nearly distraught. why would you own a pair of panties like this? who would you need to impress-

were you fucking other men? were you- sunghoons stomach drops- were you letting them taint you? a different, even more devastating thought springs forward and sunghoon is nauseous. are you not a virgin?

the sadness fades and is replaced by wild, unadulterated anger. his fist closes around the flimsy cloth. god hes upset, frustrated nearly to tears but never at you. never at you. you could never do wrong, his perfect angel. his pretty princess would never do wrong. he knows this, but he's got to take action. do something to solve this issue, make you clean again.

sunghoon brings the panties up to his nose and lets out a whimper at the scent, its tangy but theres a hint of sweetness. fuck, he's hard now. he palms the outline of his cock through his sweats; you smell so good. he knew it, knew that you'd smell good. he tracks what you eat, when you eat it, how you eat it. he makes sure to prepare good, balanced meals for you. he buys you all of your multi-vitamins, tracks the amount of water you drink to make sure you're never dehydrated. he knew you'd smell good, he made it that way.

he feels his cock leak into his underwear. he knows its wrong, knows its fucked up and dirty, but he does it anyway. his tongue pokes out to lick the center of your panties- oh. oh. his eyes roll to the back of his head. it tastes- no, no. you taste good. he feels precum dribble out of his cock and now he feels his underwear get a little damp.

he presses his palm harder against his crotch and takes another, more confident lick at the spot where your pretty pussy would've laid and now he's whining and humping into his hand like a fucking dog. he stumbles at the sensation and catches himself on a washer and he's reminded that this is a public laundromat on campus. a more secluded one, but public nonetheless. the thought of someone catching him makes his head spin.

everyone knew you were roommates. you were so, so popular amongst your peers. so sweet and kind, a smile that lights up a room, an infectious, contagious giggle. and sunghoon, who was so, so handsome but as much as he was handsome, he was shy. didn't talk much to anyone. except for you. he'd stroll with you as you bounced next to him, talking about your day as you both walked back to your dorm.

what better way to claim you than for someone to walk in and see him fucking himself and holding your panties up to his face. the thought turns him on so much that he squeezes his eyes shut and lets out a strangled moan.

god he needs it. he needs to fuck you in front of the whole campus. all of those men that violated your princess parts- he needs them to watch as he stuffs his girthy length into your pussy. he wants them to watch as he stretches you out. he's sure you'd struggle against him as what he had in girth he also had in length, but he knows you'd like it. he knows you'd love being filled up by him. by him.

he's so fucking mad. how could they? he slams the fist holding your panties on the washer as he continues to fuck and grind into his hand.

fuck those men that defiled you. fuck them for touching you that way, putting their filthy hands on your precious body. he'd fix that. cleanse you. cum all over your pretty frame, cover you in it. your face, your tits, cum on and in your tight little cunt. he prays you'd let him fuck your ass too so he could fill that up as well- shit.

he feels it coming. he feels the onslaught of pleasure start to pour into his body. he wants to hold off- wants to hold his cum until he can spill it inside of you but he cant. he's gonna cream his pants like hes a teenager again.

he laps at your panties again and he cant wait to taste your pussy. he can't wait until he can eat you out for hours, have you cum on his tongue over and over and- oh-

his eyes squeeze shut again and he bites his lip to try and conceal his moans. he can't tell if its working though, his ears are ringing and the only thing he can think of is roughly humping his hand to get off.

he whines and whines and whines as he feels himself let go, ropes of cum seeping through his underwear. its spurt after spurt and now his hand is wet and its starting to stain his sweats but he cant stop. his cock has a mind of its own, twitching and jumping and fuck- he's so sensitive.

he stops cumming, stops shooting his load into his underwear. he whimpers and removes his hand from his pants but his hips are still stuttering against nothing.

god he wants to feel it. he wants to know how it'll feel when he slides his cock into your warm, tight, wet cunt. he wants to feel his balls slap against your ass from how hard he's fucking you. he wants to feel your pussy gush around him, cover his cock and balls in your juices. he hopes he can make you squirt so you can drench him in you and- no. no no no-

sunghoons knees knock together as he feels himself cum in his pants again and he might actually pass out this time. its dry, nothings coming out but he feels euphoric. his hips fuck into the air and its so fucking gross, he feels so gross and so dirty but its only for you. only for his pretty princess.

[sparrows4bats]

Dick Grayson is the victim of his own choices when it comes to Jondami. Aka Dick sets up Jondami, this time on purpose, but quickly regrets it.

Damian grew up to be a beautiful, kind young man, and Dick can't be prouder of him.

When he left Robin to be a doctor Dick had his feelings about it (ie hes growing up so fast! Make it stop!) but respected Damians' choice and gave as much support as possible as he went to med school and started his internship and residentancy. Damian is an adult now, accomplished and intelligent and Dick couldn't be more happy.

The only issue is other people's reactions to Damian.

Ever since, he was reintroduced to hero society for his medical expertise under the code name Nightengale (Tim chose it and suffered Damian's wrath for weeks) Every young hero Dick knows has delevoped 'an admiration' for his baby brother. (They want to get into his pants, but Dick refuses to even think about it), and Dick can't take it anymore!

He deals with this with every member of his family, and eventually, the love lorn stares die down.

But with Damian, they seem to only be increasing over time as he saves more lives and endears the younger heroes with treats and stories of his many pets.

That is his baby, and if they don't stop with the lecherous gazes soon Dick is enacting contingency plans!

It's getting plain dangerous! With the other bats, the way to impress them was competency, but because Nightengale is rarely in active combat, his admirers have resorted to injuring themselves or exaggerating symptoms to get his attention. It's gotten so bad that Bruce had to put out a League Wide memo on safety and, somehow, had gotten Damian to teach a first aid class. But that only made it worse! Nightengale claimed even more hearts during the class! He had an army of suitors practising CPR and gave everyone his com frequency at the end in case of emergency!

Dick has walked in on way too many conversations discussing Damians' datebility. He almost murdered the poor soul that started describing what they thought the doctor would be like in bed. (They were so lucky Kory was there to hold him back from disfiguring the pervert.)

The worst part is that as soon as it was revealed that Nightengale is a bat. Nightwing, the friendliest bat, was inundated with questions about the doctor. A brave few even asked him to put in a good word for them!

Dick needs this to stop. Now.

So he starts to think. How did the wave of crushes end for the rest of his family? Dick realised they only stopped after the object of their affections started dating another hero.

So all Dick has to do was set Damian up with someone. (He despairs at the thought, but anything is better than watching people he is meant to trust with his life oogle his little Robin as Damian just tries to do his job.)

So Dick Grayson makes a list of attributes any partner has to have. (Not that any of them will ever be good enough to deserve him.)

The person he sets Damian up with has to be a good hero, non judgemental about Damian's past, be able to handle his more acerbic attitude, and just crazy enough to keep up with a bat. They have to be competent, intelligent, and willing to defer to Damian when he makes his own choices but stubborn enough to dissaude his more reckless behaviour. They have to be kind, an animal lover, and willing to move heaven and earth for his baby brother at the bare minimum.

Most important of all, they can't under any circumstances have a reputation for dating around or being a massive perv. Damian is his mother's son, and as much as he tries to deny it, a true romantic. If Damian falls in love, there's no doubt in Dicks mind that Damian will remain loyal. If he's not careful, Damians' compassion and incredible capacity for forgiveness will be his doom.

So Dick needs someone who would never dream of taking advantage of another's heart.

Dick is left with a surprisingly short list. He considers asking the rest of the family for help but can't risk it getting back to Damian.

Then, after a half hour of despair. It hits him. Jonathan Kent!

They are childhood Friends, Jon knows all about Damian's childhood, they trust each other, Jon think Damians insults are funny, respects his decisions, loves animals, and would literally break the world to protect him. Jon doesn't date much, usually committed relationships, and is interested in men! It's perfect!

Dick mentored Jon himself. He's a good guy and definitely wouldn't take advantage of Damians' loyalty.

So, with his decision made Dick begins his plan to set them up.

It's a delicate operation if he goes right out and says it there's no way Damian will go with it. So he starts assigning Jon to Nightengale at the Watchtower during low activity.

He smiles as he watches the two laugh over restocking the medbay.

Next, he gets Damian to bring Superman 2.0 to visit the children at the paediatric hospital he works at as a day job. Jon happily agrees and afterwards meets Dick with a bright blush in his face and a sappy smile that doesn't fade.

Dick makes up excuses for them to hang out, training, humanitarian missions, and abusing superspeed and flight to ensure Damian is fed after long shifts.

The two are definitely interested in each. It's cute. Jon starts glaring and hanging around Damian whenever the other heroes start flirting. Damian lets Jon help him with projects, and the two are never out of each others sight for more than two minutes.

The plan is progressing beautifully, but they need just one more little push.

It happens without Dicks intervention, in the worst possible way.

Nightengale is out during an invasion, fighting and providing emergency medical help when he's hit. Hard.

Dick doesn't see it happen. But turns to see Jon with red eyes standing in front of a bleeding Damian as he takes down hundreds of the aliens. There are very few times Dick has really understood the power the Supers hold. This is like watching a vengeful God. But no hostile gets anywhere near Damian again.

The rest retreat after the carnage, but Jon doesn't care. He gathers Damian in his arms and flies away. Hours later, the batfamily finds them at a hospital, Damian is out of surgery, and Jon is sitting holding his hand. Both out of their hero gear, Thank God.

Jon doesn't even acknowledge their presence just keeps staring at Damian who is out cold.

Bruce starts to lecture him but stops when Clark very firmly drags him from the room. Dick watches the two in silence and slowly takes the chair on Damians other side.

"Thank you, for keeping him safe."

Jon just brushes Damians cheek and replies, "Always."

Jon doesn't leave until Damian is released a few days later. Damian moves back into the Manor temporarily to continue to heal. Jon visits him everyday.

Dick is celebrating his success. The two are well on their way to a relationship, and all of Damians admirers have backed off and only enquire about his health now.

Life is good.

Until he walks in on a Naked Jon Kent in Damians bed. He screams and flees before he can see anything else.

After he has calmed down and given them a chance to dress, he returns to lecture Damian about strenuous activity only to be lectured in turn about holistic pain management and rehabilitation after surgical intervention.

Dick shuts up, glares at Jon, and ensures Damian hasn't disturbed his stitches.

It would be fine if that was the only time he found the Super menace feeling up his baby.

He has, somehow, in his quest to save Damian from the lecherous assholes of the Watchtower, set him up with a pervert!

Everywhere he looks, he finds them canoodling, and Jon doesn't seem to fear him nearly enough. The little shit can't seem to keep his hands to himself!

The worst of it is when he and a few titans walk into the medbay after Damian goes back to work and finds the two of them using one of the beds!

They have no shame, and the titans spread news about the encounter to everyone. (At least Damian would be harem disperses) But Dick now wants to bleach his eyes out of skull.

But Damian is happy, so he resists the urge to break out the kryptonite.

That is until, one day, he notices a ring on Damians' finger during a hangout between the two brothers.

"You're engaged to Jon!!"

"No Richard."

Dick breathes a sigh of relief.

"We eloped."

"WHAT??"

Dick Grayson has many regrets.

[hausofwoo]

handy | choi san

pairing: choi san x afab reader

word count: 5K

summary: you move into a shitty apartment with a long list of maintenance issues. your landlord puts off sending someone to fix them, only making your frustrations grow. that is, until the maintenance man finally arrives and you discover that he's hot... and you find yourself making excuses for him to keep coming back.

warnings: 18+, minors do not interact, maintenance man!san, tenant!reader, reader is kind of a perv lol, unprotected piv (wrap it up!), oral (f receiving), san is a tease, fingering, hair pulling (m receiving), cumplay, kitchen counter sex!!!, he kinda throws u around hehehe, choking, dacryphilia, use of a petname (baby), lmk if i forgot anything!

author's note: umm.... hahaha um...... so this is lowkey based on a recent experience i had of my maintenance man coming to fix some shit in my apt and he strangely had SO much rizz and i was like wait a minute.... this could be a great fic idea LMAO thank u to @hausofmingi for being my beta-reader ily always ♡

when you signed your lease at your new apartment, you didn’t expect to sign up for a list of problems.

you desperately needed a new place to live, and with the measly budget you had for rent, all that was left available were slim pickings. so when you finally found a small 1 bedroom apartment that wasn’t double your desired price, you jumped at the opportunity. you applied for the place on the spot and were approved the same day. you didn’t really think anything of it, but when you finally got settled in and actually gave a good look at your newfound home… you were in for a fucking nightmare.

for starters, the window unit in the bedroom wouldn’t blow cool air. it’s right in the heat of the summer, so coming home after a long day only to sweat all night long was not cutting it for you. you put in a maintenance request through your tenant portal app the first day when you realized this.

another annoyance was the dishwasher. one of your biggest must-haves was to have an actual working one. maybe you were asking a bit much with your budget, but with the amount that you work, it was imperative. you were thrilled to see the dishwasher during the viewing, only to find a few days worth of dirty dishes later, that said dishwasher was rusty and moldy. literally unusable. so you put in another maintenance request.

last one, and maybe now you’re just getting picky because you’re pissed, but your shower water pressure sucked, and by the time you would finish a shower, the water would take forever to drain. another request sent.

all these maintenance requests and not a single one fixed. you started to wonder if the tenant portal app even worked, so you called your landlord, only to grapple with them on finding a time for them to fix it while you’re still home. you might want these things fixed asap, but you’re not willing to let a stranger in your space when you’re not there.

you started to fucking lose it. a few weeks with no cold air, shitty water pressure, and dishes piling up your sink, and not one thing being done about it. you call your landlord one more time, urging them to finally fix these issues, arguing that they should’ve been fixed before you even moved in. and with that last push, they finally caved and did their fucking job. they said they’re sending someone there first thing tomorrow.

so when you finally wake up and go about your day-off routine, you’re constantly watching the clock. when they said “first thing tomorrow,” did they mean “first thing tomorrow once the maintenance man feels like it”? because it’s already pushing noon and you’re getting impatient. it’s obnoxious; you’re not able to run any errands (let alone actually go out and enjoy your day off) and you’re just waiting around for some dude to actually do the job you’ve been asking for for weeks.

just as you find yourself dialing the landlord’s number, you hear a knock at your door. fucking FINALLY. you jump off your couch, mind spewing profanities out of frustration. you walk towards the door, ready to give this stupid maintenance man a piece of your mind. you swing open the door, and your heart drops.

the maintenance man stands before you, with a tight black tank that hugged his muscular build and dirty worn jeans. he has a tool belt strapped to his (surprisingly small?) waist and a heavy tool box gripped in his hand. he’s a little dirty, and his chest is shiny with sweat due to the humid outside air. his rugged exterior is a huge juxtaposition to his face, however, with sharp yet kind eyes and a sweet smile.

“you need some maintenance done?” he asks.

“oh, uh, yes,” you stumble, suddenly at a loss for words. “come on in.” you hold the door open, allowing him to walk through to your living room.

“so you’re having issues with your water pressure?” he says, looking around the apartment.

“yeah, that and a few other things,” you reply. “but the biggest thing is the window unit in my room. it doesn’t blow any cold air.”

“i can fix that,” he looks at you with a grin. “which one’s the bedroom?”

you walk him to your room, thanking god he can’t see the blush forming on your face. he walks in and places his tool box down, promptly inspecting the window unit.

“i’ll just let you do your thing,” you say, twiddling your thumbs. “i’ll be in the living room if you need me.”

he nods, and you go back to sit on your couch. you mindlessly scroll through your phone, all while spiraling in your head. did your landlord hire this guy from a fucking modeling agency? he has the build for handyman work, that is certain. however, his face is what’s really getting to you. he could be on the cover of vogue and you wouldn’t bat an eye. but there he is, working on a shitty a/c window unit in your room.

you suddenly become hyper aware of the appearance of your bedroom. what does he think about your decor? is he cringing at the plushies sat on your bed? what if you left a pair of underwear out? oh my god, did you leave your nightstand drawer open, with your vibrator out for the whole world to see?

“it looks like you’ll need a whole new window unit,” he says from your room, interrupting your swarming thoughts. “this one doesn’t even have heat, and you’ll need that for winter.”

“oh, yeah,” you say, getting up and standing in your bedroom doorway. “how long will it take to get a new one? this heat has been brutal.”

“i should be able to bring one tomorrow, if you’re available,” he says, turning back to look at you as he closes up the tool box.

“i’m available,” you say all too quick. dude. be cool. “i mean, yeah, i can try to get off work a little earlier, maybe at like 3?”

“works for me,” he smiles, standing up. “can i get your number?”

you can’t hide your blush this time, nodding at the insinuation, but knowing it was just to iron out arrangements. “here,” you say, opening your phone messages so he can send himself a text.

he types away and hands your phone back. “you need a new dishwasher too, right?”

“i do,” you confirm.

“i can try and get you one by tomorrow too,” he says. “i’m off duty by like 5, so hopefully i’ll have enough time. now the shower?”

you nod and lead him to your bathroom. he examines the shower head, and you watch your cat approach him from behind.

“oh my god,” he says, startled at your cat rubbing against his leg. “this little dude came out of nowhere!” he reaches down to pet him, all while he’s purring up a storm.

“wow, he really likes you,” you stand shocked. your cat is always so standoffish to strangers, usually hiding under your bed or couch. but he’s rubbing against your maintenance man’s legs like he’s best friends with him.

“cats tend to really like me, i don’t know why,” he chuckles, scratching at your cat’s head. “what’s his name?”

“leo,” you say.

“like the zodiac sign?” he looks up at you while still petting him.

“yeah, i wanted to name him after his own sign but he’s a cancer, soooo…” you trail off, awkwardly fiddling with your hands.

“i’m a cancer!” he lights up, looking back down at leo. “no wonder we get along.”

you smile, and then realize you’re staring again. “i’ll go back in here so you can work.”

after distracting yourself with your phone again for a bit, you look up and see the man starting to walk out the bathroom doorway, already with his things together.

“okay, it should be good now, but let me know tomorrow if there’s any issues,” he says. you nod to him and lead him to the front door. you open the door and he walks out, but turns to you before he leaves. “so, i’ll see you tomorrow?” he has a smile on his face, with a hint of something behind it that you can’t quite read.

“yeah, tomorrow,” you say.

after locking the door behind him, you slump onto the couch with a big sigh. that was somehow the most nerve-wracking thing you’ve ever experienced. you remember he texted himself on your phone, so you open your messages and see the unsaved number.

sent 12:28 pm this is san :)

you can feel heat rising to your cheeks. even a stupid smiley face in a text has got you kicking your feet. you text him back, telling him your name and a quick thank you.

dear lord. this man didn’t even do anything, but he will be the death of you.

you come home early the next day, even earlier than you mentioned. partly because you wanted to clean up your place a bit, but the other part to mentally prepare yourself for a hot man in your apartment again. you clean up your room, tidying up so it looks a tad better than it did the day prior. once you’re done, you find yourself fixing up your makeup, realizing you’re putting way too much effort into seeing a fucking handyman fix your a/c.

are you really doing this? intentionally getting dolled up for this?? haha never! right….?

you hear a knock at your door and jump up. you check yourself in the mirror one last time, fixing the gloss on your lips. you go to open the door to reveal san, standing in front of you again with a familiar sweet smile on his face. you smile back too eagerly.

“i got your window unit!” he says, nodding down to the large box in his hands.

“oh, come in, that must be heavy!” you say, ushering him into your living room.

“mind if i go in your room?” he asks.

“of course, please,” you say, opening your bedroom door and letting him set the box down. you attempt to subtly watch his arms flex as he drops it. oh my god he is so hot.

you retreat to the living room as usual, allowing him to work in peace. you work on some things on your laptop to pass the time, but the thought of this man working on your a/c, muscles protruding, sweat glistening… it’s all too much of a distraction. you decide to put your ear buds in, trying to drown out your own perverse thoughts. you finally are able to hone in on your work, catching up on the things you couldn’t finish during your shift today since you left early.

you don’t realize that san finished installing the window unit until you feel a hand on your shoulder, making you jump.

“oh!” you stammer, pulling an ear bud out. “sorry, what’s up?”

san has a smile creeping on his face. “my bad, i didn’t mean to scare you. i just wanted to let you know i finished putting in the unit.”

“that’s great, thank you so much,” you say, standing up. “did you get the dishwasher today too?”

“yeah i did,” he says, but then he checks his phone for the time. you realize it’s about to hit 5 pm, and he said he’s off by that time.

“you’re almost off, i forgot,” you say apologetically. “you can just come back another day?”

he checks his phone again, contemplating. “well… i mean i already have it in my truck, so i don’t mind working a little bit over my time.”

“you really don’t have to, san,” you plead.

“it’s okay,” he says. “i’ll be right back with it!”

he exits your apartment, giving you a moment to kick yourself. having a dishwasher that works would be so great right now, but you feel guilty for having him work past his time. another part of you wants him to go anyway, if it meant he would come back again.

you hear a loud noise outside your front door, so you open it to see san with the new dishwasher on a dolly. you hold the door open for him, allowing him to enter your apartment and bee-line to the kitchen. he props the dolly down to drop the box.

“i should be able to finish this in about an hour, is that okay?” he asks, already unboxing it.

“as long as you’re okay with working this late,” you shrug.

“i don’t mind at all,” he smiles, looking up at you.

“okay, i’ll just be in here,” you point behind you, gesturing to the living room.

“alright, dishwasher is done,” san says, walking into the living room with a broken down empty box in one hand and dolly in the other.

“thank you so much,” you smile.

“is there anything else you need then?” he inquires, quirking up an eyebrow.

a moment of silence washes over the room momentarily, with you wracking your brain trying to find a reason for him to stay longer. but you push that away, knowing he’s been working way too long past his scheduled time.

“no, i think that will do it,” you sigh, unintentionally sounding disappointed.

“well,” he mumbles, toying with the box in his hand. “well you have my number, so if you need anything, feel free to shoot me a text.”

you walk him to the door, thanking him. he stands out in the hallway, you looking at him out your front door.

“really though,” he insists. “if you need anything.” with one last sweet smile, he leaves.

so what does he mean by that? “anything.” maybe you’re delusional for thinking there’s a hidden meaning behind that statement. as in, you can text him if you want him to fuck your brains out, “anything?” definitely not, but your mind wanders at the thought of it; that he’d drop everything and book it back to your apartment, heaving and sweaty, ready to take what’s his. you’re actually fucking crazy.

and to make yourself even crazier, the next few days you find yourself itching to get another reason to have him come back. you check your kitchen sink’s water pressure, it’s fine. you test out the stove for the first time and it cooked your food perfectly, no gas smell. then you find something. one of your kitchen drawers won’t close completely. it’s something small, but enough to put in a maintenance request. for the first time since you moved in, you feel grateful you live in a shitty apartment.

you swing the door open, happy to see the cute grin san always gives you the moment he sees you.

“sooo… a drawer, huh?” he quips with a hint of a teasing tone.

“y-yeah, i tried to fix it but i don’t know what i’m doing wrong,” you defend, rubbing the back of your neck.

“i can fix that,” he says, passing into the kitchen, tool box in hand. you’re ready to retreat to your living room as usual, but san stops you. “you know, you don’t have to wait around in your living room for me to finish. i like having company.”

“oh,” you mumble, turning around. “i thought you might want privacy while you work.”

“no, it’s okay,” he says, opening his tool box to grab a few items. “if you wanted, you can hang around. i like learning about the tenants i’m working for.”

“okay,” you murmur. you open a kitchen cabinet to grab two mugs. “do you want some tea?”

“i would love some tea,” he says.

you put the kettle on the stove, heating up some water. you chat with san about work, how many units he has to visit in a day, about the interesting tenants he meets, how long he’s been doing this. once the kettle starts whistling, san is already finished fixing the drawer, placing it back into it’s assigned slot. you can’t help but feel disappointed that your time with him is almost up. you put the tea bags in the mugs of hot water, offering one to san.

“i know you’re done, but if you still want it,” you say, and he accepts the drink with a grin. you both sit at your kitchen table, continuing to chat. your cat leo enters the kitchen, going to straight to san’s legs to rub against him.

“there’s my boy,” san coos, scratching leo’s head.

“i still can’t get over how much he likes you,” you laugh. “he’s never this friendly, he’s only like this with me.”

“he seems friendly to me,” san says. “maybe he just has good taste in people.”

you chuckle, wondering in the back of your mind if he meant that about you too.

san checks his phone, realizing the time. he sets down his tea and stands. “i should probably get out of here, there’s another tenant waiting for me.”

“i didn’t mean to keep you—”

“no no,” san interrupts. “it’s okay. i really liked this. not a lot of people are this welcoming.”

“of course,” you reply, standing up with him. “i—i really liked this too.”

san smiles, biting a bit at his lip. you look at each other for a moment, feeling an intriguing tension in the air. he finally shakes head, going to grab his things to go. you walk him to your front door. you say another thank you, about to close the door.

“like i said,” he repeats, leaning against the door frame. “anything.”

you hadn’t seen san in over a week. it was driving you mad. you became addicted to his energy, to his warm greeting at your front door, to the lingering gazes you shared. you didn’t have any reason to see him again, and you needed to find another. so you did something you’re not entirely proud of… something that an actual crazy person would do. you loosened a bolt on a pipe under your kitchen sink, allowing water to trickle the smallest amount in the lower cabinet.

listen. you know it’s bizarre at this point, but you had to see him again. it’s not like anything would happen; he’d probably just fix it up, have another nice chat with you, and be on his way. is it so bad that you meddled with your sink just to see him?

when san arrives, he has that all-knowing grin on his face the moment you open the door.

“the sink now, hm?” he asks.

“yeah,” you chuckle anxiously. “the sink.”

he goes to the kitchen and inspects the pipes under the sink. you lean against the counter, hoping to god he doesn’t notice that the pipe didn’t magically get loose.

“ah i see,” he laughs to himself. “it’s just a loose bolt. easy fix.” he tightens it with his tools, quickly finishing.

“oh, haha,” you say, nerves bubbling in your stomach. “i guess i could’ve done that.”

“you know, it’s so interesting…” he trails off, standing up to face you, running a hand through his hair.

“what?” you ask.

“i’ve never had to do so much maintenance work for one tenant before,” he says, sly grin across his face. fuck. do you think he knows?

“and i swear, that bolt kinda looked like it was loosened by a wrench…” he trails off again, stepping closer to you. HE KNOWS.

“n-no, i would never,” you defend, feeling backed against the counter.

your eyes are locked on san, wandering over his built frame, over his sharp features. he’s inching closer and closer, and you feel your breath hitch. he catches your trailing eyes as if to ask for permission, and leans in to kiss you.

finally, the thing you’ve been wanting so bad from him, to feel his lips against yours. he cups your cheek with one hand, letting you melt into his touch. your lips part to allow his tongue to slide in, deepening the kiss with fervor. his form pushes against yours, pressing you against the kitchen counter. his hands begin to wander, grazing from the side of your face down to your waist. he holds you in a tight grip, pulling your hips forward to meet his. you can feel him harden in his jeans as he lets out a groan against your lips.

“you did this on purpose, hm?” san says, separating from your lips. he lifts you up and places you to sit on the kitchen counter in one swift motion. he kneels to the floor, grabbing at the waist of your pants. “just to see me?”

you nod emphatically, watching as he pulls down your pants and underwear. the cold air hits your core and you try to close your legs, but san pushes them back open to admire you. putting your legs over his shoulders, he runs his fingers against your folds, eyes drinking in the sight of you. you shudder at the feeling, knowing all too well that he’s already got you soaked.

“you like seeing me like this?” he whispers, looking up at you. “i bet you imagined me like this, between your legs.” when his fingertips graze over your clit, your body lets out a shake, and he knows he found what he wanted.

he attaches his mouth to your core and places a firm hold on your outer thighs. licking stripes up to your clit, each stroke of his tongue feels like heaven. he dips down to your hole, dragging your slick upwards. he moans at the taste of you, devouring at you with more passion. your hands grasp at his hair, relishing the stimulation.

he tugs his head back, looking as pussy-drunk as ever. “i imagined you like this too,” he moans, lips still hovering over you. you unintentionally tug at his hair, yearning for his mouth back on you. “i wanted you so bad the moment i saw you.”

he releases a hand off your thigh and snakes it back between your legs, teasing at your hole as he goes back to circle his tongue around your clit. he looks up at you as he slides his middle finger in, watching you crumble at the feeling. once he can tell you’re comfortable, he slides in another, slowly starting to pump them into you. you whimper at the feeling, walls contracting around his fingers.

your moans are uncontrollable, and he matches them, letting the vibrations enhance the stimulation. he curls his fingers into you, hitting that perfect spot. he can feel your core clenching more erratically, causing him to pick up the pace, but maintaining a steady rhythm. his tongue flicks at your clit just right, making you squeeze your eyes shut and tighten the grip on his hair.

“s-san,” you let out. “i’m gonna cum.”

he detaches from you briefly, still finger fucking you. “cum for me, baby, i want to taste you.” he immediately latches back onto you, eating you like his life depends on it.

you feel a wave of pleasure wash over your body, feeling like chills. you’re shaking now, unable to control the sheer amount of bliss your body is experiencing. you moan out to san, coming undone on his tongue. he continues to work at you, allowing you to ride out the entirety of your orgasm.

he finally disconnects from you, pulling out his fingers coated in your essence. he licks them clean, looking up at you with the same look of desire. he stands up, promptly placing his lips on yours in a passionate kiss. you can taste yourself on his fucked-out lips, and it makes it that much hotter. you can hear him fumbling with his belt, and your hands reach down to help. you place your palm over his bulge, it twitching at the contact.

san separates from you, letting out a heavy sigh. he pulls himself out from his underwear, rubbing the tip at your spent pussy. he looks down and lets a string of his spit hit his throbbing cock, spreading it around the expanse of it with his hand. he angles himself into you, and slowly starts pushing in. you gasp at the size, him stretching you out much more than his fingers initially did. he takes it slow, acknowledging the whimpers leaving your lips.

once he’s fully inside, he groans. “god, you’re so fucking tight.”

he watches himself enter you as he starts rolling his hips into you. he places a hand on the back of your neck, pushing you towards him for a messy kiss. he starts to pick up his pace, earning a sharp hiss on his lips in between kisses.

“you feel so good,” he murmurs to you. “i knew you would feel good.”

you moan in response, completely unable to form any words. all you know is that the stretch of his cock is deliciously painful, and the sweet kisses he’s peppering over your neck gives you goosebumps all over. you can’t even believe this is happening right now, that your fantasy of fucking your maintenance man is coming true, and it feels even better than you imagined.

“you wanted this so bad,” san teases, continuing to piston into you. “for me to fuck you like this. you probably imagined it, touching yourself the moment i left.”

and he’s right, you found yourself needy and horny after every visit he made. you couldn’t stop yourself from grabbing your vibrator and pretending he was the one fucking you, not yourself. but the feeling of the real thing was much different, much more euphoric. to have his chest heaving in front of you, sweat beading on his temple, desperate energy emanating from his body, saying i want to have all of you.

suddenly, he lifts you from the kitchen counter, holding your thighs firmly with his cock still in you. something about the fact that he can completely hold you up, still bouncing you on him even… you feel like his little play toy that he’s throwing around. he takes you to the bedroom, dropping you down on your bed and landing on top of you.

he wastes no time in sliding back into you, desperate to continue feeling your tight walls around him. his body is hovering over yours, your legs tangled as he thrusts into you. he pecks around your neck, hand ghosting over your throat as if seeking permission. you place your hand over his, allowing him to choke you until you’re lost in a euphoric haze.

his thrusts become more intense and forceful, each stroke sending chills down your spine as his length reaches deeper inside you. you swear you’re shaking the whole bed, the headboard repeatedly slamming against the wall. you’re so clouded by pleasure that you barely even notice he’s fucking you so hard that he’s pushing a dent into the wall from your bed frame.

“i can fix that,” san whispers with a smile, not even bothering to stop.

you let out a chuckle, then press a soft kiss to his lips. his hips begin to slow, as though he’s really taking his time to melt into you, to feel every part of you. he then lifts up to hit a new angle inside you, gripping your waist and slamming your hips into his with powerful, deliberate motions. you move your hand to your clit, feeling your walls tighten around his throbbing cock. your vision blurs, tears starting to well up in your eyes from the overwhelming pleasure.

“you gonna cum for me?” san asks, sensing the irregular pulsing of your core. you nod up at him, eyebrows furrowed and lip caught between your teeth. “cum on my cock, baby, let me feel you.”

your orgasm builds to a peak and then cascades over you, sending you into a state of pure bliss. san is still fucking into you, extending your orgasm while still chasing his own. it’s not until his hips begin to falter that you feel him shoot ropes of his cum into you, filling you completely. his moans echo yours, his hips gradually slowing until he finally comes to a stop.

he pulls out of you, falling next to you on the bed. the room is filled with the sound of your heavy breathing as it gradually returns to a normal pace. you look at each other, smiling with a shared understanding of the unexpected moment you just experienced. he wraps his arm around you, drawing your head to his chest to where you can hear his heartbeat.

“sooo…” you chuckle softly, pointing at the dent in your wall. “you’re gonna fix that, right?”

san grins, pulling you closer. “i mean, i can, but then i’d have no reason to come back tomorrow.”

“now that i think of it,” you say, chuckling. “i think there’s probably a few more things that could be fixed…”

“anything you need,” he says. “anything.”

a/n: guys this was so fun to write, i hope u enjoyed it too!! something about san lately oml... plz leave feeback as i'm new to writing, and reblog to support me! it motivates me to write more!

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[rosierin]

double trouble | atsumu, osamu, suna

synopsis; the twins are doing some manual labour under the hot sun and (y/n) can't help but catch a sneaky glance or two or three when they eventually take off their shirts.

a/n; what can i say guys? im in france and the sun's got me feeling all silly

this fic is part of the off-season quartet™ series! for more, click here :)

In her defence, (y/n) hadn’t meant to stare.

It just… sort of happened. Like blinking. Or breathing. One moment she was sitting in the kitchen sipping iced tea, gloriously unbothered. The next—

Well.

The twins had taken their shirts off.

And really, there should’ve been a warning. A government-issued alert. Maybe a health advisory. Something to prepare the public. Because this? This was just cruel.

They were scattered across their tiny backyard, moving a bunch of supplies from the car to the shed—lumber, bags of soil, some mystery item Osamu had bought for his garden project that weighed roughly the same as a baby elephant.

And okay, yeah, she could have offered to help.

But someone had to supervise. For... For safety reasons.

And hydration. Since she was already sipping tea.

It was boiling out—sun glaring, air thick, the kind of summer heat that made everything sticky and slightly unbearable. It made sense that they’d stripped their shirts off. Necessary, if you asked her.

Now, here’s the thing about the Miya twins: sure, they were genetically identical. But when it came to thirst?

Very different flavours.

Atsumu was golden and obnoxiously pretty, all tan skin and arrogant smirks. Every time he flexed his biceps lifting something heavy—grunting like an Olympic athlete, on purpose, she was sure—she could've sworn she'd seen God. His hair clung to his forehead with sweat, and every time he reached for something overhead, his whole torso flexed—showcasing toned abs and the kind of sinful V-line that made her question her faith.

Meanwhile, Osamu looked like he’d walked out of a home renovation fantasy. Dust on his forearms, jaw tense with focus, sweat beading down his neck. Those forearms. Those shoulders. The way his back flexed when he lifted a bag of gravel? Criminal.

The kind of guy who could build you a deck and then build you a reputation, if you caught her drift.

He grunted once. (Y/n) almost passed out.

She bit her lip so hard she nearly bruised it.

"I’m not better than a man," she whispered to herself, staring through the window like a Victorian widow at sea.

Double the muscles.

Double the sweat.

Double the hotness.

She was dizzy. Delirious. Probably dehydrated from the sheer amount of drool she was swallowing.

“You’re disgusting,” came a voice to her left.

She jumped.

Suna.

Of course it was Suna.

He was leaning against the counter, arms crossed, staring at her like a disappointed parent.

“Do I even wanna know what’s going through your filthy little mind right now?”

“No,” she said quickly. “And also, yes. But mostly no.”

He snorted. “Why don’t you just go up to them and tell them they’re hot?”

“No way,” she said, aghast. “That’s like walking up to a fire and saying, ‘hi, I’m flammable.’”

He raised a brow. “So you’re gonna keep ogling from the shadows like a little perv?”

“Correct.”

Suna poured himself a drink. Took a sip. Didn't argue. “Respect.”

She thought the worst of it was over.

She thought, I’ll survive this. I’ll just finish my tea, cool off, pretend I didn’t spend the last ten minutes mentally objectifying my friends.

She thought wrong.

Because a few minutes later, the screen door slid open with a bang, and in walked Atsumu—shirtless, sweaty, pressing a water bottle to the side of his neck.

Condensation trickled down his shoulder. His collarbone. His chest...

(Y/n) choked on her peach tea.

Suna snickered into his glass. “Karma’s so efficient these days.”

Atsumu didn’t seem to notice her state of physical and spiritual collapse—at first. He crossed the kitchen with casual swagger, cracked open the fridge, and stood there like he didn’t just set the room on fire.

That’s when it happened.

He looked over his shoulder—right at her. His eyes flicked across her face, clocking the flushed cheeks, the guilty stillness.

Then he grinned.

“Ya been watchin’ me, angel?”

(Y/n) froze, mid-sip, brain absolutely blank.

No thoughts. Just panic. And lust. And more panic.

“I—what—no,” she said, like someone who had absolutely been watching him. “No, I was looking at… the shed.”

Atsumu turned fully, eyebrow raised, lips twitching like he just knew. “Oh yeah? …The shed," he deadpanned.

“Yeah,” she said, defensive. “Very… shed-y. Strong architectural presence.”

He tilted his head, slow and smug. “Right.”

Suna, from behind his drink, drawled, “She almost passed out when Osamu grunted.”

“RIN.”

Atsumu burst into laughter, clutching his glorious sixpack stomach. “Shit, you were watchin’ us!”

(Y/n) dragged her hands down her burning face. “I hate this house.”

“Aw, don’t be shy,” Atsumu cooed, leaning against the counter with full, blinding confidence. “If ya wanted a private show, all ya had to do was ask.”

She groaned into her palms. “I’m gonna combust."

“‘Cause of the heat?” Atsumu asked innocently.

“Because of you,” she snapped, glaring like this was all his fault. "And your stupid brother."

"You guys talkin' shit about me?"

(Y/n) nearly fainted on the spot.

Osamu had just walked in from the yard—towel around his neck, water bottle in hand, faintly furrowed brow and a voice that somehow always sounded like it was five minutes from dragging someone by the collar.

“She’s been oglin’ us,” Atsumu said gleefully.

(Y/n) bristled. “I HAVE NOT—”

Suna twirled his glass between his fingers like a fine wine. “She has. She's a closeted pervert."

Osamu raised a brow, turning to glance at her—really glance. His eyes flicked from the way she was half-curled on the chair, to her burning cheeks, to her wildly defensive expression. His mouth quirked.

“Ah,” he said mildly. “So that’s why I felt eyes burnin’ into my back. Or was it my chest? Abs?”

“I hate all of you,” she muttered.

That was when it happened. The unholy alliance.

Atsumu and Osamu exchanged a glance—brief, wordless, deadly.

Twin telepathy.

And just like that, they moved in. One on each side. Like predators scenting blood.

(Y/n) blinked. “What—?"

Atsumu leaned down on her left, arm braced behind her chair, golden skin still glistening from the sun.

Osamu mirrored him on the right, towel draped lazily around his shoulders, bottle of water dangling from his fingers.

“Ya like this, sweetheart?” Atsumu murmured.

“Yer lookin’ a little flushed,” Osamu added smoothly.

(Y/n) was actively dying. Palms sweaty. Heart racing. Brain spiralling. She could barely breathe—and she was no longer even outside.

This was a coordinated attack. A planned execution.

It was rare for the twins to agree on anything. They thrived on bickering, on chaos, on contradicting each other at every turn.

But when they did team up?

It was borderline lethal.

“Don’t you two have something heavy to go lift?” she managed to croak.

Atsumu smirked. “Thought you liked watchin’.”

“I’ll throw this tea at you,” she warned.

Osamu tilted his head. “Seems like a waste of good tea.”

(Y/n) groaned and dropped her face into her hands again. “I prefer it when you guys are arguing.”

Suna snickered under his breath, but everyone caught his next words:

"Bet you'd prefer it if they did something else."

Atsumu barked a laugh at the insinuation.

Osamu groaned and swatted at him with the towel. “Don’t make it weird."

(Y/n) didn’t dare look at any of them. She folded her arms on the table and buried her face like a horny ostrich.

Did that stop her from feeling Atsumu’s hot breath at the back of her neck?

No. No it did not.

“Maybe if ya ask nicely…” he murmured.

Her mind went rampant.

Curse Suna for throwing her under the bus.

Curse the twins and their stupid muscles and their criminally good genes.

Curse this house for being the most cursed and blessed thing to have ever happened to her.

And curse her, most of all—for loving every second of it.

[venmondiese]

MELT AN IGLOO

-ˋˏ| summary: Summer in the south makes the temperature go high, so when your friends say that their cousin's house has a pool, you'll take the chance to refresh yourself... and maybe do more.

✧ | Pairing: Modern!Aemond Targaryen x reader

✧ | word count: 5.8k

✧ | Warnings: 18+ MINORS DNI, age gap (reader is 20, aemond is 27), P in V sex, Oral sex (F receiving), creampie, reader is a menance... aemond is a perv.

✧ | notes: based on Igloo by Kiss of Life

Summer was the time of the year where you shined. 

College in Old town was a good option, and you made tons of new friends, including Baela and Rhaena, both twins with different majors. Rhaena studied arts while Baela studied Literature. Though you studied the same thing as Baela, you and Rhaena had more in common. 

You two liked flirting, and giggled when you got a new crush. You were young, and a bit stupid. Whatever, you just turned twenty and life was barely starting with an intense feeling of juvenile freedom. 

While Rhaena settled more for relationships, you were more into casual things. You never paid in clubs as most guys would invite rounds of drinks for you and your friends, and you surely rewarded that behaviour. You got rides from men when you went to parties, and some times, you’d go out on dates. Your friends always joked that you never lacked Vitamin D.

You were from the North, and so the south provided you with more freedom, thanks to you being completely on your own and not on the judging eyes of your surroundings, no one knew you in Old Town. The restrictions previously provided felt something far away now, as your life was different. 

With that, something annoyed that came along with living in the South was the weather. You almost forgot that Old town was so near to Dorne, and the heat was unbelievable.  The hot weather every fucking day, and you couldn’t escape it. No matter what you did, it was impossible to stay away from it. 

Since Rhaena and Baela lived in the same complex of apartments (provided by the university) that you, you three got together to discuss what to do:

Go to the beach. Natural decision, since Old town has beautiful beaches and clear water, and the docks were beautiful. That’s the main issue, if you didn’t get in the right time, all of them where full. 

Install Air Conditioning in your rooms. No, too expensive. 

Go to one of the water parks. It was madly expensive for them to be full of people. }

Go to one of your friend’s apartments that had a pool for the residents. At first it was cool; you went and had a great time. But after a while, it was starting to look as if you three were taking advantage of it. 

After those infallible four ideas, and a week full of high temperatures Rhaena and Baela got an idea. Even if they were raised and bred from one of the most prestigious and rich families, their parents wouldn’t just gift them an apartment, so they rely on the one provided by the scholarship in college. And their family was miles away…

Except their cousin. 

You weren’t exactly sure of their relationship with this cousin of theirs, since they were open about other family members, always with a fond tone. The only thing you had heard is “He is our cousin who lives here in Old Town” and that’s all. 

The background information they give you is that he is twenty seven, finishing his doctorate and giving classes about Valyrian culture or Philosophy in the faculty. When you asked them why they didn’t live with him, they just shrugged and said that he was kind of a lonely dude and they weren’t that close. 

“And he is okay with us… going to his house to use the pool” you say as you three are on the uber to get to the house of this mysterious cousin of theirs.

“I meaaaan…” Rhaena says “We have the key to his place; he gave it to us in case of emergencies.”

“Valid reason. Dying of heat seems like an emergency to me” you shrugged. 

“And besides, we bring ice cream, beer and we bought him a red velvet cake to bribe him” Baela adds with a confident nod. “Just straight out to the pool, and no getting into his stuff and we’ll be okay”

“And he doesn’t have like a… girlfriend” You ask amused. “If you aren’t close, she might think we are robbing the house”

“Yeah, right” Baela chuckles, her eyebrows rising playfully “As if we would steal in our swimsuits”

“Besides he isn’t dating. He isn’t married either”

“I thought you said this dude is old” 

“Twenty six is old but not old old” Rhaena objects, almost meekly.

“We are not going over the Corwyn thing again. He is sixteen years older than you!” Baela reminds her twin

“I am with Garmund now, duh”

The conversation dies when the uber informs you that you have arrived at the sector of Houses where their cousin lives. Even if Rhaena and Baela take some time trying to figure out which key is it to open the house, after a while you were in. 

The house was as if come out of stock. It had some sober colours and one fine painting, but if your friends hadn’t told you otherwise, you would think no one lived here.

As Baela sets the food in the fridge, Rhaena moves the sliding door to the pool. “Nice… I never thought his yard would look this modern.”

“Why?” You ask, setting your thing in one of the chairs nearby as you take off your dress. 

“He is such a nerd for ancient Valyrian stuff. I figured his house had the same style.” 

At least the first hour was calm and at peace. Baela had music at a fair low volume, as you three swam and hanged around, using the floats that the twins brought along, since they were 99% sure that his cousin didn’t have anything fun, like a Bluetooth speaker, floats for the pool or ice cream. 

You weren’t a big fan of beer, not like Baela was, at least. Rhaena and you liked more sweet flavours, but you weren’t going to be picky in this situation. You chat all the time, as you take sun in the reclining chair that was in the yard. Rhaena speaks about her new relationship with Garmund, about meeting his family and her dad’s reaction. Baela instead tells you about her friends of her career, who were clinically insane. 

When it was your turn to speak, the twins’ cousin comes home. 

“I believe I told you the key was for emergencies” He says in an annoyed tone as he turns off the speaker. He was wearing a suit (in this heat…) and you noticed the scar on his left eye. “And it was to keep your mother not freaking out about you two being alone in this part of the continent.”

“Aemond, we are sorry, but it is so hot! We needed somewhere to hang out” Rhaena says, standing up. She was wearing a pink swimsuit, and her hair was beautifully braided. “You wouldn’t have let us come here without an excuse”

“You are right, I wouldn’t” he says crossing his arms. He would obviously refuse. “And why is your little friend here?” He asks raising one eyebrow upon seeing you. 

“Oh, come on, she is our closest friend” Rhaena says. “We won’t trash anything. We won’t put loud music, we won’t enter the house while wet… please, cousin!”

“You are our only family here” Baela adds, not quite begging as Rhaena, but still. “We bought you beers…, and ice cream…. and red velvet… we know you like it”

You see as Aemond roll his eyes. You sit up, pulling your glasses to your head to look at him better. He was hot. Hot with bold, capital letters. He was HOT. He had the same Valyrian features than the twins, but his were sharper and much more distinctive. He wore black and white even in a day this hot and that was commitment, to which you thanked because he looked hotter in a suit and tie. 

He also looked older than you three, obviously, he was six years older than the twins, and seem more mature and serious, if anything a bit stoic and cold, but God damn you if it didn’t make him more attractive. You wanted this man. You wanted this man bad. 

“Fine. You can stay” He agrees reluctantly, a hand on his forehead as a disappointed dad would. Fuck, he is so hot “Don’t do anything stupid. No destroying my house, no destroying my pool, no getting drunk. Am I clear?”

“Yes” both twins say under their breath. 

“And control that little friend of yours” He orders before stepping back inside, leaving you three to it. 

Baela and Rhaena sit by your side, on the other chairs as they sigh. 

“You didn’t mention your cousin was hot” it’s the first thing that comes out of your mouth. 

“Ewww” Baela says scrunching her face. “It’s our cousin!” She says, low so he can’t eavesdrop. “And he is old”

“You say he wasn’t old old” 

“He isn’t that old, Baela”

“Come on, he is Aemond. The guy who used to bring his lizard pet in all family functions, I have never seen him with a girl except with that weird aunt that Jace has… still, never brought her to family functions”

“Yeah, like he is… okay, I guess, but I don’t think a pretty girl like you can take Aemond’s… personality so lightly”

“Yeah, and he looks like he has the weirdest kinks possible”

“He is still hot to me” You say playfully. “Come on. Look. Let’s say… I manage to fuck him” You start your chat, and Baela makes a disgusted sound, but you ignore it “Then he’ll let us use the pool more often. Problem solved, everyone happy”

“You think Aemond would be up for that? Not to be on Baela’s side but Aemond is a bit…” Rhaena leans to whisper the last part. “Cold. Like an igloo… or an Iceberg”

“A man that has sex with you won’t miss a chance to see you with little clothes.” You say it as if reciting wise words. “I lose nothing trying.”

“We might lose the access to this house, mind you” Rhaena says amused. 

“Come on, we’ll even invite Garmund. Isn’t he like Aemond’s cousin?” you ask her.

“Yeah”

“Well, then. I am fucking that man” 

With that, you stand, wrapping a sarong around your hip, and put on your sandals in quite a confident mood as you her Rhaena say to her sister.

“I sure hope the house have thick walls”

You give them a wink before you walk inside. You were pretty dry thanks to the sun, and you usually didn’t swim a lot. Your hair was in a messy bun, slightly wet with some messy strands. 

You want this Aemond guy. You like him. He has that aura of mystery that you like in a man. You liked cold men; they usually were the most sexually frustrated, and therefore, a great fuck, in your opinion.

“Oh, hey...” You say softly, looking at him, sitting on the couch as he held the computer on his lap, a hand resting on his mouth as he was focused on reading some work related stuff or something. “Do you mind if I have a beer…?” you ask nonchalantly. 

“Help yourself” he says dryly, not moving his gaze from the lecture on his computer. “Beer’s on the fridge”

You went to the fridge, and took two cold beers. You silently prayed to get that dick. 

“I brought you one, if you wanted…” You say softly, extending one to him pretending to be clueless.

“I don’t like beer”

“Oh…”

“I’ll have it anyways, darling’.” He says, finally moving his gaze away from the computer. 

He takes a sip, and before he can throw you out to the yard, you say. “I am sorry to… invade your home” 

“It’s fine” He murmurs, turning his eyes to observe you. You do not know what is it that his mind thinks, but you can see his eyes moving along your body, even if they are subtle. “How long have you been their friend?”

“Quite a while, now. Maybe… like two years?”

He nods softly. He isn’t chatty or open. But he doesn’t make you leave either. 

“Are you anything like them?” You look at him with a confused expression, to which he chuckles lowly. “As immature, I mean”

“I am mature for my age, I have been told”

“Oh, so you have, Hun…” He says amused, watching something on the screen of his computer. 

“But, I am like them, I guess. Me and Rhaena are twins” you say smirking proudly. You loved matching with her, clothes, music, sometimes you would make out with a dude and her with his twin. It was great.

“Let me guess, you are into pink, and men just thinks you are so pretty” He says in a mocking tone as he types some things on his computer. It seems effortless to focus at two things in the same time when you are Aemond Targaryen. 

“Well, they do. And I think I am” you say sitting slightly on the armrest of the chair, holding the still closed beer bottle in your hands.

Aemond raises an eyebrow as he types a bit more, and once he finishes, his gaze turns up to see you. He seems…intrigued. Looking at you as if you were a foreign creature on his territory, which, to be fair, you are. 

Yet there is something else on his gaze, which you can with certainty say that it’s lust. When he sees you, as if judging for himself, you think what your next step should be. You look at him with the same intensity, and also sharing the same feelings. He was hot, and totally your type. You liked serious guys, who wore suits and seem over your shit. It was hot, and it made you horny. Sometimes guys were following you around like puppies, but this… Coldness was much more exciting. 

“Well, yes. You are pretty”

“Thank you.” You say simply, seeing how he accomodates the laptop on his lap, his jaw tense. “You are handsome yourself”

“You should get back to your friends before they come inside, all soaking from the pool”

“Oh, they know I am here” you say shrugging, looking intently at him.

“Well, aren’t you a clever girl” 

There was an implication about his tone, the way his hungry gaze looks at you as he closes his laptop. Could you really have made it? You don’t believe it. 

He stands up, his beer almost empty, and he walks past you as he holds it out for you. “Finish it, if you want.”

Perhaps it was a test, as you were still holding your own cold beer bottle. Damn, you don’t even like beer that much. It is a bit bitter, and it leaves the taste on your tongue far too long for your taste. Still, you do not care for that. Whatever, fuck the taste. You grab the beer with a faint, almost too taken aback to come up with something witty or even remotely seductive. 

He goes to his kitchen, and you can see him check the window, to see Baela and Rhaena, probably, before opening his fridge. The open kitchen allowed you to see his every movements as you drink the beer, letting it past without a second  thought, the faster, the better; so the taste isn’t impregnated on your tongue. 

“You have a girlfriend?” you ask, trying to sound disinterested and innocent enough.

“Ha, now you are being cheeky” he mutters closing his fridge leaving the food on the countertop.

“I am just curious…” You say standing up, and walking towards the kitchen. He is half amused, as he scoffs. 

“I don’t.”

“Oh. Good...”

He doesn’t answer. 

You aren’t a silly girl, as most men think you are. You just like to play around, and ‘use them for evil’ as you colourfully put it. And besides, most men that were interested in you were older. You are in pubs, bars and parties. Beaches, and in the houses of your friends, enjoying the parties. You simply don’t go unnoticed, and you don’t mind that, even if men older than you, by more than ten years, approach you with a different pick up line and practically an imminent erection. 

You can’t deny the attention, of course. With Aemond is no different, but this time is you the one approaching him, trying by any way to manage to melt his icy facade, the one who lets out all of his carnal, primitive desires. It seems as his stoicism is stopping him from doing things he’d enjoy. And with that, anything could be what tips him off the edge. 

“Are you that busy?” You ask as he makes himself a cup of coffee. 

“Nothing I can’t handle, but I haven’t had a moment to myself in days”

You watch him make himself a cup of coffee, as you bit your lip softly. You are getting squirmy, not knowing how to go forward. There is something, he is interested but not quite to take a step. And you don’t know how to push it, should you simply pull the strings of your bikini top and wait for the best? Should you just get in your knees and undo his belt? 

“Look, darling’, no offense, but the last thing I need is a pretty girl hanging around me” He says as he sips his coffee, as he moves from his spot, coffee in hand, probably to go back to his laptop. 

Before he can walk past you, you say. “I think you do need a pretty girl around you”

He stops upon hearing your words, dangerously close to you. You look at him, as if the answer was obvious; and for you, it was. You were practically naked on his kitchen, throwing yourself at him and more than willing to be fucked mercilessly by him, however he wants. You wouldn’t reject it, and you think that he knows that too.

“You think so?” He asks, his gaze turning shamelessly down at your lips, and then at your face as his tone is one of pure smugness.

“Yes. And you have one right here now”

Perhaps he knows he shouldn’t. A friend of his cousins, younger than him… yet even if he thinks that, it does not stop him, not after you have been persistent, trying and following him like a puppy. 

One of his hands finds it was to her hip, pressing her closer to him as he lets himself feel you before capturing your lips in a hungry, sloppy kiss. It wasn’t delicate or gentle, but rather raw and full of need – by both parties. You longed this, and this feel like a sweet reward, your body against his as you two share quite the messy kiss, for god knows how long.

Aemond held you in his arms, a bit possessive, if anything. You liked a possessive man, and in Aemond seem like the perfect trait.  As the kiss stop, you lean to press a little kiss on his jaw, and it only serves for him to wrap one of his arms around your waist. 

You let a little moan of satisfaction as you feel his big hand move down to your ass. Your body is pressed against his, and he wastes no time when his hand starts groping your ass, his breath hits your cold shoulder as you bite your lip. 

Gods, he was so hot. You were so into older dudes, and Aemond was a perfect combination of everything you fancied on a man. 

“You really are a cheeky slut, uh?” Aemond asks his voice sultry as he gropes your ass.

“Yes, sir” you say in a sigh, and his hand moves away to spank you hard on the ass. It made you let out a whimper; it was a delicious sting that you loved. 

“Good” he mutters.

You were too horny, and followed him blindly to his room. You know this will be worth it. A good time, a free pass for his pool for you and the twins… and having a good fuck. 

He closes the door of his bedroom, and he sees you sitting on the feet of his bed. 

“You’ll be the death of me” he says, tsking as he undoes his belt, you take off your sandals quickly as well “You little brat”

You bite your lip as you see him. He is infuriated with you, and part of you wonders how it would be if you were his girlfriend. He’d fuck you in the morning, surely, and at the evening when he gets back from work too. Maybe he’d fuck you at night too. 

He’d probably plan dates just to get to fuck you long and hard afterwards, you hated when men did that. But with him? You didn’t mind.  

“Lay back, doll”

You don’t need to be told twice. When you try to take off your bikini, he stops you. 

“I said, lay back” he says again, sternly. He had that inherent scolding tone, the same he used for Baela and Rhaena when he got home. It made you so wet, it was wicked.

He takes off the sarong, and you look at him, biting your lip. “I’m really horny” you whine.

“Hmm…” he hums, moving his hand from your stomach and higher, pulling the top of your bikini up. You could easily take it off, but with clothes on and open… it was hotter. 

He gropes your tits, as he settles between your legs. He seems to enjoy the view of it as well, as he bites his lip and his breath becomes heavy with uncontrollable lust. 

“You body is perfect, princess. But you know that, hm?” He asks, meeting your gaze as you bite your lip. You nod softly, as if coy of that. “Is your pussy as perfect? Hm?” To your silence, he keeps the lustful tone “Shall we see?”

He holds your calves with one hand, and he doesn’t care about removing the panties of your bikini. He pulls it to the side with his other hand, crouching down to be at the same height of your already wet cunt. Gods, you were so wet for him, it was driving you insane. 

He murmurs something you can’t hear completely, before he leans his head closer to your puffy cunt. You feel his breath, and his tongue is what makes you sigh in delight. His tongue delves into your folds, savouring the taste of you. A little sweet, a little bitter. 

The position makes it all more cramped, yet Aemond moves both of his hands to keep your legs just like that, not so tight together, but still. A groan rumbles on his chest, as he laps consistently at your folds. It’s as if he wanted to take his time, yet he was eager for more of your taste. 

“So wet already” He murmurs, his face separating a bit as he leans back to see your pussy. 

Without missing a beat, his mouth is against your dripping sex, as he delights himself. He is making you let out moans, and some pretty embarrassing sounds. You move one of your hands to your mouth, biting your index finger as if to shush your sounds. 

As Aemond focuses his attention on your clit, it had you rolling your eyes, his mouth around it suckling the nub and his hands spreading your legs further to allow him more access. The twins lied when they pictured him like some kind of hermit, because he knew how to eat a pussy.

His tongue swirls around your clit with too much expertise for him only to have had ‘one casual girlfriend’. His thumb moves to your hole, as if stroking it gently, rubbing circles around it but not pushing it inside yet. 

“Wait...” you moan breathlessly, trying to move your legs away from his from grip. “I don’t wanna cum yet”

You definitely can’t wipe the smirk on his face, as he pulls back. His hands pull your thighs together, then to move his right hand to wipe some remnants of your wetness out of his face. 

“You were the one insinuating yourself to me, princess.”

“Just fuck me, please…” You find yourself asking for it, as you look at him. Aemond simply does not let you move your legs, but you are at his mercy in this.

“Oh, I will” He says, standing up as he runs a hand through his hair, messy from the amount of times he's been running it over it and movements of his head when eating her out. 

He pulls your body closer to his, your hips were resting above a pillow, close to the edge of the bed, and you have to re-accommodate the other pillow under your head. 

Totally a pillow princess, but you do not care. 

Aemond undoes his belt, and pulls out his cock. It’s a nice cock, and you can say that confidently, after seeing tons of different ones. His is nice, a nice girth and big as you like. He is groomed enough, he isn’t hairless, but you notice that he does take care of himself, seeing the pale bush at the base of his cock and to his pelvis. You wanted for him to take out his clothes, but since there were still the twins around, it was a better idea to do it with the clothes on. 

You can see how red the tip already is, leaking and almost asking for relief. How you’d suck that cock, starting by suckling the tip and then deep throat the rest of it, probably gagging and choking in the process. Aemond seems like type who likes a girl gagging on his cock. 

And his balls? You would not neglect them either, you’d have them in your mouth, and making sure they don’t go unattended by either your mouth or your hands. Hell, no part of him would go unattended by you at this point, no after the way he eats pussy.

“Ready, princess?” He asks, his stiff cock pressed on your hole, and you nod softly. “No witty words?”

“You are making fun of me” You say, as he moves your legs to be more pressed against your chest. You feel the head of his cock probing into your folds, teasing you.

“I am not, doll”

“Just fuck me” you say, almost impatient. You were on the edge of your orgasm when he ate you out, and you pushed it away to be able to cum in his cock like you wanted to do when you first saw him. “No need of a condom, I am on the pill since forever”

You don’t really need to pursue him any longer, as he positions himself on your entrance and pushes inside little by little.  He tries to be a gentleman, you can notice, but he is holding back still. By how his grip is more than just to keep your legs firm, is more to keep his control, which little by little he is letting it, slip away.

You know a perv man when you see one. Maybe not your most admissible type, but whatever, everyone has a dirty secret. And maybe this was Aemond’s; you know he is a pervert. You don’t know how, which category… you can’t even think when his cock is pushing inside you in such a delicious way.  You just know it.

By the way once he manages to be deep inside you, and he starts to push back to thrust inside you, and the way he mutters curses under his breath. 

“Feel how deep inside it is, darling?” He asks, his tone strained as he bites his lip. 

You can feel it, alright. And you look at him with half lidded eyes, yet you see how he keeps his groans for himself by biting his lip.

“Fuck me hard” you whisper softly. “Don’t think about it. Just do it.” You say, trying to get him just to lose himself up. 

“You have no idea what you are askin–”

“I know exactly what I am talking” you cut him, your voice strained as you feel his cock.  “You don’t think I am a fragile girl still, do you?” 

His chuckle is low, as if he was annoyed. “There it is. Atta girl”

“And” you say as he moves his hips softly, in and out. Your feet curl at the feeling of his girth sliding through your walls, feeling each movement of his cock. “I want you to cum inside me, and feel your cum dripping out of me. Make me feel you for days.”

That seems to have pushed him over the edge. At least, you hope that it did, because you are eager for it. And in your opinion, it did. 

“You are going to be the death of me” With that, his hips pounds into you like a feral animal. 

That’s what he was, feral. He leans slightly more, his face above yours but still not as intimate as missionary should be. Your legs, still held together by his hand, would be all crampy by tomorrow, and he moves them both over his shoulder. Your left calf is resting against the curve of his neck, while your right one was a bit more stubborn, moving to the pointy bone at the edge of his shoulder. His other hand was at the side of head, as his hips just fuck into you as you requested.

His pounding is brutal, and he barely lets you breathe before he pounds again.  The sound of his balls hitting your flesh is obscene, and it is consistent, yet it made you grip his other shoulder, as you let a series of high moans.

“Ah, ah. Fuck…” you moans are loud, hopefully not so much, and your brow furrows in pleasure as his cock reaches all the right spots for you. This man could turn you into his sexual doll and you aren’t quite sure if he knows it yet. “So big inside me…”

“You asked for it, princess” he reminds you, as if reminding himself as well of it. His tone is rough, and he is focused on the tad at hand, fucking you merciless. 

You feel his hips crash on your to each brutal thrust, and the way his balls also does. It was dirty, and so hot that had you whimpering and letting out little squeals. He was definitely leaving you sore, yet it was a delicious stretch from everywhere. 

Your mind is all foggy and practically numb from pleasure, yet it leaves the wicked idea of sucking his cock. The sight had left you wanting more, to choke on that dick. 

You imagine how heavy it would feel on your mouth, how it would leak on your tongue. You’d love to suck him dry with your mouth right now, as he fucks you. Having both would be paradise, yet his cock can only do one at the time.

Instead, you take the hand holding your legs, and you decide to take his thumb in your mouth. His hand cups your face instinctively, and you moan at the feeling of satiating your craving.

“Dirty minx” he mutters seeing your lewd display, yet it has him grunting more. “All of your holes need attention, hm? All of them are equally needy” 

The wet sounds from his thrusting make it all more erotic, as you nod to his words, sucking his thumb for a bit. Your moans and feeling close to your orgasm make you stop sucking it, but enjoy. 

Aemond is enjoying it too, you can see how his face is pure pleasure as he grunts, his hand moving to move you legs lower his shoulders, but he grips on them as if to gain impulse to thrust you.

“Aren’t you close, doll?” He asks, his face leaning closer to yours.

“Yes” you moan, breathlessly, you tone is pathetic, almost like a sob and a whine. “Yes sir” you say, wickedly adding the nickname. 

“That’s it, doll, just like that” he says, close as well. His balls tighten up, and he leans down to capture your lips in another sloppy, messy kiss. 

You moan into his mouth, as the kiss becomes desperate and wetter than it needed to be. Whatever, you think. He fucks you just right. 

His hand falls to spank your ass, as if urging you cum. It does it three times in total, as he doesn’t separate your mouth from his. He was consuming you, and you didn’t care.

Your orgasm is strong, it has you rolling your eyes to the back of your head and twitching your legs from how good it feels. You tried to calm down your moans, but it felt too good to be good. To be fair, when you cummed you weren’t as vocal, but you tended to lose your voice in the middle of it, as if you were lacking the proper air distribution. 

Aemond, on the contrary, when he cums, he says multiple praises “Your cunt is perfect, princess” followed by “Squeezing my cock just right” and “Filling you up, baby, all full”

And he does. You feel his cum settle inside you, and you had to bite your lip as he does so. It was a great feeling, having him cumming inside you so naturally… and raw. 

It was pure, raw feral sex. And you loved it. He was made for this intensity, and you were made to take it as he pleases. 

Even if your legs do hurt a bit, when you lay on his bed, with a blanket atop of you. 

Aemond instead, goes to wash himself a bit. After all, he still has visits, in his pool. He assured you that the house was pretty much soundproof, and your friends would have leave at the first moan they heard. 

“You seem pretty comfortable” his monotone tone says, as he walks out of the bathroom tidier. 

You felt without energy. You could do multiple rounds at a time, sure, but delaying your orgasm plus the roughness of it, plus the previous swimming exercise and the water… makes you lazy. 

“I am” 

“Your friends are waiting downstairs” he says, and now you can see how he is amused at that idea. You had said it, a wicked perv. 

“I know, but I am leaking cum” 

“Hm. Does it stop you?”

“Not much. But I am tired and sleepy”

“I have work to do” he reminds you again, as he makes sure he is all buttoned up and he applies his cologne on himself. It is strong and masculine. 

“Well, I’ll lay here” you say shrugging. To his questioning eyebrow raise, you can only add “I haven’t sucked on your dick yet. I am not leaving anytime soon, you know?” 

To your childness, he rolls his eyes, but ultimately agrees. “I am not telling my cousins a thing about this.”

“I will” you say, waving a hand dismissively. 

“And you can stay, but don’t let this think you have some kind of…”

“I won’t” you say smirking playfully, and he rolls his eyes. 

“You are prettier when you are getting fucked”

“I knoooow” 

When he leaves, you take your phone from the ground and open the text chat.

Guaranteed free pool pass ;) you are welcome bitches.

[quarterlifekitty]

(just had a gynecologist appt this morning and I couldn’t stop thinking about how much of a dog Soap would be about it)

he’d beg to watch or something like the perv he is

or maybe if we’re being really nasty:

gynecologist!Soap that only chose this profession so he can stuff his fingers into pussies all day :(( he doesn’t discriminate either, he likes all kinds of cunts!! Can’t have any pussy suffering or feeling sick on his watch (he’s a pussy pronoun user)

But he gets real excited when a pretty thing like you walks into his office, likes making you squirm and blush all awkwardly

don’t worry about it, bonnie, s'all part of the exam :3 he’s just checking if your g-spot is healthy!! There she goes, soaking his fingers and trying to suck him in deeper <3

You know there were a lot of boys who said that thing about wanting to be gynecologists in middle school and I will never forget my music teacher saying “you know that women usually go to the gynecologist when there’s something wrong with them, right?” And they shut the fuck up

Also I believe @/peachesofteal has a gyn!Price AU that I recommend you check out if you’re into that.

lol NO ONE walks into the obgyn and expects seeing a built dude with a Mohawk basically busting out of his scrubs and smiling at you with wolf teeth.

Also YES pussy pronouns. A staple of the 141, imo.

And this may be too freak nasty for you but uhhhm…. DentistsOffice!141.

CW: medical, dental, dubcon/noncon, obsession, somno

Obsessed with you and shoving their fingers in your mouth and against your teeth. Let’s be real Soap would love smelling your breath and every day is a constant battle for him to resist spitting in there right after he tells you to open wide.

Price and Nikolai looming over you, remarking on your oral hygiene, stroking the tips of your canines. Calling you a good girl every time you follow any instruction whatsoever— opening your mouth, rinsing with all of the mouthwash, moving your tongue out of the way. The way they praise your good care and tut when you’ve been slacking is insanely motivating

You know Soap is obsessed with the molds they make of your teeth (I know that’s orthodontic primarily don’t @ me). If he uses some silicon in the molds to take a little something home that’s his business iykyk

Gaz who’s the resident anesthetist. And you KNOW they always recommend general anesthesia for every fuckin minor procedure they can so you can be passed out and vulnerable under them. Gaz gently explaining what it’s going to feel like as you go under, telling you to keep counting as the mask gets secured over your mouth.

And if you insist you can’t go under general, you don’t have anyone to come with you or drive you home after, that’s ok. Their technician Simon is actually getting off his shift around when the procedure ends. He’d be happy to drive you home and help you rinse with saline, replace your cotton :) and if something else happens to slip in your mouth while you’re still all dazed and relaxed, what’s the harm?

And miraculously, your insurance (I know I look like an American rn don’t @ me) always covers the whole thing with no issue! They just call them up, and suddenly the copay disappears. So it’s no trouble to go often— you might as well take advantage!

[jello-chennie]

✧ Izuku, as quiet, bashful, and nerdy as he is, is a total closet perv.

✧ genre/tw smut ⚠︎

✧ w/c 569

When the almost unbelievably pretty foreign transfer student makes an entrance on her first day in 1A, Izuku’s stomach was set afire by the downy wings of butterflies running amok inside him.  But when you turn around to write your name on the board at Aizawa’s behest, Izuku can’t help himself when his eyes start to wonder across the shape of you—when you turn back around, Midoriya is almost hypnotised by your pretty eyes and charmingly kind smile, and those butterflies quickly turn into extra blood that sit heavy in his balls. 

Midoriya isn’t able to get up to join his friends at the lunch table that day.

He thought he already had it bad before, but discovered new parts of himself after your arrival.  

Izuku who desperately tries to eavesdrop on conversations you have with the many people who hurry to try to introduce themselves to you, totally not in an effort to overhear you giving out your instagram handle.  And Izuku definitely didn’t blow through an entire box of tissues in the one night alone.  And of course he wasn’t dying of shame while having a conversation with his mother on the phone about the sudden wave of bulk pack tissue box purchases on their Amazon account.  It’s totally just a cold he caught.

He almost feels a little pathetic at the fact that there are only sweet and appropriate photos on your social media pages, but that’s more than enough for him—for a short while.  The more time he spent around you in class, the more he craved you.  He eventually found himself on some very specific porn sites in an effort to find an actress that even remotely resembled you.  That seemed to make the issue worse, as he then started to have some very vivid dreams of you with little left to the imagination, thanks to his helpful visual aids.

He tells his friends that he’s just been adding in extra workouts in the morning when they ask why he does his laundry so frequently these days.

And when the two of you become partners for a training course one day, Midoriya is enthralled by your personality and your quirk.  He immediately starts analysing it all, but quickly needs to run to the onsite restroom when he starts trying to estimate the size of your tits. In the small port-a-potty, he imagines himself taking the measurements with his palms.  Once he finishes and takes a moment to breathe, he cringes as he thinks in retrospect of himself from a few moments earlier:  Izuku had one hand held in the air, palming around nothing, as he fucked into the other one. This time he really thinks himself pathetic.

When you become closer as friends, beginning to spend time casually together in each other’s bedrooms, he smiles innocently in your face, while a stolen pair of panties sit snug in his pocket.  He also pretends to be deeply invested in his economics textbook when he overhears you complaining about constantly needing to go underwear shopping a few months later.

Eventually, you fall for his boyish charms, and the two of you begin to spend time together as a couple.  And in the most unsmooth way possible, he acts shocked and pretends to know nothing when you find a familiar long lost pair of pink panties hidden amongst his things.

[rubyreduji]

king size bed — kmg & jjk

summary: mingyu has a problem: he's in love with his best friend's girlfriend. but does it go deeper than that, in ways that maybe even mingyu doesn't realize?

tags: smut (minors dni!), p.rnstar!au warnings: gyu is kind of a perv, explicit unprotected sex, filming explicit content, sending nudes, masturbation, sexting, fingering (f. rec), oral (m. + f. rec), threesome, cuckolding, creampie, cum eating, hair pulling, double penetration, anal, kinda voyeurism, multiple orgasms, squirting, maybe mingyu is a little bisexual in this…for only a second wc: 10.1k  an: this idea came to me randomly and i quite literally ascended to heaven and then fell straight down to hell and produced this :D also this fic is very mingyu centric as it’s told in his pov (sorry armys who may find this)

Mingyu wants to go home.

Around him, the walls thump to the music blasting throughout the club. If this was four years ago and he was still in college this would be great, but it’s not. All Mingyu does is sit in a booth and stare at the dance floor, watching as the bodies grind up against each other.

The reason Mingyu is even out tonight is to try and find someone to take home, but he’s not in the mood. All of his recent hook ups have been unsuccessful and he’d rather go home and try his luck with his trusty fist rather than try and flirt with some half-drunk, half-interested person in a stuffy, overly noisy club.

It’s not like Mingyu doesn’t want to get his dick wet, he’s honestly been more horny recently than he ever has been, but for some reason the idea of going home and watching porn sounds much better than actually trying to get with someone here. Maybe Mingyu has a problem, or maybe it’s because of Mingyu’s most recent discovery.

He’s not sure how he lucked out so bad, but one day all of his normal Twitter porn creators weren’t doing it for him, and he happened to stumble across a new page. A reblog from one of the accounts he already followed. The person in the video was stunning. No face, but still the most beautiful body Mingyu has ever seen.

When he clicked on the account he was surprised to see such a small following on the account, only to find out the creator only started posting recently. It’s needless to say that Mingyu spent the rest of the night jacking off to the few photos and videos on her page. “Sweetheart” that’s what her screen name was listed as. 

Even since discovering her, Mingyu’s become slightly obsessed and he’s taken liberty to getting off to her almost every night, even going as far as to subscribe to the content she has behind a paywall. 

Mingyu’s not sure why he’s so attached to her. Maybe it’s her soft aesthetic or the way she’s like a little secret gold mind he found. Or maybe it’s because she reminds Mingyu of….

He glances across the room, his eyes landing on where his best friend stands. Jungkook is leaned up against the bar, a small smirk on his face, his arm wrapped around the waist of the prettiest girl inside the whole club. Your body is pressed up against Jungkook’s as you press your lips to your boyfriend’s neck, marking his skin up with your lipstick.

You’re dressed in a tight, short dress colored in the most flattering shade of red. Mingyu’s favorite color. He does his best to not focus on your tits and the way your cleavage is accentuated by your dress, barely held up by the skinny straps on your shoulders.

Mingyu knows it’s an issue. He shouldn’t have such a huge crush on his best friend’s girlfriend, and he definitely shouldn’t be thinking of you like that either. Especially when you’re his friend as well. It’s not like he wants to, but he can’t help but think that you’re the most gorgeous girl he’s ever met. Inside and out.

You’re Jungkook’s girlfriend though, and he would never make a move on you or ever make you uncomfortable. Though, that doesn’t stop him from doing very shameful things in the dead of night, locked away in his bedroom, his hand wrapped around his cock as his eyes are trained on the video of the girl that reminds Mingyu of you just a little too well.

Mingyu must have gotten lost in his thoughts, staring at you, and when he focuses in again, he makes eye contact with Jungkook. The younger man winks at his best friend before guiding you out of the club. Mingyu’s eyes trail after you two the whole time, and he already knows you two are off to go fuck. If he’s being honest, you two most likely won’t even make it out of the parking lot, taking advantage of the tinted windows on Jungkook’s car.

The whole reason Mingyu even came tonight was to appease Jungkook, and now that the other man has left, Mingyu takes that as his cue to leave as well. The drive back to Mingyu’s apartment feels like an eternity and all he wants to do is crawl into bed, masturbate, and go to bed.

And yeah, maybe it is a little sad. Jacking off at home alone while his best friend fucks the girl of his dreams while all he can do is imagine it’s him in his place, but it’s not like there’s any other options.

Now if Mingyu was really being childish, you were always Mingyu’s first. 

You two went to the same high school together, but you two didn’t get close until college. You had a gen-ed together and when Mingyu was the only familiar face in the room, you latched on. Mingyu didn’t mind, you were sweet and funny and always let Mingyu study in your dorm when his roommates were too loud. 

Later, after Mingyu and Jungkook became best friends, that’s when the three of you started to form a friend group. Then you and Jungkook started to hang out one and one, and eventually those hang outs turned into dates, and now three years later, even after graduating college, you two are still going strong.

Mingyu’s only a little salty, maybe it’s because Jungkook knew Mingyu had something for you, or maybe it’s because really if it wasn’t for him Jungkook wouldn’t have even met you. It doesn’t matter though, because in the end you got with Jungkook and Mingyu respects that.

When Mingyu finally gets home he’s quick to lock his door and drop his pants, crawling into his bed and pulling up Twitter. Right on the top of his feed is a post from Sweetheart and Mingyu groans. She’s dressed in a pair of sexy red lingerie panties, and it automatically makes Mingyu think of the dress you had on tonight. That’s not the best part of the photo though, no the best part is the fact she's not wearing a bra, her chest bare and her nipples staring right at Mingyu.

His cock is already hard, it’s been hard since he watched you kiss up and down Jungkook’s neck, and he shoves his hand into his boxers unceremoniously to pull his cock out. He spits into his palm before wrapping it around his length and starting to pump.

He clicks on Sweetheart’s page, hoping she’s posted more or something, and he’s grateful to see a post from only a few minutes ago.

Live show on my OnlyCarats, come check it out ;)

Mingyu’s finger is clicking on the link in record time and it takes the video a moment to load before his screen reveals Sweetheart. She’s still in the pretty red panties from earlier, but now they’re pushed to the side as she slides her fingers in and out of her wet pussy. She’s laid out on a large bed, dressed in all white bedding that contracts nicely against the panties.

Sweetheart has done a few live videos before, but this is the first one Mingyu has been able to watch in real time, rather than a video uploaded after the live. He’s entranced as he watches her finger fuck her pussy. She’s letting out soft pants as she gets lost in her pleasure.

“F-fuck,” Mingyu whines. His hand is slick with pre-cum as he pumps his cock furiously in his fist. 

Mingyu wonders if you’re going to pull out a dildo, like you sometimes do in your videos, but rather another person appears on camera.

Clearly the body is a male figure, clad in black slacks and a black dress shirt. Sweetheart has done a few photos and videos with a guy before, but Mingyu’s never seen him in one of her lives before. It’s not that he minds too much, but a part of him wishes that he could stay pretending like the whole thing was for him, that he was the only person watching.

Mingyu can’t dwell on his disappointment though, because the man in the video is unzipping his pants and pulling his cock out. It’s big, though Mingyu doesn’t think it’s bigger than his own. The man grabs the camera before laying back, allowing Sweetheart to climb on top of him.

She grinds against him for a little bit before lifting herself up and lining the man’s cock up to her entrance. Mingyu can see the way her legs tremble as she sinks down, and suddenly Mingyu doesn’t mind the other guy too much. From the angle he’s filming at, it’s almost like Sweetheart is riding Mingyu, and that drives him just a little bit insane.

Mingyu pumps his fist at the same speed Sweetheart is bouncing on the man’s cock, imagine that it’s Sweetheart…imagining that it’s you. Mingyu whimpers and bucks his hips up, letting himself get lost in the fantasy.

Now Mingyu can’t get the idea of you in his lap, your thighs straddling his as your pussy clamps down around him, out of his head. He thinks about your soft tits and how they’d bounce as you rode him, his cock hitting inside of you deep and rough.

It doesn’t take long for Mingyu to let out a strangled moan as his cock twitches and he spills cum all over his hand. He lays in bed, his chest heaving with his pants. Mingyu opens his eyes and glances at his phone to see Sweetheart’s body trembling as she cums as well. Mingyu watches intently as Sweetheart pulls herself off of the man’s cock, his cum dripping out of her as she does so. 

Sweetheart ends the live soon after and Mingyu gets up to clean himself off. He decides to take a shower, scrubbing himself off like it will clean away the sins he just committed. As soon as he gets out of the shower he dries off and stumbles back into bed, deciding to call it a night.

Mingyu doesn’t see you or Jungkook again until almost a week later when Jungkook invites Mingyu over for dinner. Mingyu stops by the store to pick up a bottle of wine before heading over to the apartment you and Jungkook share. 

As soon as Mingyu knocks on the door you throw the door open and pull Mingyu into a hug. Mingyu hugs you back and if he holds on for a little too long, well you do too. When you pull back Mingyu gets a good look at your outfit. You’re dressed in a short skirt and a low cut tank top. You have a large cardigan draped over the whole outfit and Mingyu blushes slightly. You just look so cute.

You clasp on to Mingyu’s arm as you walk with him into the kitchen. “Kookie, look who’s here!”

“Hey Gyu,” Jungkook smiles at his best friend. Jungkook is standing at the stove, dressed in a blue apron, as he tends to the food. “Glad you could make it.”

“Of course man. I brought some wine as well.” Mingyu places the bottle onto the counter.

“Sounds great. Hey, babe, could you grab some glasses? The food is almost ready.”

Mingyu watches as you two move around each other, the flow between you natural and domestic. It makes Mingyu’s heart twinge a bit. You two have always been a good pair. When you and Jungkook started dating it didn’t surprise anyone, and though Mingyu was a little upset by it, he could see it as well. Even three years later you two make the perfect pair, if not more so than back then, settled into your domestic life with one another.

It doesn’t take long for the three of you to be sat around the dining table.

“So Mingyu, how that’s project at work coming along?”

Mingyu is surprised that you remember, as he only mentioned it offhandedly a couple weeks ago. He shouldn’t sell you so short though. It’s one of the things that attracts Mingyu to you so much. You’re just so charismatic and attentive to everyone you meet. 

“It’s going well. My boss actually promoted me to head of the project because he liked my ideas so much. We should have the prototype done by the end of next week,” Mingyu tells you. 

“That’s amazing Mingyu! Congrats!” You cheer.

“That sounds like a reason to drink.” Jungkook raises his glass and Mingyu chuckles before picking his own up and clinking it against Jungkook’s and then yours.

The rest of the night follows the same pattern. You guys continue your easy flow of conversation during dinner and then after you move into the living room where you put on a random movie to watch in the background. The scene is just a little too nice for Mingyu’s well-being. It’s too…comfortable, too sweet. Like Mingyu is meant to be there, with you sitting on the other side of the couch as Jungkook sits a chair nearby as you joke and talk. Like Mingyu is a part of your couple. Like he’s yours.

Those thoughts are shoved to the back of his head as the night goes on and as more alcohol enters his system. It’s clear you’re also feeling the effects as you move closer to Mingyu’s side of the couch, draping yourself over him. Mingyu takes a sharp breath at the feel of your tits pressing against him as you rub your head on his shoulder.

“I love you so much Gyu,” you slur. “You’re my favoritest ever.”

“Hey!” Jungkook cries from where he’s still sitting in the chair, not too far off from where you and Mingyu are in drunkenness.

“Shh, don’t listen to him,” you say, pressing even closer to Mingyu, your breath now brushing up against his ear as you continue in a whisper. “You’re my favorite. My best friend. My number once since freshman year of college. Am I your favorite?”

Mingyu giggles, despite his growing flusteredness. “You’re my favoritest.”

“Good, we are each other’s most favorite. And Jungkook is neither of our favorites, because I love you Gyu!” You press a giant kiss to Mingyu’s cheek.

“Hey, what are you two saying over there?” Jungkook stands up and moves over to the couch. He wraps his arms around you, pulling you into his lap as you giggle and playfully thrash around.

“Nooooo! Let me go. I wanna cuddle with Mingyu!” You squirm in Jungkook’s arms as Jungkook holds you tighter, kissing your neck. “Mingyu save me!”

Mingyu moves forward and grabs onto your arms, pulling you towards him. Jungkook still has a hold on you, and you three end up in a big pile together, all giggling. You three lay there for a moment, in silence, before you let out a big yawn.

“Well I think that’s my cue to get this one to bed,” Jungkook says. “You good to get a ride home, Gyu?”

“Yeah, I’m good. Thanks for having me over man.”

“Yeah, we love having you over. You’re our best friend, you know you’re always welcome.”

“Sleep well Gyu!” You give him a giant hug before allowing Jungkook to pick you up and carry you to the bedroom. Mingyu watches you two retire to your bedroom, sobering up enough in the moment for a pain to clench his heart.

In the cab ride home Mingyu can't help but think about you. The way your breath brushed against his face as you leaned in to tell him you love him. He wonders what it would be like to actually tell you he loves you. What it would be like for you to cradle his face and lean in and kiss him. He imagines holding you, waking up next to you in the morning, going on sweet dates. 

Mingyu groans. He’s got to stop doing this to himself.  

As soon as he gets to his building, he stumbles through his apartment before falling into bed. Out of habit he pulls out his phone, opening Twitter. Directly at the top of his feed is a post from Sweetheart. 15 minutes ago.

A mirror selfie in her bra and underwear. It’s not much, but it still has Mingyu twitching in his boxers. Against any of his better judgment that he would make when sober, he clicks on her account and taps the message icon.

pup: Hey :)) love the new photo

Mingyu’s not sure why he sent the message. He’s not expecting a response. Not at 3am and not when he’s a total stranger. It’s clear Sweetheart has a boyfriend, or at least someone who does videos with her. He didn’t even send her money.

Mingyu’s about to just go to bed when he hears the chirp of his phone’s notifications. When he checks his phone, his eyes widen when he sees the Twitter notification.

Sweetheart: hehe thank you

Sweetheart: would you like to see more? 😉

pup: Yes. Yes, of course. How much?

Sweetheart: no charge baby. i see you in my notifs all the time, and you’re a subscriber on my OF. think of this as a treat for my biggest fan 😘

Mingyu groans. He has no clue how he’s lucked out so hard. His cock is already half hard at the thought that Sweetheart knows who he is.

pup: Holy shit. Thank you so much. I don’t know what to say.

Sweetheart: nothing to say, just enjoy :)

Sweetheart: took these just for you, so don’t go spreading them around, okay?

Sweetheart: [image]

Sweetheart: [image]

Sweetheart: [image]

Sweetheart: maybe you can tell me what those do to you…

Mingyu’s mouth drops open at the photos. The first one is a selfie of Sweetheart from the neck down. Her bra has been removed and her arms are pulled in to push her tits together. Mingyu wonders what it would be like to put his mouth on them, or even better, put his dick between them.

The second photo is a photo of Sweetheart sitting on her bed. The large bed is still dressed in the normal white bedding it has on it during her streams. Sweetheart is sitting back on her calves and Mingyu can see the slight wet patch starting to form on her panties.

The final photo has Mingyu’s mind reeling the most. A cropped down photo of Sweetheart’s lips wrapped around a dildo, her lips gently suckling the tip.

Sweetheart has never posted anything above the neck and this is Mingyu’s first time seeing the lower half of her face, and it’s her sucking a dildo no less. Mingyu groans and gives in, reaching down to fist his cock. He imagines that it’s his dick that Sweetheart is sucking, her pretty lips wrapped around his tip as she takes him in his mouth, using her lips and tongue to pleasure him.

pup: Oh my god. Fuck. You’re gorgeous.

pup: Thank you so much.

Sweetheart: i’m glad you like hehe 

Sweetheart: how about you show me how much you like them…👀 (if you’re comfortable)

Holy shit. Sweetheart is asking him for a dick pick.

Mingyu fumbles with the camera on his phone before he snaps a few photos. You can see the glisten of pre-cum already coating his tip and his hand is wrapped around the base of his cock, holding it up. Mingyu presses send to Sweetheart and anxiously waits the reply.

Sweetheart: wow you’re big

Sweetheart: i wouldn’t mind taking a ride on that rodeo hehe

Sweetheart: fuck i want a dick inside of me :((( you’d reach so deep inside of me, fill me up nice and good

Sweetheart: would you like that pup? my tight pussy wrapped around your cock?

pup: Yes. Yes, so fucking much.

Sweetheart: i’d milk you so well

Sweetheart: ugh this isn’t fair

pup: I want you so bad. You’re perfect. Literally the most sexy body I’ve ever seen.

Mingyu struggles to type as his right hand jacks off his cock furiously. He can’t believe he’s sexting Sweetheart. He can feel his balls tighten the closer he gets to his orgasm and before he can do anything to stop it, his cock is twitching and he’s spurting cum all over his chest and hand.

Mingyu lets out a low groan before opening his camera app and snapping another photo.

pup: Look what you made me do.

pup: [image]

Sweetheart: fuck that’s so hot

Sweetheart: wish it was inside me though :( or that i was there to lick it up

Sweetheart: fuck i’m touching myself

Sweetheart: imagining that it’s your big cock inside of me

Sweetheart: [video]

Mingyu nearly nuts again just from the video Sweetheart has sent. A ten second clip of her thrusting the dildo from earlier inside of her sopping wet cunt. Mingyu truly thinks he’s died and gone to heaven.

Sweetheart: fuck i came so quickly

Sweetheart: god i’m going to be thinking about your cock for weeks now

Sweeheart: thanks for the orgasm :)

pup: No, thank you. I’m never going to forget this.

Sweetheart: good. hope you jack off to those photos more, put them to good use ;)

Sweetheart: thanks for a good time. night pup

Though Mingyu would love to say he went to bed right after, he of course jacks off again before eventually passing out for the night.

After that night, neither Sweetheart nor Mingyu try to contact each other again, but Mingyu does in fact jack off to her photos again and again and again. Especially after days where he hangs out with you and Jungkook.

Look, he’s not proud of it, but at least he can get a release somehow.

Like right now, as he sits propped up in bed, rubbing at his half-hard cock through his boxers, as he watches the beginning of Sweetheart’s stream. Currently she’s just finishing setting up the camera and getting everything situated.

Earlier, Mingyu went out with you and Jungkook to a new cat cafe you wanted to check out. Though both Jungkook and Mingyu are more dog people, it’s no secret they would do anything for you. The whole time you kept gushing to the two best friends on how cute the cats are and how much you want one. It was just so fucking cute and it didn’t help that you just happened to be wearing a shirt that did nothing to hide the outline of your hard nipples. It’s not like Mingyu meant to stare, but to be frank they were kind of staring at him first.

And then when you reached over to pet a cat that had hopped into Mingyu’s lap and you just happened to accidentally brush his dick with your hand. You didn’t notice, or at least didn’t mention it, but it has Mingyu quickly standing up and displacing the cat in order to head to the bathroom to try and adjust himself so you and Jungkook didn’t catch sight of the halfy he was sporting. 

On screen, Sweetheart has finally positioned herself right in the middle of the large, white bed. She’s just unbuckled and thrown off her bra and now she’s groping her own tits, squeezing at her chest and flicking at her hard nipples. Mingyu wonders what it would be like to suck on her tits. Tug at her nipples with his teeth and leave marks all over the supple flesh.

When Mingyu pulls himself from his fantasy to go back to watching the stream, he notices the man who’s always in Sweetheart’s videos has appeared. He sits behind Sweetheart on the back, his arms wrapped around her torso so he’s now the one groping her boobs. His head leans down slightly and his mouth presses to her neck. Mingyu catches sight of the lip ring in the right corner of his mouth.

It’s then that Mingyu takes in the full appearance of the man. He’s considerably dressed down this time. While he’s usually dressed in full black dress pants and dress shirt, most likely to better keep his identity hidden, this time he’s in a white t-shirt and jeans. The outfit’s familiar to Mingyu, too familiar.

It’s understandable why the man has never showed off his full arms before, as they’re covered in a sleeve of tattoos, an identifiable mark. Mingyu can't look. His mouth goes dry and his stomach drops. 

It’s undeniable. Mingyu knows every piece of that sleeve like the back of his hand. He was there when half of them were inked. Mingyu’s stomach turns. It all makes sense now. The whole reason why Sweetheart drew him in the first place was because of her resemblance to you. Now Mingyu gets it. It’s not that Sweetheart resembles you, it’s that she is you. And the mystery man in each of her (your) videos…is his best friend.

On screen Jungkook has moved on from your tits and down to your clothed pussy. His fingers rub soft circles into your clit as his other hand keeps your thighs spread. Mingyu’s cock twitches at the sight.

No.

No, it’s wrong. It’s dirty.

It’s not fair that Mingyu knows your identity when you try so hard to keep it a secret. Not to mention it’s immoral of him to continue to jerk off to your videos. You and Jungkook are his best friends. And even if he has the occasional fantasy about you…it’s completely different than actually watching your sex work and knowing it’s you.

But then again…you are uploading them for a reason. Your bio even says “just here to aid and please” and this would be aiding and pleasing Mingyu. A lot. 

Before Mingyu can even talk himself out of it, he’s lost his boxers and has his hand wrapped around his cock. He strokes it slowly as he watches Jungkook slowly sink a finger into your cunt. You squirm slightly in his grip, letting out a soft whine as he pushes a second one in.

Jungkook pumps his finger in and out of you, the digits getting more shiny with your slick the longer he goes on. Your fingers dig into his forearm as your legs twitch. Mingyu can hear Jungkook chuckle and he wonders how he’s never noticed before.

Jungkook pulls his fingers out of you and you quickly push your panties off as Jungkook climbs off the bed. In a matter of seconds Jungkook is back on the bed, completely naked now. He grabs the camera as you situate yourself on the bed laying down.

The camera moves to show a POV shot of Jungkook fucking you in missionary. Mingyu watches intently as his best friend’s cock moves in and out of your cunt, his hand fucking his own cock at the same pace.

God this is so fucked up.

Even so, it doesn’t take Mingyu long to blow his load. It’s almost embarrassing. Before the stream is even finished Mingyu quickly logs off and gets up to clean himself.

Fuck.

You’re Sweetheart. The girl of his dreams is the other girl of his dreams. It’s been you all this time. Of course it has. That’s just Mingyu’s luck.

Oh God. He’s sexted with you. You’ve seen his dick. Does Jungkook know? He has to, right? There’s no way you’d cheat on him. You’d never do that to him. No, no, he has to know.

He has to.

“Mingyu, my man!” Jungkook slaps a hand onto Mingyu’s shoulder as soon as he approaches.

“Hey Kook.” Mingyu really hopes his voice doesn’t waver as he greets his best friend. He hasn’t seen Jungkook since the other day and this is the first time he’s facing him since finding out that well, he’s been jacking off to porn of him and his girlfriend for months now. 

“Look Gyu, we’ve got to talk about something.”

Oh no. Jungkook knows. He knows and he’s mad because Mingyu sexted his girlfriend and he’s ruined a three year long relationship.

“Talk? A-about what?”

“Not here. Let’s go back to my apartment. No one’s home right now.”

Though Mingyu is glad that he won’t have to face you, he’s still a bit concerned about what Jungkook has to talk to him about. And in private no less. There’s no way it’s not about what Mingyu thinks it’s about. But also, how could he know?

The trip to Jungkook’s apartment is eerily quiet and it isn’t until Jungkook closes and locks the door that he finally speaks up.

“You want anything to drink?”

“N-no, uhm, I’m good.”

“Cool. Come on, come sit on the couch with me.” Jungkook leads Mingyu into the living room and sits down. Mingyu cautiously follows.

“So…what did you uhm, want to talk about?” Mingyu stares down at his lap, trying not to make eye contact with his best friend.

“Mingyu…I want you to fuck my girlfriend.”

Mingyu thinks he blacks out for a moment.

What in the fuck did Jungkook just say to him?

“I- excuse me?”

“I want you to fuck my girlfriend. If we’re being honest, she’s kind of wanted to fuck you for a while now, and we’ve been talking about it and I thought I’d offer you into our bedroom.”

Mingyu knows he looks like an idiot right now, but he can’t believe what Jungkook is telling him. He has to be pulling his leg. He knows that Mingyu knows about the porn account and he’s making fun of him. There’s no other explanation. His best friend is the most jealous man on the planet, there is absolutely no way he’s offering Mingyu to fuck you. 

“Stop saying stupid stuff, Kook,” Mingyu grumbles. “That’s not funny to joke about. Does she know you’re saying this?”

“I’m not joking! Seriously. I know you’ve always had a crush on her, and now here’s your chance to be with her! I don’t know why you’re not jumping on this opportunity.”

Jungkook is right, any other time Mingyu might be ecstatic, but there’s no way Jungkook is being serious. “Because you’re just pranking me!” 

Jungkook sighs. “Okay, I didn’t want to bring it up, but I know you know about the porn account.”

Mingyu stiffens and his mouth goes dry. “I- I don’t know-”

“Yes you do. Sweetheart? I saw the photos left open on your phone the other day, and I know those are photos she only sent you.”

Mingyu’s face heats up and he’s sure he’s red. “I- I’m sorry. I didn’t know at first and I wasn’t planning on keeping watching and-”

“It’s okay. I literally just offered you to fuck my girlfriend.”

“But why? You hate when other guys even look at her.”

“Because it’s you, Gyu.” That’s all Jungkook answers, staring at Mingyu sincerely, like Mingyu truly is the only person he’d be comfortable sharing his girlfriend with.

Mingyu thinks about it for a moment. Could this really just be his dreams coming true? “I swear to god if you’re messing with me.”

“I promise I’m not. Look, just come over on Friday and you’ll see. Okay?”

“...Okay.”

Mingyu is nervous.

He’s still not completely sure that Jungkook is telling the truth, but if he is then that means Mingyu is going to fuck you tonight. 

His heart is beating intensely in his chest as he drives over to your apartment. It takes him nearly fifteen minutes to get the courage to exit his car and enter the building. Before he can fully chicken out he knocks on the door.

Jungkook is the one to open the door and he ushers Mingyu in before closing and locking the door behind him. Jungkook then leads Mingyu to the bedroom and Mingyu suddenly realizes that oh shit, this is real. This is real and he’s about to fuck you.

As soon as they enter the room, Mingyu feels his throat go dry and his pants tighten. You’re laid out on the bed, the same large bed from all of your photos and videos. The same bed that Mingyu has wished countless of times that it was him on it with you, or at least with Sweetheart.

You’re dressed in a red, see-through babydoll set. You stare up at Mingyu, your eyes already hooded with lust. Mingyu watches as your eyes trail down his figure, stopping at his crotch. Your eyes then move back up to Mingyu’s, making eye contact as you wink at him. Holy shit.

Mingyu feels Jungkook shove him forward slightly. “Go buddy, she’s all yours.”

It takes Mingyu a few more seconds to process. He truly can’t believe this is real. That you’re here and he’s allowed to touch you, to feel you, to let all of his fantasies run wild. The thing that finally get Mingyu in motion is you giggling.

“C’mon Gyu.” You’re motioning him towards you and Mingyu stumbles forward until he makes it to the bed. His heart is thumping so rapidly it wouldn’t be a surprise if he went into cardiac arrest.

Mingyu crawls onto the bed and over to you where you smile at him and reach forward. Mingyu crawls on top of you and you wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him down so he rests his weight on you. You move one of your hands to cup his cheek, brushing your thumb over it.

“Hi pretty boy. Are you excited?” Mingyu nods his head stupidly, his mind too focused on your touch. “Well are you going to kiss me?”

Finally, Mingyu’s mind seems to catch up and he surges forward. With your hand still on his cheek, you guide him to your lips. Right away, Mingyu’s desperation is apparent as he presses into you hard.

Kissing you is somehow even better than Mingyu expected. Your lips are soft and you smell so good. You hold onto Mingyu, kissing him deeper and deeper. If Mingyu is being honest he already feels a little drunk on you.

Mingyu swipes his tongue over your bottom lip and you open up, allowing him to slip his tongue into your mouth. He can feel you smirk against his lips slightly before you start to suck on his tongue. It catches Mingyu off guard and he whines right into your mouth, his hips bucking forward against you.

Mingyu’s cock is already half hard just from kissing you, and he can’t help but rut his hips into you. You don’t seem to mind though, just threading your fingers through his hair. Your hands feel good against him and Mingyu allows his own hands to roam over you as well.

Your body is warm and soft under his palms as he drags them over your torso. The rough lace of the babydoll scratches at his hand as he cups your breast. The material is thin and Mingyu can feel the pebbling of your nipple through it. His fingertips brush over the bud once more and you gasp and arch your back into his touch. It only makes Mingyu needier.

Mingyu breaks the kiss so he can have a second to catch his breath. You don’t need the time though, and you don’t waste time pressing your lips to his jaw. You duck your head down as you slowly trail your kisses down the column on his neck, stopping to suck on the skin every so often.

As much as Mingyu loves you leaving marks all along his neck, he wants to put his mouth on you. He pushes off of you slightly to pull away.

He takes a moment to stare at you, laid out under him. Your chest rises and falls with your heavy breaths and you’re staring up at him with hooded eyes. Your lips are puffy from all of the kissing and your hair is mussed from rubbing against the pillow. You look gorgeous.

“Gyu,” you say, your voice slightly raspy, “you’re trembling.” You reach up to caress his face once again.

Mingyu didn’t notice it, but now that you’ve pointed it out, Mingyu realizes he’s shaking. His heart is pounding in his chest, like how he feels when he’s drank too much caffeine. 

“Are you nervous, puppy?” You ask Mingyu. The nickname makes him whine slightly. You’ve always called him that, but in this context it hit so differently.

Mingyu nods slightly. “I’ve- I’ve wanted this for so long. I don’t want to mess it up.”

You smile gently at him. “You won’t. I like you a lot Gyu, and I want this too. Don’t be nervous, okay? Just enjoy it.”

“O-okay,” Mingyu tells you.

“Now, can I take this off of you?” Your fingers play with the hem of Mingyu’s shirt and he nods. You help him tug the shirt off, revealing his bare torso.

If Mingyu is proud of one thing, it’s his physique, and you seem to appreciate it as well as you trail your fingers down his chest and abs, feeling the grooves of his muscles under your fingertips.

Mingyu is still shaking slightly, but he leans down to start pressing kisses to your chest. Your boobs are soft under his mouth as he starts to suck the subtle skin into his mouth.

There’s a small ribbon holding the front of your lingerie together and Mingyu tugs at the bow until it unties and the fabric falls away from your body, exposing your bare tits to him. Your tits look delicious and Mingyu cups one in his hand and brings his mouth to it. His lips suck on your nipple, his tongue flicking at it every so often.

Your body writhes under him as your fingers dig into his shoulder muscles. Mingyu’s cock is hard and straining in his pants and he so desperately wants to touch himself but also doesn’t want to pull any of his attention from you.

Mingyu’s hands move down your torso even further, his hands running over your waist and down to your hips. He balls the fabric of your panties in his fist, tugging at the lace slightly.

“F-fuck you’re perfect,” Mingyu mumbles into your chest before going back to mouthing at your tits. 

Your hips buck up slightly and Mingyu drags one of his hands from his hips to press against your clothes slit. You’ve soaked through your panties and Mingyu moans into your skin at how wet you’ve gotten. He’s watched you touch yourself a million times and has seen how wet you get, but feeling it for himself makes his mind go fuzzy. His fingers push against your panties, slightly pushing them into you, collecting more of your arousal. 

“G-gyu, please, need you.”

Mingyu pulls his mouth off of you to sit back. He looks over to the side, acknowledging Jungkook for the first time since he’s crawled onto the bed. His best friend is seated on a plush chair in the corner of the room, his eyes trained on where you and Mingyu are on the bed. 

Jungkook makes eye contact with Mingyu before smirking and nodding slightly. “Go on Gyu, give her what she wants.”

With Jungkook approval, Mingyu hooks his fingers into your panties and pulls them down your legs, leaving you fully unclothed. Your legs part and Mingyu can see how slick your pussy really is.

Your cunt looks even prettier in person and Mingyu grabs your thighs and pushes them even further apart so he can slot his shoulders between them. He trails kisses along your inner thigh, move his mouth closer to your sopping heat. Mingyu hesitates slightly, before finally pushing forward and swiping his tongue through your folds.

Your arousal coats his tongue in a thick layer and Mingyu moans into your pussy at the taste. Your cunt is warm as Mingyu presses his face between your thighs, wrapping his lips around your clit. He tongues at the bud, stimulating you as you fist the sheets under you.

Mingyu can’t count the number of times he’s dreamt of this very scenario. His hands tighten their grip on your thighs as he doubles his efforts. His lips are restless as they play with your clit. Your moans are muffled above Mingyu’s head and they encourage Mingyu to keep going.

He can feel his chin already messy with your slick as he makes out with your cunt. His tongue intermittently darts out, lapping at your entrance. Mingyu’s brain gets more and more muddled as he continues to eat you out, already too lost in pleasure.

Mingyu squeezes his hand between his face and the bed so he can prod his fingertips against your folds. He traces your entrance before finally pushing a finger into you. Your cunt is warm and wet around his finger and he’s able to push a second one in as well.

His mouth doesn’t stop sucking on your clit as he starts to pump his fingers in and out of you. His digits drag against your walls, pressing into you, looking for your sweet spot.

As Mingyu fingers you, his hips rut against the mattress, humping the bed to the rhythm of his fingers. His cock is leaking inside of his boxers and he’s relieved to have at least some kind of pressure against him. Mingyu’s letting out soft whines that mix with your own moans.

Your cunt is clenching around Mingyu’s fingers and he pushes a third one into you. His fingers curl into you and you whine, reaching down to pull at Mingyu’s hair. Mingyu knows that he’s found your sweet spot and he continues to abuse the spot, leaving you a mess of moans.

Mingyu’s lips suck hard on your clit, shaking his head back and forth against you. Your body tenses under him as you cry out, your legs shaking as you reach your high. Mingyu helps you through it until you fall limp to the bed, your chest heaving as you try to catch your breath. 

Mingyu finally pulls his mouth away from you, panting himself as he wipes your slick off his chin. His whole body feels warm from lust. He needs more of you.

“Such a good boy,” you mumble. 

“Take your pants off Mingyu.” The voice startles Mingyu for a moment, before he realizes that Jungkook’s still in the room. When he glances over, his best friend looks the same as earlier, just now rubbing himself through his pants. Mingyu nods and starts to undo his belt, before he’s stopped by your protests.

“Let me help.” You move to stick on your knees, reaching over to undo Mingyu’s belt for him. When the belt is discarded on the floor, you start to work on his jeans. Mingyu can feel his cock twitching desperately as you slowly unzip his pants.

You lean down and start to trail kisses down his happy trail before putting your mouth directly on his bulge through his boxers. While still mouthing at him, you push his jeans down until they’re out of the way. Mingyu’s dick strains against his underwear which are already slightly damp from his precum.

You hook your fingers into Mingyu’s waistband before pulling his boxers down, letting his dick spring completely free from all confines. Mingyu helps you fully remove his clothing before you wrap your hand around his length, pumping slightly.

“Fuck Gyu, it’s so pretty.” You lean down and lick at his slit, collecting his precum in your mouth. “What do you want to do with it? Want it here?” You kiss his tip again. “Or here?” You sit back up and move forward to rub your pussy against his cock.

The idea of your lips wrapping around his cock, choking down his length makes Mingyu feel like a mad man, and under any other circumstances he would jump on the chance, but if he’s being honest he feels like he’s about to burst any minute now and needs to get inside of you.

“T-this one,” Mingyu whines out as you continue to rub his head between your swollen pussy lips.

“Good, I was hoping you’d say that.” You move away from Mingyu, only to lie back down on the bed and spread your legs, inviting Mingyu to come forward.

Your cunt is shiny with your arousal and your pussy lips are swollen from Mingyu eating you out. It’s nothing Mingyu hasn’t seen before, but now seeing it up close and in person has Mingyu mesmerized. He moves forward, hovering over you as his cock rubs up against your folds.

He leans down to suck at one of your tits again, busying his mouth as he lines the tip of his cock up to your entrance. He can feel your slick on his head as he slowly starts to push in. Mingyu whimpers into your chest, his hands clenched on your hips, as he starts to rut into you. His cock stretches out your walls and it takes him a moment to get all the way inside of you.

After a moment he bottoms out, his cock pushed all the way into your tight, warm walls. Mingyu’s never felt something so heavenly in his life. His cock is twitching with excitement as he drools precum into you. Your walls flutter around him as you adjust to his size and Mingyu has to put all his focus on your tits in his mouth so he doesn’t go completely mad at the feeling.

It doesn’t take long for you to start pawing at Mingyu.

“Please move,” you whine. “Need you to fuck me hard.”

Mingyu’s response is muffled against your chest as he pulls his hips back before slamming them back into you. He repeats the action over and over again until he’s thrusting into you in a quick rhythm. You’re panting as you dig your fingers into Mingyu’s shoulders. 

With each thrust Mingyu buries deeper and deeper inside of you. He finally pulls his mouth off your tits to sit up, adjusting his hold on you so he can pound even harder into you. From this new angle Mingyu looks down at you. Your head is thrown back and your eyes are closed, completely lost in your pleasure.

Your tits bounce with each thrust and Mingyu realizes he’s not going to last much longer at this rate. He pushes your legs forward against your chest, spreading your pussy more as he fucks you even harder than  before. Your moans grow frantic as you fist the sheets in your fingers.

“G-gonna cum,” Mingyu mutters. His cock is throbbing, desperately needed to find release.

“D-do it inside,” you whine. “Need your cum in me.”

Mingyu glances over at Jungkook, who’s eyes are still trained on the two of you. He’s stroking his own cock, which is starting to pearl at the tip.

“Don’t make her wait.”

That’s all Mingyu needs before his hips are stuttering inside of you and he’s painting your inside white with his cum. Mingyu’s whole body is coursing with pleasure and he thinks he whites out slightly. When he’s completely come down from his high he pulls out of you, his body slumps down against the bed beside you.

Mingyu takes a moment to recollect himself, trying to clear his mind from his post nut haze. He doesn’t think he’s ever felt so good in his life.

When Mingyu opens his eyes again he’s surprised to see Jungkook has moved closer. Jungkook has stuffed himself back into his pants, but the bulge it leaves is still apparent. He stands next to the bed, looming over you as his hand rubs at your pussy. Mingyu watches with awe as his best friend rubs at your clit. Your eyes are closed against as you buck your hips into Jungkook’s touch.

“You made quite the mess,” Jungkook says, addressing Mingyu. Mingyu doesn’t look at him though, his eyes still trained on Jungkook’s hand on your pussy.

Mingyu’s cum is leaking out of your cunt and onto the bed and Jungkook scoops it up with his fingers before pushing it right back inside of you. You gasp but otherwise accept the intrusion. The sight alone makes Mingyu’s cock twitch to life.

“Did her pussy make you feel good, pup?” Jungkook continues. 

And shit well, Mingyu’s never been attracted to his best friend, or any man for that matter, but the sight of Jungkook fingering Mingyu’s cum back into his girlfriend while calling Mingyu a pup definitely makes his cock twitch.

Mingyu watches intently as your body starts to shake, your back arching up off the bed as you whine. Mingyu has watched your videos enough to know what you look like when you’re cumming and he watches as you fall apart on Jungkook’s hand.

Your hand reaches down to grab his wrist, stopping his motions.

“Sensitive,” you mumble. Mingyu just expects you to leave it at that but he’s sorely wrong as he watches you pull Jungkook’s fingers to your mouth, sucking your juices and Mingyu’s seed off of them. You’re making intense eye contact with your boyfriend as you do so, your tongue swirling around the digits, and Mingyu starts to feel like he’s witnessing something way too personal for him to be there.

When Jungkook’s fingers have been thoroughly cleaned by your tongue, you pop your mouth off his hand and start to paw at his pants. You pull him closer, your fingers fumbling with the zipper of his pants as you attempt to strip your boyfriend down.

“Insatiable little thing,” Jungkook smirks as he quells your struggle and frees his cock for you. You don’t waste a moment, leaning forward to wrap your lips around the head of his cock.

Jungkook lets out a low groan and he automatically reaches down to push the back of your head further down onto his cock. Mingyu watches the bob of your head as Jungkook’s dick disappears farther and farther down your throat.

There’s a bit of saliva dripping down your lips, making a mess of both you and Jungkook. The wet sound of your mouth and the slight gag from Jungkook’s length hitting the back of your throat fills the room, making everything seem even more erotic and dirty. Mingyu feels a bit perverted, just laying next to you watching, but a part of him knows that you and Jungkook want him to see this.

This whole experience is new to Mingyu, and he’s taking in every moment that he can. As Sweetheart you never share any part of your face, and there’s a delight that fills Mingyu knowing he’s now the only person besides Jungkook that has seen what you look like with your lips wrapped around a cock, gagging on the length. It’s almost too hot to handle.

From the angle Mingyu’s at he has the perfect view of your pussy. Your lips are spread slightly, still shiny with slick, as you arch your back. Mingyu thinks about you being spit roasted between him and Jungkook. Your mouth working diligently at Jungkook, while your pussy squeezes the life out of Mingyu.

The thought is too good to be true though, and Mingyu embarrassingly still hasn't recovered from his first orgasm. That doesn’t stop Mingyu from imagining it though, staring at your juicy pussy as he does so.

“Fuck,” Mingyu hears Jungkook hiss. He looks up to see Jungkook’s forearms tenses as they grip onto your hair tight, helping you bob your head up and down. His head is tilted back and his eyes are squeezed shut as his hips shallowly thrust into your mouth.

Mingyu’s never been interested in seeing his best friend cum, but in this moment, he can’t take his eyes off of him. It only takes a few more bobs of your head and Jungkook is shuddering as he holds you down against him, your lips at the base of his cock.

When it’s clear Jungkook is finally done spilling into you, he releases his grip on you, allowing you to breathe properly. Your mouth is full of Jungkook’s cum and some of it starts to drip down your chin and fall right onto your tits. You giggle as you scoop it up and put it right back into your mouth.

“Can’t waste a drop, right?” You say to Mingyu, winking at him. “Still doing good there, big boy?”

“Y-yeah,” Mingyu stutters out, his voice hoarse from panting so hard earlier.

“Good, because I’m just feeling sooo empty and I would love if my two handsome boys could fill me up.” You spread your legs again, reaching down to push your puffy folds apart with two fingers. “Would you boys do that for me?”

Mingyu doesn’t understand how you have so much energy after being eaten out, fucked, fingered, and then sucking a dick, but he has to admit it’s incredibly hot and definitely doing it for him.

You move from where you’re laying and you crawl over to Mingyu, straddling his lap and pinning him to the bed. He can feel your heat press up against his cock and you grind down slightly and you lean in to whisper into Mingyu’s ear.

“Will you let me ride you, puppy? Use your fat cock to get myself off?” Your voice is somehow a mix of innocent and sultry at the same time and Mingyu involuntarily bucks his hips up against you. You chuckle slightly. “I’ll take that as a yes.”

You lift yourself up off of Mingyu slightly, only to reach down and line his cock up to your pussy. Your folds wrap around his head before you sink down, flushing your hips to his. Mingyu whines, his hands flying up to grip your waist tightly.

Mingyu only pulled out a few minutes ago, and yet he missed the feeling of your pussy around him. Your walls are warm and tight and Mingyu swears you’re clenching down on him on purpose. 

“Mm, you fill me up so nicely,” you moan. You slowly start to bounce in his lap, lifting yourself up and down his cock. Your hands are planted firmly on Mingyu’s chest, using him as leverage. Mingyu pathetically helps guide you up and down, too distracted by how sexy you look like this. 

Your skin is shiny with a light sheen of sweat and what Mingyu also thinks might just be a post-orgasm glow. Your naked body is warm and tantalizing as you roll your hips against Mingyu’s. You’re staring down at him, your eyes trained on Mingyu’s face as you smirk at him. It’s all almost too much for him.

When it’s clear that you’re satisfied with Mingyu, you lean forward, placing your tits right above Mingyu’s head. He can’t help himself, closing the rest of the distance to wrap his lips around one of your nipples. You gasp slightly, reaching down to cup Mingyu’s jaw.

“F-fuck,” you shudder out. “C’mon Kookie. Need you in me too.”

Mingyu can feel Jungkook climb onto the bed, and he’s thankful that you two own such a large bed or he doesn’t think all three of you would fit comfortably. Jungkook positions himself behind you, hovering over Mingyu’s legs.

Mingyu can feel you jolt slightly as Jungkook starts to open you up. You bury your free hand in Mingyu’s hair, tugging slightly. Mingyu doesn’t mind though, in fact he whimpers slightly against your breast.

Mingyu can hear the sound of Jungkook pressing a kiss against your skin before he spits and then a few seconds later you gasp. Mingyu can feel the bulge of Jungkook pressing into you, stuffing your other hole full of his cock.

“S-shit, you feel so good,” you whine. “Baby, please move.”

Your walls move as Jungkook slides out of you, only to slam right back into you. Your body lurches forward slightly, and you tighten your grip on Mingyu. Slowly Jungkook starts to build up his pace, until he’s fucking into you at a steady rhythm. 

Mingyu takes this as his time to start thrusting up into you as well. He does his best to match Jungkook’s pace, as you start to grind down against both of them. Despite being completely composed a few moments ago, you’ve turned into a complete mess with two dicks inside of you. All you can get out is moans and whines and a few noncoherent sentences as you hold onto Mingyu like your life depends on it.

Your back arches as Mingyu tightens his grip on you, doing his best to fuck into you as hard as he can. Your walls are already spasming against him, your body trembling with pleasure. Over your shoulder Mingyu can see Jungkook and he doesn’t think his best friend has ever looked as good as he does right now. His hair is pushed back and his face is completely focused as he stares down at your ass, watching how his and Mingyu’s cocks split you open.

Above him, you bury your face into Mingyu’s neck, deciding to bite and suck at his skin to muffle your moans. Your body is on fire atop of him and Mingyu wraps his arms around your waist to pull you further against him, using the new grip to help his thrusts.

The whole situation seems so erotic, your gorgeous bare body pressed into his as he and his best friend destroy your holes. Mingyu can feel the blood pumping in his cock as his whole body starts to tingle.

“G-gonna cum,” he stutters out. “P-please let me c-cum in you.”

“Me too,” you mumble into his neck. “Fuck, cum all inside me. Fill me up.”

You move your mouth from Mingyu’s neck to his lips. You kiss him desperately, licking into his mouth as you cup his face.

“Go on both of you,” Jungkook finally pipes up, his voice deep and sultry. “Cum.”

Mingyu’s whole body shakes as he lets himself go, spilling right into your waiting pussy. It doesn’t stay there long though, as you quickly lift yourself up off of Mingyu, your legs trembling as a stream of liquid gushes out of you and right onto Mingyu’s lap. You break your mouth off of Mingyu’s so you can moan as you finish squirting.

Behind you, Jungkook is still fucking into you, quick and hard. You can’t hold yourself up anymore though, and you slump against Mingyu. Mingyu’s still out of it as well, and he absentmindedly rubs your back as Jungkook grunts, finishing inside of you as well. 

Jungkook pulls out of you and leans down to kiss the small of your back before walking into the connected bathroom. You press a few more kisses to the corner of Mingyu’s mouth before rolling off of him. Jungkook walks back in with towels and hands one to Mingyu before starting to clean you off.

Mingyu wipes his lower half off before standing up, his legs slightly giving out on him before he gains his footing again. Mingyu feels like he’s moving in slow motion, his brain still slightly fuzzy. 

Mingyu starts to pull his clothes back on as you and Jungkook do the same. Mingyu’s not quite sure what to do as he stands in the corner of the room, watching as Jungkook starts to strip the bed of the sheets. It's a bit weird to see the large bed without the now iconic white sheets on it.

The thought of just slipping out the front door crosses Mingyu’s mind, and he’s heavily considering it, when he feels someone wrap their arms around his waist.

“So, did you have fun?” You ask Mingyu. You’re staring at him with wide eyes and a grin. 

“Y-yeah! Thanks for uh, letting me do this,” Mingyu responds.

“Of course! I’m wasn't joking Mingyu, I do really like you.”

The confession makes Mingyu’s heart flutter. Realistically, he knows that you’re with Jungkook and nothing will happen from this, but it’s still nice to know he’s not a complete fool or being so head over heels for you.

“She’s been talking about this since your little Twitter conversation,” Jungkook says as he walks back into the room from putting the sheets in the washing machine. “I’d be a little jealous if it wasn’t you, Gyu.”

“You know who I also think would really like you?” You ask, shooting Jungkook a mischievous look. “My viewers. They would love you. Don’t you think so Kookie?”

Jungkook just smirks. “You have to ask him first.”

“What about it Gyu? Wanna become a permanent stample on the Sweetheart page?” You hug Mingyu a bit tighter.

The idea drives Mingyu a little wild. Going from watching your content to being in it? Being able to fuck you on a regular basis? 

“I- that sounds…yeah, I would,” Mingyu stutters out and you giggle.

“Yay! Looks like you have a competition Kook,” you smirk at your boyfriend.

“Competition?” Jungkook raises an eyebrow. “Not when it’s Mingyu. I think both of us are going to have lots of fun with him. Won’t we pup?” 

You and Jungkook both send Mingyu matching grins and Mingyu feels the excitement grow in him. Oh yeah, he’s going to have a lot of fun.

taglist: @ckline35 @toruro @jeanjacketjesus @namjoonbaby @n4mj00nvq @lovelyhan @ovai @scorpiobitch88 @im-gemmy @tulipgarland4 @embrace-themagic @sulkygyu @leejihoonownsmyheart @synthetickitsune @yeosayang @miraclewoozi @d0nghyck @soonhoonietrash @yongi-lee @spilled-coffee-cup @morklee02 @17kwans @candidupped @ressonancee @m1nghaos @1-800-jeonwonwoo @anothershorthuman @dinoissupreme @speaknowlwt @hyneyedfiz @aaniag @shamayyyy @moonwalker-witchgrrrl @walkingtravesty97 @jwnghyuns @flwrshwa @valentxi @heavenly-mobo @pandorashbox @enhacolor @starlight-night0 @todorokiskitten @miriamxsworld @just-here-to-read-01 @seuomo @tinkerbell460 @feat-sun @emmmui @bias-recs @luvthatleader-nim

[chem1cali]

POLAROIDS

masterlist

18+ MINORS DNI

theodore nott x fem!reader

synopsis: you've never been particularly confident in yourself, which is why you decide to take some flattering polaroids of your body. but what happens when they end up in the wrong hands?

warnings: SMUT, slight dubcon, p in v sex, masturbation (m receiving), jacking off over photos, body worship, oral (f receiving), breeding kink kinda, theo is a desperate little slut, reader is a perv (theo is also kind of a perv)

wordcount: 3.9k

a/n: this is the first time i've written smut in like two years, so i hope this does me justice as i try and get back into the swing of things again!

"Shit, shit, shit!" You curse, rifling through your drawers. "They're gone. They're gone, Pans!"

Pansy walks up beside you, staring into your drawer of clothes with confusion. "What's gone, exactly? All you told me was that you did something special."

You tip your head back, staring at the ceiling.

"The polaroids." You groan. "Where the fuck are they?"

"You took polaroids?" Pansy asks, her voice seeming intrigued now. "What of?"

"Me." You say, spinning to face her. "Me with... not a whole lot of clothes on."

Pansy's mouth pops open, shock and delight colouring her features. "Oh my god. You naughty thing!"

You purse your lips at her. "Thank you, but not the point right now. They're missing, which means someone has them, or I've lost them and someone will find them, or-"

"Woah, woah." Pansy's hands come up to grasp your shoulders. "Relax, okay? We'll figure out where they are. There's every chance you've misplaced them somewhere in here, which means if someone does find them, it'll only be one of us girls. We're the only ones that come in here."

The blood drains from your face. "And Theo."

Pansy cocks her head. "What?"

You swallow harshly. "Theo comes in here to hang out with me sometimes. What if he sees them?"

Pansy raises an eyebrow. "Trust me, I don't think he'd be complaining."

You squint at her. "What's that supposed to- nevermind. Not the point. The point is, they're in here somewhere, and we have to find them before someone else does."

Pansy rolls her eyes. "Fine, we can talk about Theo's burning love for you later."

Your cheeks flame. Burning love? "I don't know what you're talking about, he's my best friend."

"First of all," Pansy scowls. "I'm offended that I'm not your best friend. Second of all, if you think that man is just friends with you, you're delusional."

You frown back at her, choosing to ignore her words entirely and resume hunting for the elusive pieces of film. You tear through the piles of clothes while Pansy rifles through your desk and piles of parchment.

"Why did you take polaroids of yourself like that anyway?" She asks, some time later while you're still searching. "Who are they for?"

You look over at her from your cross legged position on the floor. You were on your final drawer in your tall-boy, with still no sign of the pictures.

"For myself." You mumble. "You know I've had... issues with my confidence. I thought this might help."

Pansy nods, no hint of judgement on her face. "Makes sense, I buy myself fancy lingerie for the same reason. Makes me feel beautiful and powerful."

You exhale softly, relieved at the understanding that has passed between the two of you. "That's what the polaroids did for me. Made me feel pretty."

She nods. "I should hope so, you are pretty."

Your cheeks glow at the compliment and you duck your head.

"Thanks." You mutter.

A few minutes later, Pansy groans. "I don't think we're going to find them."

Panic bubbles in your chest.

"We have to find them." You gasp. "They can't- they can't have gone missing. If anyone sees them- god, I'll be a fucking laughing stock, Pans!"

Pansy is up out of her chair and crouching beside you in seconds.

"Hey." Her hands find their way to your shoulders. "Breathe, Y/N. We'll figure it out. No one has been in this room since you took them, right? Which means they're still here somewhere. We'll find them, we can just take a break for a bit, though. Okay?"

You force your lungs to expand and contract at a normal pace, waiting for your heart to stop racing. Still slightly panicky and trembling, you look at Pansy and give her a weak smile in thanks.

She smooths a hand over your hair. "Why don't you go and find Theo? Take your mind off things for a bit."

That sounded like a good idea, but the devious wink Pansy gave you made it clear exactly what taking your mind off things meant in her eyes.

"Hilarious." You mutter. "I will go and see Theo, though. And not for the reasons you're implying."

Pansy rolls her eyes. "One day, the two of you will just fuck and I'll be able to say I told you so."

You make a face, and stand up, dragging her to the door with you. "Okay, that's enough of you. I'm leaving, so are you. I'll see you at supper, yeah?"

Pansy giggles as she's pushed out of your dorm. "Yeah, I'll see you at dinner, but I imagine you'll be too full to want to eat anything."

"Pansy!" You yell, as she flits down the corridor away from you, still laughing. Sighing, you drag a hand down your face and head in the opposite direction towards Theo's dorm.

Once there, you lift your hand to knock, but a muffled groan stops you. You pause, and listen. There it is again, a soft groan coupled with the wet sounds of moving skin.

You scrunch your nose. You were no stranger to Theo's popularity with the female population at Hogwarts, but you'd never actually stumbled on the evidence of said popularity. You shake your head in exasperation and turn to leave when a quiet pant of your name sounds from behind the door.

You freeze, staring in disbelief at the door, wondering if maybe you'd heard wrong or-

Nope. There it was again. Your own name, said with Theo's unmistakeable voice. Was he...?

No. There was no way. The best thing to do right now, would be to walk away, or to at least knock and give him time to sort himself out before answering the door.

But as your hand inches towards the door handle, a small twisted part of you decides that you want to catch him unawares.

Before you can think too hard about it, you crack the door open slightly, thankful for Theo's tendency to keep it unlocked and the hinges oiled.

His dorm room is quite dark, lit only by a single candle on his bedside, so it takes a moment for your eyes to adjust to the gloom.

When they do, however, the sight has your body freezing and your lips parting in shock and... something else you weren't brave enough to name.

Theo is propped up on his pillows, the soft candlelight brushing his bare skin with a golden hue, highlighting the sheen of sweat covering him. His face is tense, eyes shut and mouth slightly agape, head tilted back just enough to show the pale expanse of his throat. His chest is bare, abdominal muscles flexing as his hand...

You press further against the crack in the door, your eyes wide. Theo's hand grips his cock, tugging at the length with furious haste, his hips lifting to meet each pull as his other hand grips his bedsheets tightly, veins popping out along his forearm from the strain.

You can't see much, due to your unorthodox vantage point and the dim light of the candle, but you can see enough to know that he is... sizeable.

As in, how the fuck is that supposed to fit anywhere, sizeable.

Your eyes trail lower down, until they catch on a glint of laminated paper resting on his bare thighs, just above where his pants are bunched halfway down his legs.

Your blood runs cold. Oh god, were those...?

In an effort to see better, you push closer, widening the gap of the door. What you don't account for, however, is Theo's innate messiness. His broom must have been leaning against the door, and it is sent clattering to the floor as the door opens wider.

Theo jolts upright, his eyes flying open as he grabs his wand and casts a hasty Lumos, illuminating his room, and himself, in a much brighter light than before.

And, unfortunately, illuminating you standing in his doorway.

"Y/N?" He asks breathlessly, his chest heaving and cheeks flushed with leftover exertion. He hasn't covered himself, and the light from his wand reveals more of his skin to you, including the flushed and stiff weight of his cock as it bobs against his stomach.

Theo notices the object of your attention and flushes deeper, scrambling to cover himself while muttering embarrassed apologies. In his haste, Theo knocks the pictures to the ground, and with the new light from his wand, you can see your familiar, half naked form decorating the polaroids.

Theo falls silent, staring helplessly at the fallen pictures as his mouth opens and shuts with no words coming out.

"I..." He begins finally. "Look, I can explain-"

"Were you touching yourself over photos of me?" You cut him off, incredulously, looking back up at him. Your brow furrows. "How did you even get a hold of them, they were in my dorm?"

Theo shifts uncomfortably, hands cupped over his still obvious erection. "I uh... went to look for you earlier. I went to your dorm and... they were just there. On your bed. I couldn't help myself. I'm sorry, god I'm so sorry."

Your cheeks heat. He'd just seen them? Taken them? Your cheeks burned brighter. Thought they were good enough to touch himself over? A heat of a different kind erupted low in your stomach, but you berated yourself. This wasn't a smut scene in one of your books, this was real life, and it was weird, and creepy, and-

"It's fine." You breathe instead, despite your warring thoughts. Your body's reaction was winning this battle, tingles erupting along your spine and your toes curling in your shoes.

Theo blinked. "What...?"

You laughed awkwardly. "I mean, it's weird, don't get me wrong, but I also just spent the last few minutes spying on you so it's not exactly any weirder than that."

Theo choked, staring up at you with wide eyes. "You what? You were watching me?"

You glanced between him and his various possessions as you struggled to find your words. "I mean, yes? It's makes us both even, I suppose. You were weird enough to steal lewd photos of me to wank over, I was weird enough to stand here and watch you, enjoy watching you. It makes us both even and we never have to speak about it again, right?"

Theo goes to open his mouth to reply, but a choked moan escapes his lips instead. You glance back down at his lap, finding his hand wrapped back around his cock, his thumb flicking over the flushed and sensitive tip.

"You enjoyed watching me?" He rasps, his eyes focused on you, wand forgotten but still glowing beside him on the bed.

You stand there, transfixed at the sight before you, before nodding slowly.

"Yeah." You breathe. "I enjoyed it."

Glancing back up at his face, you see his bottom lip caught between his teeth, and his eyes flare with heat. So much heat.

"Are you still enjoying it?" He asks quietly, leaning back on his other hand so that the expanse of his torso and throbbing length was in clear view for you to see. The rhythmic movements of his hand stroking himself back and forth was hypnotising to you, and you almost forget his question until you catch his lips curl into a self-satisfied smirk at your blatant ogling.

"I'll take that as a yes." He murmurs, clenching his fist tighter and exhaling sharply.

"This... this isn't right, Theo." You breathe, but your traitorous body is trembling with anticipation.

"It's just me, tesoro." He says softly. "Just you and me. Come in to the room properly, close the door."

You body acts without hesitation, following his gentle instruction. You step further into his dormroom, shutting the door behind you and leaning against the cool wood.

"I couldn't believe my eyes when I saw those pictures lying on your bed." Theo continues to speak, his Italian accent rolling over the syllables with an unfairly seductive purr. "How many months I've longed to see you without your robes and sweaters and skirts, and it was like my wishes had been granted to me."

Heat prickles over your skin, leaving goosebumps in his wake. You're silent, but so attentive to his words of praise. You'd felt confident and proud of yourself taking the photos, but it was nothing compared to seeing your best friend push himself to the brink of ecstasy over them.

"And it was better than anything I could have imagined." Theo's gentle voice is interspersed with soft grunts and pants as his hand movements grow harsher. "But I can't help but imagine if the real thing could be even better."

You blink in surprise. "You mean...?."

"Yeah." He pants. "Wanna see you, baby."

Your spine locks as pleasure tingles straight to your core. Before you can overthink it, you're shrugging off your school robes, already setting on unbuttoning your blouse beneath. Theo just stares at you, eyes locked on your hands as they bare more and more skin to his view. His breath hitches as you finally remove your shirt and set to removing your skirt, shoes and socks.

When you're finally left in just your underthings, he glances between you and the polaroids on the floor. "You... you're wearing the same..."

You nod shyly, fighting the urge to cover yourself with your hands. "I only took them earlier this morning."

Theo's eyes connect with yours, and you're stunned by the turbulent emotions swirling through them. There's lust, of course, but also a little left over fear and embarrassment, as well as something softer... warmer, that you can't quite name.

"Come closer." He whispers. "Please."

You do as he says, coming closer until his free hand reaches up to wrap around the back of one of your thighs, pulling you closer.

"So soft." He breathes, glancing up at you from his seated position. His hand skates up the side of your leg, cupping and squeezing your ass briefly before trailing over your hip and up the side of your ribs. "So beautiful."

His hand rests finally on the underside of your breast, fingers twitching with the urge to grope and grab at your body. "Please let me touch."

You nod, and he groans. "Words, tesoro. I need your words."

"Yes. Yes, Theo, you can touch me."

Shocking you entirely, he releases his cock and grips your waist with both hands, laying you flat on your back on the bed. He settles his weight on top of you, his mouth sealing itself to the sensitive skin at the crook of your neck. You gasp as he sucks and bites along the skin, writhing under the warm, solid weight of him. He bucks his hips against yours, the velvety hardness of his cock brushing against your sex over the lace of your panties.

An embarrassing mewl escapes your lips as your legs tighten around his waist, and he does it again, harder this time.

"Can I taste you?" He whispers against your neck. "I've been dreaming of this for so long, love. You've gotta let me taste you. Let me make you feel good - I promise it'll feel good."

You're nodding while you still have this wave of confidence motivating you, and make a noise of disappointment as he raises himself off you. Your disappointment doesn't last for long, however, before he's situating himself between your legs and staring at the apex of your thighs like a starving man faced with his first meal in months.

He presses a kiss to your inner thigh, looking up at you through his lashes. His mouth slides higher, and you can feel his lips twist into a grin against your skin as your breath quickens and your body shifts with impatience.

Finally, he presses an open-mouthed kiss to your clothed cunt, letting out a soft groan as his tongue laves over the lace of your underwear. His fingers hook into the fabric and he moves his mouth just long enough to tug them down and over your hips before his lips are back on you.

Your back arches and you let out a startled moan at the bare contact. Theo wastes no time, diving into you like a man possessed. The first lick of his tongue across your slit has you gasping, and your hand flies down to tangle in his brunette curls. He sets himself on you with even more intensity, trading between suckling at your clit, kissing and nipping at your inner thighs, and plunging his tongue straight into your entrance, licking up every drop of your arousal. Every movement makes the tension in your stomach coil tighter and tighter until you're not sure you can handle anymore.

"Theo." You gasp out. "I can't- I'm not sure if I can-"

"Shhh." He croons against your skin. "Let it go, baby. I've got you."

He sucks harder on your clit, pairing it with a sharp nip that has you crying out his name, and the tension in your body snaps like an elastic band. Pleasure zaps through you, electrifying every nerve under your skin and making your vision blur. You're vaguely aware of Theo licking you through the aftershocks, lapping up the evidence of your orgasm as he rocks his hips against the mattress, whimpering softly.

When you begin to push his head away once the oversensitivity kicks in, he pulls away, his face wet from you; lips swollen and pupils dilated. He crawls up your body, pressing his lips to yours. You gasp as you taste yourself on his tongue, pulling him closer with a hand on the back of his neck as you yearn for more.

"How was that, tesoro?" He pants out. "Did I make you feel good?"

You nod frantically.

"More." You gasp. "I want more."

"More?" He punctuates his words with a harsh grind of his erection against your core. "You sure you can handle more?"

You nod frantically. "I can do it. I wanna do it."

He dives back in for another kiss, tangling his tongue with yours as he reaches down you free his cock fully from his pants. He moans softly into your mouth as the tip of his cock presses against your clit, and you shudder against him. He guides himself to your entrance, pulling back to look you in the eye.

"Gonna fill you up, yeah? Make you feel so good, baby. Split you apart on my cock. You want that, yeah?"

You arch further into him, raising one of your legs to wrap around his hip, opening yourself further to him.

His eyes roll back as he begins to press into you, stuttered groans escaping his lips as he pushes further, inch by inch of him being enveloped by your tight heat. You wince at the uncomfortable stretch, but lock your other leg around his hip as well, drawing him closer to you and forcing him to bottom out inside you.

"Need a second." He chokes out. "God, you're so tight. So hot and wet and perfect."

You moan your approval, giving yourself a second to adjust to his size. He's larger than anyone you've ever taken before. While he also adjusts, he reaches a hand behind your back to unclasp your bra, peeling the fabric from your body.

His eyes lock on to your chest, before he dips down and sucks a nipple into his mouth. You gasp, your body tensing with pleasure. He moans against your chest, a deep, masculine sound that has your cunt tightening around him. He switches his attention between your breasts, lavishing sucks and nips equally across both, sucking the skin so hard that you know you'll wake up with purplish marks tomorrow.

Finally, after what seems to be an eternity, Theo begins to shift his hips, and the friction send bolts of heat racing through you. He eases you into it with shallow, gentle thrusts, but it isn't long before he's reaching the edge of his control, and his hips beginning to slap against yours, your tits bouncing with the force of his movements.

He lifts his gaze to yours, watching you with parted lips.

"So gorgeous, tesoro." He murmurs. "I wish I could stay inside this pussy forever, it's like you were made for my cock."

You hum your agreement, lifting your hips slightly to meet his thrusts, your mouth dropping open in a silent moan as the new angle allows him to reach deeper, more sensitive spots inside you.

"Gonna come, Theo." You gasp out, barely able to stop your eyes from rolling into the back of your head.

"Me too, love. Can I come inside you? Pump you full?" He asks, his tone almost begging as his movements lose their steady rhythm and instead slam into you with reckless abandon.

"Yeah." You whimper. "Need you to stay inside me, please."

Theo buries his head in your neck, shuddering as his body tenses and his hips stutter. Sudden warmth coats your insides, and the sheer foreignness of the feeling catapults you straight to your second orgasm, your body shaking as it forces you through your pleasure. You squirm under Theo as he fights to keep moving, just to help work you through your climax, but before long his arms give out and he slumps on top of you, his softening cock still deep inside of you.

You allow him a moment of rest before you're pushing at his shoulders.

"Can't... breathe." You choke out, fighting to inhale against the weight of him on your chest.

Theo groans and shifts to collapse next to you, his head still resting on your sweat-slicked chest and an arm wrapped around your waist.

You stare up at the ceiling, your mind going a million miles an hour as you wince at the sudden empty feeling. Your heart is racing, and no longer just with the aftershocks of the frankly mind-blowing sex. You had just crossed a line in your friendship. A major one. One you couldn't come back from.

"Relax." Theo murmurs sleepily from beside you. "I can practically feel you overthinking."

You're silent for a moment, before speaking. "What does this mean, Theo? For us?"

He ponders your question, lifting off your chest to prop his head on his hand as he lies on his side, facing you.

"I don't know." He says honestly. "But I really liked what we just did. And I really like you, so we will work it out."

You blink at him. "You like me?"

He rolls his eyes, pressing a soft kiss to your lips. "Of course I like you, idiot. Have done for years."

You're speechless for a while, coming into terms with this new information. "Well."

Theo laughs, a rich, affectionate sound that tugs at your heart.

"We'll figure something out, tesoro, don't stress. For now, I'm exhausted, and your tits are the perfect pillow. We'll talk about it later, okay?"

You sigh out a soft laugh, and nod, wrapping your arms around his shoulders as he settles back on top of you.

And later, when Pansy gives you a knowing look as you walk into the great hall together, Theo's arm wrapped securely around your waist, all you do is smile.

She did in fact tell you so.

[gallusrostromegalus]

So, uhh, genuine question.

Do you recommend getting into Bleach, and if so how? Anime, Manga, a little bit of both, secret other thing? Your posts about it (and especially about AEIWAM) have definitely piqued my Interest, but I have pretty much 0 knowledge about the topic and heard very contradictory takes & reviews before, so I wanted to ask for your advice on the topic.

Cheers and have a nice day!

So a couple people have asked me this and I'm going to be as honest and fair about it as possible:

Bleach itself is mid.

...which is why the fan works KICK SO MUCH ASS.

My theory is that the ideal habitat for transformative fan work creators is mediocre series. It has to be good enough to be worth engaging with in the first place, but it's the plot holes and dropped developments and intriguing characters that don't get enough time and shoddy-to-unexplained worldbuilding that make nice little holes for fic authors and fan artists to crawl into and built a home, like sponges growing on a dilapidated subway car sunk into the Hudson river.

So yes. Bleach is mid. More under the cut:

It's also really two series: the manga and the anime. There's more anime than manga because bleach suffers from the late oughts horror known as "the filler arc" where the studio would make shit up while waiting for the author to catch up. Not ideal, but better than the current state of "cancelling a fully written five-season show after two because it wasn't making enough money for the oligarchy" but I digress.

To grade both the manga and anime on the Weeb-Ass-Shit scale:

Weeb: how familiar do you have to be with the tropes of anime/Japanese culture in general to be able to enjoy the series? This is one of the things Bleach does REALLY, REALLY WELL, in that you can go in knowing fuck-all about anime and have a good time, but the more you know, the more fun it is. My favorite thing Kubo does is that if you look up the meaning of the characters used in everyone's names, there is a TON of jokes, foreshadowing, themes etc. baked into every name. A+ work.

Ass: how much gratuitous fan service is there and how annoying is it? So. It's not the worst. But it's really, really obvious that Bleach is written and illustrated by a straight man who is hella into tiddies. As a bisexual, I can appreciate The Tiddy (and tbh, the men in Bleach have pretty great tits too), but there are a lot of humor bits about Kon being a perv/author stand-in, orihime has medically alarming knockers for a teenager and gets groped kind of a lot. There's also a predatory lesbian stereotype character in the early episodes, and some pretty awful transphobic caricature characters. The amount of horny isn't that much for a shonen, but it's pretty gross IMHO.

Shit: how well- made is this series?

Mixed. Both the manga and the anime (esp the recent Thousand Year Blood War arc) have some absolutely gorgeous art, banger character designs, and deeply entertainingly choreographed fights. It is really nice to look at.

Unfortunately, both also suffer really badly from pacing issues that are pretty much entirely the fault of the insane demands the industry puts on the artists. If you've ever read/seen a shonen manga/anime from the late aughts through early teens, you're familiar with this bullshit- fight scenes drawn out to absurd lengths, filler arcs while the animation studio waits for the author to catch up, repeated plot arcs, minimal focus on characterization, The Friendship Speech (TM) etc.

Pacing and repetitiveness are Bleach's main quality issues, but the art is pretty baller and the Japanese voice cast is pretty fucking great IMHO. (I have APD and have to consume shows by subtitles, so the sun is usually more legible for me than the dub).

If you are coming into Bleach from AEIWAM... You're likely to be a bit disappointed. I put a shitload of work into the worldbuilding because Bleach does not, I write almost exclusively slice-of-life character moments rather than big battles, and I have made some pretty fucking radical changes to some of the characters. An Elephant Is Warm And Mushy is an entirely different genre than Bleach, and that's ok, because fic usually is radically different than it's source material. But also be prepared.

TL;DR: Bleach is mid and that's ok! My fic is different than it and that is also ok! I still recommend it with the reservations of : it's prototypical of its time period and contains many of the gross tropes from that era. It is also very much a horror shonen, just to be clear. Fucked up shit happens on screen, mostly cannibalism! Which is great IMHO, but you should probably take a stroll through DoesTheDogDie.com for more specific trigger warnings before beginning.

[kashverse]

some say let your hands and fingers do the talking. not like that, you perv! i mean by playing the guitar. what did you think? anyway, when your boyfriend pulls out a guitar, it’s a moment of pure suspense. it can either go very, very good—think angelic strumming, a voice so smooth it makes you question if he’s been hiding a secret record deal—or very, very bad, like an out-of-tune massacre that makes your eardrums file for divorce. there’s no in-between. he’s either serenading you into a nicholas sparks movie, or you’re suddenly trapped in a hostage situation where the ransom is pretending to enjoy his soulful (read: painful) rendition of wonderwall.

ah, gojo. the man, the myth, the self-proclaimed musician. he played the guitar once—once—in high school, butchered wonderwall in a way that made even noel gallagher cringe from a distance, and now he tells everyone he’s a ‘part-time guitarist.’ you don’t have the heart to tell him that whatever note he’s playing isn’t in the known musical scale of this universe. he strums with the confidence of a rock god but with the technique of a toddler discovering sound for the first time. the worst part? he believes in it. “music transcends rules,” he tells you with a wink, completely unaware that he’s transcended harmony, melody, and all known music theory altogether.

then there’s geto. now, he looks like a guy who plays the guitar—cool, effortless, the type to lean against a wall with a cigarette dangling from his lips while plucking out a song that makes everyone in a ten-mile radius fall in love. and technically, he does play. but does he play songs? absolutely not. geto is a man of riffs. he’ll pick up a guitar, pluck out a legendary lick that would make jimi hendrix’s spirit shed a tear, and then… stop. no full songs. no verses. just a 15-second snippet of greatness before he casually shrugs and says, “eh, i never learned the rest.” it’s infuriating. masterful, but infuriating.

choso, on the other hand, is eager. enthusiastic, even. and the shocking part? he’s patient with it, which you didn’t expect given his general aura of broody silence. but the man loves to learn—he already had a thing for keyboards, so naturally, guitar was the next step. and he’s good. so good, in fact, that you have to physically restrain him from playing in front of random people. because let’s be real: if choso sits down with a guitar, strums even a single melancholic tune, women (and men) will descend upon him like he’s the last attractive man on earth. you’re not dealing with that. not again.

does sukuna play the guitar? please. your big, beefy, borderline villainous boyfriend doesn’t do “basic” instruments. he plays the shamisen. yeah, that’s right. while everyone else is fumbling through 'hotel california,' sukuna is out here commanding an ancient instrument with the kind of raw, aggressive technique that could send every mainstream musician straight into retirement. the way he plays is nothing short of feral—sharp, powerful, sending sound waves through your soul like he’s calling forth a battlefield. you don’t know whether to be turned on or to fear for your life. possibly both.

toji, bless his heart, tries. he wants to play the guitar. he knows it looks cool. and, honestly, the intent is there. but here’s the thing—his hands are the size of dinner plates. the pick disappears between his fingers like a lost sock in the laundry. fretting a chord looks like he’s trying to delicately handle a teacup with boxing gloves on. it’s not a skill issue. it’s a size issue. the guitar wasn’t built for a man whose hands could palm a basketball and a toddler’s head at the same time. but he keeps at it, convinced that if he just tries hard enough, one day he’ll stop making the guitar sound like it’s being physically assaulted.

and then there’s nanami, the dark horse. the unexpected legend. you find out, completely by accident, that he plays guitar—not just plays, but plays it well. sings with it, too. every night, he softly strums lullabies for yuuji, an act of pure paternal love that no one would expect from the stoic salaryman. but when you ask him about it? he shuts that conversation down. you don’t get details. you don’t get demonstrations. and you definitely don’t get to see the video of 17-year-old nanami covering ‘pocketful of sunshine’ with embarrassing sincerity. it exists. he won’t admit it. but one day, one day, you will find it.

[lassiie]

HUNTED s.jy

PAIRING ↠ virgin!stepbro Jake sim x afab perv!reader

When your parents remarried, you didn’t just gain new families — you gained Jake. Your quiet, wide-eyed stepbrother, always lingering, always watching. Two years younger, painfully sweet, and hopelessly obvious — the virgin he is. The way he looks at you? Like he’s starving. Like he’s been dreaming about you for years. And maybe… you don’t mind giving him something to dream about. After all, he’s going to be your sweet little revenge.

CONTENT ↠ nsfw! smut, sub Jake, obsession, possessiveness, did I mention sub behavior jake ???, rough sexual dynamics, dry humping, unprotected sex (don’t do it), oral (R receiving), family issues, stepcon, fluff, sex obsessed jake, worshiping on reader, panty stealing, mention of slight non-con (reader does want it but keep it a secret), voyeurism, strong depiction of fantasy (he’s a yapper on what he’s gonna do but also a man of his word lol).

Before you dive, read the warnings. don’t like it, don’t read.

WORDCOUNT ↠ 10k

You weren’t supposed to make it this hard — not for your parents.

You used to be the quiet one. Obedient. Graded by how well you behaved, how little you needed. You never raised your voice, never messed up. You didn’t even know how to say “no.” Just endless praise for how perfect you were.

You played the role, learned the script. But they never really knew you.  Not your father, who loved an idea of you more than the reality. Not your mother, who only ever showed up to parade you like proof of her own success.

And maybe it was better that way. They didn’t know each other either — not really. So when they both confessed, almost proudly, that they’d been cheating the whole time… you weren’t even shocked. They tore the marriage apart like it was nothing. The only surprising part? How quickly it ended.

No screaming. No court battles. Just signatures, silence — and no one asking where you wanted to go.

That’s what hurt the most. Not the divorce. But how easily they let you go. Like you were a suitcase passed between homes.

You stopped being angry somewhere along the way. The rage dulled into numbness, then into strategy. You’d get through it. Play along. Smile on command until you have your own life.

And in the meantime? You became the perfect daughter all over again. Especially at your father’s place — the house closest to your university, the one you used as your main base. Easy enough, since he was never there. His new wife wasn’t either. They were just ghosts with paychecks.

So you had the space. The silence.

And… Jake.

He was the only real presence in that house. Your new stepbrother. Two years younger. Too polite. Too handsome. Always there. Always watching.

Straight-A student, quiet, almost religious in the way he carried himself — like everything he did had to be pure, soft, perfect. He reminded you too much of who you used to be. But Jake wasn’t hiding from himself. No, he actually wore it the “good-boy act”. Almost praise-seeking. Like he needed it. Like he craved someone to reward him for behaving.

At first, you didn’t mind. He was sweet, helpful, easy to talk to, he actually made you forget your loneliness at some point. He was a lonely kid too, trying to impress his new older sister — so eager to be liked, it was almost charming.

Almost.

Because there was something else beneath that polished politeness. Something naive that begged to be broken. Jake was the kind of guy who probably kissed a few girls here and there, but never, never had a woman close enough to whisper filthy little things into his ear. He looked like he never touched a woman before to be honest. And it turned you on. The idea made you so wet at times when you selfcared yourself to the thought of him begging to taste you, to touch you, to fuck you clumsy and shy until you’ll teach him.

Was it revenge ? Or just that Jake made your brain chemistry weird ? You didn’t know. Maybe… maybe it was just Jake. Maybe he made your brain short-circuit. Because after your 21st birthday — and his 19th — something shifted. You started playing foolish games.

At first, it was innocent. Almost.

Just tight pajamas clinging to your curves while you stretched lazily across the couch. Too short shorts and tiny crop tops on the balcony while arching your back when he passed by when you exercised. Shirts with just one button too few left closed, your skin warm and glowing under the fabric while napping.

And the showers… oh, the showers. You’d always let him go after you — he insisted, of course, the gentlemen he is. But somehow, you kept “forgetting” your underwear and attire in the bathroom. Such a forgetful dumb dumb girl. And somehow, they always came back — folded neatly, quietly placed beside your bedroom door on the shelf. Like a little offering, a quiet plea. And when they started not coming back you knew, why… And that was your confirmation.

You started to notice the way he lingered when you helped him with his classes. Always a little too close. Breathing a little too shallow.

Eyes flicking to your thighs, boobs, your mouth — quickly, then guiltily when you almost caught him slacking.

You’d wear your softest perfume on purpose. Sweet, honeyed, monoi impossible to ignore in close spaces. 

And Jake? He tried so hard not to breathe you in.

But you saw him. You saw the way his throat worked, the way that sinful Adam’s apple bobbed when he swallowed you down like a craving. His fingers clenched against his thigh, desperate to be somewhere else every time your shoulders collide. The way his pretty eyes pleaded with you, full of guilt and need.

And that bulge. Oh dear, it looked so fat. Pressing against the soft fabric of his sweatpants, twitching like it had a mind of its own. He was trying so hard to be good. To be polite. And that’s exactly what made you want to break him.

Jake made you curious — hungry. How much would it take? How far could you push until that last fragile piece of restraint snapped inside him?

It became a game for years. A delicious one. You played it filthier with each passing month, even when it felt like you were the one balancing on the edge of his palm.

You made sure he knew you weren’t some innocent girl. When he got home late, you started leaving your bedroom door cracked open just enough for the sound to leak. Those high, broken little moans — fake at first, but later… not.

And then the mirror ? You angled it perfectly. So if he even looked toward your room while walking down the hall, he'd see you.

One night you were on your knees at the foot of the bed, legs spread. His oversized hoodie hanging loose over your hips — not to hide anything, just to tease. Your panties soaked and pushed to the side. Your fingers working fast, fucking yourself. Messy. Sloppy. Your water gushing everywhere.

You didn’t call his name, but you knew he’d hear it anyway. You almost heard him yelp on the other side of the wall — barely muffled, strained. Then moans.

And when your orgasm hit, your walls clenched so tight it hurt, you weren’t touching air anymore. You were clenching around the idea of him.

And you got bolder.

Another time, your curiosity won. It happened at times you'd find yourself lazily walking around the house, entering his room looking around his books and computer, playing his games. Then… You found a file on his laptop — half-hidden in the Bluetooth sharing folder.

A video.

The timestamp? Right down to the hour and day you remembered arching your back and crying into your pillow, a dildo vibrating where it felt the best. You clicked on it. The screen lit up with you. Your body. That same mirror. That same damn dildo. He’d recorded the whole thing.

Poor boy. 

You didn’t delete it. 

You let him keep it.

Because the thought of him doing unspeakable things to that video every night?

It made you wetter than anything.

It really went too far the night you decided to test him. To really test him.

You weren’t even into the guy you invited over that day. This peer from uni was not your type. Too talkative, too flirty, too easy. But he served a purpose. You needed a body. A voice. A laugh. Something for Jake to see until it was two in the morning. And he made sure to always have an eye on you guys, even if he had class that day. You stopped counting the number of time he got out of his room for water and snacks, texted you “you ok ?”, “need something ?”, heard his door opening just to listen to your flirting session.

He saw how you sat close to your guest. Laughed a little too hard. Let your fingers linger when you handed him his glass. Tilted your head when he made a joke. Let him have his hand on your inner thigh. Heard the sound of loud kissing.

And when you walked him to the door, your body angled toward him just enough for Jake to imagine something — anything, you almost burst laughing.

“Text me when you're free” you said, soft but clear, just loud enough.

“Ok princess.” your unwanted guest smiled.

You didn’t even close the door right away. You let it hang open while you adjusted your shirt, as if you’d just been touched.

You felt Jake watching from the stairs.

And the next morning? He didn’t say a word. Didn’t look at you. Jaw locked. Shoulders stiff. He practically radiated that stormy silence. And you drank it in. You were already wet before the day ended. playing with the friction of your tights at the new idea of an angry Jake, bending you over some desk and fucking you dumb.

That night, he knocked. Not loud, neither confident. Just a soft, almost guilty tap — like he hated himself for even standing there.

“Movie ?” His voice almost cracked, thin and so hesitant. Like he regretted the word the second it left his mouth. You didn’t look up right away — your eyes glued to your notes — but when you did, you offered him a small smile. Soft. Painless.

“Sure.”

And you dressed the part.

Cotton shorts with cute patterns— soft and clingy, short enough they might as well be sin. No bra. Just his hoodie. Oversized, too familiar, the neck too wide, sliding off your shoulder like it belonged there. Like you belonged in his clothes.

You curled beside him on the couch, the way temptation curls around the spine — warm and impossible to ignore. Your thigh brushed his. Close enough for your breath to touch his skin. Close ²enough to burn.

The movie flickered on, but neither of you really watched it, you could bet on it. He was too busy pretending not to want you. not to look at you from the corner of his eyes. And you… you were too busy pretending not to know.

Every time you moved, it was calculated. Subtle.

The lazy stretch of your limbs. The soft roll of your hips when you shift to get "comfortable." The way your hoodie rose and fell, teasing bits of skin like secrets he wasn’t allowed to touch.

And Jake… poor Jake… He was unraveling. Silently. Inch by inch.

You could feel it — the tension in his body each time your skin brushed his. The way his breath caught when your nipple grazed his arm beneath the fabric.

His composure was a dam with cracks spider webbing through it. And you were the water, pressing harder every second.

Then, your voice — low and sugar-sweet — slid into the space between you two like a knife.

“Jake… You don’t want me to bring boys over, huh?”  You tilted your head, blinking up at him with faux innocence.  “You looked pretty mad…”

His jaw tensed. His shoulders twitched. He looked at you like you’d lit a match and tossed it onto his bed.

“I just…”  He swallowed. “I don’t think it’s smart. Some guys… Just want…”

“Want?” you echoed, soft as silk, a dangerous little smirk tugging at your lips. “…To do me?”

The way you said it made him flinch — like the words physically hit him.

You laughed, sweet and syrupy, pretending not to notice how he clenched his fists.

“I wish…” you murmured. “But I don’t think I’m the kind of girl guys want to really fuck, you know?”

You were sure he’d shatter. Right there. He turned to you, and for a second, he looked like something fragile cracking. His eyes searched your face — pained ? reverent ? Almost angry at you for not seeing what you meant to him.

His hand came up, hesitant at first, and gently patted your head, adjusting your hair, like he didn’t know what else to do with the burning inside him.

“That’s not true,” he said, voice hoarse. “You’re… you’re gorgeous.”

You didn’t laugh this time. Because suddenly… something about the way he said it felt real. Too real.

And it settled into your stomach like a fire and confusion.

So you stood — a little too fast — pretending it was nothing.

You stretched, arms overhead, the hoodie lifting just enough to reveal the sweet curve where your shorts clung between your thighs. You felt his gaze like heat — devouring. Silently begging.

“Want some popcorn?” Your voice was casual, light. But the silence that followed was not.

You turned to glance back — and there he was, still seated, still staring. His lips parted, breath uneven. His knuckles pale from how tightly he gripped the couch cushion. His eyes were glassy with something halfway between hunger and heartbreak.

He wanted you. So badly it hurted him. And you…

You didn’t know what you wanted. But it was starting to feel like it might be him.

He blinked, like you’d just woken him from a dream. Swallowed. Then nodded — barely.

“…Yeah. Sure…” Jake’s voice was thin and shaky. 

🕛

When you returned, he was sitting on the carpet closer to the screen —but he looked… Rigid. You slid beside him again, close. Pressed in. The look in his eyes disappointed like he expected you to go back to the couch and abandon him on the big fluffy rug.

And at some point, you must’ve fallen asleep. Or pretended to. You weren’t sure when his arm slipped around you too, but it happened somehow.

You only knew you woke up spooned tight against his chest, the glow of the TV flickering counting down on the last two minutes before shutting down. The air was cool, but his body behind you was so hot.

His breath brushed your neck. And then —you felt it.

Hard. Thick. Pressed flush to the curve of your ass. You froze. Not in fear. In calculation. 

The slow grind of his cock against your back was not an accident. Or was he asleep too ? 

No. This wasn’t a sleep twitch… This was rhythm. Friction. 

You stayed still. Barely breathing. He was holding you like he needed to be inside you just to keep breathing. His arm clutched your waist like he thought you might vanish.

And that wasn’t the worst part.

The worst part was that you could hear the noise he made.

A low, strangled groan.

Your name — whispered so faintly, so pathetically — like he was praying.

You bit your lip, hard. Your panties clung to you, soaked from how hot your core had gone. You could feel your own pulse between your legs, fast and desperate. And when you shifted your hips ever so slightly and faintly— to relieve the wetness, nothing more — his mid asleep mind took it as permission.

His hips ground forward. Almost hard. Controlled.

The way his cock dragged between your asscheeks through the fabric had your eyes rolling shut. It was clumsy, hungry, dry humping like he didn’t care what dignity he had left.

The arm pillow under your head shifted, to press against your throat. to cage you. Not choking. Not violent. Just there. To keep you. To claim you.

His body was all over you now.

The humping turned to rutting — fast, erratic. and his grip started to strangle you slightly. He was panting into your hair to your ear almost licking like an animal, his breath sticky and messy, hips chasing release like it hurt to hold it back.

You couldn’t help it, you moaned. Quiet. Barely there. But enough.

And he froze. Just for a second.

But you didn’t move. Didn’t open your eyes. You let him think you were still asleep. And just like that— 

He started again.

Rougher now. Curious, or gone crazy. Because he lifted your thigh over his leg like he wanted you open, more accessible, more his. 

his hand ended up cupping your pussy and you almost wine at him fiding you’re wet as fuck. “Holly sh…” he whisper.

He ground into your ass like he was fucking you through his short, like he was losing his mind just from the feeling of your body under him. His mouth brushed your neck, and you heard your name again.

Muttered. Broken. Like a secret. Like a prayer. Like a sin.

And still, you didn’t stop him. You let him use you. Let him melt against you. Let him rut like a dog in heat.

Because you knew what came next. He was already ruined. And this was just the beginning.

🕜

You don’t open your eyes until the room is quiet. Until his breathing slows.

Until the soft pad of his footsteps retreats across the carpet, shaky and shameful.

He leaves you there — half-dressed, flushed, wrecked — with a blanket tucked around your body like penance. As if warmth could erase what he did. As if the trembling in your thighs wasn’t already permanent. As if you didn’t feel every hot, ragged grind of his cock rutting through his shorts like he was trying to breed you in his sleep.

And the kiss. God, that stupid trembling kiss. Soft. Barely there.

Pressed to your forehead like an apology. Like he knew he crossed a line but couldn’t help himself. And the whisper, hoarse and frantic:

“’m sorry… ‘m sorry… I didn’t mean to. I swear, I just—fuck, I’m sorry.”

As if that made him better than what he really was. As if that erased how soaked your panties were from the way he used you. You wait. Wait for the creak of the stairs. Wait for the soft click of his door.

And then — you move.

Your body curls in on itself like it’s starving. You’re fucking shaking. Your hand dives straight between your thighs, fingers pressing through the soaked cotton, trembling.

It’s so, so, so wet. Disgustingly wet. The fabric sticks to your folds like glue, like your cunt wanted to keep his shape. You bite down on the throw pillow, knuckles white, grinding against your hand like it might make you feel whole again. But it won’t. Not really.

Because he touched you. Because he left you. Because he thinks you slept through the way he rutted against you like a feral fucking animal, like you didn’t feel every ragged thrust of his hips desperate to paint you with cum, guilt and heat.

He thinks you didn’t know. Didn’t felt it. Didn’t want it.

But you did. You let it happen. You fucking invited it.

And now?

He’s upstairs, hiding upstairs like he didn’t just violate every boundary between you, fucking his mattress to the memory of you, into the same fucking shorts he creamed earlier.

Because he can’t help it. Because you’re in his blood now.

You giggle. It’s breathy, drunk, delirious — because it’s true.

He’s the one ruined. He’s the one haunted.

He came so hard trying not to wake you — and now he can’t stop imagining it. 

And you… What about you ?

You climb the stairs slowly. Steady. Dripping.

You were headed to your own room. You really were. But then you hear it. The soft creak of his mattress.

That familiar, low grunt — choked and desperate, barely audible but so damn needy.

You pause. Bare feet planted on the hallway carpet. Heart pounding. Your body buzzes, strung tight as wire. You move closer. Silent. Curious.

Then you hear it. Really hear it.

The unmistakable slap of skin on skin. The low wet rhythm of his hand fisting his cock in the dark, probably red and raw from how many times he’s edged himself on your name.

And underneath? That tiny, cursed sound.

That video.

The one he shouldn’t have. The one you let him keep.

The one of you — legs spread, mouth open, giggling as you played with yourself just for him that one night, not knowing he hit record.

You never mentioned it. You never stopped him. Because deep down, you wanted him to keep it.

To ruin himself with it. Over and over and over.

But you’re just as pathetic. Your fingers are between your legs again before you even register it. The cotton is useless now. Sopping. You slide past it like it’s not even there, middle finger sinking into heat, other hand flat on his door as you grind your hips into your palm.

Then you hear it — your name. Again. Again. And again. He is obsessed for sure. He sob. Choked out like a fucking prayer as the mattress groans under him.

“Fuck, I need you—I need to be inside that fucking—fuck, please—let me fill you, let me breed you, I’ll give you everything, just—please— please—”

You moan against his door, the sound of it mixing with the video, forehead pressed to the wood, thighs clenched around your own wrist. Your cunt clenches hard around your fingers, and you feel it start to build — fast, brutal, like you’ve been edging since he left you in the living room.

And still he goes on — pathetic little noises, bed frame creaking, the wet slap of his fist around his wet cock echoing through the door.

On the other side of the door. His face is flushed. His glasses crooked and hair plastered to his forehead. Jaw tight. Shirt rolled-up in his mouth, abs twitching. The thick head of his cock leaking down his wrist as he fucks into his hand like it’s you — his other hand still wet from where he cupped you, fingers slick with your essence, and the way he brings it to his mouth — then tasting you, like he can’t get enough, savoring the remnants of you on his skin. The same shorts he ruined earlier — still damp, pushed down just enough for him to get his dick out.

He’s fucking filthy. He’s yours. Your filthy Jake.

Your orgasm hits — sharp, dirty, brutal.

You clamp your mouth shut, panting silent against the doorframe as your whole body trembles, bending on your tiptoes, fingers twitching deep inside, cunt pulsing so hard it aches.

And still — he doesn’t know.

You sink to your knees, ruined, wet, wrecked, gasping against the wood. Just in time to hear him fall apart. The gasp. The cry. The broken sob of your name as he cums for the second time tonight.  And you can hear it. The wet slap of it coating his hand, the hiss through his teeth as he tries not to scream.

You smile.

The next week felt like punishment. On the very next day you wake up to your dad and wife coming back home. Your dad pesters you for not going to your mom’s like they planned.

He keeps treating you like a kid even if you’re now 22. You hear him talk like you’re 5. You get along with him and leave the same day with him to join your mom’s family for their trip. where nothing felt like yours, with two loud and intrusive big brothers : Jay and Heeseung, not even a third as kind as Jake. You spent most days fantasizing about getting back to your father’s house. The silence. The chill in the air. The presence of that needy Jake. 

You booked an earlier flight back the moment you realized the date: his birthday !

You knew he’d be at Sunghoon’s place — the infamous party, the rowdy crowd, his loud-ass friends. You thought about showing up, joining the cheers, maybe giving him a gift. But instead, you went home first.

You wanted to look good. No — you wanted to look like a tentation. And when you showed up, fashionably late, hair curled into a sharp ponytail, lips glazed, your little black dress hugging you like it knew every secret Jake ever fantasized about — you found him.

On the stairs. Outside his own party.

Drunk. Gloriously fucked up. Head in his hands, murmuring to himself like the air had answers. When he looked up and saw you, his eyes locked like he couldn’t believe you were real. That you’d shown up for him. That you looked like that.

“Holy shit,” he whispered, standing on shaky legs and staggering toward you like you were gravity and he was finally done resisting. He hugged you, his arms slipping around your waist like they had every right. His mouth found your neck under the guise of a greeting, inhaling you like perfume could get him high. His fingers slid a little too far down your bare back.

You stepped away, pulse thrumming.

“Jake… are you okay?”

He blinked, all glassy-eyed and helpless. “You came,” his voice was thick with liquor and longing. “Fuck, I missed you. I missed your smell. Missed you everywhere.”

You didn’t have time to answer before a car pulled up. Sunghoon stepped out, smiling politely, playing the good host. He explained the mess Jake had made — got too drunk waiting for you, tried to get home alone, and ended up just sitting out here like a sad hot mess. You thanked him, brushed off his offer for a ride, your cab was still waiting.

Sunghoon helped Jake into the back seat. And the second that door shut, chaos took root.

Jake slumped into you, lips grazing your collarbone, breath hot and sloppy. His hand found your thigh, fingers pressing in slow, lazy circles like your skin was his drug. You flinched when he crept too high, but he didn’t stop — not until you caught his wrist.

“You ok ? Jake ?” 

He blabber incoherently, but you understand the most : he is so happy you made it, he’s so happy you’re here with him, he wished you didn’t get back to your mom, how lonely he was. How your scent started to not linger anywhere. His eyes are begging but not like any other day. You stop his hand halfway to your panty, again, while trying to keep composure. Lucky you, it was peach night, all the car's lights were down and you’re sitting behind the driver.

You now understand why Jake refuses to drink. It makes his real persona oblivious.

You feel his head tilt from your shoulder to your neck making you weak, extending his tongue  trying to catch a limp of your taste while murmuring excuses and plea. Even drunk he knows how to turn you on. 

By the time you got home, he was practically glued to your back. You had a cake box in one hand and one very needy Jake humping your ass like it was his emotional support animal. You shoved him onto the couch, frustrated and flustered, his name already a warning on your tongue.

“Jake,” you snapped. “You reek. Go shower.”

He groaned.

“Jake…”

He sat up finally—

And then, with zero hesitation — yanked you down onto him. His thigh pressed up between your legs. His hands gripped your hips like handles. His lips? All over you. Jaw. Ear. Neck. One kiss after another, slurred and sensual.

Then pulled you under him with no force left in your body to resist. But he’s such a kiddo right now you can help but not to take him too seriously.

The couch gave way as his weight pinned you, his thigh pressing exactly where it shouldn’t. His breath hot on your cheek, smell of liquor, his mouth leaving soft, open kisses down your jaw.

“I wished you’d wear… that purple lace,” he breathed, almost begging for it. “I came…” kiss “...so hard in those.” kiss “I- I Didn’t mean to. Wanted to give them back” kiss. “But… I kept sniffing them. And I— fuck, I’m so sorry.” kiss.

His tongue flicked your earlobe and your hips arched before you could stop.

“Hey kiddo—”

“I’ll buy you new ones.” kiss. “The exact same.” kiss. “I'll buy you ivory ones.”  kiss. “Just let me see them on you.” kiss “Please. I’ll be good.” kiss “I’ll— I’ll clean up.”

You shoved him off you with more effort than expected and dragged him down the hall toward the bathroom, him still pawing at your hips, nuzzling your chest like a cat in heat.

The second the cold water hit him, he screamed like the devil himself got baptized.

You laughed — hard, doubling over.

You burst out laughing for a while. While his expression got lost in his wet hair, he was silent. soaked in his cloth, his sexy hand suddenly backing up his hair. And then you saw his dark expression—he grinned. He hit the button. The shower switched to rain mode — and your clothes were soaked in seconds. Water clung to your skin like hands. His chest pressed to yours in seconds.

The world stilled for a second when your eyes locked. He stares at your lips like they were scripture. Like one kiss could save him from damnation. And when he leans in—

You step back.

His lips hovered in the air, helpless, lost. Your smile was too sweet to reject him. Too knowing. you murmure against his ear under the loud sound of falling water. 

“Get your shit together. Wash up. Then come eat your cake.”

Your fingers slid beneath your dress, His eyes dropped instantly. When your hand reappeared, you were holding your purple lace panties — the exact pair he stole. The ones he came in. The ones you let him keep.

His lips trembled.

But you said nothing else. He understood your message. You turned, wrung out your hair, And without a word, you walked away. Peeled your drees off, Leaving a trail of wet footprints and temptation so thick he couldn’t breathe.

You didn’t look back. Just unzipped the dress, let it fall. Bare ass, bare back. Nothing.

And you lived with a smile. Jake adored this. No, he worshipped you.

That’s why he stayed in that shower, panting, fists clenched, cock throbbing, brain screaming. Because backing off when you said no? That was pure respect. But watching you walk away like a siren wrapped in silk and defiance, and do nothing ?

That was torture.

The cold water didn’t sober him. You did. It vanished the second you pulled away from his kiss. That one step back — it slapped clarity into his brain harder than any ice bucket ever could. And as he watched you leave, he finally realized:

You gave him a show. You knew. You fucking knew. And the worst part ? You wanted him to know that you were aware of his behavior. As if you liked it.

You weren’t his sister. Not really “family”. You were his. And he was done pretending. 

That's what he kept thinking while showering.

That he’d follow you to the edge of reason. Crawl through every of your rules to get to you. Fuck his reputation. Fuck his guilt. Fuck the whisper of wrong in the back of his skull.

He didn’t want to protect you anymore. Now he wanted to pin you down. He wanted to fuck you against the kitchen island until you cried. He wanted to ruin you.

And when he did?

You’d thank him. Because you’d been begging for it too, all along.

Once showered and dressed in warm, cozy clothes, Jake made his way down the stairs. But he stopped halfway. Froze.

You.

You were in the kitchen — bathed in the dim golden glow of the pendant lights — wearing that ivory tank top that barely clung to your chest, nipples brushing against the fabric, teasing shadows, and that long cotton skirt hugging your hips like it was made to be pulled up. You were slicing cake on the kitchen island, licking a thick ribbon of cream off your fingertip like you didn’t know he was watching. Or maybe you did. God, maybe you always did.

Jake watched you like he’d never seen a woman before.

Like he’d never seen you before, not like this.

Every flick of your wrist, every sway of your hips, the little twitch of your tongue tasting frosting—it was a fucking performance. For him.

And when he realized that, really realized it, it hit him like a goddamn wrecking ball.

He liked watching you.

No—he loved it.

Loved how brushing your teeth could turn him hard. How folding laundry made his mouth dry. How watching you apply lotion had once made him jerk off so violently he had to lie down after. It broke something in him. Snapped it in two and rewired it all wrong.

Hours of porn? Worthless. Cam girls? Useless.

You—doing absolutely nothing—had become his favorite fucking show. And he was the most devoted, depraved audience.

And those pajamas you’re wearing now ? He remembered them.

The first night you moved in. Your hair was shorter, your eyes wide, your smile unsure.

You wandered that big duplex like a lost lamb, bumping into corners, unsure of where to go. You’d smiled at him when you got turned around, laughing at yourself.

Jake had probably fallen for you right then. That simple, soft moment where you looked just as displaced and unclaimed as he always felt.

He told himself he’d be good to you from that day on. He recognized something in you. A mirror. Two kids shuffled from house to house, two pieces of pretty furniture passed down and placed where others decided.

But you were walking into his cage. Not the other way around. And God, he wanted to decorate it for you. Make it soft. Make it warm. Make you stay.

So Jake vowed—he'd make you feel safe, even if it meant pretending. Pretending to suck at school. Pretending he needed help picking out new sheets just to buy the softest, girliest ones for your bed. Pretending to be sick so you'd spend the day with him on the couch. Pretending he didn’t know how to cook, just to watch you make pancakes in your pajamas.

He wanted you from the first second. You healed him in ways.

And in others, you broke him wide open. Made him into a pervert. A voyeur. A stealer.

He knew the moment he started skipping outings, leaving parties early, racing home just to catch the scent of you in the hallway. That faint trace of perfume clung to everything you touched — the couch cushions, his hoodie, the sheets. You smelled like a fucking sin. And smiled like temptation wrapped in faux innocence.

He tried convincing himself you were just being polite tho. That you were older. Uninterested. That you saw him as this shy, harmless boy who needed help with coursework and still blushed too easily.

That you didn’t know what you were doing to him. But you actually did… Wow. Not everything sure, but still…

Did you know ? That in private, he did very real things. He’d pick up the panties you “forgot” with shaking hands every time. Always lacy. Most times he resisted. Actually, he didn’t. No, he pressed them to his face and breathed in your scent like it was oxygen. Fisted his cock so hard on them to the thought of you bending over his bed, he distorted them a bit.

And you never said a word. You just kept smiling. Kept laughing at his dumb jokes. Kept running your fingers through his hair while letting him lay his head in your lap, until his brain went quiet.

You called him “kiddo” in that soft, mocking tone that made him want to shove you down and make you choke on him until you forgot that word.

There wasn't a single place in this house he hadn’t imagined ruining you on. The sofa. The kitchen island. Wanted to fuck you breathless in the hallway without caring who walked in. Bent you over the balcony railing, your thighs trembling, your voice wrecked. Raw in your room. His cum leaking from your pussy like it belonged there in the bathroom.

He imagined gaming with you riding him, headset slipping off while he whispered filth. He pictured you sitting on his face, shocking him silent with how good you tasted.

Fuck, he wanted you now.

His body moved before his mind did. Down the stairs, across the room — straight to you. You turned to face him, and the look in his eyes must have said everything, because you froze.

But it was Jake. And Jake was your sweet boy.

He didn’t jump you, he dropped to his knees. Wrapped his arms around your waist like a lifeline and buried his face in your stomach.

“What do you think you’re doing?” you murmured, shivering at the feel of his lips.

He tilted his head up, puppy-eyed, and pressed soft, slow kisses to your belly, licking where your skin was bare.

He smiled at your reaction.

"...Making you feel good..." he mumbled, voice thick with want.

The shift in him — from predator to worshipper — scratched something deep in your brain. The submission in his voice sent heat racing down your spine.

You laughed, trying to stay grounded. "Get up. Let’s eat your cake. It’s still your birthday.”

But Jake didn’t move. He tightened his hold.

“What about my gift?”

You blinked at him, half amused, half breathless. The look on his face wasn’t as childish as his attitude —it was dark, intense, almost dangerous in how calm he was about wanting you.

"What do you want?" you asked, voice soft, laced with heat.

He didn’t answer.

He moved. Slid between your thighs. Pressed his face into the soft spot between them. Rubbed himself against your heat like an animal, breathing so heavy you could feel it through the layer of your skirt and panty. His grip hurted, but you loved it. Because he was unraveling.

He moaned your name into your thigh.

“Jake—” you gasped as his grip bruised into your skin, desperate, clumsy and intoxicating.

He was trembling. Hard. Leaking through his pants. You shoved him back gently, but not far. Just enough to meet his eyes.

"You have to tell me what you want for your birthday," you said, tone suddenly sultry, dominant.

Jake’s hands slid under your skirt, gliding up your calves, slow and reverent. He stopped just before your thighs, as if asking for permission with his touch.

“Please,” he moaned. “Please let me have you. I’ll do anything. Anything you want me to. I swear—”

God. You loved when he begged. So you lifted his flushed face with your knee.

“If I let you have me,” you whispered, “what are you gonna do to me?”

He whimpered your name like it hurt. One hand slid up to grab your panties and the hem of your skirt in one fist.

“I wanna eat you,” he said, kissing your thigh. “Wanna fuck you on this island until you scream, and beg.”

you hum.

“Wanna fucking lick that pussy until your legs give out.

Wanna watch you fall apart, over and over, on my cock until you forget how to walk.”

Wanna fill you so deep you feel me for days.

“I want this pussy. I want it to take my shape,” he said, voice wrecked. “And ache for my cock whenever I’m gone.”

His words burned.

You climbed onto the kitchen island, spreading your legs like you were displaying for him.

“Fuck, Jake, do it,” you exalted. “Happy twenty-one…”

He slid your skirt up so freaking fast, smirking. Kissed the inside of your thigh like it was his last meal. When his tongue finally touched your soaked lace, he groaned like he’d been starved.

“You taste like… fuck— there’s nothing like it,” he muttered, already pulling the lacy fabric in his mouth. His tongue felt thick and ungraceful, so messy, licking like he was trying to consume you, not please you.

He groaned against your folds, loud and vulgar, smiling like he’d found the secret to life in the taste of you.

“Fuck—fuck, you’re even sweeter than I imagined,” he breathed, dragging his tongue up your slit again, messy and deep, slurping you into his mouth like he couldn’t get enough.

And then, he ripped your panties.

Didn’t even slide them off — just grabbed the damp lace and tore it with a grunt, like it offended him to be kept away from what he wanted.

You gasped, jolting when his tongue returned to your clit with zero control, his lips and chin glistening, sloppy, aggressive — but hungry, so hungry it made your stomach twist.

“Hold still,” he muttered, though he was the one moving like a man possessed, hands fumbling on your hips, trying to anchor you and explore you at the same time.

He was learning your body with every stroke of his tongue, every misstep that made you twitch, every accidental graze of teeth that made you jolt and whimper. But the more you reacted, the crazier he got. Each sound you made made his cock throb in his sweats. He kept going, like he was chasing your high just to see what it would do to you.

“C’mon, let me—fuck—let me hear it,” he groaned, pressing his tongue flat against your clit, sucking harshly, noisily, spit mixing with slick, until you couldn’t help the moan that spilled from your lips.

Your back arched hard. Too hard. The pain bloomed in your spine but you didn’t care. Not when he was doing this — devouring you like you were his first and last, one hand splayed against your belly to keep you down as your thighs began to tremble.

“Fucking hell,” he whispered into you. “The way you move—like you’re gonna break. I’m gonna break you, yeah ?”

You whimpered, shaking more, lost — too far gone to process the feral glint in his eyes.

He was memorizing every twitch of your body. Every flutter of your lashes. Every ragged inhale. Your pleasure became his experiment — and he was failing, adjusting, trying again, obsessed with getting it just right, obsessed with watching you crumble.

“You feel everything, don’t you?” he murmured, dragging his tongue down, then up again in a filthy line. “You’re so fucking sensitive. Look at how your hips move, how your legs shake—”

He pushed two fingers into you without warning, a little too rough, but your body swallowed him so eagerly that his jaw dropped.

“Oh god —fuck. You’re so tight, so warm—God, you’re—” he couldn’t finish.

Because you cried out. Because your head fell back. Because your mouth formed his name like a prayer and your thighs clenched around his head.

And it broke him.

His cock bounced, twitching uncontrollably in his pants, and he let out a pained moan, as if the sight of you like that — undone because of him — hurt more than it healed.

“Say it again,” he gasped, fingers now curling just right inside you. “Say my name like that.”

He was trembling. Worshipping. Grinding his hard length on air like a dog in heat, like he couldn’t stop himself. His mouth returned to your clit with vengeance, tongue swirling, sucking, licking—too rough, too clumsy, but desperate.

Your entire body was spasming now. Jolting. His nose bumped against your folds, fingers curling deep, knuckles wet, palm slick as he fucked you with his hand and his mouth at once.

It was too much. And he was watching. Eyes locked on you, wide and greedy, like he was filming the entire thing in his mind.

Then, in a shaky whisper, he asked:

“Can I really do anything to you?”

The words came soft, begging— but beneath them was a dark edge, a simmering madness just barely caged.

You didn’t hear it. Or maybe you were too far gone to understand it.

Because your mouth fell open, your mind blank, every nerve shredded and sparking as your orgasm built in a violent wave.

“Y-yeah, JAKE, JAKE, JAKE !!” you breathe out, barely coherent, nodding so frenetically it’s almost pitiful.

Jake doesn't wait.

Like a switch has flipped, he slips out from between your legs and props himself beside you on the kitchen island, his thigh brushing yours, one arm braced over your head against the cabinets. He stares down at your soaked center with eyes wide, dazed, reverent—and then he shoves his fingers into you. Hard. Deep.

You jolt so violently your back slams against the cupboards.

The squelch is immediate, obscene, echoing like wet slaps in the wide silence of the room—and so loud it drowns your breathless cries.

“Please—please say it again—say my name. I wanna see your eyes roll. Wanna see you fucking cry. Wanna ruin you so good you forget your own name.”

“Jake—!” you choke, your hands scrambling for purchase—his arm, his shirt, anything—before your fingers end up clawing at the collar of his tee, yanking him closer until your foreheads collide. He’s flushed, trembling, his mouth parted and panting as he watches the way your body thrashes against his hand.

And then he does it harder.

His palm starts slapping your clit on every drive, a sloppy wet percussion that sends you screaming through gritted teeth. He’s moaning with you now, completely enthralled, forehead against yours, sweat sticking between your skins. He’s watching every twitch of your mouth, every tear in your lashes, like you’re his goddamn religion.

“Y-yes, yes—fuck, don’t stop! Jake !” you beg, voice breaking as your hips roll helplessly against the rhythm.

“You’re mine,” he whispered in your ear. And your eyes plead for a kiss—anything to ground you—but Jake is gone. Lost in the ruin he's causing.

It’s only when you sob his name again, needy—“Jake—” a shattered sound— that he seems to come back to himself. He crashes his mouth into yours like a man who’s about to die without it. The kiss is messy, desperate, teeth clashing and tongues tangled, like he’s memorizing how you taste before he’s allowed to devour you again.

And you come.

So violently the island creaks under you. So fast it blinds you.

Your body convulses around his hand and he holds you through it like he’s proud of breaking you. Like he’ll never get enough of it.

He pulls back to look at the mess on his fingers, his lips parted in awe, and then—moaning—he licks them clean, slow and trembling, savoring you like something holy.

“I swear,” he rasps, “I could eat nothing else for the rest of my life.”

His cock is leaking now leaving a patch of wetness, pushing hard against his waistband like it’s about to burst. And his restraint ? Gone.

Jake scoops you up in his arms, bridal style, despite how unsteady he is—lips dragging kisses on your throat, cheek, temple as he carries you into his room.

The second you hit the mattress, he’s on you.

He undresses you in between wet kisses—pulling at your clothes like he’s unwrapping a gift he’s been waiting his whole life for. His hands are shaking. His teeth nip. He murmurs how pretty you are. How perfect. How soft.

Your panties? Gone.

“ That’s mine,” he whispered under his breath, fingers slipping through your folds again, already obsessed with how wet you still are. “Fuck…”

Then he undresses, cock springing out—thick and flushed and leaking so much it shines. Not too long, but wide. Thick enough that your thighs tense up on instinct. It twitches as he catches you staring.

“You okay?” he asks—but he’s already pushing your thighs apart, not waiting. Not anymore.

He lines up and slides in too fast—only halfway—and you cry out, back arching with a jolt.

“Too much?” he gasps—but his hips twitch forward another inch like he can’t stop himself. “You’re squeezing so tight—shit—it’s like your cunt doesn’t wanna let go—”

You’re trembling under him, moaning through your teeth, barely able to breathe around the stretch.

Jake looks like he’s losing it—jaw clenched, eyes glassy, watching every twitch of your mouth like he’s chasing the moment you break.

“I—can’t move yet,” he grits. “You’re gonna fuckin’ kill me.”

You nod weakly, adjusting your hips—but it’s too slow for him. He shifts, trying to pull back, but your body sucks him in deeper. His knees buckle.

“Fuck. Fuck. I’m gonna…”

When you finally push him to lie back and straddle him—easing yourself down inch by fat inch—his head falls back with a groan so loud it shakes your chest.

“God, yes—ride me, ride me. Take it—please—I’ll be good—just move—just fuckin’ move on me—”

You grind down slow, gasping every time the stretch hits a new edge, your gummy walls gripping him like fire. And Jake? He watches with wide, disbelieving eyes, like he’s never going to recover from this. Trying to touch every patch of skin he can touch.

He doesn’t last long.

By the time you start bouncing, it’s over for him—his hands gripping your hips too tight, his head dragging against your chest, hips punching up into yours like he’s trying to leave a mark inside you. He moans your name again and again, like a curse.

He finishes inside you, painting you with the thickest load you ever felt. He barely pauses before flipping you onto your back in front of him, and lining up again.

You try to speak—protest, tease, something—but then he’s thrusting back in raw, and your body seizes under him with a high scream.

“Oh my god—Jake—”

His cum is still slicking your walls. He groans, watching the mess.

“You’re gonna take it all,” he moans, fucking deeper, slower. “Gonna keep it warm for me—let me fill you again.”

He keeps going—harder, deeper, wetter. His rhythm is messy, almost frantic. He’s not careful anymore. He’s not pretending. He grabs your hips like handles and slams in, again, again, again—

“Want this pussy loose from my cock,” he groans. “Want it to miss me—want it dripping so bad it calls for me in the middle of the night—”

You scream his name again, legs kicking as the next orgasm builds too fast. He watches you come undone with wild, manic pride—like every second of your pleasure feeds something dark and bottomless in him.

It's too freaking fast for you, but it’s too good to stop.

When he pulls out, his cum drips from your stretched, fluttering hole, and Jake stares like he’s been hypnotized.

“…It’s perfect,” he whispers.

He dips down. Licks your lips clean. Moaning, tasting himself on your cunt like he’s tasted salvation. You suddenly feel his fingers scissoring you just to measure the new gape he created. “Fuck, I hope it stay like that… Mine only.”

You chuckle, regaining a stable breath. And when you think he might be done, might finally let you breathe, he climbs back over you again. Cocks already twitching back to life.

“You said I could do anything I wanted, Yeah ?” he whispers, voice hoarse.

You nod with questioning eyes—still dazed, spent—and Jake smiles.

That smile? It’s not shy anymore. It’s hungry and deeply perverted.

Your body’s still trembling when Jake pulls you up by the hips, flipping you like a ragdoll. You barely have time to whimper before he yanks your ass up, knees under you, back arched high—exposed, dripping, ruined—and so perfect for him.

He grabs your ass with both hands, spreading you wide. His cock, still wet from the last round, nudges your slit again.

“Fucking look at this,” he breathes, voice shaking. “God—you’re still gaping. I can see where I came in you. You’re still so open waiting for me.”

Jake’s fingers tighten around your hips, he’s yanking you upright by the arm—his other arm circling under your chest, palming your breasts like they’re sacred and obscene all at once. Then he trusts again, slow but brutal, every fat inch meeting with your convulsing gummy wall.

“Look,” he pants into your neck, breath scalding, hips still twitching. “Look at how full you are—fuck, you’re dripping, it’s leaking down your thighs, and it’s still warm in—” He groans, not even finishing the thought as he runs his fingers down to catch it, spreading the slick mess over your lower stomach before pressing it back into your folds like he can’t stand to waste a drop. “You were made to be full like this.”

He thrusts his hips forward once—just to feel the bulge press against your stretch again—and exhales something close to a sob.

“I want to keep you like this. Plugged.”

You barely catch your breath before he shifts again, guiding you back to all fours, but not letting go of your breast, tweaking the sensitive peak as your spine arches.

“Want to stretch you wider, ok ? ‘m gonna push deeper than last time. Make it stick.”

He presses into you again—slower this time, but deeper—and you feel every fat inch of him slide back inside, your walls fluttering around him in overstimulated spasms.

He groans loud, needy. “So fucking warm. So tight. You’re perfect. You know ? You were made for me— You take it so good— I could die.”

You whimper into the mattress, already unraveling.

“I’ll ruin this cunt until it remembers me,” he growls, losing himself in the thrust. “Every time you sit.” He goes harder, “Every time you walk.” Again, “You’ll feel me.”

He thrusts hard—brutal and fast now—slapping into you with the force of a fevered obsession. His hand claws at your hip, pulling you back into him like he can’t bear even a millisecond of distance.

“Tell me I can fill you again,” he begs, voice cracking. “T-tell me you want it—fuck—tell me I can keep going until there’s nothing left.”

“Jake—” You gasp, trying to push up on shaky arms, but he shoves you back down, pressing between your shoulder blades with possessive weight.

“Say it,” he groans. “Please, say I can wreck you. That you want it.”

“I—” your voice breaks as he hits a spot next to your cervix, so deep your toes curl. “Yes! Fuck, yes, Jake—don’t stop—!”

He loses it. One hand fists in your hair, the other gripping your waist so hard it bruise. He pounds into you, groaning curses and sweet nothings between breathless cries of your name, like he’s chanting a prayer.

“God, I’ve thought about this—fucking obsessed. Couldn’t sleep. Had to jerk off just thinking about this ass bouncing on me, this pussy milking me dry. You don’t know what you do to me—what you make me into.”

Every thrust feels like a claim. Every sound he rips from your throat is one more piece of you handed over. You thought he was prey—but he’s devouring you. He’s been playing the long game. And now that he’s got you?

He’s never letting go.

“Tell me you’re mine,” he pants, voice splintering with madness, like it’s the only truth keeping him tethered. “Tell me you’ll take it all again. I’ll pump you so full you’ll forget your name—only know mine. Tell me.”

“Jake—”

He snarls, hips slamming into you with dizzying rhythm, cock hitting a spot so deep your vision spots. “Tell me you want me to fill you until this tight little cunt can’t forget me. Until it stays open for me. Until no one else can even fit.”

Your whole body spasms. You reach back, fingers blindly digging into his hip, trying to hold onto something.

“I love it,” you cry out, head lolling back. “I love what you’re doing—I love you ruining me—Jake—fuck, I love it—!”

You feel him twitch inside, feel the moment he breaks again—spilling inside you like it’s the only thing he was ever meant to do. He stays buried deep, shaking, moaning, pressing his hips against you with frantic desperation still spilling the remaining seeds, like he wants to seal it inside.

He collapses forward, chest against your back, kissing your neck like a sinner desperate for mercy.

And then, softly—shattered and breathless—he begs again: 

“You love it ?”

Your voice is wrecked, but you find it. “I-I love it, good boy— I love what you do to me.”

He exhales, trembling, and chuckling darkly into your skin. “Then I’m never stopping.”

And you believe him. Because you’re not the one holding the leash anymore. You never were probably. You just didn’t know how good it would feel to be the one hunted.

Your eyes flutter open to the soft drag of warm fabric between your thighs.

He’s there.

You blink the haze from your eyes, watching through half-lidded lashes as Jake crouches at the edge of the bed, his face pink and still damp, hair sticking to his forehead, shirtless, the early haze of dawn casting soft shadows on his skin. He’s focused, wiping you clean with shaking hands and too much gentleness for someone who left you gasping and broken just hours ago. Every inch of your body aches in places you didn't know could feel pleasure, And he’s biting his lip—focused, like touching you now requires permission.

You stir, but he doesn’t flinch. Just looks up at you slowly. His eyes are red-rimmed but not tired. They're quiet. Obsessively quiet. Like he’s holding himself back from crawling up and kissing every bruise he left.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers, voice hoarse. “I—I went too far. I got lost. I couldn’t stop. You were so—” He breaks off, clenching the cloth in his fist. “I need you to know I didn’t mean to scare you.”

You blink. Not because you’re afraid. But because something in you knew. Deep down, you wanted to provoke this side of him. But still… you didn’t expect it to be so uncontainable.

So overwhelming.

So real.

“I’m okay, Jake” you say softly. He lets out a breath like it’s the first air he's had all morning. You reach for him—touch his jaw gently. He leans into it like it’s the only thing keeping him together.

“You ruined me,” he mumbles, kissing your hand slowly, voice low and trembling. “You don’t even know it. I can't think straight anymore. Can’t stop needing to make you feel everything I feel.”

Suddenly, you pull yourself up, trying not to look too exhausted. Your feet now set themselves on his thighs. Seeing him in this position, kneeling under you makes you exalted.

His Head bowed, hands folded in his lap, waiting. The silence is electric. His breath stutters, when your legs slowly part just enough for his eyes to drift upward.

“Is this what you want?” you ask, voice steady, even if you’re burning on the inside.

His eyes close for a second like it physically hurts to contain it. He nods with shame.

“Y-you know I do. P-please. I’ll do anything. You—you can hurt me, use me, ignore me—I don’t care. Just don’t make me stop loving you like this.”

Something in you softens and sharpens all at once.

You grip his jaw tighter. “Then show me what that looks like when I’m the one in control.”

He hesitated a bit. Then kneels his head on the floor—beautiful, trembling. You let him simmer for some minutes, then, you tilt his chin up, slowly, watching the way his eyes glaze the second you touch him. “If you want me,” you say quietly, “you’ll have me. But only on my terms. You’ll kneel like this. You’ll ask for everything. You’ll learn to wait.”

His breath catches. His hands dig into his thighs, and his gaze—still glassy—locks on yours with desperate intensity.

“And if I say no?” you ask, teasingly.

He leans forward without thinking, resting his cheek on your thigh, voice small and broken:

“Then I’ll wait until you say yes. Even if it kills me.”

Your fingers thread through his hair, stroking him, calming him—but also owning him. His eyes flutter shut, his breath syncing with yours, his whole body melting into that position like it’s where he was always meant to be.

You smile.

He doesn’t know it yet—but you’re going to let him have you again. You want him too.

But next time ? You’ll tame him just enough to remind him who he belongs to.

And if he snaps? God, you almost hope he does.

Because nothing has ever felt more like home than the arms of the beast who chose to kneel.

Thank you so much for reading!

This is my first time posting (even though my drafts folder's overflowing). I’ve been sitting on this idea for a while, and with Enha comeback hitting me hard, I finally said, “Screw it—just post it!”

Originally, this was meant to be a one-shot of mutli ver. Step bro enha, but the word count and inspo had other plans, so I split it into two parts:

Jake’s: HUNTED

Heeseung’s: TRAPPED

(And possibly a third: Sunghoon’s: CHAINED)

I’d really appreciate any feedback—good or bad! It helps me improve, and honestly, just knowing someone read it means the world 💗

I’ll be doing a bit of proofreading and maybe polishing up the rest if people are into it.

xoxo~ 💋

[ksascriptt]

Bleachers and Bedside Manner - Jack Abbott x Reader

Dr Jack Abbott x Fem!College Athlete!Reader

Warnings: Light-ish injuries on reader, mention of reader diving (in volleyball), reader has been playing for 10-14 years, age gap (20ish-late 40s), Jack is kinda a lil perv but reader might be too, almost spicy but not at all, he checks out her ass, I know less about how an er works considering I’m premed

Summary: It’s too early to be awake, let alone dislocate a shoulder and concuss yourself at practice. Maybe a hot doctor will make it a little easier.

Notes: I js kinda puked this out after binging the Pitt for a third time idk, once again English is not my first language, I’m tired, and this wasn’t proofread.

Word count: ~635 (js a lil blurb)

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4:30 in the morning — too early for most people to be awake, let alone flooding the ED. The few patients who were there didn’t wait long, and despite the superstitions surrounding the word, it was slow. Hence why Dr. Abbott stood a few feet from the nurse’s station counter, tossing pens into a cup while glancing at the board.

Jack was bored enough to take the next case no one else jumped on — a 20-year-old female with a concussion and a dislocated shoulder. Nothing out of the ordinary, though he was never one to turn down a case anyway. Once you had been called back, assisted by a nurse to walk toward a private space, Jack nodded his thanks. Sitting you down on the bed, he took a seat on the rolling stool in front of you.

“So, I guess a good place to start is — how did this happen?”

“Uhm… yeah — I was at pre-season practice this morning, and I was diving, like… really far for a ball. I dove into the bleachers.”

Jack hummed in acknowledgment, eyeing your chart as he filled out other sections. You’d only been marked as having a mild concussion and a dislocated shoulder — which you’d earlier described as “kinda numb” — so he made a mental note to ask if anything else was bothering you.

“You play volleyball?” he asked, shining a penlight into your eyes, one warm hand gently bracing your head.

“Mhm — since I was eight,” you replied softly, sniffling away the tears from earlier. You shivered a little in the cold hospital air, dressed only in what you’d worn to practice: spandex shorts, a UPenn t-shirt, kneepads, and athletic shoes — not exactly ideal for the chill.

“Mm, must be pretty hardcore then. Can you tell me your name and date of birth, sweetheart?” His hands moved to the shoulder of your dominant arm, frowning a little at the wince you gave when he pressed too hard.

When you recited your info without issue and described the pain in your shoulder, he looked into your teary eyes and told you he’d make sure you could keep playing.

“Okay, I’m gonna have you lie down for me — there you go,” he said gently, clearing his throat at the way your thighs squeezed together as you adjusted on the table. “This might feel a little weird, but I’m just going to rotate your arm.”

His hands settled on your skin, the heat of his touch grounding as he brought your arm up, then over.

A pop sounded, and the pain washed away — relief bubbled in your small laugh.

“And… there we go.” Jack smiled at your happiness, giving your arm a soft rub before standing to grab a sling. “See? Isn’t that better?” he teased, raising an eyebrow before helping you sit back up.

“So, we’ll keep you in the sling for about four weeks, but I have to recommend waiting at least ten before playing again.”

He saw the flicker of disappointment in your eyes as you looked up at him. Jack ran a hand through his salt-and-pepper curls before helping you into the sling.

“I’d suggest a follow-up with your athletic trainer or primary provider — whichever works best for you,” he added after a moment, his fingers lingering a little longer than strictly professional.

“Yeah. Uh, thank you, Dr. Abbott. You’ve been really great,” you said, your eyes trailing from his arms to his kind, tired eyes. Batting thick lashes and offering a shy smile, you had him grinning like he didn’t have a license on the line. But the curve of your ass in those navy blue spandex had him muttering a curse under his breath as you left.

However, you had come to a different realization.

Dr. Abbott definitely talks you through it.

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I’m sorry 😞

[arroganceisherfavoritecolor]

i love ur donnie writings so much. he’s sucha perv but if i was reader i’d let him use me anyday (if ur gnna write this no degradation to reader pretty please :))

doll

𝜗𝜚 Donnies feeling a lil bit stressed. What better way to take it out than on you?

warnings: smut, Donnie is a bit angry n aggressive, reader is a sweetheart

You understood that Donnie had his issues. Any other girl would've turned him down, thats probably why he loved you so much. It wasn't all that bad though. He was just like any other teenage boy, except the fact he was schizophrenic and occasionally enjoyed vandalism. He'd get angry, frustrated, annoyed. Just normal human things.

One day it got a bit too much. The two of you were studying in your cute little bedroom, laying atop of the stuffed animals scattered along the sheets. You were jotting down notes about genotypes and phenotypes when you heard a noise akin to a growl. You turned your head to see Donnie pick himself up from the bed, his brows furrowed in defeat. "Whats wrong, Donnie?" you asked, sitting up straight. Donnie just shook his head and sat on your vanity chair. "Stupid fucking math..."

Donnies calculus homework had been consuming his thoughts for days now, the complex equations and abstract concepts twisting his mind into knots. It's not that he wasn't smart enough, thats the furthest thing from the truth. Its just that Donnie didn't really know how to deal with things he didn't understand.

Now, what kind of girlfriend would you be if you just let Donnie go unnoticed? It wasn't like his moods weren't obvious, because they definitely were. He'd pout like a little boy who's mom said no to a new action figure. His mouth would curl up into a frown, his usually stormy demeanor booming with thunder.

So, you stood up in front of him. He looked up at you with his blue eyes, swirling with irritation. "Um, maybe I could help you?" you said, hands clasped together politely in front of you. Donnie furrowed his brows. "What do you mean? You gonna do all this bullshit for me?" he was obviously still on edge. Obviously had some pent up stress that needed to be released.

"Well, no...but I could help you in a different way." Thats when it clicked in his head. Donnie slowly rose up from the chair. "Oh, yeah? Like how?" he asked, backing you up slowly. "I could help you get your anger out," you said meekly, looking up at him with a hint of fear in your pretty eyes. You began rethinking offering yourself up to him. You knew Donnie would never truly hurt you, he loved you. But with him it was always a gamble. "You want me to take it out on you?" Donnie inquired, looking down at you with a vicious smirk on his face. You nodded your head, too scared to speak real words.

Donnie pushed you down onto the bed, his tall frame looming over yours as he attacked your neck with kisses and bites, marking your flesh with the imprint of his lips. His hands roamed your body greedily, squeezing and groping every dip and curve.

Donnies mind was consumed by a haze of lust and desperation as he tore at your clothes. He popped your blouse buttons open and almost ripped the fabric of your skirt. You hadn't ever seen him like this, so desperate and rough. Donnie's large hands gripped your wrists tightly, pinning them above your head as he grounded his rock-hard cock against your soaked panties. You could only lay there and whimper.

His eyes flashed with a feral intensity as he tore your panties off your body, the flimsy fabric no match for his strength and desperation. He tossed the pink shreds aside carelessly, not caring about the cost, only caring about the prize now laid bare before him. "Donnie! Those were new," you whined, wrists still above your head. Donnies eyes met yours, torn away from the sight of your bare pussy. "You said you wanted to make me feel better, didn't you?" you nodded your head silently. "Then be good for me 'nd take it."

Donnie fucked into you with a feral sense. his thick cock stretched your tight walls around his throbbing shaft. He set a brutal, punishing pace as he pounded into you again and again like a dog in heat. There was no gentleness, no tenderness, only the urge to let out all that pent up anger.

Despite his harsh touch, Donnies words were sweet and loving. You couldn't hear exactly what he was muttering in your ear, but it was something about how perfect you are and how much he loves you. "So pretty 'nd perfect, you're like my personal little doll," he grunted. You could only moan in response, as your brain and self respect had leaked out of you long ago.

"You like that? You like being my doll?" Donnie asked as he pushed your legs up towards your ears. The stretch in the back of your thighs stung but soon turned into pleasure. You nodded your head, of course you liked being Donnies doll. You loved it.

You could feel your pussy clench and shake around Donnies cock. You wrapped your legs around his waist and pulled him in, moaning loudly into his shoulder. You held on for dear life as he continued to pound into your cunt. "Ple- please! Please Donnie!" you squealed. You didn't know what you were quite begging for. It was either for Donnie to slow down or for him to spill his cum into your pussy.

With a loud groan and a sequence of slow, messy strokes, Donnie spilled into your warmth. You felt your eyes roll back into your skull, warmth enveloping your entire being. Donnies hips and cock twitched as the final sparks of his released faded out. He collapsed on top of you, both of your sweaty bodies molding together.

Once you had both caught your breath, Donnie lifted himself up. He stared down at you, your forehead sweaty and your eyes watery. Although barely awake, you could feel the shift in Donnies aura. He seemed calmer, more relaxed.

Your cunt was better than any stress reliever.

(GUESS WHOS BAAACK😼 tysm sooo much to @weirdogirl888 for requesting!! sorry if its a lil bit short lol. lmk if ygs want a second part to this scenario or sum :3)