#of a guy pointing to a wall with red string

[hydriadd]

red orb you say?

[mycological-mariner]

I gotta take a step back from my current WIP. Put it in perspective. Writing can be such a bitch because at some point you get so involved in your own story and taking a step back to look at it Big Picture as a new reader is helpful

[alchemistc]

Post finale crack treated seriously. Ravi "Who's Tommy" Panikkar stirring shit up for his new friend.

red string

"You know you guys are like, weirdly interconnected, right?" Ravi asks, like Buck hasn't spent the last ten minutes admitting he doesn't know how to reach out to Tommy.

"How would you know?"

Ravi has the grace to look a little squirrelly for half a second. "Okay so I know a lot of people at the LAFD. Because of the Academy stint. And - well, a lot of them know I own rentals."

"Thanks for letting me do month to month, by the way."

"Yeah you sure did remind me that you saved my life a bunch of times before I agreed to that. I had to send in a special request with the company that runs that apartment building."

"Your life is way more important than a special request, Ravi."

Ravi looks like he has something else to say about that, but.

"You're veering off the point. I'm trying to tell you you two have like, a weird red string thing going on and it's kind of driving me crazy that you won't just figure it out and go live in his house month to month until you figure out your crap and like, elope like the crazy people you are."

Buck takes a second to let that sink in. "Have you been asking all your LAFD buddies about Tommy and me?" His narrowed eyes don't seem to have the same effect as Hen's. Ravi stares back at him like he's making a stupid face.

"In my defense, I did try to ask you but you spent weeks trying to find a way to pull his pigtails."

He's not touching that with a ten foot pole. Nice ammo for when he gets home, though. "So you, what, put together an itemized list of reasons we should be together?"

"Gross. No. I gossiped, like a normal person."

"Lists are important, Ravi."

"If you don't do something on your own I'll get his number from one of the guys at Harbor I know and tell him about all the baked goods you foisted on me for two solid months after he dumped you. And about all the pining I've had to put up with since -."

"Evan. Hey."

Buck is the sort of person who always wants to play it cool and never quite manages. The table jumps when he cracks his knee against it.

And there he is, in all his glory. Date night chic, four buttons undone, hair perfectly tousled, probably that aftershave that always made Buck want to live in the junction between his neck and shoulder.

"And that's my cue," Ravi says, and does a terrible approximation of a wink as he scoots out of the booth. "This is a setup. I set you both up. Tommy, this beer is yours, please sit. Don't make me do this a third time."

And then he's gone.

Tommy slides in, and it's familiar in a way that Buck doesn't enjoy.

Ravi reappears. "I already had his number, that was a decoy because I saw him walking in. Please, for the love of God, talk this time."

They stare at each other for a long, long time. Tommy has this way of looking at him that always makes Buck feel like he could run through a brick wall. Like Tommy would take care of him after even though it was a dumb thing to do. Like Tommy would thank him for the opportunity to take care of him.

"So Ravi has a theory," Tommy says, after they've taken their fill of staring in silence.

"I kept interrupting him but it kinda sounded like he's been spending way too much time dissecting our lives."

Tommy's smile lights up this dingy sports bar like nothing else. "Kinda reminds me of you, if I'm honest."

"He doesn't even like spreadsheets, Tommy."

"God, I love you."

It's a terrible place to start.

It's an excellent way to keep going.

[hysteria-things]

based off of this

BEREAL

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: dom!nate x reader

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: the bereal notification goes off when you and your boyfriend are in an intimate situation.

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: PURE FILTH, swearing, unprotected sex, p in v, choking, spanking, hair pulling, dumbification, breeding, ROUGH

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 631

𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞: DID NOT MEAN TO RELEASE THIS LATE BUT I HAD TO WAIT UNTIL MIDNIGHT SINCE I REACHED THE POST LIMIT AGAIN😭

but anyway matt/chris will be back tomorrow!

nate’s phone blows up with notifications on the nightstand from the DA BOYZ group chat with nick, matt, and chris — but he’s too busy to check it now.

moaning loudly, your hands clutch at the pillow your head is lying on. your knuckles are white, eyes rolling back so far in your head. it’s been forty-five minutes, and you came twice already.

you guys are making a fucking mess, but neither of you cares at this moment. his and your cum combined slap against your thighs, a string of arousal connecting and breaking each time he thrusts into you. you mumble something into the pillows, but it’s so incoherent that it sounds like a moan.

his hand is wrapped tightly around your neck, the other one running up and down the small of your back. he’s so deep inside your cunt that you seriously don’t know how he does it.

drool drips down your chin and onto the sheets below, body becoming rag doll-like when your grip starts to loosen and you start to rock violently to the speed of the way he’s plowing hard into you with no mercy. “there she is; getting fucked stupid on my cock because that’s all you have to fucking live for.”

only groaning in response, you start to see specks of white every time you blink. your pussy is so tight around his dick that it makes it hard for him to move. nate’s so balls deep that it feels like he’s in your throat.

silenced screams go past your lips as the headboard bangs rapidly against his bedroom wall, his tip brushing against your g-spot for the nth time tonight. he moans, grabbing your ass and jiggling it before slapping it. “might have to put my kid in ya.” he hisses, giving it another hit. “i need to breed this pussy full. you let me use it so well.”

catching a glimpse at his lit phone screen, he sees a specific notification pop up:

⚠️time to bereal⚠️

2 min left to capture a bereal to see what your friends are up to!

he smirks, grabbing his phone and opening the app. he points the camera to his face as the time counts down. eyes hooded and lips swollen, a handful of hickeys decorate his neck in red and purple, along with a few scratch marks on his chest.

pressing the white button at the bottom of the screen, he grips the top of your hair to yank your head off the pillow. he quickly turns his phone around, the back camera getting your face into view.

nate waits patiently a few seconds for the picture to render, letting go of your head so he can upload it. this is the first time he’s seen what you look like all night.

strands of hair are disheveled or stuck to your forehead from sweating, eyes crossed with your tongue sticking out like a dog. that poor brain of yours thinking only about nate’s cock fucking the shit out of you.

“i’m cu-mming.” you hiccup, shaking violently as you’re overstimulated from three hard orgasms. the boy behind you licks his lips, stopping deep before spurts of his hot cum fill your womb.

seconds later, reactions come flooding in on his post. some are from peers from high school, while the rest are from the crew.

madi’s eyes are wide, her hand covering her mouth.

nick looks disgusted, his face half out of the frame.

matt’s eyebrows shoot to his hairline, mouth hanging open in complete shock.

last but not least, chris smiles widely at the camera with a big thumbs up.

matthew.sturniolo: oh brother

nicolassturniolo: NATHAN DOE.

user: she’s living the dream, i’m afraid…

madifilipowicz: 😟

user: HE HAS BITCHES???

christophersturniolo: get that pussy bro😝

𝐭𝐚𝐠 𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭!

@bunbunbl0gs @lexisecretaccx @thy-mission @angelic-sturniolos111 @sophssturn @mattsneezing @janiellasblog @blahbel668 @meg-sturniolo @hearts4chris @mattslolita @sturnbaby @imwetforyourmom @tillies33ssss @sturnifyed @mayhem-72 @ripmattitude @p1xieswrld @alorsxsturn @txssvx @sttzee @multiluvr @delilahprentiss @matthewsspecial @sturnolio-luvs @sturniolho @suga-daddy-69 @tworosesblackthorn @luckistar-posts @gnxosblog @junnniiieee07 @sturnioloslurps @tylerthecreatorsrealwife @flowerxbunnie @imaslut4kehlani @sturniolosandmoree @hertvgirl @whoreforchrissturniolo @sturniolotriplettoplover @stars4matt @freshsturns @loverrsposts @sturnlcvr @elliesturniolo1 @tpvmz @user283926392 @lalalands86 @sukiipjs @sturniologirl813 @leahrab @chrissturniolosslut @h3arts4harry @sturnioloblogs @creamoncreamoncream2 @luv4kozume @ivyyyyyysposts @mirxcle1 @iluvm4ttsturni0l0 @catalina-island @mbsbaby @mattsdollie @pinkfarts @slut4mattsturn @stellarsturns @thesturniolos @vickeyzloserz @nononopenono1 @bitchydragonparadise @gdsvhtwa @hrt-attack @bellasfavbisexual @dwntwn-strnlo @venusbabysblog @meerkatzthings @crazychrisl0v3r @maggieflms @strtuniolo @mutualsafe @riasturns @sturniolowhore @antpile00 @ashley9282828 @stingerayyy2

[diceroll65]

party animal - b.e

billie eilish x fem!reader

summary: you are recovering from being cheated on by your now ex-girlfriend, and decide to attend billie's party where you know she will be. (billie is NOT the ex-girlfriend in question btw)

warnings: cheating, smut, praising, slight orgasm denial

part one, part two, part three

you have been laying around all day after finding out your girlfriend of a year and a half fucked another girl in the bed you share. you found out by finding a g string under your side of the bed, where you strictly only wore cheeky underwear. you confront your girlfriend as soon as she gets home from work, and tell her to pack her shit. the situation escalates to where she admits she cheated, but expresses the reason she did was because you guys haven't fucked in a while. boxes of her possessions sit in the living room later that night, as you clean up the kitchen to your now solo apartment. she leaves as soon as she finishes packing.

you wake up the next morning with the unsettling feeling of your close friend inviting you to her party, you and your now ex-girlfriend. up until this point, you had no desire to go. though, this feeling soon washes over, leading to a burning desire of you wanting to look absolutely sexy and rub it in your former girlfriend's face.

when it comes time to start getting ready for the party, you grab your mini black, skin- tight, halter dress that hug your curves exquisitely. you pair this with your vinaceous red pumps, along with your matching white gold pendant and bracelet set. your freshly pampered hands, amore at the grand canal colored oval-shaped acrylics dance across your chest as you admire yourself in the mirror. for makeup, you decide to be daring, doing a smoky eye look with a dark red lip. you spray tom ford's vanilla sex lightly over your pulse points, creating a more confident air about you.

you pull up to billie's place, with your attention focused on finding billie and letting her know the situation. you spot her immediately standing behind a girl, guiding her hips as she twerks against her. "classic billie" you say internally. the girl moves and billie's eyes go directly to you. "holy fuck, y/n-" she says admirably. you interrupt her "i need to talk to you" you say with a sense of urgency. she nods quickly, following you as you lead her away from the crowd. "you know tay is here right? i thought you guys were coming together?" billie utters, confused. "that’s actually why i wanted to talk to you" you start "she cheated on me" you say with a disappointed face. "no fucking way" she says with a dumbfounded expression. "want me to kick her ass out?" billie asks genuinely. "oh no, i actually want the opposite" you start, leaning against the wall. "i want her to be here, more than anyone, to realize how badly she fucked up" you declare, with a smile. billie takes in what you say, her eyebrow slightly rising "i think i have an idea" she states with a sinful smirk. you nod "whatever you have in mind, i'm down."

billie grins, reaching down to grab your hand. she escorts you towards the middle of the room. Good Ones by Charli XCX begins to play, as if it were planned. billie places both hands on your hips, twirling you around. her right hand gently grasps your lower abdomen, pulling your back against her front. you bite your lip at her unanticipated gesture, unaware of what else she has in mind. you situate your head against her shoulder, as your attention diverts to her face. billie smiles into your hair, breathing directly against your ear. your chest warms up due to the proximity.

you realize tay is in the back corner, and avoid looking in her direction. at this point, billie’s hands roam down to your hips, moving them to the beat of the music. billie leans into your ear subtly and says “she looks pissssed” in a low voice, slightly chuckling. you giggle at the thought. “good” you say, amused. you then turn to face billie, wrapping your arms around her neck. your left arm leaves her neck, going into the air, in spirit of the song tempo picking up.

“i always let the good ones go ooh-ooh-ooh ooh” pours out of the speakers as billie pulls you in as close as possible by your lower back. her eyes are narrowing, and she admires how lost you are in the music. you open your eyes to meet her gaze, finding yourself forgetting how to breathe. your mouth slightly ajar, the now heavy tension weighing on your chest. you both simultaneously lean in, your lips merging in sync. your arms meet each other again behind her neck, pulling her closer towards your face.

billie's hands desperately drag across your back, her grip tightens as you begin to fall into her due to the passion. it takes almost no time for you and billie to enter the closest room, which was the hallway closet, as your mind races with possibility. billie locks the door, quickly returning to your embrace. her expression completely unrecognizable, her eyes taking laps as she fervently admires your figure.

billie gently but firmly pushes you against the closest available surface, which in this case is against a shelf. your moans fill her ears, as she kisses and hovers over the pulse point in your neck, feeling your heart pulsate against her lips. she pulls back and looks at your now smeared lipstick, taking her thumb, rolling it over your lip and sticking it in your mouth. you suck on her finger, holding eye contact. as she pulls her thumb out, you kiss it and crash your lips into hers once more. she desperately reaches for the straps of your dress, and whispers into your mouth, in a begging tone "please, can i take this off you?" your stomach begins to twist, as you respond with "please do." she drags your straps off your shoulders, sliding the dress down to reveal your bare breasts and a pair of imperial purple lacy panties.

"my god, how could anyone cheat on you?" she says, her voice laced with lust. she places her thigh in between your legs, as you begin to grind involuntarily. she smirks at how instinctual that gesture was for you. you begin to slowly rub against her denim thigh, creating friction. meanwhile, your hair is aggressively rubbing against the shelf, creating knots you will have to attend to later. "fuck, you are so mesmerizing" billie says, watching you attempt to bring yourself to completion. "this is how you deserve to feel" she says, delicately fondling your breasts. you struggle getting yourself there, and you let out a sigh of agitation. "it's okay, let me help you" she suggests replacing her thigh with her hand. she adheres to your speed, picking up the pace a little more. billie is now rubbing your clit so fast that you are unable to stand. your balance is now being supported by the shelf behind you, as your knees begin to buckle. "holy fuck- oh my god-" you stammer, on the brink of finishing. "are you almost there? say my name when you get there, baby. she needs to be reminded that she can't make you feel this good anymore" billie voices, her eyes not able to steer away from you clenching around her touch. "bi-billie fuck" as you release with your knees giving out, causing you to slightly lean forward into billie's arms.

billie catches you immediately, one hand holding your abdomen, the other supporting your back. billie, now with a devious grin plastered across her face says "can we go one more time?" billie asks, clearly not wanting this moment to end. you nod tiredly, as she begins to kneel in front of you. she looks up to you through her eyebrows and asks "can i take these off?" as she motions towards your underwear. you nod desperately, as she without hesitation glides them off your figure. she is admiring your vagina, stalling to take in its beauty. "such a beautiful pussy" she whispers, watching you shift your weight because of how her compliment made you feel. "i just wanna-" billie says holding onto both thighs and hovering her head over your left thigh, breathing onto it. "i wanna have you gasping for air when i'm done with you" she says as she kisses your bikini line. she then licks along your clit, sending you a jolt of pleasure. billie proceeds to lick, as she then switches to sucking. you slide up and down the shelf once more, as you cannot support your weight due to the gratification. by now, moans are tumbling out of your mouth. "louder" she whispers into your sex, smiling at the groan you let out, feeling her voice through your body. you obey, as your moans increase in volume. she is smiling from ear to ear (ha) as she notices how well you listen. "so so good for listening, baby" she praises, as you are unable to pay attention. "billie oh my god-" you exclaim, as you are seconds away from releasing. "can you hold on a little longer for me, my love? i promise it will make you feel so so good" she says, as she returns back to your sex. you bite your lip, unsure if you are able to contain yourself from letting go. "i bet she's never made you feel this good, huh?" she says in an angry tone. "such a piece of shit" she says as she picks up her speed. tears begin to form in the corners of your eyes as you say "no one has ever made me feel so good, fuck." billie eyes light up hearing this, as she picks up the speed to an even faster rate. at this point, you are quietly screaming as the pressure of the climax becomes unbearable. "go ahead, baby. cum for me. right here, that's it" she says, as you completely release from the built up tension. billie helps you ride out your climax, as your legs are now shaking with how hard she just fucked you. and you are now letting your entire weight be supported by the shelf.

you look at her with your eyes barely open and cover your face, feeling vulnerable. billie replaces your hands with hers, as she traces shapes along your cheeks. "you deserve to feel this good every time, y/n" billie states "let me know if you ever want to do it properly" she says, with a genuine smile. you smile back, nodding and mouth "thank you" as you try catching your breath. all of a sudden your eyes completely widen as very harsh knocking is coming from the other side of the door.

part two -> so you don't have to scroll all the way back up! :D

[imistyou2]

Tummy bulge. c.sb

pairing: switch!Soobin x Noona!reader

warnings: sex. like that's about it. sub! soobin, a lil dom! soobin if u squint. basically switch lol. MINORS DNI!

summary: Your usually obedient junior, Soobin succumbs to his biological tendencies when he sees what his cock does to your body.

This is part 2.1, you can read it as a stand-alone too

series masterlist

_

Lately, you've been more encouraging when it came to having sex with Soobin. What started off with his pleading moans and teary eyes from the first time you guys had sex turned into something frequent. Something ravishing. He would see the hungry look in your eye as your hands would snake around the nape of his neck during your shared classes. Pointy fingers massaging his skin and you inched your body closer and closer to him to the point where your breasts pressed plush against his bicep. It was a tale-tell sign that you wanted him, wanted his cock, the very thought sending the younger man into a mental frenzy.

Soobin's cock was no joke, you had made sure to verbalize this over many instances. From raving about the size to teasing him and getting him to blush red to ultimately rolling your eyes into the back of your socket when his thick girth enters your slicked-up pussy.

The tip of his cock had a velvety texture, shaped like a mushroom, growing red and pulsing tenderly as you played with his nipples or kissed his neck, sometimes even talking dirty to him, reminding him of what a loser freak he is. Oh, Soobin loved it when you did that, he would do anything to fall into your submission and let you play with him however you pleased. With the increase of sex, Soobin's grown bolder, fiercer with his strokes.

You usually played with his head as he would gently pry open your insides, thrusting in softly to match your breathing before increasing the pace on your voice of command. The grip on his black locks would tighten as his cock fully entered you, even with all your slickness, the stretch was a bit deafening before his rhythmic thrusts and desperate moans would drown out the slight pain.

He would keep his eyes closed, head tilting back from the sheer feeling of your gummy walls, but one time his eyes peeked open amidst his ecstasy and he saw the expression on your face. Despite your dominating attitude, your face curled into a look of pure bliss from his cock, a thin string of drool lolling from the side of your bitten lips. Soobin's heart somersaulted in his chest before his gaze peered down.

Holy shit. A distinct bulge appeared in your abdomen every time his cock thrust inside. His eyes widened tenfold, mouth agape from what he was seeing. He couldn't believe it was him making his noona like that- all needy and whiny and bulgey. He's so used to your bold attitude and as much as he loved that, he didn't mind seeing your softer and submissive side from time to time. Without waiting he would increase his pace, rocking into your cunt with great speed.

"AHHH~~ Soobin what the fuck. When did I ever say you could go that fast?!"

"Fuck, Noona you feel that?" He placed his long fingers around the bulge, trying to cup it as his hips stammered. He was close and seeing your body stretch like this for him didn't help. "Noona, am I making you feel good? Look at the way my cock's stretching you Noona, look at that bulge."

Your eyes looked forward to seeing where his hand was and as a matter of fact, there was a huge indentation, something trying to protrude out from your lower belly. Your cunt grows wetter from the thought of his cock rearranging your insides so deliciously. His hips pound into you, intense concentration to make you cum from his cock alone.

"Shit,shit, shit just like that, make your noona cum, Soobie. Yeahhh."

You reach your climax and so does him, painting the insides of his condom with the thick liquid. With a few more thrusts, his hips slow down as his sweaty head falls past your shoulder and onto the pillows. His hips still keep working, rolling slowly but not stopping. This was a different version of Soobin from what you have seen in the last four months of being involved with him. You've gotten to know he's a fast learner, adapting himself to your liking and what makes you feel the best.

"What has gotten into you today Choi Soobin, doing things when your noona hasn't even told you to?"

His head turns to the side, facing you. He gives a coy smile as you raise your brow in amusement. His lips curl, "Just saw how I made you feel and couldn't stop myself, Noona."

"Oh, stop-!"

You both burst into giggles, not before you've pinched his sides lightly and he yelps out, "Sorry ma'am, won't do again! Hahaha!"

Well, you certainly won't mind this side of Soobin again, you can't wait to see what more riles him to take charge like he did today.

-

a/n: unedited per usual :) tummy bulge + soobin is like water at 3 am.

[lightsoutmatthews]

protective auston has me feeling some type of way lol can you do something similar for willy? something like they are already an established couple and he never had to be protective before so she’s never seen that side of him? thanks!!!

Oh Annon you got my creative juices flowing with that one because I was debating between this and what I wrote for Auston and I was HOPING someone would send in another request. 🙏🏼

I got you – William Nylander

You weren’t used to this side of William.

He wasn’t exactly a hothead, never had been. If anything, William was calm to a fault. He didn’t raise to bait, didn’t snap back when people ran their mouths in interview or chirped him on the ice.

At home, with you, he was easygoing. Chill. Unshakably steady and calm. That was one of the first things you loved about him. He made you feel like you could relax. No drama. No big emotional explosions.

So, when it happened, it caught you off guard.

The two of you had been dating for multiple years at that point. You weren’t still in that careful stage where you pretended things didn’t bother you.

You lived together, shared grocery lists, fought over whose turn it was to do laundry. You knew his morning coffee order by heart. He kept a drawer in the entryway just for your keys because he said you always lost them in your bag.

You had been through quiet nights and loud ones. Road trips. Boring errands. Injuries. Post-game slumps. Summer lulls.

But you had never seen him like this.

It started at a team event. A charity dinner. You were used to those, dressed up, made conversation with executives, sponsors, teammates and smiled for the photos.

Most people were nice. Some were fake-nice. A few were a little too into the whole girlfriend of an NHL player thing, but you learned to brush that off.

The guy who crossed the line didn’t start off as a problem. He was older, some kind of donor or sponsor of the team. He wore a watch that cost probably more than your car and looked like he lived on red wine and bad decisions.

He was talking to you and a few other people near the bar. You didn’t catch his name, just his business card when he slipped in into your hand.

“You should call me some time,” he said, his tone light but with a weird edge. “I do consulting. Media stuff. You´ve got a great look, could be good on camera.”

You gave a polite smile and stepped back half an inch. Not rude, not obvious. Just enough to signal you weren’t interested in his offer. You figured he would take the hint.

He didn’t.

“You with someone tonight?” he asked, like he hadn’t noticed the very obvious fact that you were standing less than ten feet away from your boyfriends table.

William had been stuck in a conversation with a couple of board members, his eyes flicking to you every few minutes like a clockwork. He was watching. Not hovering, just being aware.

“Yeah,” you replied making your voice sound as flat as possible. “I´m here with my boyfriend.”

“Let me guess. One of the players?” he chuckled, like it was a cliché.

“Yeah,” you repeated, less amused.

He laughed some more, leaning in a little closer. “That´s fun. Bet he gets jealous real easy.”

You didn’t say anything. You didn’t have to. You felt it before you even saw him.

William´s presence sliding in between you and the guy like a wall. Not loud. Not even rude. Just there.

“Hey,” William opened the conversation, resting his hand lightly on your lower back, eyes on the man in front of you. “Everything good here?”

The way he said it was casual, but something in his voice was different. Tighter. Like a string pulled taut.

You turned towards him instinctively, he looked at you first, not the guy. You nodded. “Yeah, we´re just finishing up.”

But William didn’t move. Didn’t smile like he usually did with sponsors. He looked at the man, quiet for just a beat too long. Then, still calm, he said, “She´s with me.”

“I gathered,” the guy huffed, like William was being dramatic for stepping in. Still, he looked at him a little more carefully now. “Maybe you shouldn’t leave your girl alone in a room full of men eying her up and down in that dress,” he added regardless.

Now it was William that huffed. “Maybe you should take a hint when a woman is clearly not interested and taken.” He paused for a second. “I remember you seeing us walk in.”

The guy raised his hands in defense. “I didn’t mean anything by it.”

“Sure,” William replied, still even.

The hand on his back never moved, it anything, his fingers curled a little tighter around the fabric of your dress.

It was a short exchange, a minute tops, but it changed something.

The man backed off, chuckled something under his breath, and walked away without another word. Then it was just you and William.

You looked up at him. “You okay?”

“Yeah,” he mumbled, features softening. “You?”

“I´ve had worse,” you nodded carefully.

He nodded too, but he didn’t say anything else. His jaw was tight. Not really angry, but protective in a way that felt new.

You didn’t say much about it first. He stayed close the rest of the night, never smothering but definitely within reach. His hand found yours often and you caught him glancing around more than usual.

It was weird, seeing him like that. Not because you didn’t like it, if you were honest with yourself, you kind of did, but because it was different. Like you had unlocked a version of him you had never needed before.

Back home later that night, your brought it up.

“You dint usually do that,” you opened, slipping out of your heels. “Get, I don’t really know what to call it, protective, I guess?”

William, who was changing out of his dress shirt on the other side of the bed, looked over at you, “No?”

You shook your head. “I mean, you´re not the jealous type. You don’t get weird when people talk to me.”

“I´m still not jealous,” he argued, walking over and dropping onto your side of the bed next to you. “That guy just sucked.”

“He did suck,” you chuckled.

William tilted his head a little, thoughtful. “I didn’t like the way he looked at you. Especially, knowing you were taken.”

“He was a creep,” you offered.

“It wasn’t just that,” he muttered, much quieter than usual. “He didn’t respect you.”

You looked at him, there was something serious about his voice that made you sit up straighter.

“He didn’t listen when you said you were with someone,” he continued. “Didn’t take you seriously because you were with a player on the team. I know you can handle yourself, but I just…” He cut himself off, running a hand through his hair.

“What?” you asked gently.

“I just didn’t like it,” he summed it up. “I didn’t like the idea if you feeling like you had to be polite to someone like that. I know it happens more than I probably realize.”

You were quiet for a moment. “It does.” He exhaled loudly. “Yeah.”

Your reached for his hand. “You were good, though. You didn’t cause a scene.”

“I wanted to,” he admitted. “Like, just for a second, I felt like, I guess possessive. Which really isn’t me.”

“It´s okay,” you hummed. “It didn’t feel like you were trying to control anything. You just showed up. That’s all.”

He laid back on the bed, letting out another loud exhale while staying quiet for a second. “I don’t ever what you to think I don’t care,” he muttered, looking up at you, instinctively grabbing your hand. “Sometimes I worry I come off too chill. Like I don’t notice that stuff.”

You laid down next to him, carefully curling into his side. “You notice plenty,” you mumbled into his bare chest. “And I like that you´re not the type to get into a fight or argument over nothing.”

His glaze softened and he carefully wrapped an arm around you before placing a soft kiss to your head. “But if it’s not nothing?”

You smiled, squeezing his hand that was still resting in yours. “Then I´m glad to know you´ve got my back.”

[thisapplepielife]

Written for the @corrodedcoffinfest Somewhere Over the Rainbow pop-up event.

born to run

Prompt: Red | Song: All Too Well by Taylor Swift | Word Count: 1978 | Rating: T | POV: Eddie | CW: Self Isolation, Language | Tags: Post S4, Eddie Munson Lives, But He's Isolated, And Steve's Having None of It, Good Uncle Wayne Munson, Getting Together, Friends to Lovers, First Kiss, Lots of Springsteen References

'cause there we are again on that little town street, you almost ran the red 'cause you were lookin' over at me

The criminal case had fizzled into nothingness, dismissed before it began with some strings pulled from places higher than Eddie will ever understand. Of course, the court of public opinion has been less forgiving. Eddie's not surprised, not at all. It's always that way for guys like him. 

Different. Weird. Freak.

Guilty.

Even if he's not.

He still feels trapped, caged, locked up. Like he can't leave the house. And as someone who wants to run by nature, that's been torture. 

At the new house, the backyard is fenced, and that's Eddie's prison yard. He walks the fenceline, pacing in a big circle, the only energy outlet he has. Just a never-ending loop, wearing a path into the grass. Alone with his thoughts.

Unless he isn't. He hears footsteps brushing through the leaves, and freezes. Then he sees the hands reach up and grasp the top of the tall wooden fence. Seconds later, Steve is hoisting himself over the backyard wall with ease, like some sort of knight in shining armor.

Eddie laughs, though his heart is still beating against his chest, just a little. 

"Front door didn't work?" Eddie asks as Steve swings his body over, sliding to the ground.

"Uh, forgot my key. You didn't answer. I knew you had to be out here," Steve says, wiping his hands on his jeans, "And look! You were!"

It's far too excited of a tone, especially when there was nowhere else Eddie could have possibly been. It's not like he leaves the yard. Eddie starts pacing again, and Steve falls into lockstep. Walking in circles right beside him.

He'd never tell Gareth, wouldn't even admit it under pain of death, but Steve's been the best friend he could ask for these past months. Nobody else is even close. It's just different. What they both know. What they've been through. Seen. Survived. Together.

He finally gets the old war buddy bond that Wayne talks about. It's no joke.

"I'm going stir crazy in this prison," Eddie says, because there's never a reason to lie to Steve.

Steve's seen his worst days. Maybe someday he'll see his best, too. Eddie is optimistic that this isn't forever, even if it feels like it right now.

Jogging a couple steps ahead, Steve turns so he can walk backwards ahead of Eddie. 

"I have an idea."

"And that idea would be?" Eddie probes. He's open to anything right now.

"It's your birthday, right?" Steve asks, and Eddie didn't even realize he knew that.

"Uh, yeah. Tomorrow."

"Come for a ride with me," Steve says, and Eddie's already shaking his head. No way. 

Steve's eyes are pleading, but Eddie can't.

"Later tonight. When the town is quiet. Nothing will happen. Not while you're with me. Not on my watch," Steve says, and Eddie feels his resolve crumbling. He doesn't want to leave the house, but Steve's using those fucking eyes of his against Eddie. It's really, truly unfair. 

Eddie doesn't say no, but he doesn't say yes either.��

For now, they'll just pace the yard, loop after loop.

Laying on Eddie's bed, Steve's got a cigarette dangling from his lip, head upside down off the edge of the bed as he holds up the liner notes of Born to Run, reading them. It was Steve's turn to pick the record. Some of Steve's have slowly migrated to Eddie's room, collection intermingling.

"Hey, Eddie, this guy, he's the real thing," Steve says, just before Springsteen sings the same line of lyrics. 

Eddie laughs.

Steve's proving a point with this album, has been all night. He wants to hide out on the backstreets. Wants a meeting across the river. He wants to ride out tonight to case the promised land. 

Eddie, after all, is born to run.

Wayne appears in the open bedroom door, and they both look over at him. He's got a six-pack held up, "First legal drink on me."

"I'm not twenty-one yet," Eddie banters, tapping his watch.

"Well, I gotta get to work, wise guy. Show some restraint for once and don't crack one open until after midnight."

"What about Steve?" Eddie teases. "He's a minor. Don't make me call Chief Hopper."

Wayne laughs, putting the beer down on the desk, having to scoot some shit to the side to make room for it, "What I don't know won't hurt me."

Eddie grins. He knows before all this bullshit happened, Wayne would have taken him out to his favorite bar for that first drink. That's not really an option now, unfortunately.

Wayne smiles back at him, "Happy birthday, kid."

"Thanks, old man."

"Birthday breakfast?" Wayne asks, "Both of you?"

And they both nod. Eddie tries to not read into the fact that Wayne just assumes Steve's staying all night. Eddie knows he probably will. Steve's made it his personal mission to keep Eddie company.

"Stay out of trouble," Wayne says, a relic of years gone by. And then he's gone. Eddie's definitely not getting into trouble these days.

Steve goes back to studying the lyrics printed on the album flap.

"This town rips the bones from your back," Steve reads, and then looks up at Eddie, "Who knew Springsteen has been to Hawkins?"

Eddie laughs. Ain't that the goddamn truth. It is a death trap. But maybe that's a more universal feeling than he's considered it to be.

It's quiet for a while, Steve reading, both of them smoking. Springsteen crooning from the corner.

"Wanna go for that ride?" Steve asks, interrupting the silence, looking hopeful and earnest.

Eddie shakes his head on instinct, but for some reason he still agrees anyway. For Steve. 

"Okay, big boy. Take me out into that town full of losers."

Playing it safe at first, as promised, Steve hugs the side streets. Long patches of inky darkness only broken up by dim street lights on corners. Revealed with the soft swish of the windshield wipers. A summer shower that'll probably stop as quickly as it started.

Eventually they move out onto the main drag. Eddie isn't sure how it looks exactly the same, but also so different. They've cleaned it up well. Fast. He's shocked. The world, the town, is spinning on without him as he stays stagnant, trapped in that house.

Steve's looking at him. Staring. Eddie can feel his eyes on him.

The light changes.

"Red," Eddie says.

"Huh?" Steve asks, brow furrowing.

"Light's red!" Eddie shouts, and Steve slams on the brakes. Sliding a little on the wet road before coming to a stop. Squeezing the steering wheel, laughing.

There's not another soul on the road, but they still stop and wait for it to change back to green.

"Green means go, red means stop," Eddie mocks.

"One stoplight in town, and I almost ran it," Steve giggles, looking back over at Eddie, just like he had been before the jarring stop. Eddie can't help smiling. It's nice, and Steve's car feels safe. Like the house, like the backyard. Another extension of home.

That's all Steve. 

When the light changes, he pulls away from the intersection and the wind whips through Eddie's hair.

The clock flips over to midnight, and Eddie's a year older. Maybe this one will be different. Better.

"Happy birthday," Steve says.

"It's just another day," Eddie answers, because he can't get his hopes up for anything to change.

Steve reaches over and rests his hand on Eddie's knee, and it's shocking and comforting and inevitable, "You're turning twenty-one. That's supposed to be fun."

Eddie covers it with his own, and feels his heart flip in his chest.

"You're a poet and didn't even know it," Eddie says, deflecting, because anything else feels too big, too real.

Steve laughs and pulls his hand back to his own lap.

Eddie misses it, immediately.

So much for a summer shower. It's a full-on downpour by the time they pull back into the driveway. They run back into the safety of the house, laughing, Steve locking the deadbolt behind them. Then his hands are on Eddie. One hand sliding around the back of Eddie's head, tangling in his damp hair, pulling him close.

Looking right in his eyes, Eddie feels trapped, pinned down in another way now.

This way is much better.

"Green," Eddie whispers, and Steve furrows his brow just for a second, then he smiles.

"Green means go," Steve says back, and hell yes it does.

Steve goes, because he's brave, and Eddie feels Steve's mouth covering his for the first time. Eddie reaches for him, clings to him, kissing him back.

After three months in the grave, locked away in this tomb, Eddie feels alive again. Warmth flooding his cheeks, kissing Steve Harrington. 

It suddenly feels like a home, not a prison. Just like that. Eddie's world shifting, being illuminated with the warmth that Steve has offered him.

Eddie squeezes Steve's biceps, and Steve walks him back towards his bedroom. And Eddie goes more than willing, letting Steve pull off their damp clothing, tossing them away. He sighs as Steve presses him down into the mattress, covering Eddie's whole body with his own. Shielding him, protecting him, still. 

Harrington's got him. 

Steve finds his hand, laces their fingers together, squeezing tight. Eddie tilts his head, deepening the kiss. Humming with happiness as Steve eventually pulls back, and moves to kiss his neck instead. Lips dancing across his skin, his tongue peeking out, brushing against the juncture of his neck, making Eddie laugh, delighted.

It's soft, and sweet. 

It's everything Eddie never knew he needed. 

Even in their underwear Steve isn't asking for anything other than this, even if Eddie would willingly give it. This is enough, more than. Steve's hand holding his tightly, his body grounding Eddie's to his own, to the bed, to the world.

The noise of Hawkins, of death, of destruction finally pushed to the back burner with Steve lighting better fires to attend to with his mouth, his fingers.

Eddie's never had this, what feels like hours of staying so close, kissing, touching, just holding onto one another. They've shifted, now face-to-face in Eddie's bed. Steve's hand holding his. Like he might never let go.

He hopes he doesn't.

This was overdue, Eddie realizes.

Inevitable.

"Tramps like us," Steve says, and Eddie laughs, rolling on the bed, but not letting go. And he lets Steve tug him closer. There's no place left to hide.

Nowhere to run.

Eddie can't tell him he loves him. Not yet. Even if he knows he does. Probably has since he was stumbling through the woods of the Upside Down, trailing after Steve Harrington like a lost puppy.

Thinking he had no chance. Flirting to flirt, teasing to tease.

"Wild and real," Eddie says instead, and the way Steve smiles means he gets it. He knows what Eddie is saying without saying it.

Steve Harrington speaks in Springsteen, and after being around him for months, Eddie does, too. 

Eddie surges forward this time, taking the lead, kissing Steve again. He never wants to stop kissing him. He never wants to stop loving him with all the madness in his soul.

He's the one.

In the morning, they drink Eddie's warm birthday beer with breakfast. If Wayne notices that things have changed between them, if he sees their swollen lips and their stupid grins, he definitely doesn't mention it.

He just slides eggs and bacon and toast onto their plates before joining them at the table. Smiling as he gets to share that first legal drink with Eddie after all.

Wayne clinks his bottle against Eddie's, "Twenty-one will be better than twenty. You'll see."

Eddie grins, eyes cutting over to Steve who's already eating, wearing one of Eddie's threadbare shirts, a hickey on his neck.

Looking back at Wayne, Eddie smiles, maybe bigger than he has since before.

Fuck yeah, it will.

And if you want to write your own, or see more entries in this pop-up, check out @corrodedcoffinfest to see other entries for the Somewhere Over the Rainbow popup event!

Notes: Let's be so for real. Wayne totally already thought they've been together for months. 🤣

Tons of references to the album Born to Run in this one. Maybe more than the Taylor song that it was built around after all was said and done, lol.

[neeeooon]

shut me up ;

16 | you’re cheating on me?!

ft. fem!reader & chigiri, kunigami, nagi, bachira, sae, rin, shidou, kaiser

cw. cussing, death jokes, mentions of sex, (fake) crying, mentions of cheating, violence (kaiser gets slapped)

you covered your mouth to hide your yawn as you sipped your drink with your neighbors. you, sae, rin, and shidou decided to meet up for coffee (shidou invited the brothers without telling you, not that you minded the extra company) to get to know each other a little better.

“tired?” shidou asked, and you glared at the sly smirk that tugged at his lips enough to show teeth. “as a matter of fact, yes. i don’t know how you guys can put up with someone like kaiser.”

“i find myself wondering that, sometimes,” sae said into his cup of coffee.

rin swirled his cocoa around. “‘cause he can sing. doesn’t matter how annoying he is, fans love him and he makes us money.”

“that’s insane coming from someone who strives to be the best by putting others down, little itoshi.”

“i don’t put others down! i point out their flaws.”

you chuckled at the sibling-like arguing as sae rolled his eyes and shook his head. “children.”

“anyway,” shidou sang as he finally turned away from a red-eared rin. “any other revenge plans, y/n? since operation thumper was such a success.”

you nudged his ribs with the sharp part of your elbow. “a little less sarcasm would be appreciated, thanks. and i do have an idea, but it might be a bit extreme…”

“more extreme than hours of sex on a work and school night?” rin commented, and you hummed. “i guess you’re right. we are at war, after all.”

shidou clapped you on the back and gave you a passionate thumbs up. “i’m across the hall if you ever need me for another operation thumper!”

“that won’t be necessary, but thanks!”

sae and rin snickered as shidou sank back into his seat, grumbling under his breath.

☆ 🎸

plan b was in play the moment you heard the door slam shut next door. an excited squeal followed the string of giggling that got louder as kaiser and his guest approached his bedroom, directly across the wall from yours. you didn’t want to resort to such measures, but you had an exam in the morning that you were trying to cram for and knew you’d get nothing done unless something happened next door. thus, plan b.

sae had slipped you a key to kaiser's apartment after breakfast. he didn't ask what you planned on using it for, only that you'd keep where you got it from a secret. it was the quickest deal you'd ever made.

you took a breath and tried to calm yourself down, but the second you heard his bed squeak, you were on your feet. marching across the hall in your comfy grandma pajamas, you slipped the key into the lock and grinned when you heard a gentle click. without a moment of hesitation, you channeled every drama you'd ever seen and shoved the door so hard it slammed against the wall. the sound was loud enough to startle the occupants apart, and you forced tears into your eyes as you gasped at the scene, letting the key slip dramatically from your fingers.

"m-michael?" you cried, your voice breaking as you took in the sight in front of you. thankfully they hadn’t gotten too far, but both were in different stages of undress. "you're cheating on me?!"

"what—" kaiser started, brows furrowed as he tried to wrap his head around what was happening. the girl he was with jumping away from him as she clutched her shirt to her chest. "what the fuck?!"

by this point, you were full-on sobbing. "i'm pregnant, you bastard!" you watched the color drain from kaiser's face through you tears. the girl's head whipped between the two of you, her mouth agape.

"are you serious, y/n?" kaiser scoffed, shirtless and unamused. you sniffled before dropping your face in your hands. “i can’t believe you… i trusted you!”

you could barely conceal your shock as the girl stepped forward and slapped him across the face. "bastard," she seethed, snatching her heels off the floor before rushing over and taking you under her arm. "it's okay, sweetheart," she soothed, eyes full of sympathy as she led you out of the apartment.

you kept your face in your hands, afraid to break character with the evil cackle threatening to spill from your mouth, as she walked you down the hall and toward the elevator. she slowed to a stop and offered you a gently smile before giving your arm a rub. "do you have somewhere to stay tonight?"

you felt bad for lying to her after she was being so kind to you, but it was worth it to see kaiser's devastated expression. "i-i'm okay, thank you. my friend lives in this complex, i can stay with him."

her smile flickered for a second. "i know i'm probably the last person you want to see right now, but here's my number. call me if you need anything or if that asshole gives you any trouble, okay? you and your baby are better off without him." you took her number, thanked her, and waited until the elevator doors closed before jumping up in glee.

giggling at your success, you were about to skip toward your apartment when a slightly accented voice hit your ears and made you groan. "i must say, i'm impressed. i didn't think you'd go that far."

you glanced back at kaiser and shot him a scowl. "why, thank you."

he was leaning against his doorframe, still shirtless and smiling as if you hadn’t just spoiled his evening. "it was quite the performance. you aren't actually pregnant, are you?"

"fuck you." you gripped your doorknob but froze when you heard him approaching.

"i'm sure you'd like that, wouldn't you?"

you looked up to glare, shoulder blades hitting the doorframe when you realized just how closer kaiser was to you. from that stance, you could see the subtle flecks of gold in his blue eyes. he pressed a hand to the wooden door and tipped his head to the side. his eyes flickered as he brought the other between you, causing you to internally swear when you saw the silver key dangling from his pointer finger. "i wonder where you found this, hm?"

you narrowed your eyes at him. sae made you promise not to tell him, and you weren't about to break his trust. "yeah, i wonder."

kaiser's lips pulled back, revealing a grin so wolfish you saw teeth. "who gave it to you?" it didn’t sound like a question.

"found it."

his eyes glimmered in amusement. "you found it."

you shrugged. "mhm."

he leaned forward, trapping you between his body and the door. you could smell his body wash with how close he was. kaiser's eyes danced across your face. "fine, then. you won't mind if i keep this, right?"

you shot him another scowl. "not at all."

kaiser stared at you a little longer, scanning your face before he hummed and pushed himself away from you. "sleep well, hübsches."

you threw your door open. "oh, trust me. i will."

masterlist // previous (ch 15) // next (ch 17)

notes -> i wrote the entirety of this ch in two hours and was so proud of it and then tumblr deleted it all. :). AND THEN I WENT TO EDIT AND ACCIDENTALLY PRESSED QUEUE BUT THOUGHT I DELETED IT THIS CH HAS ME STRUGGLING 😭

tags -> @x3nafix @n0tbelle @nensi @ohagiyo @tired-child00 @melinana @chaoslibra @kaidostwin @bubybubsters @miss-aesthetic-13 @ihsoti @arwawawa2 @lonigiri @realrintaro @mivqko @sorasushik1 @pookalicious-hq @higuchislut @tofumiarchives @p1z-d0n7jud6em3 @rainychi2 @ch4rstxr @sapph1r3x @sagging-saging @5-laska @tuna-toes @seinuis @sindulgent666 @evilari111 @newinhalerpls @kisses2kanao @sugacor3 @meizumi @90s-belladonna @meowstertruck420 @kyutiipie @ranzess @nevvynev @stwberri @mikeymyfav @dontmindtheevie @kaikaidenkai @mizukiblogs @ravenbc @beoms-sugar @cyberasterrr @lily-isalittlegirl @yourlocaleffy @hanamatopoeia

© neeeooon, 2025

[honeydippedfiction]

Marked By You LSU!Joe x Angel

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Synopsis: After a night of teasing and unresolved tension, Joe's jealousy boils over, leading to an intense, possessive encounter that pushes both him and Angel to their limits. But beneath the heat and dominance, they rediscover their trust and devotion—sealed with soft aftercare and unspoken promises.

Warnings: Suggestive/Spicy Scenes,Power Play/Dominance, Jealousy/Possessiveness, Overstimulation, Mild Dirty Talk/Threats (Consensual), Emotional Vulnerability, Rough Intimacy with Aftercare. MDNI🔞

WC: 10.9k

A/N: barking and snarling in my cage as we speak

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• you DO NOT have my permission to copy my work, upload as your own, translate, or repost on any other website •

Requested: No but @honeyncherry put the idea in my head from her tags from this little blurb I did, so everyone say thank you Lexi🙂‍↕️

LSU, Beta Upsilon Chi

The party was already in full swing by the time Angel and Joe arrived. The faint thump of bass vibrated through the floorboards and rattled the windows, a relentless pulse that seemed to echo every heartbeat in the crowded frat house. Dim string lights hung overhead, tangled with purple and gold streamers—the school colors waving like a banner above the chaos. Bodies pressed close, swaying to the music, voices rising and falling in a chaotic symphony of laughter, cheers, and half-heard conversations.

Before Angel had even crossed the threshold, a hand appeared out of the crowd, pressing a red solo cup into her fingers. She took it with a grateful smile, eyes sweeping over the sea of faces as she stepped fully inside. Joe lingered behind her, his shoulders squared and tense. The faint crease between his brows was a map of the frustration he’d been carrying all week.

He hadn’t wanted to come.

“You don’t have to stay long,” Angel had whispered just before they left, her voice light but firm. “It’s just Jess’s birthday, and I want you there.”

Joe had grunted in reply, rubbing at the back of his neck. The team’s schedule was relentless; practice had drained every last ounce of energy from him. Parties weren’t his scene, and the thought of the loud music and the endless sea of faces made his chest tighten.

But he always said yes when it came to her.

And now, standing just inside the room, Joe was already regretting it.

Because the second they entered, the atmosphere shifted.

The stares were immediate.

Heads turned like they’d caught a sudden breeze, eyes tracking Angel as she moved through the crowd, radiant and effortless in a tight black dress that hugged every curve. The strappy heels she wore lengthened her legs, giving her a confident, almost statuesque presence. She didn’t need to try—people just noticed her. She pulled the room’s energy toward her like gravity.

Joe saw the way some of those eyes lingered too long, the subtle shifts in posture as guys tried to edge closer, to get a word, a touch, a smile. It was the kind of attention that made the skin crawl, the kind that planted thorns deep in Joe’s chest.

He took a long sip of his drink, jaw clenched tight, arms crossed over his chest as he leaned against the wall near the doorway. From his vantage point, he watched her laugh, the way her head tilted back with ease and joy, the sparkle in her eyes lighting up the dim room.

She wasn’t doing anything wrong.

Not even close.

But watching her like this—so open, so magnetic, so beautiful—while others moved in her orbit, ignoring him—it was a different kind of hell.

“You good?” came a voice beside him.

Ja’Marr slid up next to Joe, a smirk playing on his lips as he followed Joe’s gaze. “You look like you’re about five seconds from throwing hands.”

Joe barely managed a grunt.

Ja’Marr laughed softly. “Man, she’s just being friendly. Don’t get twisted.”

Joe shook his head, bitterness curling in his gut. “She doesn’t need to be that friendly.”

“You mean normal friendly?” Ja’Marr teased, nudging him with an elbow.

Joe didn’t answer.

Because Angel laughed again—clear and bright—and Joe felt the tight coil of jealousy snap inside him.

His fists clenched at his sides before he could stop the reaction, and with a heavy sigh, he drained the last of his drink and pushed off the wall.

“I’ll catch you later,” he muttered.

“Yeah, okay,” Ja’Marr called after him with a chuckle. “Tell her I said happy birthday.”

Joe ignored the comment, already making his way through the crowd.

Angel noticed him coming—her smile faltering just a fraction—but she masked it quickly. “Hey,” she said softly. “You okay?”

“We’re leaving,” he said, voice low, tight with something she didn’t quite want to name.

Her brow lifted in surprise. “What?”

“I said we’re leaving.” His hand slid around her waist, firm and possessive—not rough, but unmistakably his.

Angel’s smile dropped away.

“Joe…”

“Now, Angel.”

There was a sharpness in his tone, a territorial edge that made heat ripple down her spine.

She didn’t argue. Not aloud.

She handed off her drink to a passing friend, murmured a quick goodbye, and let Joe lead her out into the warm Louisiana night.

The walk back to her apartment was heavy with silence, thick enough to choke on. Angel could almost feel the tension humming between them, the way Joe’s jaw clenched so tightly it looked like it might crack. His hand stayed on her back the whole way—not gentle, not angry, but insistently present.

When they reached her door, Angel fumbled with the keys, and before she could even get the lock undone, Joe was on her. His hand shot out, grabbing her wrist, spinning her around until her back met the door with a soft thud.

His body pressed against hers, heat radiating in waves. His eyes darkened with something fierce, something raw.

“You wanna tell me what that was back there?” he growled, voice low and dangerous.

Angel blinked, startled by the sudden intensity. “What are you talking about?”

“Every damn guy in that room looking at you like they had a shot. You laughing like you didn’t know exactly what you do to them.”

She sucked in a breath, heart pounding hard in her chest. “It was a party, Joe. I wasn’t doing anything wrong.”

“No,” he said, dipping his head lower until his breath ghosted along her jaw. “But you were enjoying it. Weren’t you?”

She hesitated, just for a second.

And that was all he needed.

“You’re mine, Angel.”

She swallowed, voice barely a whisper. “I know that.”

But Joe wasn’t looking for an apology.

He was looking to remind her.

And deep inside, she knew exactly how he was going to do it.

Angel arched a brow, a slow, defiant smirk curling her lips as she stepped fully inside the apartment. The door clicked shut behind her, the sound echoing in the quiet space now starkly different from the chaos of the party. Her heels clicked sharply on the hardwood floor, deliberate and unhurried. “Oh, so now I can’t smile at people without you dragging me out like some caveman?” she teased, voice dripping with playful challenge.

Joe’s eyes darkened, narrowing just a fraction as he stepped closer, the air between them thickening with tension. “You think this is funny?” His voice was low, dangerous, and not nearly as amused.

Angel let out a light, teasing laugh, brushing past him with a sway of her hips as she tossed her clutch onto the kitchen counter. She turned back, leaning casually against the smooth surface, arms folding beneath her chest. “I think you’re being dramatic,” she said, voice easy, almost breezy—like she wasn’t still feeling the heat of his hands on her wrist or the weight of his gaze burning into her back.

Joe’s jaw clenched, the muscle twitching near his cheek. He watched her move with a possessive intensity, like a predator circling its prey, and it made her pulse quicken despite herself.

“If you didn’t want people looking at me,” she continued, eyes sparkling with mischief, “maybe you should’ve kept me home. Or better yet—marked me up before we left.” Her smirk deepened, eyes locking with his, daring him to argue.

His gaze darkened even further, the warning clear and sharp. The space between them seemed to shrink as his voice dropped an octave. “Don’t test me tonight, Angel.”

She tilted her head, feigning innocence with a slow blink. “Or what?”

Step by step, Joe closed the distance between them, his movements slow but deliberate, each one charged with a quiet menace. Soon he was looming over her again, a mountain of heat and raw desire, and the air crackled electric.

Angel met his stare without flinching, chin raised, every inch the bold challenge he both loved and hated. “You can’t have it both ways, Joe. You want me looking good, but you can’t handle the attention that comes with it? Sounds like a you problem.”

Joe’s breath hitched slightly as his eyes flashed with a mix of frustration and something darker, something fiercely protective. “You know what,” he murmured, voice thick with warning. “Keep running that mouth, and I’ll remind you who it belongs to.”

Angel’s lips curled into an amused smile, the teasing sparkle in her eyes sharper than ever. “Promises, promises.”

He let out a low breath through his nose—more of a growl than anything else—and suddenly his hand shot out, gripping her chin gently but with unyielding firmness. He tilted her face up until her eyes were locked with his. “You think this is a game?”

A slow lick over her lips was her only answer, deliberate and slow enough to make the moment linger between them. “A little,” she admitted, voice a mix of honey and challenge. “You’re cute when you’re mad.”

Joe’s eyes flared. “You really wanna go there?”

She let a single finger trail down the front of his shirt, voice dropping to a sultry whisper. “I’m just saying… If you’re gonna get jealous, baby, at least do something about it. Otherwise, you’re just wasting all that pretty anger.”

That was the spark.

Joe’s control snapped like a frayed wire.

In one fluid, powerful motion, he grabbed her waist, spun her around, and pressed her down onto the couch’s armrest with barely restrained force. She gasped, but laughter bubbled up from deep inside her throat—breathless and electric—as he bent her over the soft fabric.

“Keep talking, Angel,” he hissed against the shell of her ear, fingers already sliding up beneath the hem of her dress, hands trailing hot and demanding along her thighs. “You’re about to regret every smart-ass word.”

She purred softly, voice teasing as she pushed back against him just enough to keep him on edge. “I doubt that. But go ahead and try.”

Joe's grip on her hips tightened, fingers digging into her skin like he needed to anchor himself—because the sight of her bent over like that, the hem of her dress rucked up around her waist and her bare ass fully exposed, knocked the breath right out of him. His breath hitched. The realization hit harder than it should’ve: she wasn’t wearing panties.

He hadn’t known. Hadn’t seen.

And now he couldn’t unsee it.

That final thread of restraint he'd been clinging to? Gone. Obliterated.

“You walked around that party like this?” he asked, voice sharp and low, roughened by disbelief as his palm cupped the swell of her ass possessively. “No panties, Angel? Really?”

She shifted just slightly beneath his touch, just enough to taunt him, and her voice came out syrupy and smug. “Didn’t see you complaining when we left.”

“That’s not the fucking point.”

His hand came down—hard. Once. Then again. Sharp slaps that echoed off the walls and sent shivers down her spine. Angel gasped, the contact blooming heat across her skin, but she didn’t flinch. She arched into it instead, shameless and aching, biting back a moan that still managed to slip through her teeth.

Joe’s jaw clenched. His hand soothed over the sting before squeezing, kneading the heat he’d left behind. “I should take you just like this,” he muttered, the words more like a snarl. “Bent over. Still mouthing off. Acting like you don’t fucking belong to me.”

Angel looked back at him over her shoulder, lips parted, eyes dark with challenge. “Then do it.”

God. She was impossible. Wild. Dangerous. And so goddamn beautiful it made his head spin.

His fingers tangled in her hair, tugging with a practiced grip until she gasped again, back arching, neck exposed to him like an offering. Her breath hitched audibly.

“You want punishment, Angel?” he growled, breath hot against her cheek. “You’re gonna get it.”

She shivered, thighs pressing together on instinct. “About time.”

And that was all he needed.

Without warning, Joe scooped her up like she weighed nothing and slung her over his shoulder. Angel squealed, kicking her feet playfully as the sudden shift stole her balance. “Joe!”

He smacked her thigh once—firm, claiming. “Stop squirming.”

Angel rolled her eyes, though she didn’t fight him. “God, you’re so dramatic.”

“And you’re lucky I didn’t bend you over the kitchen counter instead. Show everyone just how well you fucking take it.”

His voice was tighter now, deeper. More serious. The kind of tone that meant he wasn’t just playing. And it sent a jolt of heat straight through her.

Joe stalked down the hallway with a steady, heavy stride, ignoring the faint wet spot blooming against his shirt where her arousal soaked through. When they reached her bedroom, he didn’t slow down. Just kicked the door shut behind them and walked straight to the bed, dropping her onto the comforter with deliberate care, like even now—especially now—she was still something he treasured.

Angel landed on her back, breathless, hair splayed wild around her like a halo of chaos. The streetlights outside cast soft bands of gold and silver across her skin through the slats in the blinds. Her chest rose and fell fast, nipples pebbled against the front of her dress, lips parted in anticipation.

Joe stood over her, gaze devouring every inch of her like a man starved. His hands moved to the buttons of his shirt, but then his eyes slid to her nightstand. Paused. And lingered.

Angel followed his line of sight—and froze.

Oh God.

He looked back at her, slow and knowing, lips curling into something dark and dangerous. “Oh yeah,” he said, voice like smoke. “We’re using that tonight.”

Her stomach dipped.

The toy. His gift. Molded just for her. She’d used it plenty on her own, with thoughts of him on her tongue, his name whispered into the dark.

But never like this.

Never while he stood over her. Never while his hands undressed her. Never while his eyes burned like he needed to prove something.

Joe moved to the drawer and pulled it open, not breaking eye contact as his hand wrapped around the silicone. He held it up, slow and deliberate, then tossed it onto the bed beside her like a gauntlet thrown.

“You’re so damn cocky,” he said, stripping off his shirt now, one button at a time. “Let’s see how much attitude you’ve got when it’s me making you take every inch—even if it’s not my body doing it.”

Angel’s breath hitched. Her thighs pressed together.

She licked her lips, still trying to hold onto that edge of sass even as her pulse thundered in her ears. “We’ll see who taps out first.”

Joe let out a low, dangerous laugh.

“Oh, sweetheart…” he crawled over her now, slow and sure, his body fitting over hers, his hands framing her face as his lips brushed against the shell of her ear. “You won’t even remember your own name when I’m done with you.”

Angel’s breath hitched sharply as Joe kissed her—hard, hungry, unapologetically claiming. His mouth moved with purpose, possessive and fierce, pinning her beneath him in more ways than one. One of his arms was braced beside her head, the other wrapped around the solid, lifelike weight of the toy she knew all too well.

The pressure of his body hovered just above hers, and she could feel the heat of him radiating down like a furnace. His presence was overwhelming—in the best kind of way. He took up all the space, all the air, all the thoughts in her head.

“You wanna act like a brat?” he murmured against her lips, his voice rough and dark with promise. “Then I’ll treat you like one.”

Angel’s lips curled into a breathless smirk, even as her thighs involuntarily pressed together at the edge in his tone. “Promises, promises.”

Joe’s eyes flashed—sharp, dangerous, hers—and then he was moving.

His mouth dragged across her jaw, then lower, slow and unrelenting as he kissed down the column of her throat. His lips were hot against her skin, teeth grazing lightly in ways that made her breath stutter. He wasn’t in a rush. He knew exactly what he was doing—worshipping her with a precision that bordered on cruel.

He sucked a mark just above her collarbone, then lower, brushing his tongue over her nipple through the thin fabric of her dress before baring it completely with a swift tug. His mouth closed around her again, wet and warm and consuming.

By the time his tongue circled her nipple, Angel’s spine had arched off the bed, her hands buried in his hair, hips rolling instinctively. Her legs parted without thought, as if her body was begging him not to make her wait.

But Joe had no intention of giving in. Not yet.

He pulled back, eyes heavy-lidded as he trailed his fingertips down her side, anchoring himself between her thighs. “Spread wider,” he ordered, his voice calm but loaded with heat. “I want you open for me.”

Angel raised a brow, shifting to obey but unable to resist getting one more word in. “You could ask nicely, you know.”

Joe didn’t even blink. His hand shot out, gripping her jaw and turning her face toward him with just enough pressure to remind her who was in charge. “Keep talking,” he warned, voice like a knife wrapped in velvet. “And I’ll gag you with my boxers.”

That shut her up.

Her breath caught again—half gasp, half moan—and her lips parted in silence. That low, coiled threat did something to her. Something electric. Something primal. She didn’t say another word. Not out loud.

Joe eased back on his heels, letting his eyes rake over her like he owned every part of her—and he did. Angel lay sprawled out like sin, her flushed skin glowing, her chest rising and falling with anticipation. Her thighs trembled slightly, already slick with want. She was perfect. And his.

He ran the length of the toy up her inner thigh—teasing, slow, deliberate. The cool silicone was a stark contrast to the fire burning in her skin. He didn’t touch where she wanted him. Just traced circles, made her wait, made her squirm.

Angel whimpered, the sound soft and desperate. “Joe—”

“You don’t get to beg yet,” he said flatly, eyes never leaving hers. “You don’t come until I say. You don’t even think about it.”

She groaned, frustration flaring deliciously in her chest.

Then—finally—he let the tip of the toy ghost over her clit. Just once. Barely a brush. But it was enough to make her writhe, her hips lifting off the bed in search of more friction.

Joe smirked. “Feel that?”

Angel’s eyes fluttered shut, her breath catching in her throat.

“That’s me,” he continued. “Same curve. Same thickness. You wanted to show off tonight?” His tone shifted—sharp, accusing. “Wanted every guy in that room thinking they had a shot at you?”

Her eyes snapped open, wide and disbelieving. “I didn’t—”

He didn’t let her finish.

Joe slid the tip of the toy into her with excruciating slowness, his other hand pressing down on her belly to keep her from thrusting up. The stretch was familiar but overwhelming, every inch a reminder of who she belonged to.

Angel cried out, hips twitching despite the restraint. “Joe—fuck—”

“Don’t lie to me,” he growled, eyes dark and intent. “You knew how you looked tonight. You wore that dress, no panties, dancing like that—and you didn’t care.”

“I was just dancing—” she tried again, but he didn’t want excuses.

“You were flirting,” he snapped, voice like thunder. “And now you’re gonna take this until you remember who you belong to.”

And with that, he pushed the toy the rest of the way in.

Angel’s breath left her in a rush. Her head fell back, a strangled moan escaping her lips. It felt so much like him it was disorienting—the stretch, the weight, the curve that kissed every sensitive spot inside her like a fingerprint.

Joe leaned over her again, lips brushing her temple as he growled, “Yeah. That’s mine. Always has been.”

He set a brutal rhythm—slow at first, then steadily increasing. He held the toy with one hand, thrusting with skill and control, while his other arm looped under her thigh to keep her wide and open for him. Every motion was practiced, deliberate. Like punishment. Like worship.

Angel whimpered, moaned, gasped—nails clawing at the sheets, her body bucking helplessly under the onslaught. “Joe—please—I can’t—”

“You don’t get to come,” he snarled, fucking her harder now. “Not until I say. You wanted to act like a brat? Now take it like one.”

Her body shook beneath him. Every nerve was on fire. Every breath a plea. She was unraveling and he knew it—loved it.

“You love this, don’t you?” he growled, slowing his thrusts just enough to tease her again, dragging the toy nearly all the way out. “Getting punished. Being reminded who you fucking belong to.”

She whimpered, her body fluttering around nothing. “Yes,” she gasped, her voice raw. “Fuck—yes.”

“Say it.”

“I’m yours,” she cried, voice breaking. “I’m yours, Joe. All yours.”

That was all he needed.

With a guttural growl, Joe drove the toy back into her with a brutal snap of his wrist—and Angel came undone.

Her orgasm hit like a detonation, tearing through her as she screamed his name, her whole body convulsing, tears springing to her eyes from the sheer intensity. Joe didn’t stop. He fucked her through it, dragging her higher, harder, deeper, until she was trembling beneath him, wrecked and sobbing and soaked.

Only when she collapsed against the sheets, spent and boneless, did he slow down. He eased the toy out with reverent care and tossed it aside, eyes still locked on her.

Angel lay there, dazed and glowing, lips parted as she struggled to catch her breath. Joe crawled up beside her, brushing damp curls from her face with a tenderness that contrasted the intensity of just moments before.

“Still feeling bratty?” he asked, voice lower now, smug but soft.

Angel blinked at him, eyes glassy and satisfied. “I can’t even feel my legs, Burrow.”

Joe chuckled, easing her into his arms like she was something fragile now. “Good. That means I did my job.”

She curled into him, cheek pressed to his chest, his heartbeat steady beneath her ear. The molded toy lay forgotten on the floor beside the bed.

There was silence for a beat.

Then, her voice, muffled and wickedly sweet: “Next time… maybe I’ll flirt with the bartender too. See what that gets me.”

Joe groaned. “Angel…”

“I’m kidding,” she whispered with a grin, nuzzling into him. “Kind of.”

For a long time, they didn’t speak.

They just lay there, a tangle of limbs in the dim light of Angel’s bedroom, where the only sound was the soft whirl of the ceiling fan and the quiet cadence of their breathing slowly returning to normal. The intensity of everything that had passed between them still lingered in the air, electric and raw.

Angel’s body trembled in small, involuntary waves—tiny aftershocks that rippled down her spine, her muscles slack with exhaustion, her skin still buzzing. Every nerve felt stretched thin and sensitive, but beneath the fatigue was something else, something softer: peace.

Joe held her close, cradling her like she was something precious. And she was.

His hands, no longer firm and possessive, had gentled into something reverent. He stroked slow, calming lines up and down her back, fingers tracing lazy circles over the curve of her hip like he was drawing her back down to earth. His touch was still intimate, but now it was careful, protective. Worshipful.

He pressed a kiss to her temple. Then another to her forehead. And finally, his lips found hers—soft, unhurried, and lingering. The kind of kiss that didn’t demand anything. One that simply was. Like an apology and a promise wrapped into one.

“You okay?” he murmured, brushing damp curls away from her face, his thumb grazing her cheekbone with a tenderness that made her heart twist.

Angel blinked up at him, eyes heavy-lidded, still hazy in the aftermath. Her voice came out hoarse, roughened by her cries. “I’m more than okay.”

Joe let out a quiet breath through his nose, like he’d been holding it in for too long. Relief softened his features, even as he pulled her tighter into his arms, anchoring her against his chest like he couldn’t bear to let go.

“Did I go too far?” he asked, voice barely above a whisper. There was hesitation in it, the vulnerable kind he rarely let her hear. “I got a little... intense.”

Angel shook her head before he could spiral any deeper, threading her fingers between his and squeezing. “No. You gave me exactly what I needed.” She paused, eyes searching his. “Exactly what you needed, too.”

A flicker of something unspoken crossed his face—guilt, maybe. Or the quiet ache of understanding. He looked down like he didn’t want her to see it, but he couldn’t hide the faint smile that tugged at the corner of his mouth. Like she’d spoken the truth he couldn’t quite admit to himself.

“Still,” he murmured, “I wanna take care of you.”

She smiled faintly. “You already did, baby.”

“Let me do it more,” he said, and this time there was no teasing in his tone—just devotion.

With one last kiss to her lips, Joe reluctantly eased away from her warmth. The moment he slipped out of bed, Angel whimpered softly, her body instinctively reaching for the space he’d just vacated.

“Shh,” he soothed gently, already moving. “I’ll be right back.”

She watched him disappear into the bathroom, the soft sounds of running water filling the quiet. A few seconds later, he returned with a warm, damp towel in one hand and one of her oversized T-shirts slung over his shoulder—her favorite one, the black one with faded LSU lettering that used to be his.

He didn’t say anything. Just climbed back onto the bed, his expression all business but his eyes still soft.

“C’mere,” he said quietly, sliding an arm around her waist to help her sit up.

Angel let him guide her like she was weightless, and then she leaned into his chest, her cheek resting over his heart as he carefully parted her thighs again. The towel was warm against her skin, the touch of it careful and slow. Every stroke was deliberate, mindful of her overstimulated body, like he was tending to something sacred.

She hissed once at the contact, her hips twitching instinctively.

Joe froze. “Sorry, baby,” he murmured, pressing a kiss to the inside of her thigh.

“I’m okay,” she whispered, threading her fingers through his hair. “I like when you take care of me.”

That made him smile against her skin—this quiet, intimate smile like she’d just given him a gift. He finished cleaning her gently, then tossed the towel aside and reached for the shirt.

“Arms up,” he said, and she obeyed with a sleepy little grin.

He guided her into the soft cotton like he was dressing a porcelain doll, careful not to tug or shift her too roughly. Once she was covered, he pulled the blankets up over her and helped her settle against the pillows, adjusting them until she looked content and comfortable again.

Only then did he crawl in beside her, wrapping her in his arms and tucking her into his chest, his hand spread wide over her back like he was afraid she might slip away.

The silence returned—thicker now, but full. Comforting.

Until Angel broke it, her voice small but steady. “You scared me a little.”

Joe tensed. His hand paused mid-stroke on her spine.

“Not in a bad way,” she added quickly. “Just… that look in your eyes at the party. I’ve never seen you like that.”

Joe exhaled through his nose, jaw tightening.

“I hated the way they looked at you,” he said finally. “Every time one of them tried to talk to you or stared too long… I saw red.”

“I didn’t even notice,” she murmured.

“I did,” he said, brushing his fingers along her arm. “And I didn’t like it.”

Angel tilted her head up, her hand finding his jaw, thumb grazing the stubble along his cheek. “You don’t ever have to worry about anyone else. I don’t want them.” She paused, kissing just beneath his chin. “I want you. Always have.”

His eyes softened. That flash of possessiveness cooled, replaced by something more vulnerable. “I know,” he said, voice thick. “I just… I guess I needed to remind us both.”

Angel smiled, pressing another kiss to the base of his throat, right where his pulse beat strong and steady. “Message received. Loud and clear.”

He tucked her closer, pulling the blanket around them tighter like a cocoon. His chin rested on top of her head, his chest rising and falling in sync with hers.

“You’re mine, Angel,” he whispered.

“And you’re mine,” she whispered back.

Silence fell again, but this time it was warm. Full. Safe.

Joe didn’t fall asleep right away. Even after Angel’s breathing evened out, soft and rhythmic, he stayed awake—guard dog mode, always watching, always holding. One hand rested over her stomach, the other drawing absentminded patterns along her spine.

Not because he didn’t trust her.

But because he needed her to feel safe after he’d wrecked her—in every way, every inch. Because her peace meant more to him than anything. Because he loved her in a way that never truly rested.

And in the softest part of the night, when the shadows settled and only the dark bore witness, Joe leaned down and whispered something against her hair. Something just for her, and for no one else.

“I’d burn this whole place down for you.”

Angel, half-asleep and dreaming of nothing but his arms, smiled in her sleep.

She already knew.

[noorpersona]

I’m being greedy here,

but it would be funny if Inarizaki was trying to figure out if their manager has a secret admirer. With all the snacks, food and encouraging notes being given to them, but it just turned out to be their (platonic) girlfriend

No greed at all! I love it ehehe

Hope you enjoy! and thanks for the ask <333 I love doing these --

It started small. A sports drink left on the bench, a protein bar tucked neatly beside your clipboard, a sticky note with a simple Good job today! scribbled in neat handwriting.

You hadn’t thought much of it at first. Maybe someone had left the drink behind by accident, maybe the protein bar was a spare someone had tossed your way. The note? Probably just an afterthought. No big deal.

But then it kept happening.

Snacks. Energy drinks. Even small bento boxes labeled with your name, left in the exact same spot every single time. The notes became more frequent too—little words scrawled on post-its, ranging from Eat something before practice, idiot. to You better be drinking enough water. and Take a break before you pass out.

By the end of the week, the team had noticed.

And by the end of the next, they had declared a full-blown investigation.

“I’m tellin’ ya, this is definitely the work of a secret admirer.” Ginjima crossed his arms, nodding as if he were uncovering something straight out of a mystery novel.

Osamu, unimpressed, leaned back against the gym wall. “Or, y’know, it’s just someone bein’ nice.”

“No way, ‘Samu! This is classic romance material.” Atsumu leaned in, eyes alight with interest. “Secret notes? Snacks? Somebody’s tryna woo our manager.”

“‘Woo’?” Suna repeated, unimpressed. “Who the hell says ‘woo’?”

“You get what I mean.”

Aran, ever the voice of reason, sighed. “Maybe it’s just a fan. Not everything has to be a romance novel, guys.”

“No way.” Ginjima shook his head. “This is deeper than that. It’s been weeks. This is a long game play.”

Osamu scoffed. “So what? You think it’s some secret, undyin’ love confession?”

Atsumu nodded, smirking. “Or maybe it’s someone right under our noses.”

That’s when they all turned their heads toward Suna.

He blinked. “No.”

“You’re bein’ awfully quiet about all this,” Atsumu pointed out, grin widening. “Kinda suspicious.”

Suna didn’t even blink. “I don’t care enough to do all that.”

“Suspicious,” Osamu agreed, just to mess with him.

Suna sighed. “Go to hell.”

But the team wasn’t done. They spent the rest of the week staking out the gym, watching like hawks every time you left your clipboard unattended. They devised shifts. Shifts. They trailed behind you in the hallways, whispering conspiracies amongst themselves. At one point, they even considered interrogating Kita—only for Osamu to firmly shoot that idea down because “If ya bother him with this nonsense, we’re all dead.”

Their investigation escalated. They started tracking patterns—when the notes appeared, the exact minute snacks were placed. They cross-referenced schedules, trying to narrow down suspects. Ginjima even went so far as to create a messy suspect board in the clubroom, red strings connecting completely unrelated names, post-it notes containing unhinged theories.

“Alright, so if we rule out known variables—” Ginjima began, tapping the board with a marker.

“Did ya seriously make a conspiracy wall?” Osamu asked flatly.

“It’s called evidence, ‘Samu.”

“It’s called insanity,” Suna corrected, lazily eating a rice cracker.

And then, just when tensions were reaching their peak—when Atsumu was this close to breaking into your locker just to “gather more clues”—the answer came crashing down on them in the form of a very cheerful visitor.

“Hey, loser, I got your favorite snacks again!”

You barely had time to turn before a familiar arm was slinging around your shoulder, a plastic bag dangling from their other hand. The entire team froze. You could feel the sheer intensity of their collective stare boring into the back of your head.

Your best friend—your very, very platonic best friend—blinked at the awkward tension in the gym. “Uh. What’s with them?”

You sighed, already knowing where this was going. “They think I have a secret admirer.”

Your friend snorted. “Pfft—you? Please, who would want you?”

“Oh my god, shut up.”

Atsumu, standing dumbfounded beside Osamu, made a strangled noise. “You? It was you this whole time?!”

“Duh.” Your friend rolled their eyes. “What, you guys thought someone was trying to date them?”

Ginjima sputtered. “So—wait—you were just—just doing all this platonically?”

You deadpanned. “Yes. That is what friendship is.”

Osamu sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Y’all are idiots.”

Suna, who had been unfairly accused, leaned back smugly. “Told you so.”

Atsumu looked personally betrayed. “Weeks—weeks—of stakeouts, of investigation, of tracking patterns—for this?!”

Your friend snickered. “God, you guys need a hobby.”

Kita, passing by without even stopping, simply muttered, “I told you all to drop it.”

Aran chuckled, shaking his head. “All that effort, just for nothing.”

Atsumu groaned dramatically, dropping onto one of the benches as if the weight of the world had just crushed him. “This is devastating.”

Osamu patted his shoulder. “Ya brought this on yerself.”

Ginjima, looking up at his massive evidence board, sighed. “Guess I should take this down.”

Suna, still smug, pulled out his phone. “No, keep it. I’m sending this to the group chat.”

And just like that, the case was closed.

[binhourly]

Coming To Terms (+18)

Summary: What could go wrong when your love life involves bad sex, good imagination, and a best friend who seems like the answer to all your unspoken desires?

Word count: 11k

Tags: College Setting / Rom-Com / Slice of Life / Friends to Undecided

Pairing: Baseball Player!Kim Seungmin x Fem!reader

Trigger Warning:  Emotional Distress / Harassment / Stalking / Physical Intimidation (Seungmin is captain of the baseball team, his bat is practically his weapon) / Explicit Content / Men Being Pathetic / Aggressive & Threatening Behaviour / Vanilla Intercourse In The Beginning & Middle / Protective Sex / Crude Language / Character Re-imagined / Underwear Play / Verbal Aggression

Songs: i. Look At That Woman by ROLE MODEL ii. Love Is Embarrassing by Olivia Rodrigo

ALSO READ HERE

NOTE: Shoutout to the jerk who inspired one part of this scene—who wouldn’t leave me alone after he rejected me, got angry because I was unaffected by it, and alluded that if I cared about him enough, I would be heartbroken. Then he proceeded to trap me inside the girls’ bathroom. Hope campus security tasers you next time, you fucking weirdo. / excuse the ending. I was sadly a victim of school work overload and anything I wrote fell flat and I can't be bothered trying to re-work it the 100th time. so, yes it doesn't make a whole lot of sense and seems really rushed . . . live laugh love seungmin.

NO ONE was completely perfect—hell, if there was one thing you were sure about, it was that your own crappy life meant you also counted toward that same damn list too.

It wasn't about being uncritical, either. You had a lot to be angry at, starting with your new project partner, Felix, who insists he's clinically diagnosed with a gaming addiction, so it's crucial he takes 'Call of Duty' breaks in between studying.

It just came down to being hopeful, and having a lot of it.

For instance, if someone had waved a bunch of red flags in your direction, you'd notice it, maybe indulge in a small wiggle of your fingers back, because for some stupid reason, you have a bad habit of thinking their flaws, (controlling, inability to take accountability, lack of empathy) would magically iron themselves out over time. Or, your personal favourite—they'd burn the cloth enough it changes the alarming colour.

Spoiler alert: they never do. And now you're stuck with your mistake literally punching you in the gut—but more literal than metaphorical.

“Making you feel so good,” your boyfriend slurs into your shoulder, his awkward thrusting between your legs making the sentence appear as if he's hiccuping. “Changing—argh—your life.”

Dongmin was that small wish you sigh out at the end of a grace, something you know you're not supposed to say but get overwhelmed with the selfish need to want more. When he showed up, it was almost like the universe had heard you and decided, without any strings attached, “You know what? Sure, here's your dream guy.”

And god, was he absolutely perfect—and clearly your karmic invoice.

The first few weeks, he practically won your heart over by carefully remembering tiny details about your interests and insisted on carrying you on his back to ease the digging pain in your shin after your first date. (Looking back now, you can admittedly say you brought down your impenetrable wall too quickly, because the only way he changed the trajectory of your life was finding out he had the bedroom finesse of a teenage boy who giggled at genital diagrams in health class.)

Then the lights flick off, and he transforms into something clumsy but not inexperienced... just one-sided.

You've tried everything to loosen him up—lingerie, role-play, and toys—but at this point, sex to Dongmin was sticking it in, swirling it around a few times trying to chase his own high, and you're stuck watching a firework fizzle out just as the show's supposed to start. You know, a little “oh” that quickly becomes a “wait, that's it?”

He lifts himself up off you, a sheen of sweat clearly building down his chest after what has been barely two minutes. It gives you a better view of Dongmin, though, and you think to yourself you could work with this. Watching him rest his hands firmly on your raised knees and press them further apart to spear deeply into you would definitely build up that sweet pressure.

And sure enough, whines sob out of you so desperately, like a starved woman thankful for a grain of salt. “Baby, f—feels so good.” Your face flops to the side, mouth agape and drying the drool that slides down your chin. "Right there—ah uh!—keep it like that," you instruct him, hoping for what could possibly be your first orgasm.

This was it, his redemption arc; all it needed now was a friendly push. So, your fingers tickle past your bouncing breasts, landing at the base of your clit where you planned to rub circles while he fucked you into the mattress.

“Don't do that,” Dongmin objects through a grunt, swatting your hands away despite your quiet gasp of disappointment, entrapping them both above your head. He leans forward, stopping his thrusts. “I can make you cum with just my cock.”

Sadly, that hasn't happened yet, and it was hard to be hopeful when you knew exactly how it was going to end. He resumes, and just like you expected, Dongmin repositions himself, and the tight lull around your pelvis disappears, literally fucking retreats back into a little cobwebbed corner.

With him snuggled back into your shoulders, it allows you to catch sight of the ceiling, dissociating into several different thoughts. One that whispered loud asked if this was your punishment. Six months he made you wait. Six months of feeling like a princess before he finally gave in, and by then, you were so locked in emotionally that there was no way out. You liked him—loved him, even.

Damn.

“So close! Gonna... uh ah—cum." Dongmin grips your hips hard enough it leaves an unwanted ache, and before you could mouth out profanities for getting carried away, a hot feeling stews inside you along with a huff of air that sounds like he's struggling to breathe.

He came, how shocking.

He doesn't collapse next to you, just opts to awkwardly move over at the edge of the bed before treading to the rubbish bin in the corner, ripping the condom off his softening penis. It leaves you naked, swaddled in sheets, just quietly taking in that his day had now just become more bearable, while you'll spend the next week coming up with excuses to keep him away from any spacious surface to fuck against.

Dongmin climbs back by your side, his presence now not so pressuring. “You were so good, baby.” He trails his hands up your arm, making a shiver slither down your bare spine. “How was it? Was it any good?”he adds, his voice soft and hopeful.

For a brief moment, you consider telling him the truth—that he could touch up on a few areas to get better in bed. But even thinking about it made you shrink, like you were holding a fuse you lit yourself, waiting for the wick to burn the last inch before selfishly handing it over to Dongmin.

But, like always, at the last second when your people pleasing tendencies kick in, you throw all your weight to soften the explosion.

“It was perfect,” you whisper, the lie slipping out smoothly. His hands squeeze your thigh in response, a splitting grin spreading across his face.

“Really?” His eyes light up, pressing kisses into your cheek.

If life has taught you anything, it's that perfection is a myth. You knew that before Dongmin, and you sure as hell know it now. Sure, Dongmin was bad in bed, but who’s to say there wasn’t something about you that bothered him just as much? Maybe he loved you enough to let it slide. Maybe you were willing to do the same. And maybe—just maybe—it wasn’t about love at all, but about not knowing if you’d ever find something better.

“Yeah! You were amazing,” you lie again, and this time, it comes a little easier.

Spoiler alert, your mind whispers.

SEUNGMIN misses the next pitch, the ball ricocheting off the chain-link fence surrounding the batting cage with a hollow clang. "Wait—hold on." He turns toward you sitting cross-legged outside, eyes narrowing in focus at something other than his baseball training. "I'm sorry, did I just hear you complain about your boyfriend's... swing?"

You couldn't even remember when you let that secret slip.

One second, you were watching Seungmin wind up his bat over his shoulder for another hit, the end-of-the-day heat tinting his white ace uniform a baked yellow, and the next, words were tumbling out like you were in some kind of truth-telling trance. Shit.

Trying to act as nonchalant as possible, you shrug your shoulders. "I'm being serious."

Seungmin rests the length of his bat across his shoulders, arms slung causally over each end, trying his best to look moderately stern—or at least like he's mulling it over and coming up with helpful solutions. "What makes you think I'm not?" he says, raising his eyebrows in mock confusion.

But you weren't fooled for a second. You'd known the athlete for a total of three years, which gave you enough time to spot the signs—the barely-there twitch at the corner of his mouth, the bite down on his bottom lip.

"Relax..." Seungmin drags out his words, adding to his infamous bratty attitude with a classic eye roll that basically says you really should know better. "I'm not that evil to make fun of you for something that's—y'know... beyond your control. If I'm going to shit on someone, it'd be him for underperforming."

"But I don't think I want you throwing jabs at him," you start by saying, holding off from speaking further until Seungmin repositions himself away from you on the plate, giving you the perfect sight of his messy brown tuffs sticking out from under his cap rather than his judgy eyes, as he takes another practice swing. "It's wrong when he's been nothing but sweet to me."

Then came the ball shooting out the machine, a sharp clang, and instead of his usual clean hit, the ball bounces off his bat at a crooked angle, spiralling down into what could've been foul territory if this was a real game.

Seungmin spins back towards you, a clear sign of disbelief in his eyes at his second out ball. "See? This is what happens when you say stupid shit," he mutters, adjusting his cap backwards to give you the full extent of his annoyance. "It's like you're sucking all my talent away, one word at a time." He raises his bat, taking a few loose swings in the air as if to shake off your bad luck.

“Am I not allowed to defend my boyfriend?" you reply, an ache of defensiveness prickling your chest.

Seungmin lets out a low laugh, the kind that’s meant to sweetly correct your faults without fully crossing the line into being a downright douche—and maybe the way his teeth peek halfway underneath his pink lips could make you forget it was supposed to hurt. Or that it only came after you announced Dongmin was, in fact, your boyfriend.

“You can," he says, his tone a sharp lash despite its simplicity. Now that you think of it, Seungmin does seem more affected by your troubles than you expected. "But maybe save it for when he's worth defending. Like, when you can move past telling people he makes you happy just because he makes you laugh."

What the hell did Seungmin know about relationships? If this were any other Friday night—where the summer heat feels thicker from the countless bodies pressed up against each other and the cold beer does nothing but flush everyone's faces, the only contribution to a committed relationship Seungmin could get behind was being with a girl long enough until the song blaring out from the speaker ended. And then? Onto the next, all blurring together, sifting through the entire alphabet as the night dragged on.

Was she a Bora? Maybe a Susan? Not that it mattered. It always played out the same—Seungmin weaving through the crowd, a little disheveled, a little fucked-out, his familiar scent of citrus clinging to his skin like an afterthought. And then your heart tucks, knots, flips, only for you to turn around and realise—no, he’s not looking at you. Just another random girl brushing past drowning in his cologne.

So yeah, maybe Seungmin had a point. But what weight did his opinion really hold when it’s coming from someone who valued blowjobs over real, tangible connections. 

You press your hands behind you, leaning back slightly with a pouty lip, confused about what you were really frustrated about. "Not everything has to meet your weird, unrealistic expectations with your perfect checklist."

Seungmin scoffs, “No, but it’s the one thing you’re spiralling over right now.”

You sit up abruptly, mouth open, ready to argue—because obviously, he’s wrong—but nothing comes out. Because, unfortunately, he isn’t.

Seungmin smirks, like he was waiting for you to get caught in your own logic. “Oh? No defence? That’s new.”

You scowl, picking your legs up before hugging your knees to your chest. “I just—” You huff, looking away. “You don’t know everything, okay?”

“I don’t need to know everything. I know you.” He points the bat at you like it’s an extendable pointer in some lecture you definitely didn’t sign up for. “And I never said anything about being perfect. But he’s not exactly giving you something that sticks. Y’know, the stuff you can’t let go of.”

Your brows pinch together. “That makes no sense. People let go of bad things all the time.”

Seungmin snorts. “Right. But people still go back to their exes just to fight, or hate-fuck each other into oblivion. Not because it’s good for them—because it’s unforgettable. It gets under your skin and stays there.”

You blink, caught off guard by the weight of his words. He steps back onto the plate, kicking his cleats into the ground, clearing out the backed-up dirt trapped inside the rubber.

“Dongmin has it all backwards,” he continues, more thoughtful now. “He gave you perfect first. No mess, no complications.’” He tilts his head. “And you think that’s a good thing?”

Your lips press together. “It is a good thing,” you insist, but even you hear how defensive it sounds.

Seungmin scoffs, unamused. “No, it’s suffocating.” He flicks his gaze back to you. “Or in your case, it’s got you sitting here, trying to convince yourself you’re the problem. Like you should be grateful to be with him.”

Your stomach twists—because, again, damn it, he’s not wrong.

"You sound pretty sure about that," you say, almost smiling but finding yourself hesitating. "Where's the perfectly formatted, alphabetical citation to all these theories, huh?"

Without missing a beat, Seungmin turns to you, his eyes—typically the blackest jade—now transforming into the softest chestnut under the sun, properly toasted to taste so sweet and earthy. "I am the citation. A living, breathing, walking HTTPS link."

You don't disagree; it's not like you can with his never-ending scroll of experiences. Of course, he knew more than you—the baseball player practically had every single girl on campus twirling their hair, waiting for the chance he might pick them again (the same crowd you were once among, quietly shoved in a corner—before you met Dongmin)

While Seungmin prepares for the next hit, you take a minute to fully come to terms with what's been said. Dongmin did give you everything, and you were more than grateful for that, but did he do anything that really snagged at your mind constantly? Sure, he occasionally bought you things or always let you eat the last bit of every delicious sweet because he was kind, thoughtful, and never gave you a reason to doubt him—but that was just it.

Sometimes, there'd be moments where you'd get so caught up in studying you'd forget to call or text him for days at a time, and it didn't bother you. When a girl was clearly flirting with him at the library—right there, barely a shoulder away from you—it didn't make you feel a thing—not jealousy, not irritation, not even the faintest twinge that the world could shift off its axis if he did ratify her advances.

All you could explain is the way the morsel memories managed to only piece together when you remember Seungmin happened to be there at that time, slithering right down into the seat beside her in his beige trousers and white dress shirt (his knight in shining armour away from his usual baseball uniform), hair clipped short and skimming the top of his forehead, stealing her attention away from Dongmin. And it worked, aggravatingly enough.

The girl completely forgot about your boyfriend. And you... well, you couldn't remember much else because you were too prickly from anger to realise the crack of a notebook slamming shut, echoing throughout the library, was from your own. Heads all turned. Yours stayed on the way her fingers had drummed on the empty space of his forearm where he rolled up a fourth of his sleeve, needing nothing but to leave before you flat out collapsed.

Later that night, Dongmin kissed your lips swollen, breathlessly mouthing how much he loved seeing you jealous over him. And if he believed it, you let yourself believe it too, because of course that's why you were so sensitive.

You move closer to the fence, letting your fingers curl around the wires. "Okay, what's your controversial hot take on this? What would you want me to do?"

Quickly, Seungmin replies—"You dump him. Obviously."

You reel back. "Have you not been listening to me this past hour?"

"I have. That's me taking everything in as your very supportive friend and giving you the most logical advice," he says with a deadpan expression.

Crossing your arms, you stare at the side of him, letting it trail down to his uniform tucked into his white trousers. "I don't like that one."

Seungmin adjusts his grip on the bat, keeping his eyes trained on the ball machine, waiting for the next surprise. "Okay... because you're basically teetering on the edge of sexual insanity, you can have my next thought free of charge."

You arch an eyebrow, hating the way he pauses for dramatic effect.

Seungmin bends his knees further apart, his voice dropping just enough you can feel it pulsating in-between your legs.

"Next time, think of me during sex."

You choke on absolutely nothing.

What the actual fuck? You weren't too sure you heard him correctly, and it explained through the way you racked your eyes to the side inconspicuously to see if anyone else had overheard and displayed an equally horrified look to his statement, just a smidge of utter disbelief. But you were the only one short-winded, a little hypnotised.

"That's... That's really gross—and seriously, just—weird, and wrong... you can't be—"

If he wasn't so focused, Seungmin would've done his infamous shrugs, completely unbothered as usual. "Just saying, I've got a 99% success rate of giving people what they want."

You barely have room to retaliate before the machine fires, the sound of his bat whooshing into your ear and a crack echoing across the field instantly playing out. Unlike the last two, the ball soars higher—farther—and as you follow the little white comet in the air, it hits the end trails of the field which felt weirdly coincidental to Seungmin's statement, because if this was like any other game where the fence wasn't placed around the playing ground, with an arena filled with students, the ball would have been called out as a—

“Home run,” someone mutters from another section, greatly impressed at his swing.

THE NEXT time you have sex with Dongmin is right after your last class on a late afternoon.

It wasn't spontaneous nor romantic, but you figure that being with someone for as long as you have it's already given proof that he loves you, which cancels out the need for heart-shaped petals on the bed and replaces grand gestures with stale, pre-planned texts.

Dongmin: Need you right now, baby

Dongmin: Think you can make it in 10?

Your eyes flick quickly between the two messages, your nose scrunching the lines of your face, which suggested your clear irritation at his wish. But as natural as it came, so did that same nauseating feeling that you were being too judgmental—a little too mean when he hadn't done anything even mildly wrong for you to turn him down.

You: If I run I could probably get there in 6

You: But I won't do it without a little please ;)

Shoving your phone into your back pocket without checking his response, you start walking to the student dormitories, appreciating that, even though the bigger problem is only minutes ahead, it still leads you under the campus's brick arch into the sprawling oval field where students lounge on the grass during their breaks. It gives you a moment of false peace—that maybe, just maybe, you're like everyone else, heading out to do anything but have mediocre sex.

When you slip inside his room, it only takes a quick peck on the lips to kick-start his libido. You'd barely leaned back before he nudged closer, his hands racing to your face before smothering you in a deeper, hungrier kiss.

It completely took you by surprise how feverish he was being. It was impossible to think straight when his tongue was basically poking every corner of your mouth, while his hands were sneaking under your shirt, ignoring the sweat build-up on your back from your little walk.

Dongmin had just sat through a three-hour lecture about marketing strategies—did product placements make him this horny?

You giggle into his mouth at the ridiculous thought, and it's like someone shoved a drain stopper into Dongmin's rushing sink of hormones.

He pulls back, frowning slightly, eyes wandering in a way that showed he was clearly offended that you weren't taking his sexually aroused state seriously enough. "What's funny?"

Your face heats. "Nothing! I'm just—" you hesitate, bringing his face closer, peppering the trace of his lips with quick kisses to coax him out of thinking too deeply. "I'm just being silly."

It works in your favour because Dongmin gets caught up in the web of your so-called addicting taste, his arousal taking over without a second thought. His hips fall into this automatic rhythm, rutting into the open space between your legs like it's instinctive—like he doesn't even realise he's doing it.

You sigh into his mouth, deciding to enjoy the little bits and pieces of pleasure you can grab before things inevitably go south. If you were going to make this work, foreplay would have to be your life line. Because the biggest misconception about sex is that it's rarely as groundbreaking as foreplay. What most girls really want is the build-up. The kissing, the grinding, the maddening tease of never quite getting there.

It's the burn without the release.

"But I want to know," he insists with an incredulous look, head angling away, leaving a huff of an aggravated moan in the air from you.

You bite your lip, stalling, before blurting, "I'm just trying to figure out what got you so..." Your words trail off as your hands flap in the useless space between the two of you, miming something you can't quite put into words. "Like... this."

Dongmin lets go of you, the feeling from earlier while briskly walking around campus—free—climbing back into your chest. Without a word, he moves to the bed, slumping down with his legs parted just enough to make the tent in his pants... obvious, arms bracing behind him on the mattress.

"It's Seungmin," he says finally, voice low and dejected, like the mental image of the baseball player pained him.

You blink. Seungmin? Your Seungmin?

The statement hits you like a curveball to the face, the hard-stitched leather completely derailing whatever thoughts were left swirling around in your pretty but concerned brain. The confession was so unprompted that it left the words tumbling out of your mouth without proper discretion.

"Seungmin made you hot and bothered?"

"What? No!" he blurts, eyes widening in complete horror. "That's not—how did you even come to that conclusion?"

"I don't know!" you rush in, pointing an accusatory finger towards Dongmin. "We were just swapping spit, and I asked you a question—I mean, you can't really get the wrong idea when you build it up like that."

You hadn't intended to be funny, but the response made the hard marks in Dongmin's features soften enough before he lets out an involuntary exhale that borders on an amused laugh.

Still, something lingered. The sight of Dongmin, typically so composed, with an endless amount of patience in his tool belt, sitting there so visibly nerved and upset felt... different. The open window that haloed a buttery tint above his head couldn't pin back that same warmth.

You pad across the room, steps deliberately slow, allowing yourself to stop between his parted thighs. This was a new experience. Within the time frame of your relationship—which would be exactly a year, a month from now—you'd never really had to deal with this. And that's not to say you were unwilling to help swat away the eventual clouds raining above his head, it was just that after spending so many perfect days, having something other than that unsettled you, like seeing a flower wilt at its peak in the middle of spring.

And maybe that's why you didn't ask him what was wrong. You weren't sure how. Instead, staring down at him, you nudge your knee into his open ones. Once. Then again. A little harder each time, until his lips twitch slightly, smearing back that familiar smile.

"You're annoying." Dongmin clasps his hands around the back of your knees, murmuring softly, and it's supposed to reach deep—the feeling of his touch—but it barely tingles.

"And you're a little grumpy," you shoot back, nudging him again for good measure, and before you can process it, Dongmin uses the leverage of having his hands at your weak point to his advantage, and in one fluid motion, he lifts you up slightly despite being in a sitting position and pulls you down onto the mattress with him, a familiar weight pressing above you.

This would've been the perfect moment to capture inside a cute mason jar and hold up as a reminder each time you got that nagging poke in your gut that doubted if you had any real connection with your boyfriend. But despite the compromising position, the only thing disrupting your thoughts was how you could bring the conversation back to Seungmin without indirectly implying anything.

"What does Seungmin have that I don't?" you say playfully, intending for his reply to be as predictable as the baseball player not having a set of perky tits—the typical train of thought for boys in their early twenties.

"He has you."

There's a beat of silence. "What?"

To keep the mood moderately light-hearted, Dongmin blows hot air onto your face, the rush gently moving a strand of hair away from your eyes. "I bumped into him earlier today," he answers finally, voice dazed, keeping his stare trained on the roundness of your lips as if they're the most fascinating thing in the room. "It was weird because he usually avoids me, but he wanted to talk to me about something."

You nod your head in a vague attempt to look attentive, but your mind escapes this current reality and transports itself back two days ago at the baseball field, where Seungmin looked aggravated by the combination of the sun and the coach's reliance on his skills, and you happened to carve the first smile into his lips after telling him how Dongmin has failed to make you cum.

It wasn't like Seungmin would've told Dongmin. He was many concerning things, but the most valuable quality he had was the tendency to lock your most humiliating confessions behind an impenetrable vault. But that didn't mean his unprompted hangout with your boyfriend was sheer coincidence. It was a built idea, one that probably came to him in the morning and continued to amuse him for hours before he spoke to Dongmin. You can picture it so clearly—every little comment Seungmin would've made laced with his trademark brand of backhanded politeness, each one just toeing the line between friendly banter and deliberate belittling—enough for him to fully relieve himself of his quiet hatred for your boyfriend.

"There's a fundraiser his team needed help promoting to get sponsors, and apparently I have just the right qualifications for it," Dongmin explains, the request shockingly normal.

"And that should explain this?" You blink up at him, his weight growing more suffocating the longer it's pressed into you.

Dongmin chuckles lightly, his fingers lazily coiling a strand of your hair as he speaks. "Yeah—well... the conversation somehow, kinda drifted... towards you."

There it was. The sudden rush of tingles sweeping through your body, sitting uncomfortably hot on your cheeks at being mentioned when you weren't present, wondering what Seungmin had possibly said. And why you grew more lightheaded at the sound of each syllable in Seungmin's name being spoken in your thoughts. No, it's definitely not from that.

"How come you never told me you spent last Christmas holidays with his family?" Dongmin's voice cuts through. From the way it squeezes past his lips, it tells you more than enough that the question was only a placeholder for something else he was worried about.

You fidget slightly under his gaze, your fingers playing with the silver pendant dangling from his necklace. "Because... I didn't think it was important. We weren't together then, and Seungmin and I were already good friends. It wasn't unusual for us to do things like that with our families."

The furrow of your brow appears at seeing the bare distaste on his face at hearing about your friendship with the baseball player. "Hey... if I could go back in time, I totally would've said no. Like, 'Sorry, I can't come. Why? Well, it's because the gravitational pull of my future boyfriend's aura is too strong and he wouldn't want me there.'"

Dongmin was never possessive. He was more the type to find pleasure in flaunting you rather than keeping you hidden, so hearing the comical inflection around the scenario made him feel sheepish enough to drop down and smush his face into your neck.

"That's not what I meant," he mumbles, his lips brushing against your skin. It takes a moment for him to string together what really made him upset—or rather horny. "Just with the way he talks about you... it's different. Like he's known you forever, and will forever know you better than I do." Dongmin huffs, the pout in his voice strong. "I can't compete with that. All the stuff we do now—getting coffee together, staying up late to help you study—it doesn't feel like it's enough in comparison. I know it sounds stupid, but I'm supposed to be your boyfriend, but wherever Seungmin is, I'm... falling short somehow."

That's why he was bothered. The stories made Dongmin jealous, which led him to do the only thing that could reassure him that Seungmin couldn't follow—sex.

"Why would you think that?" you ask, voice gentle but angry. "That's far from the truth, or—or the reality, even." Holding onto his head, you pull Dongmin up enough to look at you. "Have I known Seungmin a lot longer? Sure. But I've never thought of him that way. If anything, me choosing you should already tell you who I wanted."

Dongmin smiles faintly, the soft, content look on his face a dizzying comparison to his sharp canines. He believes you like he always does. But that's the problem, isn't it? With everything you've said behind his back, the lie should be apparent. Because within your boyfriend's insecurities, there's a truth to it—not consciously at least, just in the way there's always been a stupid crack that opens wider every time Seungmin is mentioned, and you've done nothing but ignore the water at your feet.

Yet he stares at you with so much unguarded affection, it twists your stomach into a knot that will never unravel.

"I love you," he says then.

Overwhelmed by the sudden confession, you pull him in, pressing your mouth to his in a kiss so desperate it puts his previous hormones to shame.

It's not like you weren't expecting this—how could you not? You'd spent the last few months rehearsing those same three words in your head, tonguing around each letter to get rid of the uncomfortable taste it came with. And maybe he was ready for that, but you weren't. So, this was the best you could do for now without giving him something flimsy, and like so many other times, you squeeze your eyes tight, trying to find that trapdoor in your mind and disappear down it, to a wonderful place where all the memories of Dongmin should fill in.

Seungmin. Your thoughts whisper.

The next few minutes, there's a hurried struggle to remove all of your clothes, and by the time your underwear rolls up in a ball beside his bed, Dongmin is already inside you, huffing pleasurable moans into your gaped mouth each time he feels you clamp around his cock.

"God! Keep doing that," he urges you.

You had no control over why you kept tensing around him—whether it's your body's intrinsic search for something more. And you don't figure it out until your mind slips again before you can stop it, and, like a metal detector, the thought of Seungmin's name is the sand-crusted jewellery, and you clamp down once more.

No, it's not about Seungmin. You're sure of it. Absolutely, hundred fucking percent.

Dongmin presses closer, his pace less magnifying and more like he couldn't commit to finishing a thrust. "You're so perfect," he whispers into your shoulder, but the words barely ignite anything.

Perfect.

That word was the bane of your existence. All you did your whole life was believe that every relationship dripped down to one single thing—perfection. But maybe Seungmin was right. Perfect didn't leave room to grow. Perfect didn't let you argue over the dumb things, laugh too loudly, or cry over the important ones. Perfect didn't let you mess up and make it better. Perfect was a plain room, and Dongmin had locked you inside it, too afraid to decorate.

Imperfection meant freedom, and you felt it in every harsh word Seungmin ever threw your way, in every argument that left you winded, in every moment you ached for him to pull you back. That heart-wrenching need to keep him close, to hear the rawness in his voice when he asked for your forgiveness.

Seungmin.

You shut your eyes, wrestling back your brain tooth and nail to focus on the moment—on Dongmin rutting into your core with a determination to leave a clear indent of his cock inside you, on his hands on your hips, his soft grunts—

Seungmin.

Again, his name skids into your head like a car caught spinning in the rain. But it's too late to banish the thought, because your mind has already conjured up the image of Seungmin at the batting cage—cap backwards, sleeves rolled up, arms flexing each time he swings his bat, with the lethal combination of his slit eyebrow and that cocky little smirk lingering after every comment.

You whine out loud, your body betraying you as it holds onto the memory of what Seungmin said, but to make it seem like you're putting in the extra effort to not commit mental infidelity, the "Next time, think of me during sex" line sounds a lot like an impression of Dobby the elf.

And, dear God, that doesn't even work,

"Oh—oh, fuck—fuck, fuck, fuck!" you gasp out, your voice higher in pitch than you'd like. The familiar feeling of a tight pressure builds low in your belly, but it doesn't ebb away like it normally does, and your whole body continues to roll in heat, before your back arches sharply, and the sudden crash of pleasure is unexpected but so deliciously good.

Dongmin finishes soon after, and whilst you both sit in complete silence on the mattress, bathing in your post-orgasm sweat, you shortly come to terms with two new predicaments in your life.

One, being that you actually came thinking about Kim Seungmin.

Two, being that you actually fucking liked it.

THE SUN was barely in the sky when Seungmin—who seemed to have been taught to express all of his frustration outwards—ordered the entire baseball team to run a hundred miserable laps around the campus field to make whatever was floating around his mind less pressing. They all fell behind one another but in disorientating lines, the soles of their cleats cutting into the damp morning grass.

On a normal day, Felix would've been out there too (doing his usual half-assed attempts at the warmups). Instead, he was currently lounging inside the dugout, relaxing his legs but firing his thumbs as they rapidly tapped on his phone screen.

No one—absolutely no one—was getting any sympathy out of Felix today.

"Eat a dick! Actually, eat two motherfucking girthy ass dicks and choke on it!" Felix curses with the volume of a grandparent on a phone call—just loud enough to reach beyond the glow of his fluorescent screen. In the blonde boy's defence, playing Call Of Duty was just as exhausting when you get teamed up with shitty shooters.

Seungmin, who had been monitoring the boys near the dugout, turns back to stare past his shoulder, arms still crossed in front of him with an intense scowl, as if to silently explain to Felix that whatever had pissed on his mood originally, he had managed to lift his leg and make it worse. "Remind me again why you can't practise today?"

"I actually woke up with a deadly cough," Felix responds, voice thick with offence and a badly constructed lie. "If you don't believe me, you can call up coach during his meeting and he'll tell you how it sounded pretty contagious. Enough to keep me benched until next week."

A muscle ticked in Seungmin's jaw. "Then why are you sitting here? Go be sick in your own bed."

"Can't," Felix says, a needle deep in his voice, as if the explanation to whatever he was doing should've already been threaded together by now. "If I go back now, I won't be able to use 'practice' as an excuse to get out of finishing the group assignment I've got with (Y/N). If I'm here? I'm sick but committed."

Even from where the blonde boy was sitting, he still caught onto the way Seungmin's mood turned into something closer to irritation, the kind that felt a little too personal. Now, Felix had seen Seungmin mad plenty of times (he had that one incident to refer to—when their actual pitcher, Jisung, threw out his arm right before a match and Felix had been shoved onto the mound as the last-minute replacement. And, well, as everyone could've guessed from someone with only shortstop experience, every ball he fired went sailing high and dangerously close to the batters' faces. After about the third near-decapitation, the umpire didn't buy the "bad aim" excuse anymore and disqualified their team for allegedly trying to take out the competition), but this was different, like he had forgotten Felix was naturally carefree because it seemed to involve a certain someone.

Oh. Now that's interesting.

"Did you ever pause and think she's basically running herself into the ground because you can't bother to lift a finger?" Seungmin presses further, his typical mask of pretending everything you did hadn't affected him one way or another slipping.

"Woah, I figured this reaction would've come out of Dongmin sooner or later." Felix grins, knowing better than to speak the devil's name within the circumference of Seungmin. Why? Well, nobody knew. Dongmin had been what most people called plain, from the way he looked down to his major. But there was a reason why the ace player always tightened his fist, ready to swing first at the mention of that name. And maybe Felix had his own suspicions.

Stepping back into the open field, Seungmin speaks quietly, but a dangerous sort that gives his words a bite. "Him? That asswipe is just another growing problem for her to deal with on top of everything else."

With a dismissive eye roll, Felix starts another round, the very obnoxious sounds of murder coming out of his phone not as loud as the barking orders Seungmin dishes out.

Whatever. The blonde boy was a nutrition science major, not a goddamn psychologist to pinpoint his issues. Actually, he did know, and thought that sleeping with every moving organism on campus because you can't have the one person you wanted was beyond stupid, but Felix had no intention of caring.

Suddenly, the shrilling vibration of a phone is felt underneath his thigh. "Someone's phone's ringing!" Felix announces, shifting slightly because, somehow, the rectangular object had ended up in the most uncomfortable spot, all while simultaneously concentrating on his game.

"Who is it?" Seungmin yells out, squinting his eyes at Felix.

"How would I know? I'm kinda in the middle of beating my highest kill score here," the blonde boy fires back, his tone making it sound like he's the one being inconvenienced.

There's a mere second of peace before the phone buzzes again, shooting tingles down Felix's leg.

"They're still calling, and it's vibrating against my ass," he grumbles. "Dude, if I move, it might buzz right into my rectum."

Shifting in the opposite direction to get the phone to slide out from underneath him, he manages to dislodge it just enough to catch the end pieces of the caller ID.

"Wait, hang on. The vibrations are spaced out. I think they're texting."

Exasperated, Seungmin responds, "Felix, I swear—"

"Oh, shit." From the awkward angle he twisted himself into, where he managed to support himself on the bench with only one butt-cheek, Felix finally reads out the mysterious caller, his interest piquing now that he knew whose phone was suffocating under him this whole time. "It's from (Y/N). Actually, scratch that—it's from (Y/N) with a red heart emoji."

That finally gets Seungmin's attention, immediately stopping his coaching. "What does she want?"

Something tells Felix he's about to interfere in the same business he pledged never to care about. But who could blame him for eavesdropping, or wanting small context clues? Felix swipes up and exits out of his screen, picking up the coverless phone.

Clearing his throat, he reads aloud: "Please, I need your help." Full stop. "Dongmin won't leave me alone." Full stop. "I'm in building 56 toilets. Meet me there and I'll explain everything." Full stop, end of text."

Felix hadn't noticed when Seungmin barged back into the dugout, eyes wide and laser-focused. He only realised the ace player was there when bags and equipment started getting thrown around in a frenzy.

Standing up with an alarmed look, Felix spoke with a quiver in his voice. "Whoa, whoa, what're you doing?"

Seungmin grabbed a baseball bat nestled inside one of the team's bags, and the blonde boy quickly jumped to his own conclusion. "Oh my god—wait, wait, wait! Is that for me?"

He swallowed and raised his hands defensively, finding Seungmin's hurried breaths through his nose far scarier than any horror movie Felix had ever watched—which, for reference, wasn't a lot.

“Look, I know what I said before about procrastinating and just being an all-around idiot, but I did start the project! I swear I'm halfway done, actually! And I don't have a problem with (Y/N). I think she's a really sweet girl—very studious—"

Seungmin levelled the bat to Felix's face, his withering glare the only restraint he had left. It conveyed all the anger he held for the blonde boy, wordlessly warning him that if he ever disrespected you again, Seungmin wouldn't take it lightly.

"That's great, Felix. Wanna test how far your responsibilities can go?"

Felix watched as Seungmin roped the coach's whistle off his neck before chucking it at Felix's chest, leaving him to instinctively put his hand out to catch it.

"Take over. Keep the team running laps until I'm back, or have them do drills."

"Wait, what? You're not serious?"

Perplexed by the new shiny toy in his hand, Felix's panicky eyes tread straight, following to where Seungmin jogs away, his hand fisting in the middle of the bat shaft. "Dead serious," Seungmin calls back, not even sparing a glance. "Don't let anyone stop."

The sun settled high into the sky, a summer morning more believable now with the widespread of uninterrupted blues. Jeongin, the team's known head case player, skids to a stop mid-lap, his chest heaving as he braces his hands on his knees, black hair glued down by his over-pouring sweat. "What's happening? Are we stopping?"

This morning, Felix happily skipped to practice with a fake cough and the dreams of playing electronic games until the afternoon. But now, the weight of his newfound authority felt a lot heavier than the stupid little whistle in his hand. "Maybe... no... I guess—look, I don't know how this works."

The baseball team surrounds Felix in seconds, centring him like a yolk inside an egg, and maybe that metaphor hit too close to base, because all their eyes glazed over with pure intent to pass on all their anger from Seungmin's morning boot camp onto Felix.

     Great.

SEUNGMIN COULDN'T stop feeling angry. Even with the very concerning text messages you'd sent, his skin tingled with so much annoyance as he rehearsed exactly how to bring up the fact that you'd been ignoring him for a week.

What made it worse was that the ace player was just the right type of insufferable—someone careless and casual with people's emotions because, well, they weren't his to deal with. He never chased after answers—God, nothing was more pathetic than running around trying to piece together an explanation. He'd much rather wait until they cracked first, coming to him with whatever drama they had bottled up.

But then he thought back to that day in the small theatre room no one used anymore. You'd been sitting in one of those carpeted red chairs out of a row of twenty, minding your business, before looking up, spotting him, and abruptly shoving your lunch back into your bag like his presence ruined your appetite. Then, just like that, you were gone, leaving without so much as a single word—except maybe for that hiss of pain after you missed a step and fell to the floor, giving yourself rug burns.

Now, the irony was that the same guy who swore he'd never run after someone, was practically chasing after you, breaking every one of his rules, because waiting wasn't an option.

When Seungmin reaches Building 56, he barely spares the elevator a glance—it would take too long. Instead, he flings open the emergency exit door and takes the stairs, skipping two steps at a time.

Coming up the last staircase, the noise of someone crying hits him first. Who it belonged to was hard to figure out, as a huge crowd of students flooded the main corridor, their curiosity clearly outweighing their need for personal space. The hallway was so packed that some had to squeeze past the emergency exit door, spilling into the stairwell just to get enough room to watch whatever was going on.

"Fuck... Seungmin's behind me."

The whisper was barely audible, only meant for that person's friend to hear. But like dominos, heads started turning, shoulders stiffening, and within seconds the crowd perfectly split down the middle. It might've been the bat clenched in his hand that scared them enough to move, but something told the baseball player they were shoving him out, knowing well enough he had something to do with whatever was on the other-side.

When Seungmin broke past the last person, the centre purposefully emptied out in front of him. All he saw was a sobbing Dongmin, hunched over on the floor like he'd taken a severe beating to his stomach. "I can't leave, not until you talk to me!" Dongmin yells out, inching his head upwards, noticing the low-hanging snot dribbling past his reddening lips.

This was so humiliating. Seungmin had to resist the urge to just turn around and leave Dongmin there to choke on his own spit. But he obviously couldn't—not when you were basically stuck inside the bathroom and Dongmin couldn't stop yelling at the door.

He immediately heads over, a glowered look on his face. "What did you do to her?" Seungmin speaks in an accusatory tone.

"To her?" Dongmin croaked out, the crack in his throat making it clear he couldn't believe Seungmin was so quick to point the finger at him even when he looked miserable. "What about what she did to me? She ruined me."

Seungmin shook his head in disbelief, his grip tightening on the bat as Dongmin lurched forward, finding his balance on his folded knees like a desperate man pleading his case. "All we did was have sex—really, really great sex—and then she broke up with me an hour later. Over text."

Dongmin motions to the bathroom door, his expression twisting wildly as if he were handing the ace player the key to some grander mystery. But Seungmin didn't care whether or not he was telling the truth. Not even a little.

"She's the fucking problem!" Dongmin spat, his voice cracking with frustration.

"Careful with the fucking swearing," Seungmin shot back, giving him a warning look—a little head tilt paired with a raised brow. "Now, I don't know what you thought was going to happen, but you're obviously not in the right headspace to fix this—not like this, and definitely not with half the school watching."

"If you're telling me to leave, I'm not going." Dongmin shook his head furiously, his fists clenching at his sides. "She needs to come out here and give me a good, believable reason why she broke up with me. Something that makes sense."

Seungmin's lips twitched into the faintest smirk, his voice dropping into a mutter as he leaned forward slightly. "I can think of one already."

Before Dongmin could respond, Seungmin took a step closer and crouched down, levelling their eyes. His tone turned dangerously calm, the edges of his words razor-sharp. "Here's what's going to happen. First, you're going to stop crying. Yeah, that's step one. And then, you're going to sit here quietly like a good boy while I go in there and talk to her. After that, we'll get to the bottom of this—without me having to use my bat on you."

Dongmin flinches a little, fear caught in his brown eyes. "That's a joke... right?"

"For now." Seungmin's response made the fight in Dongmin's posture cripple.

He stands up, walking towards the bathroom door. The door didn't have one of those outside handles you could yank on—just a push plate—but he could picture you on the other side, probably bracing it with your whole body, determined to keep Dongmin from slipping in.

Seungmin doesn't bother knocking. Instead, he leans in close, lowering his voice as he quietly calls out, "It's me. Can I come in?"

Quickly, the door flings open. "I'm so glad you came!" you exclaimed, not giving Seungmin the opportunity to see the state you were in before pulling him into a hug that was equally aggressive, as the ace player felt his back smack against the now closed door.

All his previous anger almost dissolved at the feeling of your body against his. Almost. You finally release Seungmin just enough to look at you, and it takes all his willpower not to visibly wince at the fact one of your false lashes hung unnaturally close to your cheek, and your lipstick was smudged enough to suggest either an emotional breakdown or a very aggressive make-out session. Or maybe a weird combination of the two.

"You got a little," he starts slowly, vaguely pointing to it, before giving up and motioning to your entire face. "Something everywhere."

You gasp, dramatically spinning to the bathroom mirror. "Oh, God." You peel off the struggling lash and place it delicately on the sink. "I didn't even notice until now—do you think I looked like this while talking to Dongmin?"

"Isn't he your ex-boyfriend now? You're way past the point of that being your priority." Seungmin says it pointedly. There's something unreasonably satisfying about saying it out loud—ex. He does it mostly for himself, but the way you react to it, how your hand stills mid-wipe as you clear away your messy eyeliner, meeting his gaze through the mirror like you're equally caught off guard, excites him.

You blink, exhaling sharply before turning back to him. "How much did he tell you?"

The baseball player shrugs, taking the opportunity to lean his bat up against the wall. "I just heard that you guys broke up."

"That's a lie." You quickly correct him, sounding breathless, like you still haven't caught up with the whole situation yet. "Dongmin’s been telling the whole school that I couldn't even let his post-nut clarity settle before I called it off. You know, just say you do..."

Seungmin doesn't answer right away. He's too distracted by how utterly out of place he looks here. The girl's bathroom mirror isn't even high enough for his build, cutting off the top of his head completely, but when you're reflected in it, everything frames you just right, allowing him to catch the way your fingers tighten around the sink behind you, white-knuckled, like you're holding onto your embarrassment there, over the idea of him knowing anything at all.

"Yeah, okay. But that's not why I'm here." Seungmin shifts against the doorframe, arms crossed, voice completely void of concern. "I couldn’t care less about his problems. I came here with a solid proof getaway plan, and it's yours if you tell me the real reason why you ghosted me for a week."

That's a lie. Obviously. He didn't have a plan—at least, not a good one. But he would've helped you regardless, no matter how much you refused to explain yourself. Because Seungmin knew you. And if you were willing to subject yourself to the absolute humiliation of having your sex life on display outside a public bathroom, then unlawful assault was about to be the least of your worries.

You don't miss a beat. "You're not being serious."

Seungmin cocks his head, cap pressing against the short strands of his fringe, an unimpressed scowl settling across his face.

"Need I remind you," you say, tone clipped, "that there's a fully grown man outside this door, crying so hard he stops momentarily to gag, and he won't let me leave?"

You throw a finger toward the entrance, as if the pitiful, hiccupping sobs weren't already obvious enough. As if on a comedic cue, Dongmin whimpers out a weak little, "Hello?" from the other side. Seungmin—who had, up until this point, been resting against the door—responds with a sharp kick against it.

The baseball player doesn't even acknowledge it before moving on. "Did he get jealous about our friendship or something? Told you not to talk to me anymore?"

—"What? No, god, no."

—"Did he... like... finish in seconds instead of minutes?"

—"That would've made you so happy."

—"Is he gay?"

—“No—stop it. I'm not answering anymore.”

—“If he didn't do anything, did you do something?”

—“What does that even mean?”

—“I don't know, you tell me.”

Seungmin had enough sparring words in him to keep going until you broke, but after his last comment, you didn't even try to reject him. That, combined with the heavy silence stretching between you in the already-cramped bathroom, was enough for the baseball player to come to his own conclusion.

You did, in fact, do something.

And from the looks of it—your real lashes clumped together with wetness, not from sadness, but raw, unrelenting frustration. Like you were pissed at yourself for trying so hard to hold yourself together, only to break anyway.

Seungmin sighs deeply. He decides he'll tuck his own stubbornness faraway for now. The baseball player pushes off the wall and reaches for your wrist, noticing a not so inconspicuous tug back from your arm, as if his very hands were lit on fire and even being mere centimetres from him could leave deep burns. Either that or you were still very much angry that Seungmin’s default setting wasn’t to help you, but to clear away his own agenda.

“We won't do this here." Seungmin grumbles, tugging the cap off his own head—it's his most worn item to date, safely perched on his nightstand every single day since freshman year, ready to grab whenever he heads out the door—and smoothly places it over yours. But he doesn't stop there. His fingers linger at the brim, purposely tugging it lower so the edge dips past your eyes, effectively working to block the view of anything really.

"There." He steps back, watching you awkwardly try to beam up at him from beneath the shadow of the cap. It stuns Seungmin for a moment when he notices his chest tightening. Oh. “That's your magical cloak. Now you don't have to see them, and they don't get to see any part of you."

You purse your lips, clearly thinking. "Okay, that solves one issue," you say slowly, lifting your hands and flailing them dramatically in the open space in front of you. “But, um... I can't see shit, which is terrible if I also need to, y'know... walk.”

“Just trust me.” Seungmin says it simply, darting his fingers out, keeping his growing irritation to a minimum as he watches you hesitate yet again. "Keep your head down and watch only my hands. Nothing else."

He moves closer to the bathroom door, but pauses when he feels a different kind of heat bloom against his palm. He whirls back with a final look of surprise, only to find the brim of his hat staring back at him—attached to what looks like a rather convincing Sim character, standing frozen, waiting for the next task.

“Ready?”

There's a large intake of air. “No... does that mean we're fucked already?”

THERE ARE shards of glass slicing up your lungs as you rest against a darkly coated wooden desk—metaphorically this time, of course. The whole idea of Seungmin being the school’s golden arm had momentarily escaped you the second he bolted with you in hand. If you had remembered—instead of worrying about Dongmin grabbing onto your ankles—you wouldn’t have agreed, and maybe you wouldn’t be here, tasting iron in the back of your throat. Stupid.

When you finally manage to look up, a hand pressed into your side to keep the stitch from fully forming, the setting around you forces a breathy laugh from your lips, thick with irony.

The boy’s locker room.

How fitting that just minutes ago, you had Seungmin trapped inside the girl’s bathroom, and now he’s returned the favour—stepping past rows of open lockers and the souring smell of sweat, just to lock you up inside the coach’s office.

“Was your boyfriend always this pathetic?” Seungmin is the forgetful one this time. He stands with his back against the door, as if the large window panel beside it hadn’t already given away the perpetrators inside the tiny room, with a certain weight in his eyes despite his joking tone. It makes you wonder whether it’s just another one of his calculated questions, designed to get you to say exactly what he wants.

You gulp before stating, matter-of-factly, “You mean ex-boyfriend.”

And saying it should hurt—should feel like a sharp reminder that there’s now a gaping hole in your chest. But instead, it gets mistranslated in the way you tip back to sit further up on the desk, letting your Mary Jane-clad feet swing from a table that’s probably seen more balled fists slammed down in anger than anything else.

“No. That’s why everything he’s doing now surprises me.” The second the words are out, they hang wrong in the air. You’re doing it again. Giving him the benefit of a doubt he’s never earned. Instantly, your mouth curls, and before you know it, you fall into Seungmin’s trap one way or another. “Actually, you know what? Yeah. He’s so fucking pathetic.”

You lock eyes with the baseball player, gripped by this strange urge to unload a year’s worth of frustration onto him—the same way his coach expects his bat to hit a home run every time. And you don’t know if it’s because he looks strong enough to take it, or because you want to see if he’ll break. See if he’ll finally get angry at you.

“Dongmin has been pathetic since the night I tried riding him and he panicked about me bending his shrivelling dick into some weird flesh origami. He’s selfish and stupid. Always has been… he just did a really fucking good job of making me think he wasn’t.”

You scoff, doing everything to stay light and calm under these weird circumstances. Though the room still clings to a quietness that leaves no room for peace—just an overbearing pressure that reminds you Seungmin is very much here, listening to you blurt out your sex horror stories—still watching you.

His face doesn’t shift. You regret ever taking his sarcastic nature for granted, because you would’ve killed to see his lips wobble with the control to keep himself from smiling. But there’s not a smirk.

Then he says it—low.

“Who was it?”

Your pulse stutters. It’s a vague question, and you could, all the more, ask him to explain himself clearer, but you knew what it had to be after the commotion in the toilet—so did your body, which involuntarily thinks about the time it stung with pleasure underneath Dongmin, thinking about Seungmin—and all you can muster as a response is… nothing.

You watch nervously, suddenly turning into a gladiator in an arena, eyeing the stalking lion that pushes off the doorframe, rounding around the desk. It was quite possibly the hottest Seungmin had ever looked. But you knew the reason why he kept walking closer—halting just where your knees tied close together—was because you had already given your confession in reverse, and all he was looking for was proof that he wasn’t going insane.

Instinctively, your mind wills your legs to part—just enough, a silent invitation for Seungmin to close the space between you. But he’s already made that decision himself. His hands brush the sides of your knees, guiding them apart before stepping in, like he’s been waiting for this moment longer than you’ve been dreading it.

The hem of your skirt hikes up with the movement, the cool air licking at the heat between your thighs—your body betraying you, aching to buck into the rough fabric of his pants.

“Seungmin,” you breathe, though you don’t know if it’s a warning, or a plea. It sounds too soft. Too wanting. Like you’re asking for something neither of you are ready to name.

His fingers haven’t stopped swiping at your skin. “What did I do?”

“Nothing. It was nothing.” That was a lie. But it felt easier than trying to explain the truth—that it wasn’t him fucking you senselessly into the mattress that pushed you over the edge. It was worse than that. It was the image of him smiling, soft and stupid. Or the quiet outline of his back turned toward you, relaxed and unguarded, like he was waiting for you to come wrap your arms around him.

That was what ruined you. Something so devastatingly ordinary that it cracked the floor beneath you wide enough to fall straight through it.

Straight into him.

He laughs, puffing hot air into your face. “Bullshit. You haven’t been able to look at me for more than a second.” There’s a note of patience in his throat. “I knew it was me… even before you got with Dongmin.”

By now, the desperate need for him to hold you is confused with the want to punish him.

“If you knew—” You shove him a little. He doesn’t budge, and it does nothing but anger you more when you feel him inch his fingers under your skirt, dizzyingly close to where your hips meet your thighs, like he’s testing how much you’ll let him take while you’re still mad at him.

And he takes, and takes.

“If you knew, then why’d you mess with me so much? You could’ve left me alone. But instead, you slept with every girl who looked your way. Paraded them in front of me like I wasn’t even—”

“Because I wanted you to stop looking at me like I was something you could actually love,” Seungmin says harshly. “I’m not good at this. I don’t know how to do relationships without disappointing someone. So yeah, I might’ve fucked girls who didn’t matter—sue me. You also used Dongmin to bury everything you felt for me.”

Your jaw is tight, glaring intensely. “I did love him.”

But by now, the button of Seungmin’s jeans is pressed firm against the heat of your core, and you can’t think back on any shared memory between your ex-boyfriend that had the opportunity to come this close to being this shattering. No, there had to be one. Was there?

When he speaks again—his voice barely a breath, inches from your wet mouth—it doesn’t sound like a confession.

It sounds like a fucking verdict.

“Enough to picture my face while he was fucking you.”

Then there’s a moment—just one—where your mouths finally collide (with the lone clumsiness of forgetting the baseball player’s hat and colliding with the brim first before anything, chucking it to the side), hands grabbing and kneading your body with such force. And Seungmin’s mouth—fuck—his mouth leaves a small cluster of fires that drop into your belly, igniting and burning down the lining of your stomach until all that’s left is a hollowed-out ache in the shape of him.

You whimper when his fingers dip low, hooking under the thin bands of your underwear. He tugs—up—and the fabric wedges tight between your folds, pressure zeroing in on your clit so sweet and sharp it knocks the breath out of you.

“Ngh—ah—” you gasp, legs twitching and opening wider. He settles back, eyes blown out and taking you in.

Then he drags one finger down. Slow. Feather-light. Tracing the tension he just created. From the peak, right over the swollen fabric, down, down—until he’s pressing deep over your clothed entrance, and it’s enough to break something loose inside you.

“Was this how you looked like thinking about me?” You moan in response to his lewd question, your hips jerking forward, chasing the friction like it’s the only thing that makes sense anymore. It’s pathetic how quickly you’re spiralling. How fast he reduces you to this before he’s even inside you.

And that terrifies you.

Because this was real. It wasn’t the dissociating images you conjure up to distract you from the stale rhythm of someone trying to love you the right way. It was Seungmin, with his teasing mouth and bruised heart, being consumed with his very own desires and satiating it the only way he knew how to.

It was imperfect.

“I can’t do this.” Your hand slips up, resting lightly against his arm—just enough pressure to still him. Seungmin stops, confusion flashing across his face, then fades into something softer. He doesn’t speak—just watches you, waiting.

“I trust you as my best friend. I always have.” You glance away for a beat, then back up at him. “But this... what we’re doing—I don’t trust you with it. Not yet. It has to grow naturally. I need to know it’s real. That this isn’t just... hormones or timing or some ego trip because I came thinking about you.”

There’s still an unclear want to give in to him while resisting him. “I don’t want 20 minutes of something intense that disappears by morning. I want to know we’re both in this for the right reasons. That we’re risking the friendship because we actually want each other... not because it feels good to be wanted.”

The silence stretches. “I’m not saying don’t try. I’m saying... if we’re doing this, I need us both to mean it.”

This is the part you forgot how to do. The part that got buried after a year of being Dongmin’s perfect ‘yes man’. Always agreeable, always softening your edges to fit the version of you he could manage. You spent so long smoothing over his messes that the idea of setting a boundary felt foreign.

So no—choosing yourself doesn’t feel like some glowing act of self-empowerment. It feels like rejecting the one thing you’ve been aching for. It feels like standing in front of someone you’ve loved in too many complicated, unspoken ways... and saying not yet.

“If that’s what you need, I’ll try.” It’s not a promise, but it’s enough. Seungmin leans back, helping you readjust your underwear, the wetness making sitting all the more uncomfortable, though it entertains the baseball player. Perhaps it’s a small payback from all the shitty treatment he’s gotten from his coach.

“Just… don’t hold the first three screw-ups against me,” he adds, mouth twitching into something not quite a smile. “I’m more practice than presentation. Not really the flowers and teddy bears type.”

A small laugh tumbles past your lips, appreciating the familiarity in his tone. “No. You’re more ‘boy’s locker room and lending your girl your baseball jersey after marking her up in it’ type.”

That gets him. A blink paired with a slow raise of one slit brow—like he’s filing the image away in his memory cabinet in real time, just in case he needs it later for inspiration.

Your phone buzzes with perfect timing, eliminating the growing awkwardness. Fishing it out and lazily flicking open your screen, Seungmin doesn’t ask at first. Just watches. But the second your features quirk—

“Who is it?” he says, not too casual, distracting himself by bending and picking up his baseball cap, dusting it off against his thigh that was too close to his growing bulge.

You glance up. “Weird... it’s Felix. He just sent me his part of the project. I’ve been chasing him down for a week.”

Seungmin leans back against the window, arms crossed again. “Guess guilt finally won.” He says it flatly, but there’s a flicker of something beneath his words—amusement, mostly. Like he’ll bring this moment up in a couple of days, preferably around Felix, coaxing him to outwardly say who had played a big role in successfully getting him to help you.

You type a quick reply, shooting off a sarcastic thank-you message with one hand. A beat later, your phone dings again. But this time, the sound doesn’t come from your device.

It comes from somewhere outside the door.

Seungmin pieces it together quickly. “Felix?” Craning his head back to peer out through the office window, the ace player watches parts of his fellow teammate become visible behind a row of lockers, hand poking out within the darkness, holding up a lit phone.

“I was gonna knock,” comes Felix’s unmistakable voice—a little nervous and rightfully grossed out for someone who eavesdropped from outside the coach’s office. “But things got wild really quickly… so I tried breaking the ice over text.”

[whoopsyeahokay]

Bubblegum

summary: Zed has a bad day and needs an outlet before he goes on a rampage. guess who has to save the town from a possible Zombie attack? yep. it's you or no one.

pairing: Zed Necrodopolis x fem!reader

warnings: smut. AU - canon doesn't exist here. zombies being zombies. biting. this is not your Disney's Zombie.

💌this is a little bday surprise for @therosietoesy 🩷 i'm still working on your request, my dove, fret not. i just wanted to actually gift you something 🥰

bonne fête, ma belle

___________________________🫧

Bubblegum

The thing about Zombies, you learned, is that they need to bite. The Z-Bands keep a lot of things in check, basically slow-release sedation to tamp down those violent urges, but if their heartrates rise above a certain level, the technology is about as useful as a chocolate teapot.

And Zed's heartrate? Well, in the wake of the Prawn's devastating loss—that he shoulders the blame for—and another infestation of creepy creature that wants to whisk Addison away forever, Zed is on the brink of a total meltdown. To put it mildly.

His sockets are already black as the abyss when he finds you behind the school, snarling and spitting as he tries to ask for help, for an outlet; need you, now. He grabs your wrist as soon as you get to your feet and tugs you against him. Red lips curled back, yellowing teeth bared, the monster inside him clawing its way out faster than you'd ever seen.

You give him a pretty smile, "You wanna take this somewhere private, big guy?"

And, no, he fucking doesn't. Can't. Too consumed by thoughts of beating his fat cock into you until you scream. At this point, he can barely string together a sentence, words reduced to throaty animal noise. You giggle, sweet as sugar, and raise one hand to cradle his jaw and boldly sweep your thumb across his bottom lip.

"You're in bad shape, huh?" You comment, not surprised when he snaps his teeth at your thumb.

Breathing labored, eyes boring into you as you gaze so fondly up at him, "Want," he manages to growl. You don't consider it an attack when he grabs you roughly and pushes you against the wall, brittle nails digging into your flesh as he lifts you by the backs of your thighs. A long pause wherein he just pants against your neck and then, "Please."

Such a courteous beast.

His Z-band is practically wailing, the sound reminding you to cast that neat little spell you've been using since you and Zed started this thing.

You mutter the incantation between stinging kisses before he savagely shoves his tongue in your mouth, fucking it in and out as he tries to taste every tooth and ridge and soft piece of tissue. God, you live for these moments. When he's completely at the mercy of his darker side. The side he tries so hard to smother outside of Zombietown. The side you love.

Not to say you don't love the whole package. It's just that you're more exclusive with the monster than the man. Person Zed isn't as...upfront about what he wants with you. Less demanding, more cautious. Meanwhile, Zombie Zed is a lot more decisive and has sunk his teeth into your neck to claim you more times than you can count. Hence the rubber-skin spell. Keeps your skin intact and the Zombie cooties from spreading.

He finally releases your mouth, biting and kissing a trail from your jaw to your pulse point. He pins you to the wall with his hips as his hands claw under your shirt, fisting into the fabric before, without warning, he tears it open. Needy. Desperate. Fucking hungry for you in his ragelust.

You can feel him through his jeans, huge and growing as the Zombie takes over completely, and your mouth waters. This is going to hurt in the best way. He grinds himself against your pussy; sharp, vicious strokes a threat of what's to come, all the while panting and snarling into your skin as he chews chunks of flesh that don't tear away from your throat.

Witches and Zombies really do make the best match, you think greedily, equally as frenzied as you yank his shirt over his head. Then it's skin on skin, your bra in pieces at his feet; his big, calloused hand groping your tit just this side of painful. He grunts, hips moving harder, faster, blunt teeth grazing the soft underside of your chin.

"Want," He rasps again, long fingers teasing under your skirt and pressing insistently between your pussy lips through your panties. In a brief moment of clarity, Zed leans back, expression pleading, "Baby, let me—fuck, I can't—" And then it's gone, the green mist rushing back in, making his eyes wild and his movements stiff as rigor mortis.

You don't even have the chance to give him permission before his fingers dig under the edge of your panties and plunge into you, corkscrewing deep as he growls in delight at how wet you already are for him.

"Mine," Zed bites into your throat, and you don't disagree, moaning as his fingers snap in and out, drilling your sweet spot. "Only mine."

There's no point echoing his sentiment, Zed so far under that he doesn't actually care to hear your thoughts, just wants to make sure you're aware that you're owned. He removes his fingers long enough to rip a hole in your panties, then to get his fly undone—the button flying, zipper torn—and his jeans pulled down enough to free his dribbling cock.

His free hand clenches a chunk of your hair and he angles your head, presses his brow against yours, demanding, "Tell me." He teases the fat head between your lips, pushes in the barest fraction, and smirks when you keen.

For a second, you have no fucking idea what he's asking until you remember, "I want it, Zee."

"Again."

Louder, "I want it, please, Zee."

Zed leans in, nips your earlobe and breathes, "Good girl...perfect little prey for me..." and then, fuck, he spears inside you, the feeling like being split in two. He has one hand on your ass, the other tangled in your hair, his teeth deep in the join of your shoulder and neck.

Every thrust is brutal, punching sighs and whimpers from your chest. He doesn't care if it hurts. He needs this. Needs you like this. And you lose yourself in it as much as he does, your nails mauling welts across his back. The sensation coaxes him to move faster, harder, both hands on your hips now to guide you on his cock exactly how he wants. Your tits bounce as he fucks you with everything he has, your brain scrambled from the sheer fucking strength he has at his disposal.

"Close," He grunts. He sinks to his knees, keeps your back against the wall, and fucks up into you with abandon. His head thrown back, lips parted, eyes clamped shut in ecstasy. "Fuck, baby, gonna come."

He slams into you a few more times and then roars his release, biting into your neck with the intention of ripping flesh from bone. Zed stays like that, his cock pulsing inside you as he spills an ungodly amount of Zombie seed, so much that some oozes around his cock. He hitches his hips three, four, five more times before going still.

The wailing soundtrack of his Z-band finally stops. You don't actually need that to tell you he's slowly returning to normal. His muscles loosen marginally, his skin warms; popped veins shrink and his skin adopts a less sickly hue. Still grey, just less dead. It takes a minute for him to calm all the way down, and when he does, he removes his teeth from your neck and lifts his head.

You smile at him, gentle, fond, "Hey, big guy. You with me again?"

Zed swallows. Nods. His gaze falls between your joined bodies, and he licks his lips at the sight before glancing back up at you.

"Did I hurt you?" He has to know, his concern palpable.

"No." You promise, "You never actually do."

He doesn't look like he believes you, but he doesn't argue. Not today, anyway. You watch him take in your torn shirt and basically disintegrated panties and bra. With a cringe, he hands you his shirt.

"You know, one day I'm going to bill you for everything you've shredded," You say playfully in an effort to prove you're okay.

It works, "You'd think by now you'd start bringing an extra set of clothes with you." He teases back, smirking. It's the first time that he's acknowledged how he gets when the Zombie takes the wheel, and you almost miss it because you can't get your brain to get your mouth to work fast enough.

"You keep saying 'this is the last time, cutie, I swear'," You parody his voice as you roll your eyes. "So, why would I prep for something that isn't suppose to happen?"

And Zed looks utterly confused—still cockdeep inside you, mind you, hardly softened at all.

"I mean the last time I'll be rough. You know that I've claimed you, like, eight times," He says, again acknowledging for the first time what happens when his inner Zombie comes out.

You're almost stunned at how casual he's suddenly being about everything after months of ashamed side-eye and stilted aftercare.

"I think that's a pretty convincing argument to be prepared, babe." He tacks on, his expression telling you that you should've known.

Gaping at him, "Wait, I thought all of that was heat of the moment stuff?" You blink wide eyes at him, almost falling back on your ass when he dislodges you and helps you to your feet.

"Heat of the mo—You know I'm still me when I'm Zombied Out, right?"

Actually. No. You didn't know that. You assumed up to this point that Person Zed and Zombie Zed were completely separate entities with conflicting views on what they want from you.

Oops.

"So, when you say I'm yours...?" You ask slowly, not quite able to believe that this whole time you've possibly been Zombie married.

Zed scoffs, hooks an arm around your waist and pulls you into his body, his gaze turning dark and heated. "It means your mine, baby girl." And then, "Why the fuck do you think I come to you when I'm having a meltdown?"

"...because I don't scream in terror and run away?"

"You're an idiot." Zed snorts as he presses a soft kiss to your lips.

You shrug, "Apparently, I'm your idiot."

In playful retaliation, Zed nibbles your neck, bites and pulls the skin, chuckles, "Definitely mine." Then, dangerously, "but it looks like I gotta make sure you really understand what that means," he murmurs right as his Z-band beeps its first alert.

🫧___________fin.____________

also on AO3!

[ecstxsyy]

SAY YES. | VIKTOR ❦

You love to mess with Viktor’s head.

based on this ask.

18+ mdni!

viktor x fem lab partner!reader

warnings: oral (m&f!receiving), fingering, 69ing, viktor definitely whines when he gets head idc.

requests for v-day event are closed!!

cupid’s candy hearts masterlist

───── ⋆ ⋅ ꨄ︎ ⋅⋆ ─────

VIKTOR OFTEN found it difficult to work with you around and he hated you for it, he hated the way his mind went fuzzy every time you bent over and he got a view straight down your flowy top, he hated the way he swore you did it on purpose, smirking when you’d catch him adjusting himself in his trousers.

You knew the effect you had on him, in fact, you used it to your advantage. You loved the way the slim boy went beet-red when you sucked on the end of your pen, making sure to make direct eye contact with him once while doing it. Your torment had gotten to the point where Viktor brought it to Jayce, complaining about how you were nothing but a distraction in the lab.

Jayce, of course, disagreed. He knew you had a brilliant mind, but he too loved to watch the way you messed with Viktor. His smaller companion oftentimes took things too seriously, was too focused on the development of Hextech to care about anything else, let alone having a romantic life.

Tonight was the Valentine’s Day Gala and Jayce intended to attend with Mel, but he knew Viktor would just hole up in the lab. That’s where you came in, you didn't have a date to the gala so you decided to not go, curling up in your bed. As you finished getting comfortable, a knock sounded throughout your bed chambers. You let out a loud sigh and sat up, preparing to talk to whoever it was.

“Come in,” you shouted, but before you could get the full sentence out, Jayce barged in. He was fitted in a white and red suit, looking ready for tonight's festivities.

“Why even bother knocking?” you snorted, flopping back down into your bed. Jayce was silent as he grabbed the bottom of your duvet, yanking it off of you and exposing you to the chill air of your room.

“Get dressed, you’re gonna go hang out in the lab with Vik,” Jayce announced, clearly meaning for it to be an order.

“Why would I do that? The guy hates me,” you huffed, crossing your arms.

“No he doesn't, he’s just very….. blunt,” Jayce smiled, trying to persuade you.

“What do I get out of it?” you asked with a raised brow.

“I’ll finally start the process of making you that Hextech curling iron,” Jayce chuckled, he knew how badly you wanted him to make a curling iron that did all of the work for you. A grin spread across your face as you got up to put on something appropriate for the lab, but inappropriate enough to get under Viktor’s skin.

“You better have the designs for it done by tomorrow afternoon,” you yelled to him from your walk-in closet as you got dressed.

You stepped out once you were ready, grabbing your notebooks and sketches to at least try and get something done in the lab. Jayce waited at the door for you, walking you to the lab on his way to the ballroom.

You bid your goodbyes to Jayce as you reached the large doors, but the sight that greeted you once you opened the door had you shocked, to say the least. Viktor was standing near the Hexcore in only his undergarments, runes carved into his pale skin. Your gasp caught his attention, the strings of light connecting Viktor to the Hexcore dissipating quickly.

“What are you doing here?” his voice was sharp and laced with venom.

“Uh.. Jayce- um.. he uh-” Your mouth opened and closed like a fish out of water, your words were stuck in your throat.

“Jayce what?” Viktor spit, this made you snap. You made your way over to Viktor and yanked him away from the Hexcore, pushing him onto the couch on the far wall.

“What the hell were you doing? You know that thing is dangerous,” you spat back, grabbing some gauze to wrap around the open wounds in the shape of wild runes.

“That is none of your business,” he dismissed, letting you wrap up his wounds. From where you knelt by his leg, he had the perfect view down your shirt. This made his brain begin to spiral, your breasts seemed to be the center of all of his problems. Anytime they came into gaze, his big plan went out the window. All he wanted to do was bury his head between them and never come out, and in his mind, it made him weak.

While he was lost in his spiral of thoughts, your eyes trailed up to his, catching the way he seemed almost hypnotized. You were confused for a moment until you followed his gaze directly to your breasts, you knew he looked, but you’d never actually caught him in the act.

“Viktor,” you said barely above a whisper, his gaze slowly moved up to meet yours, but not before pausing on your lips on the way.

“Hmm?” he replied, still slightly in a daze from the power of the Hexcore (and your boobs). You smiled and rubbed your hand up his bare thigh, letting your fingers graze the hem of his undergarments before pulling away.

“Why do you hate me so much?” you asked, your eyes boring into his amber ones. Viktor sighed, running a hand down his face.

“I don’t hate you, you’re just infuriating,” he groaned out, watching as you raised an eyebrow in confusion.

“I can’t focus with you around, every single thing you do makes my thoughts go blurry,” Viktor admitted with a sigh, placing his hand on top of yours. You smiled cheekily, you never knew it affected him as much as it truly does.

You and Viktor shared a look before something else caught your attention, the tent in Viktor’s undergarments was prominent. Why was it always the skinny guys that were absolutely hung? You thought, drool pooling in your mouth.

“Can I?” You asked, motioning to his clear erection. Viktor said nothing but nodded, leaning back into the couch behind him. Your hands slipped into the waistband of his undergarment, his hips lifting almost involuntarily to give you space to pull them down. His length sprang free from the confines of the fabric, his tip a drastically different color than the rest of him.

“Poor boy, I bet it’s been a while since you’ve gotten some relief,” you coed and Viktor nodded, whining for your touch.

You decided to give him what he wanted and took him into your mouth, you could feel every detail of his cock in your mouth. The veins that poked out of the side, the fat mushroom tip, and the way his balls tightened and released with every swirl of your tongue.

“Wait,” Viktor breathed out, grabbing one of your wrists in each hand.

“What? Do you want me to stop?” you asked, the confusion evident in your face.

“God, no. I just want to make sure you get the pleasure you deserve too,” he began, “please sit on my face.” Viktor begged. You giggled and patted his knee at his eagerness.

“What about your-” Viktor cut you off quickly.

“I’m fine, please.” he pleaded, lying down fully on the couch. You obliged and stood up, squatting carefully over his face in reverse cowgirl. You moved to put his cock back in your mouth, but before you could, Viktor yanked you down on his face. He could care less if you suffocated his small frame, he’d waited too long for this to squander the moment.

Viktor’s tongue delved into your folds, finding your clit with a quickness you didn't know he possessed. You moaned out loudly, grinding your hips into his mouth when his hand planted itself on your spine, pushing your body down towards his cock.

You smiled at his eagerness and got back to work, you sucked his length into your mouth immediately, using one hand to jerk off what you couldn't fit in your mouth and the other to play with his balls. Viktor let out a loud whiny moan, bucking his hips up into you causing you to gag on his cock. You loved how pathetic he sounded, how desperate he was for you.

The faster you moved, the faster he moved. At this point, it was a competition of who could make who finish first. But, you loved a challenge.

Your hand twisted while jerking up and down, massaging his balls thoroughly with the other. Viktor always imagined how you’d suck him off, but he never could have imagined it’d be this good. He swore he was seeing stars, there was absolutely no way he was outlasting you.

Viktor’s hands moved to your ass cheeks, spreading you apart for him. He gave your clit a hard suck before pulling away, spitting a glob of saliva on your puffy clit. You gasped at the sensation, you never knew the scientist could be so lewd.

Your hips began to rock into his tongue, riding it to get to your orgasm. Viktor tightened his grip, halting your movements against him.

“So impatient,” Viktor hummed against you, using his mouth to make suction around your clit. His fingers eventually got bored and made their way to your weeping hole, sliding inside of you slowly. The chill of them made you shiver as he worked them into you. He was getting you so close, but you refused to lose.

You had one last trick up your sleeve, you took his cock out of your mouth, using your hands to jerk it while your tongue ventured lower. Your tongue grazed Viktor’s rim and he nearly screamed, bucking his hips into your hand while his load shot out of his angry red tip.

You giggled in delight, putting your mouth on his cock to swallow his sticky semen. Viktor whimpered beneath you, small whines and moans tumbling from his mouth. Once you were sure he was done cumming, you came up for air and began riding his face to chase your own orgasm.

Viktor used his teeth to lightly nip at your sensitive bundle of nerves, his fingers stroking your g-spot. This sent you over the edge, your orgasm making your body relax into his underneath you.

“You taste so good,” Viktor moaned into your pussy, taking one last lick before letting go of you to get up and lie next to him, cuddling into his side. The two of you sat in silence for a while, letting your sweaty skin rest against each other.

“I’m sorry I complained to Jayce about you,” Viktor said apologetically.

“It’s okay, I’m sorry I always mess with you,” you apologized in turn.

Maybe your torment paid off after all.

───── ⋆ ⋅ ꨄ︎ ⋅⋆ ─────

[jayparked]

can u do 52 and 76 with jay🥺🥺 (quite he is yandere if u wanted too?)

WARNINGS: IMPLIED MAFIA AU???? LMAO (idk where tf this came from), yandere jay? (idk if i did it right), possessive jay, he threatens to kill someone, orgasm denial, dom jay, marking, spanking, overstimulation, pet names, dirty talk, rough unprotected sex, fingering (why tf are there so many warnings for a drabble omfg)

WC: 811

"who is he?" jay demands. his jaw is clenched as he waits for your response, eyes wild and frantic.

"i- jay i told you. my father insists i be seen with him-"

jay's hand smacks the wall right by your face. although it makes you jump, you know he doesn't do it in an attempt to scare you. it's just a way for him to let out the emotions he's feeling stirring inside.

"your father," jay snarls and pulls away from you, laughing maniacally while shaking his head until his hair is falling over his eyes, "i bite my tongue, follow every order- excel at every mission assigned to me, and he still doesn't see that i'm the one he should be trusting you with." disbelief is dripping from his tone.

your shoulders relax and you take a step towards him. "jay," you whisper softly, "it's purely transactional, you know that. my father just wants me to be seen with this guy so his competition backs off and finds new territory. i promise he won't get in our way."

"i'll kill him. that'll surely get him out of the way." jay laughs again, the muscles in his back tensing even more.

"i promise what's-his-name will be gone before we know it."

jay pauses, pointer finger pressed firmly to his lips before he turns and points it at you with a sly smile. "you don't know his name."

you're about to reply when you realize it's not a question, but a confident realization. so, you smile softly and wait instead.

you didn't have to wait long. because just moments later jay is pushing your head down into the mattress with your ass up in the air; the perfect position for him to lay possessively harsh smacks against your skin while he rapidly pounds his raw cock deep inside your cunt. your neck and chest are littered with fresh bright red hickeys and bite marks, his desperate way of claiming you.

"'s too much!" you cry out, eyes shut tightly as your toes start to curl with the amount of pleasure building up throughout your body. jay's pace is relentless, his hand smacking the swell of your ass yet again making you yelp. the sting brings a fresh string of tears to your eyes, your hands fisting at the bedsheets around you as some sort of leverage.

"fuuuck, baby. i can feel this tight little pussy gripping me even more. you want to come?"

"y-yes, I- please-"

"hmm...but do you really deserve to?" he leans forward until his face is next to yours, lips ghosting over the skin of your ear. "tell me who you belong to, baby. tell me who's the only person that gets to have you like this."

you scream out his name and jay promptly rewards you with a particularly harsh thrust. finally reaching your limit, your body lets go, the dam inside you bursting while your orgasm ripples throughout your body.

"that's it, baby, oh that's it," jay groans and flips you onto your back. your eyes flutter shut, expecting him to give you a break for a moment before he chases his own high. but, he clearly has other plans.

"oh i'm not done with you." his fingers fill the space his cock just stretched out, pushing your juices back inside at a cruel, slow pace. his fingers beckon you toward him, calling you back to pleasure as he watches your body tremble with overstimulation.

tears pool from the corners of your eyes, your nails digging into his biceps, desperate for him to ground you.

jay grabs your chin and turns your face towards his, grumbling out, "look at me."

immediately your eyes are open and meeting his hooded gaze.

"you know i'll do it right?" he grunts, "i'll kill anyone who thinks they have a chance with you. you're mine. i dont care what i have to do or who i have to hurt to make sure it stays that way." there's a hungry fire behind his eyes, his fingers picking up speed.

"mmm, fuck, oh my god. jay i-" your own moan interrupts you, the sentence long lost in the void of your mind as the painful pleasure he's inflicting upon you blinds all of your senses.

"look at you, squirming under me, all flushed and pretty looking. can't even take a little teasing, can you? i'll make sure no one else wants you with how badly i'm about to ruin you again."

your second orgasm is already quickly approaching, your brain humming the more he talks. he's not even talking to get a response to you, he's more-so speaking his threats and intentions into the universe, willing anyone to dare test them. and you'll be damned if you didn't stand confidently next to him and watch as he burns down the world for you.

♡ for part of my 1k follower celebration ♡ masterlist

[billskeis]

Hello!

I wanted to ask if it's possible that you write double smut with bill and tom? Like, they share her? At the same time, of course 😏

Thank you.

ᡣ𐭩 the kaulitz twin’s after-party “party”

“hey y/n! glad you could make it!” bill exclaimed as the two of you exchanged kisses on each side of the cheek, “thank you guys for inviting me!! ‘nd congrats on the awards, i’m so proud of you guys, hi tom!” you reach out an arm to hug the older twin, his arm wrapped around your waist lingering tightly, and longer than expected.

a smirk frames his face, “lookin’ good tonight,” you playfully spin around in your dress as you blush at his flirts, “oh you, you know i had to; couldn’t show down for my two best friends!”

and that’s what you guys would call it. best friends. you were there when tokio hotel weren’t tokio hotel. devilish, black question mark. since the beginning of time, you supported the four on their rockstar journey whilst also venturing yours. being one of the top soloists right now, tokio hotel and you were a hit! however, what comes with being so close with the twins, comes unwarranted feelings.

the twins eyed you up and down, and eyes just had to linger a little longer than they should’ve to where you’d noticed. cheeks flushed. you stood there in a little tight number, standing tall with your red black pumps.

adjusting themselves, bill clears his throat whilst tom adjusts his t-shirt collar, is it getting hot in here? you can’t help but look down at your heels, feeling small between the kaulitz twins that tower each one of your sides.

“so uh, y/n, you.. busy after this?” tom asks, your eyes widen at the sudden question. what could they possibly want to do after their after party? you were hoping to just go home and rest, considering your busy schedule that consumed most of your social life, but staying up a little later couldn’t hurt right? you take a swig of your alcoholic beverage as you smile, “nope! wanna do something?”

mischievous. as one would call it, the look on their faces. you, oblivious, were not aware of their intentions behind such a question. maybe you weren’t smarter than you looked, or perhaps you were. but you definitely didn’t have any social cues when it came to men. tom wrapped an arm around your waist yet again, you let it rest there. it’s a friendly gesture, to protect you from other men of course!

that was half true.

“let’s go to ours, we have better drinks there,” bill suggests.

that was a total lie.

“but what about the after party?” you cocked your head to the side in genuine curiosity. why would the twins leave their own party that they hosted for their band? odd, you thought, but because it wasn’t your party to begin with and you were JUST a guest, there was no point in further questioning it.

“don’t worry about it, georg and gustav are handling it, see?” as tom points towards the crowd to find double g gyrating with one another and some fans.

you laugh, not realizing that the two of them now have you enclosed even closer between them. as tom’s arm still remains, bill’s hand adorns your shoulder.

“shall we?” he asks.

˚ ༘ ೀ⋆｡˚

“i—um—fuck! we.. shouldn’t be doing t-this..” saying that aloud sounds stupid, because how could anybody believe you while you slam your hips down onto tom’s lap, bill’s lips attached to your neck as he paints your neck with various shades of blue, reds and purple.

tom groans as your silky walls clench down on his length, tip hitting your g spot as you wince out in pleasure, “relax baby, paparazzi didn’t follow us back so you have nothing to worry about,” bill unlatches his mouth from your neck, a string of saliva remaining as he giggles looking at the state he’s left your upper body in.

“perfect,” a pleased hum emits from bill as he frees his hard-on from his boxers, whining as the cold air hits his throbbing and needy member.

with a shudder, bill guides one of your hands to the head of his tip, smearing the pre all over the sensitive mushroom head as you work your way up and down his cock.

“oh fuck, just like that..” bill placing his hand over yours in an aid to jerk him off as he would himself, kissing atop of your mouth as his tongue piercing glides over your oral cavity, feeling every nook and cranny of your mouth that has you gasping for more. with a lack of attention, tom pouts as you prioritize bill over him. tilting his pelvis, tom jerks his hips into yours, abusing your walls at a new angle that ends up deepening your kiss with bill, squeezing the head of his cock, ��mmphh!”

“tom. be nice.”

“she can handle it, right y/n? you can handle this dick..” tom says with a low chuckle.

melting into the kiss, both you and bill ellicit sweet little cries to one another, “i did it ‘cause i wanted more attention, schatz,” you hear from behind you. as you break the kiss between you and bill turning your head to face the figure you rode, that looks at you with puppy dog eyes.

your cunt is already sensitive, it’s been about two hours since you’ve guys began, well, this. you really wondered how you got yourself into such a mess. maybe it was the way that tom’s little movements on you had your knees buckling, or the way that bill’s smile warmed your heart. you think to yourself, you’re just friends. juuuust friends.

friends don’t do the things you’re doing.

while getting off of tom’s lap, you position yourself onto bill’s, cunt already leaking onto his member and wasting no time and sliding down on his length. bill grips balls of sheets into his fists as he restrains himself from taking you all for himself, “oh gott, y-y/n,” his mouth hanging low as he lets out a strained sob from how sensitive he is. you’re warm, and still tight, and bill can’t help but feel as though he’s in heaven.

tom is still and watches with wide eyes as he soon realizes your mouth engulfs his dick, tongue swirling over his tip as you messily spit and drool saliva all over his cock, “damn.. you little minx, didn’t think ya’d be into this,” holding your hair into a makeshift ponytail with his hand, using his opposite to pet the top of your head, bobbing up and down.

bill hands hold each side of your ass as he guides your hips up and down his cock, biting his lip as he gasps from how greedily your pussy swallows his cock, “such a slut huh? like the way we take you at the same time.. one cock wasn’t enough, you needed two?” be nice, he said. fucking hypocrite. his dirty words are mean, but have an inverse impact on you as your cunt tightens around him along with a moan vibrating in your throat, tom curses, “oh fuck ‘m not gonna last long..”

tom does everything in his power to hold himself from fucking his hips into your mouth, but it also isn’t helpful considering the fact that bill’s thrusts from behind pushes tom further down your throat. “shitshitshit, bill.. ya close?” “m-mmhm..”

like a pig roasted on a spit, like the slut you truly are, holes fucked by your two best friends, your hips and mouth stutter to escape both ends.

“gonna cum sweet girl?” tom asks as he cups your cheek with one hand, thumb swiping over the tears that spill from the ongoing pleasure that surges through your body. both twins are close as well, eager to finish as there’s an unrelenting tempo to bill’s thrusts and tom hastily working his hands on your head in guiding your mouth, fully savouring his taste.

“coming..!”

one quick thrust all at once, you slightly gag on tom and tense your body as the three of you came simultaneously, shaky and trembling. cum paints your insides from opposite ends, filling you to the brim as electricity jolts from the inside out. as bill and tom empty their loads, they finally let out, you’ve managed to swallow all of tom’s, but bill’s seeps from between your legs.

quickly, bill shoves his fingers into your cunt, leaving them there as you wail, ‘b-bill!’ overstimulated, he scoffs jokingly, letting out a quick ‘what?’ as he then removes his fingers admiring his cream-pie.

laying flat on the bed, your body slightly twitches from the lingering pleasure. tom reaches out to hand you a water-bottle as bill uses a warm washcloth to clean you up. thanking the two, both join you in the king-sized bed for a long needed cuddle session.

now let’s just say, the media has found a new scoop on their new hit rockstars.

but you’ll deal with that tomorrow morning!

guys am losinggg my mind i miss my moots i missed my passion for writing i miss thriving :c lmk if i suck i’ll do better

interact if ur still active , pls </3 pls comment and talk 2 me i wanna be more engaging