#or did explode something in a college or two

[commanderfloppy]

What? Me drawing a trending thing WHILE it is trending and not 2 months later???

When you're in the Whispers and have to snoop around in the places of higher ups, getting arrested is par for the course.

Tybalt is not looking forward to having to get bailed out by the Preceptors, Tori is used to this.

[ahalliance]

riz gukgak the type of ‘the end justifies the means’ guy who’s gotten real lucky that so far the best possible means to his ends have happened to mostly align themselves to the side of overall good

[surpriserose]

God i hate the american education system

[slutzforbueckers]

can you do y/n who went viral/famous for how good she played in high school and how insanely pretty she was meeting the uconn girls for the first time since she committed to playing their and Geno introduces them to the girls and they ask her a bunch of questions ( basically fan girling) and one of the girls ask her if she’s dating anyone which she the tells them that she’s gay and that catches them off guard which makes Paige start liking her and the more they get too know each other they both have feeling for each other leading to smut

once in a lifetime

pairing: paige bueckers x fem!reader

warnings: smut

synopsis: paige takes a liking to you after you join the team, slowly but surely.

♡₊˚ 🦢・₊✧

you had been to plenty of campuses- visited, toured, played in their gyms— but none of them had felt like this. UCONN was different, the moment you stepped foot in the practice facility, your stomach was burning with nerves. you had dreamed of playing here your whole life, becoming a husky is what motivated you to be as great as you are now.

geno met you in the lobby, already sipping coffee and smirking like he could spot your nervousness a mile away. “you sure you’re ready for this?”

you tilted your head with a nervous laugh. “i think so.”

his grin widened as he nodded, slinging an arm around your shoulders like you were already one of his own. “good, because they’ve been talking about you since december. i’m not sure if they wanna play with you or date you.”

you choked out a laugh, cheeks warming. you could already feel the butterflies in your stomach disappearing, hearing that they already liked you made things a lot easier. “that bad?”

he held the door open for you, snickering before he spoke, “worse.”

the sound of sneakers on hardwood stopped as soon as the doors opened and you stepped in—the echo of dribbling died, a team of the most talented women’s basketball players in the country were staring at you like they had just seen a celebrity. which, to be fair, wasn’t entirely inaccurate.

you had gone viral more times than you could count—crossovers that made people drop their phones, game-winners that left crowds screaming, and that one video of you pulling up from half-court and winking into the camera had something like 8 million views. everyone knew you were good at basketball but they also knew your face, a face that could probably have you a successful career in modeling if you weren't interested in making people trip over their own two feet.

geno cleared his throat, gesturing to you. “alright, alright. no need to act like she’s beyoncé.”

your ears perked up and you held back a laugh as you watched kk nudge ice and whisper loud enough for everyone to hear, “she kinda looks like beyoncé.”

"okay, i'm leaving her in your hands. welcome her and try not to scare her off." geno shook his head with a sigh and patted you on the shoulder before heading back to his office.

that's what broke the ice— the court exploded with chatter and movement, the team crowding around you like fans after a game. they all spoke at once and it was hard to keep up.

“hey girly! im kk, the best player on the team. i'll teach you everything i know.”

“you mean how to miss layups?” another voice chimed in. you turned to see azzi smirking, arms crossed. “hi, i’m azzi. don’t listen to anything kk says—any of them for that matter.”

"thanks for the heads up." you smiled, laughing as more girls introduced themselves. it was fast and chaotic, but somehow you already felt like you belonged. after the introduction came the questions, they were all curious about your stats, how you got so good. you looked past the group to see paige—standing a little apart, cool blue eyes on you, arms crossed loosely over her chest.

you knew who she was, obviously. everybody did. the face of women's college basketball. you had followed her on social media, followed her career. she played with swag, control, talent—and somehow, she looked even better in person. her blonde hair was tied back, a light sheen of sweat on her temple, eyes steady and unreadable.

you met her gaze and smiled. she didn’t smile back, not quite, but the corner of her mouth twitched. she turned away, grabbing her water bottle from the bench like nothing had just happened. before you could think too long about it, kk threw an arm around your shoulder. “so, who's the lucky guy?”

you laughed, not expecting the question so soon. “i’m gay, there will be no lucky guy.���

dead silence. twelve stunned faces looked back at you like you’d just dropped another game-winning buzzer beater. paige had turned around, her brows furrowing as she looked at you.

"well that was unexpected,” ice muttered. “never would've thought.”

laughter broke out again, and a few girls high-fived you. you rolled your eyes playfully, but your heart was beating a little faster—and not just from the attention but because you felt eyes on you. one pair in particular. you turned slightly, scanning the room. paige was looking at you from across the court again. this time, she didn’t look away. something flickered in her expression, curiosity, interest, maybe something else. then she grabbed a ball and started shooting like nothing happened.

♡₊˚ 🦢・₊✧

you adjusted quickly—your game fit right in with theirs, fast-paced, sharp, aggressive. the girls respected you instantly. it wasn’t hard making friends— jana and azzi basically adopted you, dragging you to every team hangout, movie night, and post-practice snack run. sarah kept calling you “future,” morgan taught you every ridiculous tiktok dance she knew, and kk kept giving you flirty little side-eyes like she wasn’t totally kidding.

but paige? paige was… different. she wasn’t cold, she just wasn’t as easy. she’d joke with the others but was quieter around you. she’d pass to you perfectly during drills but barely speak to you after. you caught her looking sometimes—quick glances when you weren’t supposed to notice—but whenever your eyes met, she’d look away.

it should’ve annoyed you, you weren’t used to people being indifferent—especially not when they looked at you like that—but something about it hooked you.

one day after practice, you lingered in the gym, getting up extra shots. you were mid-three when you heard the squeak of shoes behind you.

“you’re always the last one out,” paige said. you turned. she was leaning on the wall, arms folded, sweaty from practice but still somehow effortlessly composed.

“you stalking me?” you teased.

a small smile pulled at her lips. “just wondering what you’re trying to prove.”

you arched a brow. “you think i’ve got something to prove?”

she walked closer, picking up a ball and rolling it in her hands. “you play like you do.”

“i play like i love it.”

she nodded, looking at you again, really looking. “you ever stop moving?”

you stepped toward her now, slow, deliberate. “you ever stop watching?”

that made her blink, she dropped the ball, and it bounced away. for the first time, paige bueckers looked flustered.

“…i’ll see you tomorrow,” she mumbled, turning quickly and heading toward the locker room. you watched her go, chest buzzing with a strange mix of pride and something you didn’t want to name yet. the next day, paige passed you the ball a little harder, guarded you a little tighter, smirked at you when you sank a shot in her face.

it wasn’t much but it was something.

♡₊˚ 🦢・₊✧

you weren't sure when things changed exactly. maybe it was that late practice when everyone else had cleared out and it was just the two of you. maybe it was the way she had started passing to you with just a little more trust. or maybe it was in the locker room—when you caught her watching you as you peeled off your jersey, her gaze lingering for a second too long before she quickly looked away, cheeked tinged pink.

but something shifted.

the distance between you and paige didn't feel cold anymore, it felt like a string was burning between you, pulling you closer to each other, like you were circling something inevitable. it started with small things, she started sitting near you during team meetings—quiet but present. when you cracked a joke she laughed, not loud like kk but still a laugh.

one night, you stayed in the gym late, a airpod in, hoodie up, working on your footwork with no one but your reflection and the sound of squeaking soled to keep you company. when you you missed a step and cursed under your breath, a voice behind you nearly made you jump out of your skin.

"try slowing down."

you turned, startled. paige was leaning against the wall, arms folded over a white tank top damp with sweat. “you watching me again, bueckers?”

she just shrugged, walking toward you. “just thinking you’re too good to end up on the bench.”

you rolled your eyes but handed her the ball. “then show me.”

she did, effortlessly. her steps were sharp, deliberate, her pace controlled. you watched her every movement—not just how her body moved, but how she looked at you while she moved. there was something different in her eyes now. you switched spots, trying to mimic her timing. she stepped close, fingertips grazing your waist as she adjusted your stance.

“don’t rush the pivot,” she murmured. “let it come to you.”

you exhaled slowly. her voice was soft, closer than it needed to be, and it made a shiver run through your spine. “didn’t know you gave private lessons,” you said, voice lower than usual.

she stepped back with a small smile. “guess you're special.”

your breath caught—just for a second—but it was enough. the look in her eyes was different now. not guarded, not shy, just there. honest. wanting. you tossed the ball aside, watching it bounce across the hardwood. “so what happens after the lesson?”

she hesitated for a second, like she wasn’t sure if she heard you right. then she moved toward you again, steps slow, deliberate. “that depends,” she murmured, standing close enough now that you could feel the heat of her body through your hoodie. “you still want me watching?”

“i want more than that,” you whispered.

you weren’t sure who moved first—maybe it was you, maybe it was her—but suddenly her mouth was on yours, hungry and searching, and you melted into it. her hands found your waist, fingers slipping under the hem of your hoodie, gripping your hips like she’d been dying to. you kissed her back with everything you had, all the tension, the teasing, the heat that had been building between you for weeks pouring out in that moment.

she pressed against you fully, tongue sliding over yours as she deepened the kiss. her hands slipped lower, gripping the backs of your thighs, and you got the message quick—jumping up, wrapping your legs around her like you’d done it a thousand times. she carried you to the edge of the court, setting you down on the bleachers with a groan. her lips never left yours for long—just enough to pull off your hoodie, eyes raking over you like you were something she’d been craving.

her fingers slipped into your waistband slightly, fingers brushing just enough to make your hips twitch. she pulled back, eyes meeting yours. “you want this?”

“yes.”

she didn’t hesitate after that. her fingers slid down—firm, controlled, just like her game. her touch was confident, knowing exactly where to press, how to build the pressure. you groaned, back arching slightly, but she kept her free hand on your thigh, grounding you. her name slipped from your lips like prayer, over and over.

“look at me,” she said quietly.

you met her gaze, and it nearly undid you. her lips were parted, her chest rising and falling, but her focus was locked entirely on you, watching you fall apart for her. her fingers moved faster, deeper, her thumb circling just right, and your body started to shake—your breath coming in short, messy gasps. “paige—“

“i got you,” she whispered. “let go.”

you did—your head dropped back, a broken moan slipping from your mouth as the wave hit. she didn’t stop until your thighs were trembling, until you had to push her hand away with a shaky laugh and a whispered curse. she finally stood upright again, eyes full of something quiet and wild all at once. she leaned in, kissing you softer now, almost sweet.

“1v1 me?”

♡₊˚ 🦢・₊✧

[covenofagatha]

A New Addiction

You've known Agatha for awhile now but when you start working with her, feelings start to develop

Word count: 3.8k

Warnings: oral sex, service bottom reader, caffeine addiction, praise kink, bit of an oral fixation, age gap

A/N: This is super specific and entirely self-indulgent lmao

It’s a stupid crush. 

Harmless. Futile. Foolish. 

You’ve known her for years. She’s friends with your mom. And now, she’s your much older co-worker. 

Well, kind of your co-worker. You’re just helping out on the side. It’s the swimming unit for the Physical Education classes at the high school you went to and you’re lifeguarding after graduating college just to make some extra cash. 

Which means getting to hang out on the pool deck with Agatha Harkness for two weeks. 

The crush sort of came out of nowhere. You’d never really thought of her in that way, and you’re not sure when things changed. 

Maybe it was when she asked you deep questions when it was just the two of you sitting there and she actually listened. Maybe it was when she teased you about trying an energy drink for the first time and getting hooked immediately and still encouraging you. Maybe it was when she told you that you were funny a few days ago. 

But you can’t stop thinking about her now and the way she tilts her sunglasses down to look at you with those bright blue eyes and the way she tosses her long dark hair over her shoulder and the way she nudges you when you say something cheeky but then smirks wickedly to dish it right back at you. 

It’s becoming a slight problem, how you always want to be with her. How the class periods that she has free just drag by and you count down the minutes until you might be able to see Agatha again. How you would do anything just to have her attention on you, even though you know logically that she’ll never like you back like that. 

But Agatha brings you an energy drink on Monday, tsking when your eyes light up and you immediately reach for it when she gives it to you in the office. 

“You are so addicted,” she sighs with a chuckle when you hand it back to her because you can’t open the can. Agatha easily pops it open, nails painted a deep red that contrasts nicely with her pale skin, and she holds eye contact as she takes a sip right from the opening of it. She’s wearing shorts that show off her long legs and a light blue shirt and you can’t stop your gaze from wandering down her body.

She gives it back to you and you try to ignore the fact that your lips are touching the spot that hers just did. 

“And yet, you’re just giving me more,” you say, grinning. “You like it.” 

Agatha snorts. “And you’re crazy.” 

You take a long swig and swish the liquid around your mouth. She watches, pupils dilating just slightly. When she looks at you like that, you think she must feel something for you. 

It looks like she’s going to say something else, but she doesn’t—she just smirks knowingly and picks up her clipboard before walking out and to the pool deck. 

This is her easiest class: not a lot of kids and they’re all strong swimmers. Which means you get to just hang out with her. 

You walk with her up and down the deck, mindlessly chatting about your weekends and how the kids are doing while swimming. Agatha’s lips quirk up each time you lift the can to your mouth and you pretend not to notice, but you can’t help laughing. 

She makes you feel so free. 

When the kids are done swimming and they have free time to play around in the pool, you and Agatha sit next to each other in chairs by the diving well. You take off your shirt, revealing your sensible one-piece just to get some sun, and you think you hear her breath hitch. 

It’s hard to ignore the warm feeling spreading through you as you feel her eyes raking over you. 

—

She walks with you up to the cafeteria during lunch and you’re hoping you can snag something to eat. 

You have a second energy drink in your hands and Agatha keeps making fun of you for it. 

“One day, your heart is going to explode,” she says while shaking her head fondly. 

Lifting the can to your lips, you smile into it before taking a short sip. “What can I say? I get addicted to things way too easily. I just can’t stop thinking about them.” 

There’s a look in Agatha’s eyes, like she knows that what you really can’t stop thinking about is her. 

The cafeteria is crowded when you get there. You open the door and hold it open for Agatha, who breezes past you with a quick “Thank you.”

It’s easier to hang back, so you do. But Agatha pushes through the crowd to get food and she comes back a few minutes later to raise an eyebrow at you. 

“Are you getting something?” 

You gesture at the line of kids standing there. 

Agatha huffs. “Go up there and get something. Do you need me to hold your hand?” 

Turning out your bottom lip mockingly into an exaggerated pout, you nod, wondering what she’ll do. 

She grabs your hand from where it was limply resting on your waist and squeezes it. “Be brave and go get some food.” 

But then Agatha drops your hand and you’re almost disappointed. You nod and she claps you on the shoulder before you push through the kids to pick up a paper plate with pasta on it.  

When you come back, she’s still waiting for you and she buys your food for you. You don’t really know why she’s being so nice but you mumble a “thank you” and she smirks before waving you along. 

A few girls from her class catch you both as you’re walking back to the office and you finish your pasta while they talk to her. After you throw your plate away, she hands you the rest of her food without saying a word to you. 

Once again, you have to pretend not to care that your mouth is eating from the same fork that hers was. 

—

You’re back on the deck with Agatha. It’s only her class in the pool—just how you like it. It means it’s just the two of you, no other coaches around. 

One of her students, a girl with light brown hair and black suit, is talking to you about boy drama she’s having, trying to stall having to get in the pool. 

Agatha laughs when you say something snarky and you try to ignore the way your clit pulses. Your hands are slightly trembling, a remnant of all the caffeine you’ve drank today, and you can feel Agatha’s eyes on you again. 

“All right, Jess, you need to go swim,” Agatha says and Jess looks at you pleadingly but you tilt your head toward her coach in agreement. 

She sighs but finally goes to jump in the pool and catches up with her friends. The air is thick with something now that she’s gone and it’s just you and Agatha. 

“How is your love life?” Agatha asks and you stiffen before trying to seem casual. You pick at your nails while she leans over the side of her chair. “Any guys?” 

That makes you snort and you turn to look at her. “I’m not really into guys,” you rasp, voice suddenly deeper. 

She picks up her sunglasses and rests them on top of her head, surveying you. Her blue eyes seem to pierce right through you, and although it’s really hot outside, you shiver. 

What is she going to say? 

All Agatha does is hum and drop her glasses back down onto her nose and you bite your lip at the silence. 

Should you continue that conversation? Tell her about your failed relationships? Ask her about her love life?

“That’s good to know,” she says finally and you stare straight ahead at the pool and hope that she thinks your flush is just from the temperature. 

—

Agatha brings you another energy drink the next morning and you think you get more of a high from her than you do from the caffeine. She’s wearing a green tank top and khaki shorts and you want to get on your knees for her. 

She opens your drink for you again and takes a sip before you can. 

It’s like she wants you to think about kissing her. Like she wants you to imagine it. 

“I hate this type of schedule,” you say. The kids have only their even class periods today, whereas yesterday, they had their odd. 

She smirks and steals the can from you again to take another sip before handing it back. Her fingers brush against yours and there’s droplets on her lip that you want to lick off. “Is it because you don’t get to see me as much?” 

It is. She only has one class out in the pool on days like this. You like the other coaches well enough, but none of them give you the rush that Agatha does. 

“Totally,” you answer sarcastically so she thinks you’re joking. 

Agatha taps your chin with a knowing look and you think she must know a lot more than she lets on. “Don’t get too bored without me.” 

“I could say the same thing to you,” you quip and are delighted when she winks at you. 

She takes a step closer to you and the air gets tighter around you. All you can think about is her leaning in and kissing you slowly. 

But she doesn’t. 

Agatha just gives you a crooked smile and walks out to get her class and you trudge to the pool deck for over an hour of boredom. 

—

“How was it?” Agatha asks when you collapse into a chair in her office after the first period of the day. You’re sweating already, even though it’s still early in the morning, and the sleeves on your shirt are rolled up, baring your shoulders. 

You groan and wipe your forehead. “Those boys are the worst. And you weren't there.” 

She laughs and it’s music to your ears. “I’ll be there next period, don’t worry.” 

It pulls a smile onto your face and she holds your stare for a second. There’s something different about the way she’s looking at you and talking to you. Like there’s a closeness now that wasn’t there before. 

Agatha doesn’t act like this with anyone else, at least not that you’ve noticed. She doesn’t share drinks casually with anyone else like she does with you. 

It has to mean something, right? 

Your hand is trembling again against the desk. No surprise after downing the drink and you can slowly feel yourself start to come down from the high. 

She abruptly slides back in her chair and stands up. You look up in surprise and she puts her hand on top of your shaky one. 

“I need something from the equipment room. Come with me?” she asks, but it’s not really a question. 

And you’d never say no anyway. 

Her office is connected to the gym and she leads you into the storage room on the other side. It’s big and filled with carts of footballs and basketballs and volleyballs and hula hoops hang on the walls and big physio balls are stacked on top of shelves. It smells musty but it doesn’t take long to adjust to it. 

Agatha walks back and forth like she’s looking for something and you don’t get in the way; you stand to the side and run your hands through the line of jump ropes hanging. 

You accidentally catch one of them with your fingertips and end up pulling about six onto the floor. 

Before even thinking about it, you sink to your knees to pick them up. 

Agatha stops in front of you and you just look up at her, dropping the ropes in your hands back onto the floor. It feels like everything goes even quieter than it was before. Can she hear you breathing? You can hear yourself and you don’t know if it’s really as ragged as you think it is. 

Her eyes are dark as she peers down at you and something just feels right about this. 

She must want you too.

She has to like you too. 

Agatha swallows, strangely and uncharacteristically affected, and reaches out to brush a strand of hair back behind your ear. It’s gentle and you almost shiver. Your mouth is watering. 

You could make her feel so good right now. Your clit pulses at the thought. 

Neither of you have moved. 

Will you just stay like this until the bell rings and then pretend that nothing happened?

But then she clears her throat and your eyes dart up to watch her lips move. “You look good like this,” she says, thick and hot and you let out a strangled gasp. 

Your hands are shaking again but it’s not because of the caffeine, it’s because of your desire. Your need. 

She sees it too and smirks. “You are addicted, aren’t you?” 

Addicted to her. 

Is that what she’s asking? 

“Yes,” you admit breathlessly and she grins wolfishly and starts to walk away. You watch her, dumbfounded, until she backs into the wall only a few feet away from where you’re still kneeling and stares expectantly at you. 

And then she hikes up her shirt and unbuttons her shorts and your eyes widen. 

“But—I—you—” you stammer, not sure why you can’t just shut up. This can't be real, this is just some hallucination or something. 

“Are you going to make me feel good?” Agatha asks nonchalantly, like she isn’t about to let you fuck her, and your world tilts on its axis. 

You whimper and nod pathetically and you don’t even care that you’re crawling across a dirty floor on your knees for her because you’d do anything for her at this point. 

How did it get to this point? 

Her thighs are soft under your quivering fingertips and you don’t care if this is a dream or if she calls this a moment of weakness or if you never get to touch her again. 

She tenses as you drag your hands up further to tease the edge of her shorts and you flick your eyes up to watch her through your eyelashes as you pull her zipper down with your teeth. Her chest flares and she reaches up to ruffle her hair with her left hand. 

When her zipper is all the way down, you find a hint of gray cotton underwear peeking through and you quietly groan to yourself. You tug on the waistband and slowly drag them down her pale legs. You can’t resist the urge and you lean in to nip at her thigh and she hisses. 

“We don’t have much time,” Agatha rasps but you move in slow motion anyway, tilting your head back up, eyes travelling up from her shorts pooled at her ankles to the damp fabric between her thighs. She says your name, a testament, maybe, to how much she wants this too. 

You could tease her; it would be payback for all the teasing she’s given you the past few days. 

But you need this as much as she does. 

Agatha lets out a small noise when you lay your hands on her thighs to spread them and you scooch closer to her. You give her one last look, just to make sure, and you only find desire on her face. 

You drag your tongue over her wet gusset and everything is changed between you forever. 

Agatha slumps against the wall and you moan unconsciously at the tangy flavor before sucking on her folds through her underwear. Her hips buck and you’re surprised by how turned on she is already. 

But you can’t talk—you can feel how much of a mess you are. 

You lick at her clit through her underwear which is now a charcoal gray color with your saliva and her wetness staining it. A thrilling high roots itself in your brain at the thought of her walking around in these the rest of the day. You hope she feels how soaked she is with every step she takes.

She gasps and her hand finds your hair. Her fingers tighten and her nails scratch against your scalp, pulling a moan from you. “Hurry up,” she grits out. There’s a longer break on days like these, but you don’t know how much time is left. 

And you’d hate to leave her unsatisfied. 

You pull back and scrape your teeth over her thigh before reaching up to pull her underwear to the side. Her wetness gets on your hand and you suck your fingers into your mouth to clean them. Her top teeth sink into her bottom lip as she stares down at you. 

And then you slowly move back to her cunt, like you’re being pulled magnetically. You breathe heavily, already craving her, and you think you die and go to heaven when you drag your flattened tongue through her folds, able to feel her this time. 

She fills your mouth and your taste buds are flooded with the best thing you’ve ever had and you close your eyes to savor her. Agatha inhales again and slides further down the wall so you’re able to get more between her legs. Your fingers are digging into her thighs and they’re not trembling anymore—you’re getting your fix right now.

Agatha gasps when you lap around her clit, teasing but not giving in just yet. She makes a muffled noise and her fingers warningly tug on your hair and you smirk against her hot center before enclosing your lips around the nub and sucking. Her eyes shoot wide and she clamps her other hand over her mouth. 

Your knees ache from the floor but it hardly even registers because you can feel her clit throbbing in your mouth and her head drops back against the wall and you know you’re doing something right. 

She keens when your tongue slides down to her entrance and then curls up inside her and her hips rock again. Your nose moves over her clit and she does her best to ride your face, as much as her position allows her to. 

Her walls clench around your tongue and more wetness leaks down the side of your face but you can’t get enough. You devour her, frantically mouthing at her pussy, and you still can’t believe this is actually happening. 

“Fuck, your mouth is so good,” she groans and you moan into her. She stiffens over you and you curl your tongue inside her again. She pulses around you. 

You say something into her cunt; it’s muffled and unintelligible and even you don’t know what you’re meaning to say. 

Agatha whimpers and pulls at your hair again when you move back to sucking at her clit. “Right there, fuck, that’s perfect,” she sighs and your tongue lashes against her. 

Her pupils have swallowed up almost all the blue in her eyes and her cheeks are a rosy pink color. The vein in her forehead that you watch throb sometimes is throbbing right now as she looks down at you. 

You’ve never felt like you belonged somewhere as much as you do right now. You could live under her desk with her cunt in your mouth and you don’t think you’d be more content anywhere else. 

Agatha’s fingers are gripping your hair so hard it’s almost painful and you relish in the fact that you’ll feel her phantom touch even after it’s gone. You’ll be sitting on the pool deck next to her, the taste of her still in your mouth, and no one will know. 

It’ll be your little secret. 

“Fuck, fuck, I’m going to come,” she groans urgently and it’s as close to begging as you’re going to get from her. 

Your teeth scrape against her clit and you dip your tongue back inside her one last time before sucking open-mouthed on her and flicking your tongue over her clit as fast as you can. Agatha throbs and her cunt is getting hotter and your nails dig deeper into her legs. 

“Oh—fuck,” she breathes and you feel her come. Her thighs tighten around your head and shake like your hands were earlier and she yanks on your hair. Her lip has to be stinging from how hard it looks like she’s biting it. 

And you just keep sucking and lapping up her wetness, drunk on her taste and feel and everything. Her noises are delicious and go straight to your own cunt and you want to make her make them over and over again. 

Her clit is still pulsing; you can feel it, and you think she might come again. She has a dazed out look in her eyes as she stares down at you and her breathing is labored. 

But she shakes her head and tugs you away from her and you reluctantly let her. You sit back on your heels, gasping, the entire bottom half of your face and nose slicked with her. 

She chuckles while she takes in the disheveled mess that she’s made you into and wipes her thumb against your chin, collecting her wetness. She holds it out to you and you eagerly suck on her, bobbing up and down to make sure you get all of it. Even after the taste is gone, you don’t stop. 

“Already addicted?” she asks, soft and teasing and this won’t be the last time this happens because you think she might be addicted too. She bends down to pull her pants and underwear back up.

You nod and there’s a smug, triumphant smirk on her face. She’s so proud and there’s a burning sensation that sears through your stomach. 

The bell rings and you’re reminded that you’re on your knees in a storage room in a high school gym and you have to go out and work. 

With Agatha. 

After she just came all over your face. 

You can still taste her and smell her and feel her. 

“Go clean up,” she orders and holds out her hand for you to take. She helps you up and your knees hurt when you bend them and she laughs when you wobble on your feet. 

She looks over your body one last time before nodding assuringly and then walks toward the door. She glances over her shoulder to make sure you’re okay and you follow her out with a foggy mind. 

You already can’t wait for the next time. 

Taglist: @lostbutlovely33 @diorrxckstar @whoreforolderfictionalwomen  @katekathry @onemansdreamisanothermansdeath @tayasmellsapples @natashashill @mybraininblood @mysticalmoonlight7  @cactuslover2600 @loveem0mo @readysteddiero-nance @lonelyhalfwitch @lesbiantortilla @crescendoofstars @sol-in-wonderland @ahsfan05 @gbab09 @sasheemo @agathaharness @live-laugh-love-lupone @chiar4anna @fuckedupforkhahn @lowlyjelly @sweetmidnights @n3bula-cats @m1vfs @agathascoven1 @500daysofmarissa @tobeawriter98 @hapuchika @r0se16

[leriexoxo]

Rumor Has It…

Bully! Jeongin x Fem Reader

Genre: Bully AU, Rivals to Lovers, College AU

Tags: Smut, Angst, Fluff, bullying themes, toxic behavior, jealousy, possessive behavior, rough kisses, emotionally confusing situations, mutual obsession, protected sex, soft aftercare

Word count: 5.5k

Summary: You had a crush on the golden boy junior everyone loved. Jeongin noticed—and didn’t take it well. Now you’re his favorite target, his sharpest insult, his worst-kept secret. The tension between you two builds until it breaks… or explodes.

This work contains mature themes, MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!!

A/N: This was a request from an anon. (Next time, ask with your account so i can tag you and also be sure you’re not a minor 😩 I only wrote this cos I actually loved the idea) Hope you enjoy it!

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

You didn’t mean to draw attention to yourself.

Especially not his.

College was supposed to be your quiet reset. New campus, new people, no more high school drama or cafeteria hierarchy. You weren’t aiming for popularity, just a peaceful freshman year with decent grades and enough coffee to survive it.

And for a while, that’s what you had.

Until Jeongin.

Jeongin was a junior—untouchable in every sense. Smart, smooth-talking, always surrounded by people who hung onto his every word. Girls giggled louder when he passed by. Guys looked up to him like he ran the place. Professors loved him. The kind of person who could talk his way out of anything and charm his way into everything.

You noticed him early on—how could you not?

The way his hoodie always hung loose off one shoulder, the curve of his grin when he was teasing someone, the casual way he leaned against doorframes like they were made for him. He was so far out of your league it was laughable. But you still found yourself watching.

A crush. That’s all it was. Harmless.

Until that seminar.

The class was small—thirty students tops—and you’d arrived late that day, flustered and sleep-deprived. The only seat left was next to him. You hesitated, but the professor had already called your name.

So you sat beside Yang Jeongin.

He didn’t look at you. Didn’t acknowledge you. Not at first.

You didn’t mean to answer the question out loud. You really didn’t. But the professor had asked something you’d actually studied, and your hand went up before you could think twice.

And Jeongin looked at you.

A slow turn of his head. Just a glance. But it lingered. And when he smiled—sharp and unreadable—it felt like the floor dropped beneath your chair.

“Freshman’s got opinions,” he said, not even bothering to whisper it.

The class laughed. You shrank.

He didn’t stop there.

After that day, something shifted. He started showing up next to you more often—always with some offhanded comment.

“Didn’t know they were letting high schoolers audit this course.”

“You sure you’re not lost? Cafeteria’s two buildings down.”

“Careful. That bag looks heavy. Don’t hurt your baby arms.”

It was constant. Subtle enough that no one really called him out, but pointed enough that you felt it. Always you. You’d seen him joke around with his friends before, but this was different. He wasn’t laughing with you—he was smirking at you.

You stopped sitting near him. Stopped speaking up in class.

But it didn’t matter. He always found you.

One time, you heard him tell someone you were “the new campus kitten—jumpy, clueless, probably still using Apple Notes to write essays.”

You hated him. You hated him.

And still, your stupid heart stuttered whenever he leaned too close.

Still, your eyes searched for him in the crowd.

You wished you could stop noticing him. Wished his cologne didn’t stick in your lungs after he brushed past. Wished he wasn’t so effortlessly hot when he was being awful.

Wished he didn’t make you feel so small and seen all at once.

And he had no idea.

He didn’t know you ever liked him. Didn’t know you still kind of did.

Didn’t know that even when you clenched your fists and scowled in his direction, your throat tightened whenever he said your name.

And you swore to yourself, if he pushed you one more time—just once more—you’d snap.

You tried to avoid him.

Switched lecture sections. Ate lunch in the library. Took the long way around campus if you so much as sensed him nearby.

But Jeongin was like smoke—always finding its way into your lungs, no matter how tightly you sealed the windows. And once he’d gotten a taste for your discomfort, it was like he couldn’t get enough.

He started showing up in places you knew he didn’t belong. The student lounge outside your psych class. The library’s third floor where you studied every Wednesday. Once, he even joined your shared elective’s group chat and volunteered for your project team—just so he could be across from you during meetings, watching you squirm.

And yet, he never touched you. Never raised his voice. Just words. Looks. Quiet mockery, sugarcoated in charm.

Golden boy, they called him.

But he was especially cruel when it came to you.

“You always this jumpy?” he asked once, sliding into the seat beside you without warning. “Relax. I’m not gonna bite.”

You didn’t answer.

He leaned closer. “Unless you want me to.”

You’d swallowed hard, gritting your teeth through the heat crawling up your neck. “Do you enjoy this?” you muttered under your breath. “Being a dick?”

He chuckled. “Only when it works.”

You hated that you flushed. Hated that your mouth went dry and your pulse picked up. Hated that he could reduce you to that with a look.

So you buried it. You ignored him. You let him win.

Until the party.

You hadn’t even planned on going. But your roommate begged you, and honestly, you needed the distraction. Music, noise, new people. Anything that wasn’t Jeongin’s smirk or his voice in your ear.

You didn’t expect him to be there. It wasn’t even his crowd.

But of course, he was.

And he noticed you immediately.

He didn’t approach. Didn’t say anything. Just stood across the room—red cup in hand, dark eyes locked on you like he’d been waiting for you to walk in.

You turned away.

Which was probably why you ended up talking to the guy by the drinks table. He was nice. Funny. A little nerdy, but in a charming way. He made you laugh. And it felt good—so good—to be seen without malice.

But then something shifted.

You felt it before you saw it. A weight. A pull.

And when you turned your head, Jeongin was watching again—this time with his jaw tight and eyes sharp, like he was trying not to feel something.

You brushed it off.

Until the next week—when whispers started following you around campus.

Heard she’s easy.

Thirsty freshman.

Already trying to climb.

You froze when you heard it. Your hands shook when you opened your phone and saw the vague, biting posts floating around socials. No names, of course. Just cruel implications.

But you knew. Everyone else might not—but you knew.

And so you stopped avoiding him.

You found him.

He was outside the dining hall, laughing with a few people you didn’t recognize. Sunglasses on. Perfect smile. Still untouchable.

You didn’t wait. You walked right up to him, heart pounding, fists clenched.

His smile faltered when he saw you. “Well, well. Campus kitten found her claws.”

You didn’t blink. “Did you start it?”

He tilted his head. “Start what?”

“The rumors.”

Silence.

Then: “Why? Upset someone finally saw through the act?”

That was it.

You stepped forward, shoving at his chest—harder than you meant to.

He caught your wrist before it could fall. His fingers closed, warm and sure, his grip firm—but not rough. Not quite.

“Careful,” he murmured. “You’re not built for war.”

Your breath hitched. His face was close. Too close.

“You’re an asshole,” you whispered.

“And you,” he said low, eyes flickering to your lips, “should stop looking at me like that if you really hate me.”

And just like that, you weren’t sure if you were about to slap him… or kiss him.

Your wrist slipped from his grip.

And you didn’t hold back this time.

“You’re a fucking coward,” you snapped, voice louder than intended. “That’s what you are. You act like you’re too cool to care, but you’re the one hiding behind whispers and petty rumors. What—scared people might think the golden boy actually gives a shit about someone like me?”

It was the first time you’d ever seen Jeongin freeze.

His smile dropped.

His jaw clenched.

And you didn’t wait to see what came next.

You turned on your heel and left.

Stupid.

Stupid, stupid.

Your hands were still shaking as you pushed open the dorm stairwell door, taking the stairs two at a time just to get away from the weight in your chest. You didn’t know what hurt more—how badly you’d wanted him to say something real, or how stupid it was to expect anything from someone like him.

You barely made it to your floor when the door slammed open behind you.

“What the hell did you just say to me?”

You spun around.

Jeongin stood at the bottom of the stairs, eyes blazing, chest heaving like he’d sprinted the whole way.

“I said you’re a coward,” you bit out, “and a dick. And I hate you.”

He was in front of you before you could blink, cornering you against the wall at the end of the hall. Not touching. Not yet. Just close—his breath ghosting across your cheek, his expression unreadable.

“You hate me?” he echoed, voice low.

You nodded, stubborn. “With every fiber of my being.”

“Funny,” he muttered, “you didn’t look at me like you hated me the other night at the party. When you were smiley and giggly for that guy by the punch bowl.”

Your stomach twisted. “So you did start the rumors.”

“Maybe” he said flatly. “After I saw you with him.”

You blinked, thrown off. “What—?”

“Because I didn’t like it,” he said, voice sharp now, as if he hated admitting it. “I didn’t like watching you laugh with him. I didn’t like how close he stood. I didn’t like that you smiled like that for someone who wasn’t me.”

The air thickened. His eyes dropped to your mouth.

“I don’t like any of this,” he whispered. “And I don’t know what the fuck to do about it.”

And then he moved even closer—just enough to skim your cheek, his lips barely brushing the corner of your mouth. A heartbeat. A single breath between contact and restraint.

“I’m not the only one lying here,” he murmured. “You say you hate me, but your body doesn’t know how to fake it.”

You hated how your breath hitched. How the heat between you tightened into something unbearable.

“Say it again,” he challenged. “Look me in the eye and say you hate me.”

You swallowed.

But you didn’t say a word.

Because you couldn’t.

And he knew it.

“You’re a sick asshole, you know that?” you spat, cornered between the stairwell wall and the weight of his body again.

Jeongin didn’t flinch. If anything, he looked satisfied. Like he wanted you mad.

“Because I didn’t like seeing you with someone else?” he asked, dark eyes narrowing. “Because I made sure no one else would touch you after that?”

Your pulse jumped.

“You spread a rumor that I sleep around,” you hissed, throat tight. “You called me easy, Jeongin.”

“I didn’t say your name,” he said coolly. “They just knew who to talk about.”

Your chest heaved.

“You ruined my reputation just because I talked to someone who wasn’t you?”

His jaw clenched, and this time, he didn’t hide it.

“Yeah. I did,” he said.

Simple. Sharp. No excuses.

“You’re disgusting.”

“You’re the one who made me do it.”

You shoved him, hard.

He didn’t budge.

“Get away from me,” you said, though your voice cracked on the last word.

“Say you didn’t like it,” he muttered, dipping his head lower. “Say you didn’t like knowing I cared that much.”

Your mouth opened—to scream, to curse, to spit in his face—but the only thing that came out was a weak, shaky breath as your back hit the wall harder than before. He didn’t touch you, but his words slid across your skin like hands.

“You want me to apologize for it?” he said, tone mock-soft. “Or do you just want to know if I’d do it again?”

You swallowed hard.

Because you should slap him. Scream at him. Run.

But instead, your thighs pressed tighter together, heat crawling traitorously up your neck.

And Jeongin saw it.

His lips curled into something dangerous.

“You hate me,” he murmured, brushing his knuckles against your cheek. “But you still want me.”

“I don’t.”

“Liar.”

Your heart thundered.

You hated him.

You hated him so much.

And if he leaned in just a little closer, you were going to do something really fucking silly.

You shoved your hand against his chest, breathing hard, trying to steady your voice through the fire crawling up your spine.

“Say you’re sorry.”

Jeongin blinked.

“What?”

“You heard me,” you snapped. “Say. You’re. Sorry.”

He stared at you, eyes flicking between your lips and the frustration trembling through your body. You didn’t think he’d do it—he wasn’t the type. But then something in him cracked.

His hand curled behind your neck, fingers threading into your hair, the tension in his jaw cutting like glass.

“I’m sorry.”

You froze.

His voice was low, but not mocking. Not cold.

Real.

“I’m sorry for the rumor. For the way I talk to you. For being a complete fucking asshole.”

Your breath caught. Your heart stuttered. And before you could react—

He kissed you.

Hard.

It wasn’t sweet or slow, not at first—it was messy, wild, weeks of sharp words and stolen glances crashing together in one devastating second. His lips crashed against yours like he was trying to make you forget every insult, every time he looked at you like you were nothing—and you kissed him back like you knew he was lying every damn time.

His hands slipped down, palms flattening against your waist, dragging you closer. Your fingers fisted in his shirt like you were trying to keep from drowning.

He broke the kiss first, barely.

“I meant it,” he whispered, lips brushing yours. “I’m sorry.”

Your hand cupped his jaw. “Then shut up and kiss me again.”

He did.

And this time, it was slower. Deeper. A different kind of desperate—like he was trying to memorize the taste of your mouth, like he’d waited too long to do it right.

You hated him.

But God, you wanted him.

—

It had been three weeks since Jeongin kissed you in that stairwell.

Three weeks since he muttered an apology against your lips, like it physically pained him to admit he’d been wrong. Three weeks with your heart in your throat and your mouth still tingling from the way he kissed you like it meant everything.

And in those three weeks, Jeongin hadn’t touched you once.

But he texted you.

God, he texted you.

At first, it was random.

[1:47 AM] Jeongin:

can’t sleep

You didn’t answer. The next morning, he texted again.

[9:04 AM] Jeongin:

ignore me like that again and I’ll kiss you harder next time

Then it was constant.

He started sitting behind you in lecture. Not beside you—behind you. Close enough for you to hear his breath shift when you adjusted in your seat. Close enough to drop texts mid-class.

[11:12 AM] Jeongin:

stop playing with your pen like that unless you want me to take it away and put your mouth to better use

You nearly choked in the middle of econ. Your professor shot you a look. And Jeongin? He just smirked when you glanced over your shoulder.

You tried to pretend it didn’t happen. The kiss. The texts. The fact that now, every time he passed you in the hall, your chest got tight and your thighs pressed together instinctively.

And he pretended too.

On campus, he was the same cocky golden boy—loud with his friends, always joking, always charming.

But when you caught him watching you—really watching—you felt it.

All of it.

The tension. The hunger. The subtle claim of ownership buzzing in the air.

Because he wasn’t just watching. He was waiting.

And you were starting to want to give in.

⸻

You didn’t dress up for him.

You told yourself that over and over as you checked your reflection in the bathroom mirror before class.

But the skirt was short—barely thigh length when you stood still. The top? Cropped just enough to tease, especially when you leaned forward. And your lip gloss shimmered in a way that would catch the light—and his eyes—without even trying.

You didn’t dress for him.

But when you passed him in the hallway and caught the way his gaze snapped to your legs, lingered, then dragged up your body like he was physically starving—you didn’t look away.

Not even when he pulled his phone out with a clenched jaw.

You were halfway through your next lecture when your phone buzzed. Then again. And again.

[1:13 PM] Jeongin:

you wore that on purpose

don’t lie to me

[1:14 PM] Jeongin:

I can’t fucking focus

all I can think about is bending you over the desk and making you forget everyone else is in the classroom.

[1:15 PM] Jeongin:

i’m not even expecting a reply

i just needed you to know what you’re doing to me

You stared at the screen, heat crawling down your neck.

For weeks, he’d been needling you—softly, slyly, like he was waiting to see how far he could push before you snapped.

And today? You’d pushed him.

Your fingers hovered over the keyboard. Your heart thundered in your throat.

And then you typed—slowly. Just one sentence.

[1:16 PM] You:

Then why don’t you do something about it?

Three dots.

Then nothing.

You smiled to yourself and tucked your phone away.

Class hadn’t even ended yet when your screen lit up again.

[1:27 PM] Jeongin:

be at my dorm in 20

door’ll be unlocked

You stared at his message until your vision blurred.

be at my dorm in 20

He didn’t even ask. He just knew you’d come.

And the worst part?

He was right.

Your knee bounced under the desk as the professor droned on about behavioral economics. You weren’t hearing a single word. Not when your body was buzzing, not when your thoughts were stuck on that stairwell—the taste of his mouth, the way his hand gripped your waist like it was the only thing tethering him to earth.

You hated him.

God, you hated him.

But then why did your fingers burn remembering how soft his voice went when he whispered sorry against your lips? Why did your stomach flip every time your screen lit up with his name? Why did every guy on campus seem suddenly, painfully uninteresting?

And why—why—couldn’t you stop thinking about what it would feel like if he kissed you again?

You exhaled sharply as you stood and left class early, ignoring the stares.

Your dorm was in the other direction.

But your feet didn’t take you there.

You weren’t even sure what your plan was—if you’d knock and leave, if you’d tell him off, if you’d kiss him senseless or slap him across the face. Maybe all of it. Maybe neither.

But you found yourself standing in front of his door anyway, pulse thudding at your throat, your hand frozen mid-air.

You didn’t knock.

You pushed the door open.

And there he was—sitting on the edge of his bed like he’d been waiting the whole time, elbows on his knees, head tilted.

Jeongin looked up. Smirked.

But his eyes… His eyes burned.

His room was warm. Too warm. Or maybe it was just you, standing there like your skin was one breath away from catching fire.

Jeongin didn’t move. He just watched you.

Like he knew exactly what you were thinking.

Like he felt the chaos in your chest because it mirrored his own.

“You really came,” he said, low and casual—like you hadn’t been losing your mind over him for weeks. Like he hadn’t humiliated you, kissed you, texted you filthy things between lectures and then acted like none of it mattered.

You crossed your arms, stepping in but not too far. Not close enough to fall.

“I almost didn’t.”

Jeongin’s smirk faltered. His eyes flicked down to your mouth, then back up.

“But you did.”

You hated that he was right.

“I should go,” you mumbled, even as your feet stayed planted. “This was stupid.”

“You think I didn’t mean what I said?”

“That’s the problem, Jeongin,” you snapped, voice sharp to cover the tremble. “You always mean it. Until you don’t. You kiss me, then you treat me like—”

“Don’t,” he interrupted, standing slowly. “Don’t do that.”

You flinched as he stepped closer, crowding your space. He didn’t touch you—but the heat of his body was magnetic, unbearable.

“I do mean it. I meant the kiss. I meant the texts, the apologies. I mean this.”

You shook your head, eyes stinging, throat tight.

“I hate you,” you whispered, chest heaving.

He took one step closer, gaze fixed to yours.

“No,” he said softly, “you don’t.”

His fingers brushed your wrist. Not forcefully. Not demanding.

Just asking.

Your breath caught.

And for a second—just a second—you leaned in.

Not enough to kiss. Just enough to want it.

The air between you buzzed, full of heat and panic and everything unsaid.

He stared at your mouth like it was the answer to a question he didn’t know how to ask.

“Tell me to stop,” he breathed.

But you didn’t.

You didn’t answer with words.

Just leaned in, slow and steady, until your nose brushed his. Until your lips ghosted over his—soft, deliberate, electric.

And when he didn’t move?

You kissed him.

Deep. Slow.

A kiss that said I heard you. A kiss that said I’m still mad, but I want this too. A kiss that let him in.

Jeongin exhaled like he’d been holding his breath for months.

His hands came up, featherlight at first—one cradling your cheek, the other finding your waist, fingertips curling into your hoodie like he couldn’t believe you were real. The kiss deepened, his lips parting, tongue brushing yours with cautious reverence.

But the caution didn’t last long.

Because the second you whimpered—barely audible, barely there—he broke.

A low, strangled groan vibrated in his chest as he backed you against the wall, lips still locked to yours like he’d die if he let go. His hand slid down to your hip, gripping just a little tighter, guiding you flush against him.

You could feel it—all of him.

Thick, hard, throbbing through the denim he probably didn’t even realize he was grinding into you.

Still, his voice cracked when he pulled back enough to breathe.

“Let me make it up to you,” he rasped, forehead pressed to yours, his mouth swollen and trembling. “Please. I’ll do anything. Just let me touch you.”

You shivered, fingers fisting in his shirt.

“Jeongin—”

“I’ll be good,” he whispered, breath hot against your skin as he kissed down your jaw, your neck. “I’ll take my time. I’ll make you feel so good, just, please—please—let me show you.”

You didn’t answer with words.

You grabbed his wrist, turned toward his bed, and pulled.

And the way he followed you—obedient, breathless, burning—it was almost needy.

The second your back hit the mattress, he was on you. Not rough. Not greedy. Just everywhere at once.

He kissed you like he owed you every apology he never said. Like he was trying to etch I’m sorry into your skin with every slow drag of his tongue against your throat, every trembling grip of your thigh.

He took his time undressing you.

Lifted your hoodie like it was sacred. Pressed soft, reverent kisses to your stomach as he pulled it over your head.

“God, look at you,” he whispered, eyes hungry, hands gentle. “I’ve thought about this so many times.”

Your breath caught when he dipped his head and kissed down your chest, your ribs, your hips.

But when he knelt between your legs and looked up at you?

His voice broke.

“Please let me taste you.”

And when you nodded?

He moaned. Not quiet. Not controlled.

Desperate.

And then his mouth was on you—tongue slow, deep, greedy. Like he wanted to drown in you. Like he needed to.

You’d never felt anything like it.

The way he licked. Sucked. Worshipped.

And when your hips started to tremble, when your thighs squeezed around his head, when your hands clawed at the sheets and you tried to push him away from overstimulation?

He didn’t move.

Just growled into your core and held you still.

“You’re not running from me,” he murmured, voice slick with praise. “Not when I’m making you feel this good.”

And fuck—he was right.

Because you came for him, hard.

And he didn’t stop until your legs were shaking and your voice was wrecked and all you could say was his name.

Over and over and over again.

You were still gasping when he kissed his way back up your body—wet mouth trailing fire across your skin, up your stomach, your chest, your throat. His lips met yours again, soft but needy, and you tasted yourself on his tongue as he murmured against your mouth.

“So sweet,” he whispered. “Could stay down there forever.”

His voice was cracked wide open now—low, breathy, almost reverent. His hands cradled your face like you were something breakable. Sacred. Untouchable—except you’d just let him touch you everywhere.

And he wasn’t done.

Not even close.

He kissed you again. Slower. Deeper.

Then his fingers curled around your hips and turned you over—gently, guiding you onto your stomach with a press so tender it made your spine arch without thinking.

You shivered.

He leaned over you, chest brushing your back, breath hot at your ear.

“You okay?” he whispered.

You nodded. “Yeah.”

His lips grazed your shoulder. “Still want this?”

Your answer came out like a gasp. “Yes.”

He groaned—quiet, strained, like the word physically affected him.

And then he reached into his back pocket.

You heard the foil tear, the soft rustle of denim and the shift of his weight as he got ready.

Still, he paused—one hand pressed flat between your shoulder blades, the other gripping your hip like an anchor.

“Can I fuck you now?” he asked, barely audible.

Like he couldn’t believe he was really asking. Like he needed to hear it from you, one last time.

Your stomach flipped.

“Yes,” you whispered. “Please.”

And that was it.

He lined up behind you—slow, careful, the blunt head of his cock sliding through your slick folds, teasing until you whimpered, pushing just enough to make you ache.

Then he sank in.

Deep.

You choked on a moan.

He cursed softly, both hands bracing on your hips now. “Fuck—baby—you feel so good…”

He moved slow at first. Long, shallow strokes that stretched and dragged and made your body melt beneath him. His fingers tightened around your waist, but not to hold you down—just to stay grounded. Like he needed the contact. Like he was trying to memorize the shape of you.

Every inch. Every sound.

And the second he found the right angle—that spot—he grunted low in his throat, hips rolling deeper, slower, like he was trying to fuck an apology straight into your soul.

“You’re mine,” he whispered, leaning over you again, lips pressed to your shoulder. “No more games. Just this. Just us.”

You whimpered.

“Say it,” he begged. “Tell me you’re mine.”

You turned your head just enough to meet his eyes.

“I’m yours.”

His breath caught.

Then he fucked you harder.

You couldn’t hold back the moans anymore.

Not when he was fucking you like this—slow and deep, every stroke dragging a whimper from your throat, every grind of his hips sending sparks up your spine.

“God, Jeongin,” you gasped, gripping the sheets. “You feel so fucking good.”

He cursed under his breath, hands tightening on your hips. “Yeah? You like that?”

You nodded, breathless. “Yes— fuck!” you confessed, hips pushing back into him. “Give me more.”

That wrecked him.

You felt it—the way his rhythm faltered for a second, the way his grip trembled.

Then he growled.

Deep in his chest.

He pulled out and flipped you over in one quick, effortless motion, pressing you into the mattress with his body before sliding back in deeper.

This time you could see him—his cheeks flushed, blown-out eyes, lips parted as he watched you fall apart beneath him.

And you did.

Your legs wrapped around his waist, hands gripping his back like you needed to hold on or lose your mind entirely.

Every thrust punched little gasps out of you, soft and high and needy.

“Fuck,” you moaned. “Don’t stop—don’t you dare stop—”

“I won’t,” he panted, forehead pressed to yours. “Not until you come all over me. Not until I feel it.”

You kissed him then—fierce, messy, hot—and he groaned into your mouth, hips grinding deep as you rocked up to meet him.

But you wanted more.

You needed control.

So you pushed at his chest until he got the message.

He let you flip him—only because he wanted to see what you’d do.

And you didn’t disappoint.

You straddled him, slick and flushed and trembling, and sank back down onto his cock with a moan that echoed off the fucking walls.

Jeongin’s hands flew to your thighs, head tipping back against the pillow.

“Jesus Christ,” he gasped. “Look at you—fuck, baby—ride me.”

And you did.

You moved like you were trying to make him lose his mind.

Grinding down slow, bouncing just enough to tease, clenching around him until he was a mess beneath you.

He tried to thrust up into you but your hands pinned his chest, keeping him down.

“I’m in charge now,” you whispered, breath hot against his jaw. “You want to make it up to me?”

He nodded, frantic.

“Then take it.”

You started to move faster.

Harder.

And he broke.

Whimpering your name, begging for release, hands bruising your thighs as he tried to hold on.

“You gonna come for me?” you asked, biting his lip.

“Y-Yeah—fuck—gonna come so hard, baby—please—don’t stop—”

You leaned down, moaning into his mouth, and let your hips roll just right.

And that was it.

He came with a shout, deep inside you, fingers digging into your skin, body shaking beneath you.

You followed a second later—head thrown back, spine arching, vision blurring as the orgasm crashed over you like a wave.

You collapsed on his chest, both of you breathing like you’d just run a marathon.

And then—He laughed.

Quiet. Breathless. Disbelieving.

“Holy fuck.”

He didn’t let you move. Not at first.

He just wrapped both arms around you and held you like you might vanish—his face buried in your hair, heart pounding so hard beneath your cheek it echoed in your ears.

“Jeongin,” you whispered.

“Mhm?”

You pressed a slow kiss to his collarbone. “You okay?”

He nodded against you, but didn’t speak. His arms stayed locked around your waist, one hand drifting up and down your back, fingers tracing the curve of your spine like your skin grounded him. Like if he let go, the moment would disappear.

Eventually, he shifted just enough to meet your eyes.

“Did I hurt you?”

“No,” you said, voice low. “You were perfect.”

A shaky breath left him—half a laugh, half a sigh of relief.

“Good,” he muttered, brushing your hair away from your face. Then, he exhaled hard, eyes flicking down to your mouth before settling back on yours.

“I mean it,” he murmured. “No more rumors. No more games. I want this to be real.”

You swallowed. “What do you mean?”

“I mean…” He hesitated, like the words scared him. “I want you to be mine. For real. Like—actual dates, hand holding, annoying you on purpose just so you’ll kiss me to shut me up. All of it.”

Your heart skipped.

You stared at him for a beat too long—just long enough for panic to flicker behind his eyes.

Then you kissed him.

Slow. Certain.

His whole body softened beneath you, arms tightening again as he melted into your mouth.

“I’ll go on one condition,” you whispered when you pulled back.

He blinked. “Yeah?”

You smirked. “You have to stop bullying me in school.”

He groaned, hiding his face in your neck. “Fuck, no promises.”

“Jeongin—”

“Fine,” he muttered. “But only because I like you. So much it makes me stupid.”

You grinned, curling into him as he pulled the blanket over both of you.

And for once, he didn’t have a single sarcastic thing to say.

He just held you.

Like he meant it.

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

Authors note: Hey baby girls! Soooooo yeah like i said earlier, requests are open but i wont be taking any from anons, (cos i need to know i’m not feeding minors tbh 😩) feel free to send in requests, i’ll write the ones i can relate to!

Don’t forget to drop that like and comment! And follow for more fics if you haven’t, cos i post almost daily!!! Reblog too!!!!

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[ive-been-timebombed]

Oneshot

Request by @purplereaderfans

Prompt by @satoshy12

DPXDC

Aged down Danny beating Tim in college..

“Okay Danny, remind me of the rules again” Jazz looked to the kid in her arms, the kid was eating a bright green popsicle. Like the kid wasn’t a toddler and wouldn’t get sticky.

“Uh.. rule one! Don’t be loud! And if I have questions raise my hand.” Danny struggled to hold up one finger but when he managed he held it up his popsicle in his other hand.

“Rule two! Don’t interrupt with stupid things. Like puns or fart jokes!” Danny pulled his hand down again and stared at his hand till he got two fingers held up then which a looked at Jazz with a grin

“Then rule three! If I need the bathroom or food ask you,” Danny held up his thumb this time making three fingers being held up.

“Lastly! Don’t wonder off! Like momma and Daddy!” Danny put his hand down and put the popsicle in his mouth hurriedly licking up the melted popsicle off his hand.

“You forgot one Danny, Rule five dont Fenton the others here. You know what that means right?” Jazz asked bending down and opening the backpack she had packed it was basically a diaper bag. It held wipes, emergency ectoplasm, change of clothes, the Fenton Thermos, and many other things Jazz had knew they would need. Jazz had dug around in the bag and pulled out the wipes ready to clean Danny up when he finished the popsicle in record time.

“Yeah! It means.. be respectful of others bubble’s and no ghost things! Also don’t tell other people of things I shouldn’t know about them but I do know-“ Danny licked off the last bit of the ectopop enjoying the melting ecto in his mouth. He then gave a short scream as Jazz attacked him with the cold wipe. Cleaning off the ecto off his face and hands. She took the popsicle stick and wrapped the wipe around it and put it in the diaper bag.

“That’s right, now I know you’re not as old as you used to. And I don’t know your mental age right now. But I promise you won’t get in trouble if you do have an accident or something you would describe as childish.” Jazz stood up picking up the backpack in her hand and putting one strap over her arm and walked out of the stall. Where she was hiding when she noticed Danny looked dizzy and a bit pale. She guess it was the old ectoplasm in the air that he was absorbing. She guessed right and when Danny ate the emergency Ectopops he went right by back to normal.

She sat Danny in the bathroom sink and put the bag to the other side of him. Her body was in front of him so he couldn’t fall off the counter. As she washed her hands getting rid of her own stickiness Danny had put on her. Then she put the bag on both her shoulders and picked Danny up resting him on her hip Danny arm wrapping around her forearm instantly.

Danny was looking around as all babies did as Jazz walked out the bathroom pulling out her phone to look at her schedule.

“Okay, first is introductory psychology. Which in in building F.” Jazz mumbled to herself looking up and putting her phone back in her pocket and started to walk through the dorms.

_________

“Danny, you remember what happened last time you chewed on a pen?” Jazz asked looking over at her brother who was sitting in the seat next to herself. The chair was pulled closer and a random assortment of things were on the table in front of him.

“It explodes in my mouth..” Danny frowned taking the pen out his mouth. The pen had many teeth marks.

‘Well that explains the blue mouth of the kid..’ Tim thought to himself he was two chairs back a bit higher than the two siblings. He had started to wonder about the stained blue mouth and the blue marks on his hands and around his mouth. Even the kids teeth were stained blue.

Tim was in introductory Psychology as his minor. He needed to know more about what was going on in peoples head. It would help with many things.. even learn some tricks he could use on his siblings maybe? He was majoring in astronomy weirdly. Tim knows just about anything on Earth but when it came to the stars he was admittedly lacking.

He was curious about the kid when he overheard the kids sister suggested to the kid about asking the astronomy professor if he could sit in during a class as the kid was incredibly bored in the psychology classes. Danny, names were also learned from his eavesdropping, looked at his sister like she hung the stars which Tim didn’t doubt that to him, she did.

_________

Oh. My. Clockwork. Jazzy has the best ideas! And Profess Brunn is so nice! She says I can sit in on a lesson and if I’m good I can do it again! Jazzy just dropped me off at the classroom and gave me to Profess she sat me down in the front row so she can keep in eye on me. I asked if I could ask and answer questions and she said yes!

“All right guys! Since we just came back from break we’re gonna be getting back into it with our last lesson! I’m gonna do a review on last lesson and then hand out a paper. It will be worth a grade so please actually try” Professor Brunn started the class with energy most of the class didn’t have.

__________

Who the hell is this kid?!

Tim stared at the laptop with a blank face. He was in the front of the class staring at the paper taped to the board. Usually he wouldn’t bother but that kid, Danny, finished quickly and even asked if there was more. The professor sent out the five best grades to encourage or something. Usually Tim was first.. but he wasn’t this time.

Or the next. Or even the next before that.

It was fine because it was just the one class for almost a week. Then that kids name just started to show up more and more on each list. Till on every class Tim took it was Danny Fenton first and Timothy Drake second. Jasmine Fenton third usually second before Danny appeared.

Tim was genuinely questioning if he was mind controlled. Did he get a concussion and not notice? Did he have a chip in his brain that made him stupider? Was he losing his mind? Did he need to start sleeping more regularly.? Did he need to cut down his caffeine intake? He only drank a few coffees a day.. not including the energy drinks. But- but. What’s happening to him?!

_________

“What’s going on with Drake?” Damian scowled as he looked over to Grayson next to him. He was standing behind Drake with Grayson after he had been called to pick up Drake after he had picked up Damian from school. Damian followed his brother’s gaze to Professor Smith, the engineering professor, who was at his desk looked at them with amusement.

“He was second place in the scoring this week, he’s been staring at the paper for maybe half an hour after class ended” Professor Smith told the brothers

“So?” Dick shrugged looking back to his brother putting a hand on Tim’s shoulder which snapped the other out of his despair, “It wouldn’t be the first time,”

“Yeah, but this time it’s been multiple weeks and to the same kid. A four year old to be exact” Professor Smith added before looking to door as someone knocked and it was opened

“Sorry, Danny here forgot his notebook in here” Jazz held open the door for her little brother to slip in and run to a table that had a black notebook with stars draw on it. Jazz held her hand out for Danny to take it as he came back. Danny turned and waved to the Professor as the door shut after them

“Danny, the child genius, has beaten Timothy here.. five weeks in a row now in this class. But Danny only came to the campus after Christmas break. But I’m guessing the number will only continue to grow,” Professor Smith continued as he watched the door shut and the two other wall away through the door window.

Tim, who just watched his new four year old nemesis wave bye to him, had a twitching eye. It also didn’t help with the demon laughing at him and Dick holding in his own laughter..

[last-words-ofashootingstar]

Should I?

Part Three

❥Kim Hongjoong x Jeong Yunho x Song Mingi x fem reader

➯a/n: it's been a long time since i wrote straight up smut with little to no plot and i went HAM. like wow get some water you thirsty hoe

✫彡wordcount: 12k (😟)

(>ᴗ•)genre: smut

ಠ_ಠwarning/content: WHOAH BITCH CALM DOWN HOLY SHIT WE GOT : healthy communication (we cheered!!), heavy mxm, poly relationship, amateur 🌽⭐️ au, hard doms hj & yh/sub reader & mg, orgasm control and denial, overstimulation, unprotected (with previous discussions of safety and contraception (woooo!!)), degrading&praising double whammy, DIRT TALK OUT THE FUCKIGN WAZOO YO, giving&receiving head, manhandling, like serious manhandling, size difference, spanking and slapping, dp, feral mingi (WOOF WOOF), spit, oral fixation, squirting, choking(in multiple variations), marathon sex, safe word in place but not used, dacryphilia, cum eating, hair pulling, sub space, aftercare (yippee!!!) SERIOUS name calling (including but not limited to): slut&whore (classics), toy, brat, perv. pet names(included but not limited to): baby, princess, pretty boy/girl, daddy, captain, sir, and a special one curtsey of hj which made my mind explode when i thought of it

dirty nasty filthy all around; enjoy lmfaooo

Should I? Masterlist

MATURE UNDER CUT MDNI

It had been multiple months since your live stream blew up. The account where the three of you had posted highlights and special content had gotten hundreds of thousands of new subscribers in that time. You began making revenue from older videos, even ones from way back in college in Mingi's dorm that had the quality that would make you believe it was filmed on a microwave. Something about your relationships dynamics drew people in and forced their eyes to be glued on you.

    Including a man that you only knew as your.captain. Out of pure curiosity: one day soon after he left a fat tip at the end of that faithful stream, you sat together and checked out his account. Surely you wouldn't reach out to him. And more than surely he wouldn't be invited anywhere near you if Yunho had anything to say about it. But it never hurt just to see who the income came from on occasion. Right?

     He had hundreds of videos, he'd been in the game as long as you have. All solo. All very well received. All very... you. He seemed like he fit right into your dynamics. The same kinks, the same nicknames dripping in honey, the same vibes- it was spooky to an extent. It was sexy as well, if the way Mingi was shifting while watching the video on your phone said anything. He showed his face, a very handsome one. His hair often changed and so did the decorations in his ears and the occasional addition of a new cling wrapped tattoo. You'd all be lying if you said you weren't intrigued, let alone attracted by the confidence he held as he used a fleshlight so hard that his tip broke through the other side. It was your turn to shift around.

Something about him even drew Yunho in. Maybe he wanted to just fight out their dominance and see who came out on top. See who got the title of dom for the night and got to have their way with you and Mingi. But just maybe. He'd never let someone else touch his precious Babies, surely.

    So life continued as normal. Save for a few changes. Less financial burdening, for one. More healthy communication as a side effect of always setting boundaries for what you would keep separate and what you were comfortable with. More fun even.

     Your live streams used to be only once or twice a month because of how much you all had to work just to make ends meet. Now they were much more spontaneous and frequent, even venturing into two-somes with a lot of prior communication and promise that no one be left out and time was always to be made up.

    Your videos used to be three times a year max, but with Mingi dropping more shifts, he had more time to edit and get out things that had been collecting dust on a USB. One of which made your.captain reach out again. This time with a comment. Under the newest video that Mingi had gotten edited and posted- an almost hour long roleplay session between you and Yunho pretending to be a prisoner and cop (you can probably guess who's who) a comment with that all too familiar profile picture of him and his toned abs.

     cops always need a partner, especially with frisky inmates like this little thief

     That comment had stuck in Yunhos brain for far too long for his own liking, and he was beginning to feel guilty as he pounded into Mingi at the thought of having another dom in the bed to fuck his lovers dumb with him. The guilt faded quickly as Mingi slipped up and called him 'Captain', only making him plow in harder.

    And thus began the video calls. Neither you guys or him payed one another. At first, it was innocent even. It was a mutual agreement to test the waters. And the waters felt so unbelievably amazing.

    And here you find yourself months after that. A year and a half after your first ever interaction with your.captain, sitting between your boyfriends in a well lit diner and picking at your cherry pie with a frown.

      "Honey?" Mingis soft voice makes you peek up, "we can always leave." Yunho copies his sentiment immediately, reiterating the boundaries that you all had set in stone. First and foremost being that — if anyone gets the smallest bit uncomfortable, you will up and leave without a single word.

     "I'm just nervous. You guys are the only ones I've ever been with, you know that," you offer a small smile, finally taking a bite as you look back at the door — only to almost choke as the man you've only seen through the laptop screen walks in in his full glory. Mingi has the same reaction, nearly spilling his lemonade over the side of the booth as he spots him. Yunho simply has a blush forming on his cheeks under his face mask.

     The camera doesn't capture his beauty or his confidence. It radiates off of him like a halo. "Holy shit fuck," Mingi coughs as he pats your back, thankfully helping compose you both before your.captain spots you and starts heading your way.

     It would be hard to miss who he's looking for. Not only do the two giant men and a woman who looks miniature compared to them stick out like a sore thumb in the busy restaurant, he would recognize the back of your head anywhere. He's watched enough of 'Minnie's POV' videos to know how the back of you head looks as he pushes it deeper onto 'Daddy's cock just to hear you gag and make him moan. He almost turns around and walks away as what he's doing sinks in — as he sees the three of you. You three look even more like a couple than you do online and it dawns on him.

    Princess and Minnie have matching hair ties on their wrists. Minnie and Daddy sharing the same shirt but in a slight different color. Daddy has his arm draped around Princess' shoulder, a ring proudly displayed on his ring finger.

    But he wants in so, so badly.

So he swallows his nerves and puts on a face of false confidence as he saunters to the table.

    The first few meetings were mundane, innocent if you could look past the fact that you all wanted to tear each others clothes off. Talk of your normal lives away from your content and all about each other. Hours went into discussing consent and contraceptives and boundaries for each and every one of you.

      And then the day finally came.

━༻❁༺━

     The hotel room was curtesy of Hongjoong. His name was Hongjoong, you had all learned pretty quickly. Even so much as a slip of "Captain" from your lips and he was rock hard. So, Hongjoong it was until today.

It was probably the fanciest place you had ever been, and it showed.

      His eyes drifted off from the camera as he and Yunho tried to make the device focus. And his gaze finds you. Anxiously tapping on the glass of water in your freshly manicured hand as you examined the room.

      It was clear that this was new to you, and to your boyfriends. And he wouldn't admit it; but it was new to him as well. He never recorded with another person, let alone three. He wasn't a virgin by any means, but you would be taking the title of first people he was with on camera.

      "The soap in there smells fucking amazing," Mingi breaks the tension, coming up to you and shoving his hand in your face. You shove his hand with a laugh, but take a whiff nonetheless.

     "Woah, that is good. Did you see the brand?"

    "It's, uh, it's mine actually." Both of your heads turn to Hongjoong, his eyes fixed back on the back of the camera as he fiddles with the settings. "Native."

     "Sorry?"

    "The brand, it's Native," he offers you both a brief smile, bending down a bit to get a better look at Yunho as he sits up a prop to make the camera focus, "I don't like using hotel soaps. They make my skin dry."

      Mingi chuckles as he wraps an arm around your shoulder, dragging you to the bed next to Yunho. "You're a bit of a weird guy, Hongjoong," he says as he climbs onto the high bed, reaching for and fiddling with the bottle of lube on the nightstand.

      "Hey, you said it smelled nice, and don't be complaining when your hands are soft as a feather," the mans rebuttal makes you laugh, his dark gaze trained on you in the view finder.

    "All good, man?" Yunho finally speaks as he notices his pregnant pause, hand possessively resting on your thigh as you lay beside him. Like he can feel his gaze on you.

      "All center! Should I start it now?"

━༻❁༺━

It was a bit awkward to start, of course it was. It was expected to be. That's why you had decided to record instead of stream.

     Yunho was quiet, watching Hongjoong like a hawk as he slid his hand up your girly short skirt, ignoring the tight bulge in his shorts in favor of making sure that boundaries stayed set in stone. The tension in his shoulders slumped away as Mingis hands ghosted up his stomach to his pecs.

They both watched from behind the camera as you and Hongjoong carefully felt each other out. You had on a masquerade mask, and your boyfriends each had one ready as well. Yours was pink and white, and they could hear Hongjoong praise how pretty it looked on you. You were laid sideways across the bed, and he was hovering over you like an angel.

An angel doing the dirtiest teasing of their beloved girlfriend. His long fingers were no match for Mingi or Yunhos giant hands, but they were still so enchanting as they traced patterns on your exposed thighs. His soft lips trailing all over your neck.

      "Calm down a bit, Daddy," Mingi whispers, kissing his neck, "she knows our safe word. Right, (Y/n)?" The use of your real name catches you off guard in an intimate setting — your brain takes a moment to realize he can just edit it out later, so he doesn't care.

      "Pause."

    Hongjoong, not having been paying attention prior to your speech, stalls his hands immediately and looks up at you.

     "Ah, see, Daddy! He remembers too," the younger man smiles, rubbing down Yunhos chest as Hongjoong goes back to worshiping your neck; this time with more intensity.

"Don't worry, partner~" The man above you chuckles between his soft sucks on your skin, "I'll take good care of your Princess."

"More," you whisper out a shy moan, hands fidgeting in the blankets, still not entirely sure if you should be touching him so freely.

"Uh? More?" He tilts his head with a smirk, feeling himself slip deeper and deeper into his dominant personality as he feels you crash into your submissive one. You were naturally quiet in life, he'd come to find. But this was entirely different.

"More, please!" You were putty in his hands, and it made his head fuzzy enough to forget that you had two loving fiancés just feet away.

"Say, 'please, Captain'," Hongjoong nips your ear lobe, making your skin burn hotter than before. "Be a good girl, be nice and polite and I'll make you feel so good."

"P-please, Captain! Please, I need more," your head rolls to face Yunho; who's currently teasing Mingi over his boxers as they watch you. He gives you a nod, and with your Daddy's permission, the final string tethering you to any semblance of anything other than complete submission is severed. "Captain, please make me cum~"

You're flipped onto your stomach in a second flat, and your hips are raised in the next as you giggle at his eagerness. He lands a light spank across your ass which has you moaning, eyes fluttering shut and your little laughs halting in favor of biting your lip.

Hongjoong flips up your skirt and comes face to face with the simultaneously cutesy and horniest thing he's ever seen; your thin strawberry printed panties clinging to your core and leaving little to his imagination as your arousal makes the fabric nearly transparent. "Damn..."

"Hong-?" Your questioning is cut off by a wail of pleasure so obscene it has Yunho blushing. The source of said pleasure is Hongjoongs searing hot mouth wrapping around your cunt and sucking the arousal out of the fabric like it's the last bit of hydration on Earth. "My fuck!" Your brain short circuits, making the men behind the camera laugh a bit.

It's genuinely like he doesn't need to breathe, he's sucking and lapping nonstop and holding your hips still as you writhe.

"Yah, do I get a turn?" Mingi gets a slap up the head from Yunho and a quick shake of your head.

"Nnnnno! He can't leave me! Captain, don't stop!" He wraps his arms around your thighs as if to say he has no such plans. "Oh, Daddy, he's going to make me cum!" At your words, Hongjoong bites the side of your panties and moves them out of the way, now lapping straight from the source and making you moan like a proper porn-star as he goes between plunging his tongue deep inside of you and making out with your clit. Like he can't decide which one he likes better.

He slaps your bottom rougher than before, pulling back and panting like he's just jogged for miles, ignoring your protests as he sits up and pushes his hair back; watching you wiggle your hips to beg for more. The way he licks his lips has both of the other men wanting a taste for themselves; which he can clearly see.

"C'mere," he growls, flipping you back to your back and coming to admire your begging expression.

"Captain," your voice drips with sickly sweet syrup as he yanks off your panties, watching with curiosity as he beckons the others forward.

"Why don't we let your Daddy have a taste?"

You eagerly spread your legs, welcoming Yunho between them as Hongjoong drags you to make room for the tall man. You lock eyes with your boyfriend as he crawls between your thighs like a predator before your head dips back off of the edge.

You come to face the tattoo across Hongjoongs upper thigh, gasping softly as your eyes move towards his now exposed member. "Woah," you exclaim with a sort of awe before, "Min," you go to search for him, knowing your shared love for a pretty length.

You find him coming to lay on his stomach, face level with your chest, "Minnie, look at the Captain's cock, it's so beautiful."

Hongjoong and Yunho share a chuckle at your breathless words, and the way Mingi has zero hesitation in following them. "Wow," his eyes widen, hands coming around your waist, "no kidding. I can see why you watched that video so many times now- ow!"

"Don't embarrass me!" You whine as you and Mingi get into a small cat fight that quickly ends with your lips entangled together roughly. You didn't often fight for dominance between each other — because it always ended quickly with you both falling into each other in a sort of stale mate. You moan into his mouth, fingers gripping his hair as Yunho begins to slowly lick at your clit; just the way he knows will make you come undone.

Your head falls back into place as Mingis lips depart from your own in favor of sucking down your neck and to your breasts.

Hongjoong, with his ears tinted red ever so slightly, comes into your upside down view, "you like one of my videos, huh?" He coos while cupping one of your cheeks in his palm, "tell me about it while Daddy eats you out."

His words paired with your boyfriends bombarding you with pleasure makes your toes curl; your socked feet coming to find purchase on Yunhos shoulders as he devours your pussy.

"I c-can't think!" Your cry of ecstasy is velvety smooth to the men, each of their members standing at attention and willing to make those words doubly true. One of your hands is still clinging to Mingis hair like a vice and making him moan, and the other is subconsciously reaching for Hongjoong.

"Yes, you can, little siren," he smirks as he takes your hand, kneeling down to be eye to eye with you, chuckling darkly as your eyes drift to nearly cross at the nickname. "I will yank you away from them the second you think you're about to cum. And I have a feeling that's close, so get talking, you cum-junkie."

"Your fleshlight! I want to be your fleshlight, Captain! Wh- ah!! When you fucked it so hard you broke it, please please please don't take me away! I want th-em to make me cum," you babble on and on as he simply nods with a grin, "ah, your hands- in the video! Minnie and Daddy agree, I'm not the only one, your moans are so sexy, Cap- Captain, please!! Daddy!" You're sobbing with the amount of energy you put behind holding off your orgasm, tears trailing up your face and disappearing within the mask.

"You're such a sweet girl, no wonder Daddy loves you-"

   You're creaming around Yunhos skilled tongue before you can stop it, crying out with a moan of, "fuck!" You tremble as Mingi holds you down, letting Yunho get his fill of your release as Hongjoong watches with a dark grin.

     When Yunho finally pulls away, your cunt is twitching with overstimulation but — "oh, Baby. We aren't done yet."

     He gathers you in his large arms and lifts you up, maneuvering you however it is he sees fit. How he sees fit is apparently tossing you like a rag doll to be bent over the edge of the bed, standing on your tippy toes to comfortably slump over the tall mattress.

     "You want the Captain to use you like his fleshlight?"

   You lock eyes with Hongjoong across the length of the large bed, suddenly shy. "Yes..."

    "Huh?" Yunho quickly tugs your hair, easily crushing your body with his as he grinds against you. "Speak up, or I'll get a less shy slut to please him."

    Mingi is nearly about to pounce, ready to have his world rocked.

   "No, please! I want to be his fleshlight! Minnie, please let him use me first! I'll let you fuck my throat!" His eyes light up at the possibility of one of his newer favorite positions. You've been working towards it for a while now, and the last few months you've been able to take his entire length down your throat with no problem. Yunho was still a work in progress, but to be entirely fair he is a giant.

     "Awe," Hongjoong chuckles, titling his head, "you want it that badly? I don't know... you've been a bit bratty, even came without permission."

    You nod quickly, hair falling around your face messily. "I'll be good! I'll be good!"

    He reaches across the bed and pushes it out of your face, cupping your cheeks roughly. "You know I broke that fleshlight, right? You want me to break your little pussy?"

     "Mh, you can try, but our girl takes it like a champ," Yunho smirks at the man, then towards his boyfriend. He picks you up again and tosses you across the bed like you weigh nothing. "If you can't break her, we'll do it together~"

     The words have your head spinning as Hongjoong pulls your bottom over the edge, immediately grinding his length along your slit. "I think I might just go easy on her so we can do it together."

    At Mingis moan, he lets out a devilish laugh. "Minnie likes the sound of that, huh? Wants to watch his girlfriend get ruined? Like a fucking cuckold. Such dirty little whores you have here, partner."

    Yunho yanks Mingi to mimic your position on the other edge, smiling to himself as you immediately seek out each others hands. "Dirty little whores, no question about it. Fighting over cock like two bitches in heat."

    You gasp as Hongjoongs tip prods at your soaked entrance, your head rolling back and getting a glimpse of Mingi being stretched out on Yunhos fingers. "Hey," Hongjoong growls, grabbing your jaw to make you face him, "when I'm fucking you, eyes on me. Got that, Darling?"

    "Yes, Captain," you bat your eyelashes at him and earn a smile and a playful slap on the cheek.

    "Good girl," he moans as his fat tip is welcomed into your warmth, "now you hold your Minnie's hand tight, okay?"

      "Ok- oh my fuck! Oh, oh! Captain!" Shouts of pleasure tumble out as incoherent words as he impales you on his girthy member, immediately setting a ruthless pace as he stretches out your walls. Whether you realize it or not, you're holding Mingis hand just as tightly as he's holding yours while Yunho sinks into him.

     Where Yunho and Mingi have impressive, delicious, length; Hongjoong has impossible, mouth watering girth.

    The bed doesn't know which way to shake, Yunho thrusting on one side and Hongjoong on the other. It just creaks pitifully quiet under the symphony of sex. 

     "Fucking hell," Hongjoong groans as he leans over you fully, hands locking on top of your head to keep you in place as the force of his thrusts threaten to send you sliding. A broken moan rumbles in his throat as you spread your legs out on the edge, allowing him to plunge deeper into your heat. "Sucking me in so good, little siren."

     "Ah, don't call me that! I'll cum!" You whimper, free hand coming up to hold his arm tightly as you look into his eyes beggingly.

     "Hm? Little siren? That's gonna make you cum on my cock while your boyfriends fuck on the same bed as us? Maybe after I turn your brain into mush we can all take turns passing you around- fuck!" He hisses as you clench around him, one of his hands finding your throat, "you like that idea, don't you? You want us to turn you into our personal cock toy, that it?"

"Y-yes!"

     Hongjoongs dirty talk isn't just riling you up, Mingi is an absolute mess and Yunho is plowing into him like a madman.

    "You want us to pass you around like a proper play thing and fill you up till you're leaking for days, that it? Awe, yeah," he nods with you mockingly as you agree with break neck speed, "the Princess wants to be used like a common whore. Maybe after you're all full of cum, it will be Minnie's turn to be our cumdump while you suck his-"

      "Cumming!" You squeal, quickly turning into pathetic whines as he pulls out abruptly, "no! No, Captain!" Another light slap shuts you up save for your whimpers.

     "You're not cumming until I say so. You came without either of our permission last time, but I let it slide. Next time you do that," he flicks Mingis head, "either of you. I'm going to make you beg for mercy. Got it?"

     "Yes, Captain," you both chime, though Mingi is much more slurred in the throes of passion. You want to look, you want to look so badly. But you keep your eyes on Hongjoong as he slams back into you.

     "Fuck- me!" You stutter, gasping for air as he holds you in place by your neck and ravages you. "My g-oh holy shit!! Yes!" Your vision is in and out of focus as he bullies your g-spot, making you gush around him. A lewd ring of milky fluids is forming around the base of his cock, and he moans loudly as he notices it.

      "Messy, messy, girl," he buries his head in the crook of your shoulder, nipping at your skin roughly. "Is the little siren going to take her Captains cum?"

     "Yes, give it to me!" Hongjoong knows the hotel is fairly soundproof, but between you and Mingi, he's sure someone will be knocking by the end of the night.

      As the warm, gushing liquid spurts into you, you let out a pitiful whimper; clenching and fluttering around him wildly as you revel in the feeling. You nearly cum then and there, and you would have if not for years of being edged by Yunho to the point of literal insanity teaching you how to reel yourself back.

     "Damn, so good..." Hongjoong moans into your neck as he slumps ontop of you, hips twitching as he releases into you. He gently rubs your neck as you whimper, feeling the vibrations beneath his hand. A pleased hum bubbles up his throat as you wrap your legs around his waist and hold him deep, your free arm draping around his neck; the other hand still holding onto Mingi tightly.

Mingi and Yunho are in the same position, more or less, panting messes embracing each other.

━༻❁༺━

"You alive over there, Princess?" Mingi's words are dripping in pleasure, all floaty and sweet just like how he feels.

He and Yunho look towards you as all you do is let out a tiny desperate moan.

You have your eyes screwed shut, your pleasure slamming against the wall you've put up to hold it back. But the dam is about to break. Hongjoong's cock is just that good. The feeling of his cum is just that good. Making you struggle to hold yourself back for even one round when with your boyfriends, you can be defiant and hold back for hours. But this... situation... it's making your pussy want to take control and just cum already; consequences be damned.

"Heh," Hongjoong chuckles as he lifts his head, seeing your fighting expression, "what a good girl, didn't cum?" You shake your head quickly, holding your breath. "Good job," he kisses your forehead softly as he slowly pulls out, smirking as you cry out, "shhh, it's okay. You did so wonderfully, you'll get to cum soon, Princess."

You pant as you open your eyes, relieved as he finally allows the burning ball of pleasure inside of you to dwindle; ever so slowly. "Ah, shit," you toss your head back, gulping, "thank you, Captain."

"So polite~ You have your Babies trained well, Daddy," he hums as he rubs your sides, watching as his seed slowly drips out of you.

"Mhm, I do, don't I?" Yunho reaches across and rubs the top of your head, "how you doin', Princess?"

"M'good," Your glassy eyes peek at Mingi; more specifically his twitching member and his cum covered stomach. "Min, no fair! I thought we were in this together," you give his shoulder a weak slap, making him giggle.

     "Hey, Daddy said I could!"

    "You'll get your turn, Babygirl," Hongjoong muses as he lifts you with a small grunt, letting you cling to him with your arms and legs locking around his body. You lean your head against his shoulder with a huff leaving your lips.

     Yunho softly kisses Mingis cheek as he departs, both of them having their eyes locked onto you as you're set onto the empty bedside table.

     "Remember what Daddy said, hm?" Hongjoong tugs your hair to make you look up at him, your jaw slack with a moan. "Don't, do you? He said if I can't break your pussy, we'll do it together. Daddy keeps his word, doesn't he?" Damn him; he keeps asking questions while flooding you with pleasure, knowing you can't answer. His fingers have found their way to your clit, pinching and twirling and flicking.

      "Plea-"

      "No."

     Your boyfriends watch with heated gazes as your head rolls, pressing against the wall as your back arches. "Please!" You slump as his teasing stops, breathing heavily.

    "Minnie," he beckons the man forward with a finger. He looks between you two and Yunho, who nods. With that, Mingi flings himself across the bed to get to you quicker, looking down at you with eyes full of love and lust. "Why don't you fuck our Princess?"

His hand gathers the sticky substance on his stomach, quickly wrapping around his cock as he looks up at him. He's shorter, sure. But Mingi feels like he's suddenly pocket-sized as Hongjoong makes eye contact with him.

"Nice and slow, okay? Like this," he hums as he strokes his member with languid movements of his wrist, "make her feel every inch. And you feel every little clench-" he squeezes and earns a guttural moan before he lets go. "Go on."

Yunho watches the exchange with a smile on his lips that's halfway fond, halfway horny. Hongjoong laps his hand clean, locking eyes with him as he does so.

Mingi leans over your figure, casting you in his shadow. "Hi, Princess." He smiles, cupping your cheeks and kissing you like it's his last chance to ever do so. Soft and passionate and filled with energy.

As he pulls back, you smile back up at him dopily, "hey, Minnie."

Hongjoong joins Yunho on the couch against the wall, catching their breath as they watch you. "You fucker," he punches his shoulder with a breathless laugh, "you should have told me she would try to milk me dry."

Yunho chuckles, pushing back his hair and taking his mask off to let his skin breathe as they sit out of frame. "Like she doesn't want to let you leave, right?"

"Exactly," he grins as they hear Mingi whimpering, thrusting in and out of you slowly, "he gets it too." They share a laugh, Yunho going to call out.

"Slow, Baby." He sees Mingi shake his head, whispering to you as your hands come around his back and caress the expanse.

"I can't t-take it!" Mingis hand slaps against the wall, the other wrapped around your back and scratching the skin there. "Please, can't I fuck her faster?"

"No," both of the men chime, making him whine louder. Yunho fixes his mask and joins Hongjoong in re-entering.

"How you holding out, little siren?" Hongjoong asks, tilting your head up to see your tearful eyes. "Still waiting for permission?"

"Yes, s-sir," you stammer as Mingis hips jolt, batting your lashes at him; then at Yunho — who nearly can't resist.

Nearly, that is. "Stop."

"Noooo," you whine just as loud as Mingi now, rolling and humping your hips as Yunho drags him away.

Hongjoong shushes you with two fingers to your lips, which you start kitten licking, making him falter for a second; his brain short circuiting as he locks eyes with you while you begin sucking on his digits. He blinks, and having already been half hard again from watching you and Mingi, he's now ready to fuck into any of your holes until you beg him for mercy.

He yanks you from the table as you yelp, throwing you unceremoniously onto the bed where Yunho catches you, dragging you to the middle of the large mattress. "Teasing our guest, Baby?"

"No, Daddy-"

"Fuck you weren't," Hongjoong lands a slap on your cheek, no longer holding back; and it makes your core throb. "Being a damn teasing brat. Your mouth just can't stand being empty can it?" He shoves his fingers back into your mouth, gagging you on them, "aren't you such an eager little cock-sucker?" He gives his fingers one last thrust into your mouth before pulling them out and wiping your spit across your face; all while Mingi watches in awe.

Yunho grabs your jaw roughly, smushing your lips together into a pout, "you know your manners, don't you, pretty girl?"

"Yes, Daddy..." You whisper, seeking out Mingis hand for a lifeline when Hongjoong pins your hands above your head, glaring down at you.

"Then you best get to apologizing," your boyfriend shoves your face, stepping back with a grin as you pout up at the man.

    "I'm sorry, Captain-"

      He tuts his tongue, pulling Mingis hands over, "hold her down — if you let her get away, you're next on my list, you perv."

    Mingi feels a thrill rush through him, each hand pinning one of your arms to the bed. He never really uses his natural strength against you, but something about the way you're already thrashing around has him wanting to fuck you himself.

    "Captain, please!" You kick your legs, not really trying to get away but more trying to get his empathy.

    "Sit still," a slap to your core over your skirt has you freezing, panting. He watches your face closely, smirking wide as he sees the cogs turning in your head. You liked that. "Huh," he huffs a laugh, looking to Yunho as the man quickly sets up the camera on the side of the bed, "how many spanks can your Princess handle?" He asks as he yanks the fabric off of your hips.

    He thinks for a moment as he makes sure the bed is all in frame, watching your predicament through the lens, "usually twenty good spanks gets her begging for forgiveness."

    "Twenty-five then," he holds back a grin as your eyes widen, "yeah, you heard me. Hold her still, Min. Be a good boy and you can fuck her while her pussy is nice and sensitive." He knows that's going to be a continuation of your punishment while simultaneously being a reward for Mingi. He knows how feral the man can get from how many times he's rewatched the first stream of yours he saw. The one where Mingi went so far gone wanting to fuck you that he was almost dominant in the way he said he wanted to cum inside of you.

And the way he leans his body over yours to crush you to the bed, holding your wrists tightly; you all know he won't fail.

━༻❁༺━

    "I still don't hear an apology," Yunho hums as he kneels on the bed, opposite of the camera with no shame to be found as he strokes himself to the sight of Hongjoong playing with your pussy.

     "I'm s-fuck!" You gasp as his palm hits your bare, sensitive skin for the first time. "Captain, I'm sorry- ah!" Mingis heavy weight keeps you from arching, from moving away, from doing anything but shuffle your legs uselessly as slap after slap lands on your heat. "Daddy!" A second passes before a larger hand makes contact, making you bite at Mingis side.

    "Fuck," he moans, nails digging into your wrists, his eyes never leaving your cunt as he watches it get puffy and messy with all of your wetness and the remnants of Hongjoongs cum being smeared by their hands.

    "Daddy isn't gonna save you this time, Baby," Yunho coos as he sees your teary eyes, "you know better than to tease, that's our job."

    "I'm sorry, sir! I won't tease, I won't!" If you take twenty five spanks to your clit, you'll be cumming so hard that you'll be unconscious whether you have permission or not. "Pleaseee- ow!" Your cry is between the line of pleasure and pain, leaning more in the 'I'm about to float away' side. Your lips are already tingling and you're already on the edge from everything else.

    "I don't go easy on brats," Hongjoong gives your thigh a pinch as you move your legs helplessly, "I would have been willing to let that slide, but not on top of you cumming without permission early. We can't let bad behavior go unpunished, can we, partner?"

    "No," Yunho says with a dark satisfaction as you settle your legs wide open for them, "no, we can't, Captain."

     When you reach seventeen, you're hiccuping and twitching with every collision; leaking all over the bed and still babbling apologies to the Captain.

    At twenty-three, you sob as you see Hongjoong raise his hand, knowing you'll cum with his next strike, "Captain! Captain, wait! Pl-ease! I'll do anything!" You flinch as it meets your heated and puffy core softly, soothing it with his knuckles.

    "Anything, huh?"

    "Yes, yes, any-anything, Sir!"

    He and Yunho share a smirk, and he taps Mingis shoulder, making the man rise. "Good job, pretty boy," he kisses the man's cheek, making him bite his lip as he sits back fully.

    Yunho is by his side in a second flat, his whispers completely lost on you as Hongjoong gathers you in his arms and hugs you to his chest gently. "Oh, it's okay, my little siren, you took the first part of your punishment so well." He cradles your top half against himself, grinning like a jackal as he sees Mingis eyes light up at his boyfriend's hushed words.

    "F-first?" you mumble between your sniffs, arms wrapped tightly around his shoulders.

    Your knees are knocked apart, making you fall further into Hongjoongs chest as your eyes widen; remembering his words to Mingi. "You said you'd do anything, right?"

    You nod, wide eyes looking up at him as you feel the mattress dip behind you.

     "You're going to let us all fuck you until we're satisfied, and then I'll forgive you for being such a teasing brat. And, hey," he grips your hair as you go to peek behind you, "hey, look at me. You aren't going to cum until I say so. Do you understand? Not Daddy, not Minnie, me. I'm the one who decides when you cum. Do you got that?"

    "Yes-" As soon as the word tumbles from your lips, Mingi stuffs himself into your overworked pussy with primal urgency, making you scream; hiding your face in Hongjoongs chest.

    He chuckles as he holds your head to him, stroking your hair gently in contrast to the absolute feral nature your boyfriend is pounding into you with. Yunho smirks as he kisses along Mingi's neck, spurring him on. "Good boy, that's it. Take her just like you like it, she's just a little toy right now, anyways~" 

   Mingi is whining and growling and slamming in and out of you like a piston, stuck somewhere between wanting to demolish your cunt to reform it to the shape of his cock and melting like butter at Yunhos praise and watching the way Hongjoong cradles you.

    You dig your trembling fingers into Hongjoongs biceps, talking nonsense to try and distract yourself from the diving head first into the pleasure Mingi is drilling into you.

      Your legs give out, and Mingi quickly drags you back up; wrapping his arms around your waist. He's making you feel just as good as the dominant men do — though in a completely different way. His feral thrusts are like an animal, bruising and unforgiving and with one purpose; to get as deep inside of you as humanly possible. He isn't even trying to, but he's bumping into your g-spot and your cervix and still trying to fuck deeper.

    "Captain! Can-"

    "No."

    You cry into his chest, huffing and panting to chase your breath as Mingi repeatedly knocks it away from you. "Ah, Min!"

      His hands are all over you, as Yunhos are all over him.

     "Minnie, please cum!" You beg for even a brief pause, your heart thudding with effort to hold back its natural pleasure.

    He can't say no to you, especially not like this, so he gives one last punishing thrust; releasing his own pleasure as deep inside of you as possible. He falls on top of you with a gasp, crushing you with his weight and digging himself even deeper.

    Your face ends up in Hongjoongs lap, and you lick your lips as you come to face his upright member.

Yunho rubs his back as he trembles from the large release, "are you satisfied, Baby?"

Mingi is moaning like a movie star in your ear, and you're following suit as he starts thrusting again with a groan of, "more."

━༻❁༺━

    By the time Mingi is finally satiated, your pussy is weeping; as are you. You continue kitten licking and kissing along Hongjoongs cock, thankful for any small distraction to keep yourself from cumming. Because you can tell Hongjoong won't be giving you permission any time soon.

    Yunho pulls Mingi's body off you, carefully helping him to the couch where he promptly falls into a deep sleep; fucking you like a rabbit clearly took its toll.

    The pool of pleasure in your stomach barely has time to begin draining before Hongjoong gently rolls you over. "Still holding on, Baby?"

      "Ye-s, sir," you whimper as he slowly begins fingering your abused hole, pushing Mingi's multiple loads gushing into a puddle under you.

    "Barely," Yunho has a dark smile as he crawls over to you, grabbing your neck as he gives you a rough kiss.

     "If you can be a good girl and make it through this, imagine how good it will be when I finally let you cum." You whine into Yunhos mouth at Hongjoongs words, hips twitching with undeniable need.

    Yunho rests his forehead against yours, taking in your tear stained face and expression of focus. "You want to break my Princess' pussy together, Captain?" 

    "You know I do, Daddy," Hongjoong lands a deep kiss to your clit, making you gasp and cling to your boyfriend's shoulders.

   "Can-"

   "No."

    You throw your head back in frustration, pouting as Yunho lifts you up. "Daddy-" Your pleading tone is shut down on the spot.

    "Sorry, Baby. You got yourself into this mess, your Captain is the only one who can end your punishment," he speaks smoothly as he lays back, pulling you ontop of him. You groan, but it quickly falls into a sigh as Yunho sinks into your heat, filling you up. "Hold her up for me, Cap."

He's behind you now, wrapping his arms under yours and holding you upright by your shoulders. You ask in vain, leaning your head back on his shoulder, "please, Captain, can I cum?"

He looks to think for a second, but ultimately shakes his head with a depraved smile as your face falls back into a pout after the false hope he'd given you. "Not yet, pretty girl. You're doing so well for us, just a little while longer," he coos, licking up your neck and leaving a trail of goosebumps in his wake.

     "Fuck, Princess," Yunho hisses as he begins a slow rhythm, "loosen up, I can feel you clenching."

    "I can't," you say in a quick breath, hands finding their way to lay over Hongjoongs as they cup and knead your chest, "I'll cum."

    He chuckles from behind you, "you're dedicated, huh? If you don't relax, we won't both fit."

    The implication of his words makes you clench around Yunho even tighter, squealing as he grabs your hips and begins moving faster. "Please, Captain! I'll die if I don't cum soon!"

    Whether you're saying that for his empathy or you genuinely believe it in your foggy brain, it makes the men chuckle, Yunhos head tilts back as he rubs his thumbs on your hip bones; making you ride him.

     "Are you sure you're sorry? You learned your lesson?" He teases a hand down to your clit, ghosting over it just barely. 

     "Yes! Yes yes yes! I'll be a good girl for you! Please, jus-"

     "Then you can cum." It takes a moment for his words to be processed in the mess that is your mind, but it connects just as he begins circling your clit with just the right amount of pressure to make you crazy.

     "Ah!" You yell with a giddy smile, quickly relaxing in their hold, "oh fuck! Tha-thank you!"

    Yunho is slamming into you easily as you relax around him, fluttering and twitching like you've already cum. And Hongjoongs fingers are relentlessly playing with your bundle of nerves, his mouth sucking little marks onto the back of your shoulders.

     You shake like a leaf in the wind as you finally fall over the peak of your pleasure, gushing a mixture of your and Mingi's cum all over your shared fiancé. Hongjoong is the only thing keeping you upright, watching over your shoulder as your eyes roll back into your head while he holds you up for Yunho to keep bucking into.

    "Fuck, that's it, Baby~"

    "There you go, my siren~"

     Their saccharine praises send you careening before you can even climb back all the way up, another orgasm making you gasp and grab at anything in reach. One hand lands on Yunhos at your hip, the other on Hongjoongs forearm as he wraps his arms around your waist. You're officially long gone, sucked into the waves of ecstasy — not even noticing as Yunho stops thrusting into you.

    Not even noticing as Hongjoongs tip prods its way into the same hole as him.

    Not until it finally slips in, making your eyes fly open, "fuck!" You slap Yunhos shoulders as you rest your head on his chest, hiding your fucked-out face. "So full!"

     "Shhh," Yunho holds your head in his big hands, moaning deeply as he feels your walls slowly stretching to accommodate for both of them; used to length, not the absolute girth of Hongjoong. Especially not when paired with anything else. "Let us take care of you, my needy Baby. Daddy knows you love it," he soothes his hands over your shakey arms, taking similarly deep breaths.

    "I lo-ve it," you manage to slur as Hongjoongs presence inside of you makes Yunho press against your g-spot persistently.

     "Almost there," he whispers, biting his lip as he watches you swallow him inch by inch even though Yunho is filling you out almost fully. Even if there wasn't room, they made it. 

    "Cap- can, uuuh fuck me," you fist the sheets with a whine, "please, may I c-cum?"

    "Cum? We aren't even moving, Baby."

    "Please?!" You plead into Yunhos chest, fidgeting between them.

     "You can cum, sweet girl-"

 

    You yelp an incomprehensible word of gratitude, gasping for air as your walls squeeze the men for all their worth. Yunho grips your hips with bruising force, his eyes fluttering shut and his head rolling back. Hongjoong isn't fairing any better, his arms tightening around you; his forehead against the back of your neck and his breath fanning your heated skin as he pants.

     "Fucking hell," the man behind you lets out something between a whine and a groan, kissing along your spine.

     "Hey," the one below you cups your burning face, "you in there, Princess?"

    You nod clumsily, swallowing the pool of saliva in your mouth with an audible gulp. "Feel s'good, Daddy..."

     "Awe, I bet it does, Baby," he pulls you down to his lips, melding them with yours and knocking the noses of your masks together. He bites down on your bottom lip as he pulls away, smirking as he lets go of it, "feels fucking heavenly for us, too. Isn't that right, Captain?"

     You're pulled back up by a hand on your throat — Hongjoong choking you as he tilts your head to the side and takes your lips for the first time.

It's filthy. Oh, it's filthy. A sight to behold as he stakes his claim on your mouth. The hand that's not around your throat squeezes on either side of your jaw, making you part your lips. The second you do, his tongue is all over. Tracing your teeth and the roof of your mouth before finding your tongue and laving all over it as you extend it for him. Spit is dripping onto your chins and neither of you can breathe, but it doesn't stop you.

    Yunho, watching the display with eyes glazed with blazing lust, begins thrusting slowly; dragging his cock against Hongjoongs while you twitch and pulsate around them.

     His hand tightens around your throat as you both moan with his movements, trading your sounds along with your spit.

When he finally manages to tear himself from you, you're lightheaded and gasping for oxygen. He's becoming addicted to the feeling of your throat fighting to swallow any air under his grip, watching you heave with a dark satisfaction. "Fucking heavenly." He finally answers Yunho as he lets go of your neck, rubbing down your sides in a small gesture of apology for robbing you of air.

You lean back against his chest, yours rising and falling with your deep inhalations. Yunho leans up, his cock pressing deeper. "Look at my messy Princess," he mocks with a grin as he smears your combined spit across your face. "Open," is an order; and you follow it.

He presses your tongue down with two of his fingers, and you close your eyes blissfully as you know what to expect from your boyfriend.

He spits straight into your mouth, moaning deeply as he watches it settle — they both feel your cunt twitch.

"Have a turn, Captain," he chuckles as you tilt your head eagerly, your tongue licking at his fingers subconsciously, "she likes it."

You hum an affirmative 'uh-huh', peeking your eyes open. Hongjoong meets your eyes as he cups your jaw, "such a cute spit-whore." He licks his lips as he watches your tongue flicking against Yunhos fingers.

    His spit lands in the back of your mouth, another twitch of your walls making both of them groan. "Swallow," Hongjoong orders, pinching your hip when you take too long for his liking.

    Your lips close around Yunhos digits, swallowing their spit with a sound akin to a pleased purr. You reopen, "ahhh."

    "Good girl," Yunho chuckles as he slides his fingers out teasingly slow, giving you time to give him a few loving kitten licks, "you ready for us to move?"

    Their answer comes in the form of you rolling your hips, making them simultaneously lose their minds. Yunho grabs your wrists from where your hands rest on his chest, grounding himself as his brain tells him to just fuck you like there's no tomorrow. Hongjoongs head falls back as a rumbling moan parts his lips, similarly grounding himself with his hands on your sides.

     "F-fuck," Yunho huffs out the breath he was holding, "is that a yes, Baby?"

    "Yes, Daddy, I want you and the Captain to break my pussy- oh fucking fuck!" Your lustful voice is replaced by your cries of pleasure in a second flat. With your verbal confirmation, they're now on a mission to do just that.

━༻❁༺━

     The loud noises of your brutish sex wakes Mingi, even from his deep slumber. His body is sore from pounding into you so roughly, and he can imagine you'll be even worse off.

    Especially as he catches a blurry glimpse of Hongjoong yanking you around the bed and throwing you on your side.

     He blinks and sits up, watching the man climb over you and lay infront of you; quickly plunging his member back into you. You cry out, holding his shoulders tightly and burying your face in his chest. Yunho lays behind you, and your moans grow as he joins Hongjoong inside of you.

     Mingi is already hard again, he was when he woke up; but now it's impossible to ignore. Your sounds and the smell of sex in the air got him rock solid in his sleep even though he's nearly painfully tender. 

    Yunho takes notice to his newly awakened state, staring over at him as he continues his merciless pumping in and out. "Yah," he grabs a fistful of your hair, yanking your face out of the safety of Hongjoongs warm chest. "You woke Minnie, you noisy slut."

   Your teary, pleasure filled eyes meet his. Your lips are kissed swollen, your mask askew and your hair even more so. He can't look away, nor does he feel the need to.

    He can't believe you're still even semi-coherent. You were a babbling mess while he was holding you down — begging to cum, now you're panting and crying and moaning nonstop. He's enamored with that fact about you. You can take so much more than him in the bedroom; that much is clear now more than ever as you let the two dominant men fuck you like you owe them money. 

     "Tsk," Hongjoong clicks his tongue, wrapping his hand around your bared neck as Yunho holds your head back by your hair. It's quickly become his favorite thing in the world, watching you squirm and whine under his hand. "Apologize, Princess."

     "S-sorryyyy, Min-" You slur your words, brain sufficiently scrambled by their nonstop in and out, in and out, and tossing you into position after position to see which one made you yell the loudest and which one made you douse them with waves of arousal. "Jus' feels too- ah too good!"

    You whine as they stop, seemingly working with a sort of telepathy as they handle you seamlessly together. Hongjoong pulls you to straddle his lap as he lays back across the bed, Yunho letting go of your head with a shove and then a pet; making you dizzier with his mix of rough and sweet treatment of you.

    "Min, get over here," Yunho beckons him, and his legs move without his brain even thinking about it. "You want in, Babyboy?" He asks as he stands, looking down at him and combing back his hair with his fingers. His member, still warm and wet from your insides, rubs against his and makes him shiver. "I know it's your favorite position, you too sore?"

    "No," Mingi says quickly, making Yunho chuckle. "Please, can I?"

    "Ask the Captain if he'll share his toy with you~"

    Overhearing their conversation, you grind down harder on Hongjoong with a whimper, and the smirk on Yunhos face tells Mingi he meant for you to hear his teasing of you.

     Mingi crawls back up on the bed, laying on his back next to Hongjoong and looking over at him with his best puppy dog eyes — fighting himself not to look at the way you ride him. "Captain?"

     Like you aren't bouncing on his length, Hongjoong turns his face and looks at the younger man. "Yes, Minnie?"

    "Can I fuck your toy with you?"

     Your hips stumble, legs like jelly at the sweet sound of his vulgar words. Hongjoong lands a slap to your backside, "stay steady," he says without even looking away from Mingi. You whine a 'sorry, Captain' as you take in slow breaths.

    "You wanna fuck my little siren with me?"

    You cry out, nodding quickly as if to tell him to let him.

    "Yes, please, Captain," Mingi gives his sweetest smile, and not even Hongjoong cant say no to that; not that he was going to anyways.

    You gasp as Hongjoong throws you off of him and onto Mingi with your back on his chest. You lay back against your boyfriend, your head under his chin and your chest quickly embraced by his arms. His familiar length slides into you without hesitation or resistance, the warmth making him moan happily.

    "What do we say, Baby?" Yunho appears above your heads, leaning over the bed with one hand supporting his weight and the other holding his phone; recording you.

    Both of you blink at the phone for a moment, registering the fact that now two cameras are on you, before looking to the other man quickly; "thank you, Captain."

     "So sweet," he hums playfully, slotting himself between your tangled legs. As he slowly pushes himself in with Mingi, he leans up and gives him the same messy first kiss; minus the choking. No, his hand finds your throat again, like that's its rightful place.

     Mingi is just as much a mess as you were when Hongjoong pulls away, moving down to your face.

     You're gasping under his hand, even though he's not putting nearly as much pressure as you know he can. "Such a good girl, you know that? You're a good little fuck-toy." His candied tone has you feeling faint, his hand tightening with every word, "you make us feel so good. I know Daddy and Minnie agree, you feel like heaven."

     You feel Mingi nod, and see Yunho grin as he spreads your stuffed lower lips with his fingers, making you shiver. "That's right," he agrees while he films a close up of the two of them stretching you out, "our Princess feels like heaven on Earth. She knows how to take a good fucking, and she likes it too." He talks like you aren't right there as he circles your puffy clit with his fingertips. "Her perfect pussy just loves it."

"Gah-" You choke on your spit as Mingi gives a rough thrust, hands holding his arms tightly.

"S-sorry," he apologizes to both you and the Captain, who gives him a glare. "Sorry, Captain... she was squeezing so good."

Yunho lets out another dark chuckle, fingertips still toying with your clit. "Ah," he sighs with a smile, "you two are such little cumwhores." The way he says it sounds fond, because it is. He loves that about you. He loves everything about you two; and Hongjoong can see why.

"Here," he passes the phone to Hongjoong with a smirk, quickly moving to straddle your shoulders. "Can my girl take one more cock?"

You quickly open your mouth, tongue rolling out of your swollen lips along with whining moans as the two of them begin moving inside of you.

He leans and gives your tongue a little kiss before sitting back up and immediately gagging you on his cock, his hands tangled in Mingi's hair and pulling roughly; making his moans increase.

It almost too much to handle. But at the same time, you can't get enough.

Hongjoong bends one of your legs and smirks as you let out a weak moan of protest around Yunhos length, gushing as he and Mingi reach all new depths inside of you.

━༻❁༺━

Not being able to ask for permission with your boyfriend currently fucking your throat, you think you're going to get in trouble with Hongjoong as your overstimulated body cums with a squirt onto his pelvis.

Instead, he whistles all the while continuing to pound you with Mingi, "damn, what a sight! I was wondering when this pretty pussy would squirt for us."

"You messy fleshlight," Yunho taunts as he watches your eyes roll back, a growl pushing past his lips as you gulp and gag around him while he cums down your throat. But you manage to take it all and leave little mess as he slides out of your mouth and rests on your chest; effectively crushing you and Mingi both. Its dizzying — everything is. You'd be surprised if you could ever see straight again.

You pant and whine, pant and whine, sobbing like a broken record of ecstasy as your aching insides continue to be bullied. And still, your safe word never even enters your mind. You're feeling as good as you're making them feel, and you don't want it to ever stop; which is why you pout as you feel Mingi slip out after releasing his third load of the round into you.

The sloppy and wet sounds make your ears burn, and you feel like you're going insane as Hongjoong spreads your legs, capturing a clear view of the mess. Making it even dirtier as he pulls out and spills his pleasure on your stomach.

"Fucking fuck me, holy fuck," you blubber as you pull your hands over your face with a sudden shyness, knowing that he's filming your gaping hole up close.

"Awe," Yunho coos, moving his hands from Mingi's head where he was rubbing it comfortingly. They gently pry your hands away, "don't be shy, Princess. He's just showing everyone how well you did. And you did do well, didn't you? Didn't she, Min?"

"S'good- so well," Mingi is only a few steps behind you in terms of how far gone he is. He'd never cum this much in this amount of time. If you were to tally it, which Yunho did; two times with him, three while fucking you, and three just now. He had naturally high libido, sure. But this was pushing it.

Why did he tally it? Well, he likes his Babies to be even. "Princess, how many times have you cum?"

"Uhhhhh," you trail on, unable to think a single thought other than how well used you felt.

"Six," Hongjoong helps you out as he sets down the phone, having been the keeper of your orgasms for the night. He rubs your wobbly legs softly, making you hum contentedly.

"Six," you parrot him, not even questioning it which makes him giggle.

"You got one more for us?" Yunho carefully moves, sitting by your sides as you stay slumped on Mingi's chest; both of you taking a well deserved breather.

"One more?" You think, or at least you try to. Your eyebrows press together as you try to and a pout forms on your lips.

"One more for your Daddy? For your Captain?" He cups your face lovingly, cradling it like a piece of fine china as you melt into his touch.

You look to Hongjoong, asking for guidance with your answer with just the glint of your eyes.

    His heart thuds at the soft look you have, completely at his mercy and trusting him with his next words. "You can handle one more, don't you think? You've earned it, little siren."

     Yunho carefully lifts you from Mingi's protesting form, wanting to hold you in his post-orgasmic bliss. He's always sleepy and clingy like no other. Especially after a marathon like this.

     He moves you like a fragile doll, settling you to be center on the bed and placing your head on the messy pillows. "There you go, Princess," he smiles as you cling to him, making him settle by your side. He rewraps his arms around you and drapes a leg over your hips; knowing you'll squirm.

     Hongjoong has lead Mingi to you, helping him lay on his stomach between your legs as his tired body protested. But his eyes lit up at the promise of licking you clean.

     "Hi, Princess," he whispers as his hands find your thighs.

     "Hey, Minnie," you return the dopey smile he has, "thanks."

     "For what?" He tilts his head, eyes on you even as Hongjoong crawls to your other side and mirrors Yunho.

     "You always eat me out so good," you admit with a breathless laugh, and the men smile. "I know you'll make me feel good, so thanks, Min. I love you."

     "I love you back, Princess."

     Yunho and Hongjoong both watch with smiles of their own, pleased with how soft and pliant they've made you both. So deep in your submissive minds that you're professing your love for one another as he's about to lick you clean of all four of your mixed juices. 

     You melt between the two of them as Mingi begins his slow laps at your aching heat, your hands searching for somewhere to go when Hongjoong gathers them in his own.

     "Good boy," Yunho calls down to him sweetly, spurring him on, "clean up our girl nice and softly. That's it."

     He flattens his tongue as he licks up all of the cum on your core and your stomach and your thighs and your hips. It's everywhere, and he makes sure to get every drop he can find on the surface of your skin before moving to your insides. He points his tongue, then. Scooping everything he can reach out and into his awaiting mouth.

    His nose presses against your overworked bundle of nerves and your world goes white before you know what's happening.

     Your legs are trembling as they fall over Mingi's back, knuckles discolored from the strength you hold Hongjoongs hands with, and drool — legitimate drool dribbling from the side of your mouth which Yunho licks up without a second thought.

    But you're oblivious to all of that, floating somewhere distant with your ears ringing and your vision coming back to you in blurry waves.

"Holy shit," Hongjoong gasps as your squirt absolutely soaks Mingi, watching in awe with Yunho; who looks completely star struck with hearts in his eyes. It's a sight to behold as your back arches into a perfect 'u' and your eyes flutter shut as your jaw slacks.

"Damn, Princess!" Mingi finally comes up from his near water-boarding, taking in a deep breath as he rubs your thighs, watching along with them as you slump. His hair is dripping with your arousal, droplets of it on his black masquerade mask; as well as all over his face and chest and... the ceiling. It's everywhere.

Hongjoong rubs your arms softly as he whispers, "you did so good, little siren." His only response is a weak little moan as you shift, making the men chuckle.

Mingi carefully crawls ontop of you. As he comes into your line of sight, Yunho does as well, giving you a view of all three of them.

"Am I- in a dream?" You string together your words on a base of moans and pants.

"Here, Babygirl," Yunho tenderly moves the mask up your face, patting your damp skin with a tissue, "catch your breath, in and out."

You're slowly coming back to your body with the help of each of them, your older boyfriend most specifically as he never once takes his eyes off you. Draping you in his gaze like a fuzzy and warm blanket in December.

Hongjoong strokes your head softly, humming a song to fill the silence as they patiently guide you back after your Earth-shattering orgasm.

Mingi is, well he's being Mingi, his head nuzzling your chest and sucking every so often, his eyes closed like he felt the same bliss you did.

"Mingi," you clear your throat, hands idly playing with Hongjoongs fingers.

"Yes, Princess?"

"Did you take a shower?"

A burst of laughter comes the man on your chest, and he hides his face between your breasts. Hongjoong giggles, squeezing your hand softly.

     You look to Yunho confused, a dazed and far off look still in your eyes. He laughs as he pushes back Mingis still dripping hair and smiles down at you, "no, Baby. That's your squirt."

"What?!"

━༻❁༺━

     After showers and kisses and many, many praises given to you and Mingi; it's well past one a.m.

   After being drug up to eat, you were back in the beds clean blankets. Which one of them changed the sheets or how they got them doesn't even cross your mind as you curl up on Mingi's side. You just want to cuddle and sleep.

     In your designated aftercare hoodie, a red Spider-man one you stole from Yunho many years ago, you look like a kitten that's in a queen sized blanket.

     Hongjoong crawls in next to you, a quiet yawn drowned out by the show that you and Mingi fell asleep watching. He notices your sleepy eyes peeking over at him and pauses, halfway under the blanket. "Sorry, is it okay if I-"

    "C'mere, Joong," you moan softly as you snuggle closer to Mingi, making room for him on your side of the bed. "Be big spoon, please." There's a bigger gap on Mingi's other side, where Yunho was laying as he held you both.

    He smiles as he scoots closer, pressing his chest against you and curling around you to become your big spoon. He wraps his arms around you and hums happily, nuzzling his head into your back. "You did amazing today, Princess."

    "Thanks," you hum back, tracing patterns on his arms, "you treated us all really nicely. I didn't... I didn't tell you this before, but I've never been with anyone but Yun and Min before."

    "Really?" He doesn't sound very surprised, probably because he knows how long you've been together, but still he had his doubts. That's why he was going easy on you at the beginning.

    "Yeah," you nod against Mingi's sleeping chest, "Yunnie was afraid I would be uncomfortable, but you made me feel safe; just like they do." He can hear you fighting your sleep, especially as his body warmth settles into your bones.

    "That makes me happy," he says simply. And there's no need for anymore words. The way he holds you says it all. The way you search out his hand as you fall asleep says it all.

    Your fingers peek out from the long sleeves, holding his hand as you fall back asleep, "night, Captain." 

     "Goodnight, my little siren." He rests his head against your back. One arm tucked under your head and his hand holding Mingi's shoulder as he stirs, the other draped over you and holding your hand; he falls asleep with a tranquility that he's never felt before.

     When Yunho comes out of the bathroom a few minutes later, he closes the door as quietly as possible; the last of you to shower as he insisted on taking care of everyone else first.

    He pauses in the little hall that connects the bedroom and the bathroom, leaning against the doorway as he takes in the scene infront of him.

     Cast in the light of the television, the three of you are snuggled up. A smile slowly takes over his face as he watches Hongjoong subconsciously comfort you in his sleep; rubbing your sore hip after you shift.

    He takes his phone from his pocket and snaps a picture, it's too precious of a scene not to.

     As he looks down at the photo, he can't help but think how well Hongjoong fits with you all. Like he's a puzzle piece carved to fit perfectly in your lives. All these months of getting to know one another... tonight solidified it.

    "Yunho?" He looks up quickly at the sound of Mingi's deep, sleep laden voice.

    "Yes?"

   "Come to bed," he rolls onto his side, pulling up your hoodie gently before hugging your head, a long leg draping all the way over you and Hongjoong.

    When Yunho slides into the space left for him by you all, he feels a great warmth in his heart.

    It was a good idea to start streaming, he thinks as he slots himself into the cuddle pile seamlessly.

━༻❁༺━

[poetwon]

i know love ─── ᘛ l. heeseung ╱

── ⟢ ˙ ̟ we started out friends, how’d we end up here ? . . .

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

pairing. roommate!lee heeseung x gn!reader ꔛ synopsis. you have been living with heeseung for many months now , you were really good friends but one late night something in the air shifted ∿ genre. friends to lovers , making out , touchy hee , you & hee are college students , mentions of drinking + vomiting , cuddles <3 ໒ྀི wc. 1.4k 𖥔 nae’s notes. i really appreciate the love on my account recently & idk why but this song is giving heeseung ????? ᭥ more !

you sat at the dining room table, music softly playing through your headphones. you were sitting with your legs crossed in the chair, leaning over the table, pencil in hand. you had been hard at work on your school assignments, you were tired of doing homework everyday so you decided to tackle doing a weeks worth of homework on friday— so today.

you heard the lock click and the door open then close. you didn't look up but you watched heeseung's tall stature appear in the kitchen, setting down a few grocery bags. "what's all that?" you ask, not turning your attention from your paper. "cups, drinks, stuff like that. jake's party is tonight did you forget?" he replied, moseying through the bags.

"i didn't forget i'm just not going." you chuckle. heeseung's jaw fell open, he stared at you while making his way to the table, stomping in front of you. "what do you mean you're not going?" in a disappointed tone. "that's what I mean hee, I don't really care for parties plus I have all this shit" you gesture towards the table full of papers, notebooks and highlighters.

heeseung rolled his eyes and pushed your head playfully. "whatever nerd, god forbid you have fun." you turned around in your chair to face him. "just please don't drink so much this time, i do not want to wake up with you passed out in my shower again" you say a little snarky. heeseung giggled at the memory, "don't worry i'm not really drinking much since i have to play uber driver after" he sighs. you could tell he didn't want to play that role, heeseung was definitely the life of the party in your school.

─────

a few hours later after a nap heeseung was ready to leave the apartment to head out. your headphones and blue light glasses were on and you were hyper focused on your typing. as soon as he laid his eyes on you, he snorted. he snuck up behind you, lifting one side of your headphones away from your ear. "hey granger!" he whispered so close to your ear that his breath tickled it.

you jumped back scared, which he found very amusing. "let me guess, party time?" you ask, removing your headphones. "yep, and the sun is already going down so don't tire yourself out on that stupid crap" he placed a hand on your head, gently patting it.

he proceeded to walk over to the counter to grab the grocery bags and keys. "i mean it y/n, you're brain will explode" he smiled. you softly smiled back at him and waved. "be careful!" you called out. he didn't say anything else, just nodded before the door locked shut. you immediately turned back to your laptop, placing your headphones back on your head.

─────

hours passed, you fell asleep a few times, ordered door dash and even had to breakout the dry eye drops. you only had two assignments left, which is what you kept reminding yourself of for what felt like days. it was almost three in the morning, the only light that aluminated the room was from your computer. you were hunched over the table, still working.

suddenly the big light in the kitchen lit up which caused your head to snap up and there was heeseung. he stood there in shock that you were still awake. "y/n.." he trailed off, walking towards you. you didn't move, you just stared at him. he removed the headphones from your messy hair and sat in the chair next to you. "what are you doing?" he questioned with his hands.

you blinked slowly, you realized you haven't spoken words since he left. "working?" you said in a confused tone, it was very obvious what you were doing. "do you know what time it is?" he pulls his phone out from his pocket, showing you the time which read 2:49. you rolled your eyes, turning back to your computer and picking up your headphones. "i'm almost done-" before you could finish your sentenced, he snatched them from your grip.

"heeseung stop give them back!" your voice slightly raised, but you were too tired to really argue. "nope, bedtime" he nodded, holding them above his head. he used his free hand to close and grab your laptop and started to walk to the living room. you bit your lip, frustrated you jumped up from your chair and ran up to him.

he quickly turned around before you could grab them and picked you up. he sat on the couch, sitting you on his lap. his arms were wrapped around yours so you couldn't really move. you struggled for a few seconds before whining. "hee i get what you're doing and i appreciate it but i'm seriously almost finished just let me up." you kept trying to squirm out of his grip but ultimately failed.

you looked at him, eyebrows furrowed and exhaled deeply from your nose. "you. need. sleep." his tone was extremely serious, he leaned in closer to you, almost as if the close eye contact would help you understand more. he wasn't wrong, your eyes were red and puffy, you sat slouched and you were definitely dehydrated.

there was something, you couldn't put your finger on it, but you looked into his serious eyes for a few seconds and then they softened.

you just now started to realize the position you were in, you didn't even notice you were sitting in his lap until you looked down at the couch. you couldn't really find words but you know you felt fluttering in your stomach. you enjoyed the way his arms wrapped around you, and his warm hands held you.

slowly but hesitantly you moved your head closer, resting your forehead onto his. you closed your eyes for a moment, but he kept his on you. "how was the party?" you whisper, opening your eyes again. "fine." he shrugged. "sunghoon almost threw up in my car" he smiled earning a soft giggle from you.

both of your demeanor changed, you shifted slightly to face him better, he allowed you to move your arms, resting them on his shoulders. your breathing became heavy, the tension was so thick that a brick couldn't weigh it down. heeseung raised one of his hands up to your face, and caressed it with his thumb. just seconds after his hand made contact with your cheek, like your lips turned to magnets they connected.

you could taste the singular drink from the night on his lips, they were warm on your cold ones. your noses nudged, you could feel the air escaping from his. your arms wrapped tightly around his neck, pulling you in even closer which you didn't think was possible. both of your hearts were racing the longer the moment went on, it just built up overtime, becoming more intense per second.

you pulled back, gasping for air yet your eyes never left him as your chests quickly rose up and down. the both of you were coming to your senses, understanding what just happened. "heeseung?" you whisper, placing a hand in his hair. his glossy eyes looked up at you, cocking your head. "i think i need sleep." he felt slightly let down by your announcement, like you were going to confess. he removed his hands from you and nodded. "yeah okay" he looked to the side and rubbed the back of his neck.

you slowly stood up, fixing your shirt. you made your way around the couch, stopping before turning and looking at the back of his head as it dropped down. "will you come with me?" his quickly picked his head back up and turned around. "yeah?" he smiled. you nodded, rubbing the tired from your eyes. he stood up, turning off all the lights as he followed you to your room.

the both of you got comfortable in your queen sized bed. he kinda let you decide how the two of you would be sleeping, which ended up with both of his arms around you while your head rested on his chest. you didn't know if you would be able to sleep regardless of how tired you were because your mind was running a mile a minute.

"hee?" you lifted your head to look at him. "shhh its okay" he mumbled. "we'll talk about it tomorrow okay pretty?" you smiled and nodded nuzzling back into his chest. you listened to the beating of his heart while he gently patted your head to sleep.

.　˚　༺̲̅ 𓊆ྀི@poetwon𓊇ྀི ༻̲̅　˚　. 　 ꙳

[intothemultifandom]

– 𝐃𝐈𝐕𝐈𝐍𝐄 𝐈𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐕𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍 || 𝐩𝐚𝐮𝐥 𝐥𝐚𝐡𝐨𝐭𝐞

SUMMARY: The Pack always knew imprints were a sacred thing. But when you're hurt, the imprint bond blurs the line between life and death. It makes for some interesting conversations with ghosts from the past. || multi chapter-fic PAIRINGS: Paul Lahote x fem!Reader TAGS/WARNINGS: Clearwater!Reader; human!Reader; domestic fluff; hurt

2.6k words

Your siblings could tear into flesh, could break his bones if they so wished (and Leah had wished, had almost done it too before Sam intervened)–and yet, Paul considered you the most dangerous Clearwater out of all of Harry and Sue's children.

And it wasn't because you could flit between girl and wolf or because your teeth could rip into jugulars, but because you were you.

[Name] Clearwater: daughter to Harry and Sue, born a year after Leah and two years before Seth.

Before that night, your parents never intended for you to be keyed into the tribe's secret. It was only ever meant to be Seth, who they all anticipated would phase eventually.

But then Leah exploded into a four-legged beast with fanged teeth and matted fur, had shredded the Couch you'd been sitting on–and gods, if you hadn't moved when you did her claws would've gone deeper in your shoulder than it had–before Seth shifted, too.

The night had been a mess, to sum it up simply.

The pack link was overwhelmed by a maelstrom of grief-anger-hurt-blame that Sam ordered those who could get caught up in it all to phase out.

To give your siblings some semblance of calm, however futile, and to make sure you and Sue had help dealing with the aftermath.

The last thing the Pack needed was for someone to visit in the morning to find half the house's occupants missing, one partially mauled and the place looking as though it had been burglarised.

So Paul had phased out along with Jake. Jake, who came with his Dad's strength and his Mom's warmth that it brought Sue out of her shocked stupor and Paul, who didn't know what else to do other than turn your way.

Across the room, you were using the meat of your thighs to push the shredded couch towards the door. Single-handedly steering the couch outside whilst being mindful of your left arm which was bandaged over your chest, smelling of chemicals and iron.

He had expected tears. Had expected to scent the air for undertones of shock, fear or distrust as you grappled with the reality of seeing your sister and brother turning into something dangerous.

Of having two strange boys who could do the same clambering into your humble four-bedroom abode to see if you or your Mom needed help, but there was none of that.

Instead, you continued moving, holding yourself up by sheer force of will that Paul’s wolf stirred beneth his skin. Curious. Intrigued.

You hadn’t acknowledged him nor Jake when they had come in, but Paul moved toward you anyway. Body on autopilot as he followed an invisible path his wolf already seemed to be on.

"Here, I can help you with that," he said, bending down to lift one end of the couch.

On the other end of the long couch, you’d glanced at him for only a moment. A single moment to thank him politely, face solemn and eyes deep and soulful, that Paul struggled not to collapse to his knees then and there.

Because in that split moment, when your eyes met his for the very first time since he shifted, Paul’s universe ended and then began again with you at the centre of it all.

[Name] Clearwater: his imprint—his very human imprint—more dangerous than wolves and bloodsuckers combined after only a single glance.

After your siblings, your arm, your Dad—Paul thought you would stay far away from the Pack, maybe even La Push altogether.

Maybe you would find a job in Forks or somewhere else and hightail it out of there. Or maybe you would apply for a scholarship to some college on the other side of the country.

Instead you had done the least expected thing.

Despite what Paul thought, what he feared, you stayed; and then, you started coming around.

First to Sam and Emily’s where you spoke to his Alpha for an hour the first time you came, and then to Emily during all the visits after.

Sam was good at shielding his thoughts most days, but the gratitude and brotherly love he felt for you echoed in the bond for days after the first visit.

Every now and then you’d head over to drop off some spare clothes for Seth, laughing at one of Jared’s dry jokes before engaging in some light conversation.

About the Pack, about your siblings and how they were adjusting.

Their lives, Paul's life, before and after.

When Jake sheepishly admitted to falling behind in school, you’d settled on the dining room table, ushering him and Embry to do the same, too, as you carved out some time to come over and help them.

You even hung around on days Leah ran patrol, staying through dinner to act as a buffer between her, Sam and Emily when the tension grew too thick for the rest of them to breathe through the evening.

Paul had done a good job existing on the sidelines during it all, respecting Leah’s don’t you fucking force her into loving you by telling her, you sick bastard and Seth’s kinder plea to let you get used to the pack and him first without the weight of an imprint just yet.

But then one day you met his gaze, saw the poorly concealed reverence, devotion and warmth and instantly put the pieces together.

And because Paul knew better than to assume what you would do after all the times he had thought wrong, he did nothing.

He didn't think, didn't panic, didn't fear. Even when you asked if he imprinted, voice soft and eyes searching, and he told you the truth, Paul did nothing but be as he always was when it came to you.

Open, honest, and trusting that you wouldn’t hurt him if you felt even a fraction of what he felt.

And his ancestors must have seen fit to reward him for it because after he was done explaining, you stayed.

You stayed; and then, you gave him a chance.

The red-haired leech was still on the loose, and the pack's energy waned the longer she danced around them. Not that they weren’t trying.

She was simply too fast, too slippery, constantly evading them as they hunted her to no end. And since they hadn’t caught her, Sam figured it was best to amp up patrol to four per shift.

Even if meant older wolves like himself, Paul, Leah and Jared had to double the hours of their still-in-school members to compensate.

Paul understood, of course, but considering Leah couldn’t handle dealing with Sam it was Paul who was stuck being berated and vilified by her any time she so much caught an echo of you in his thoughts.

And Paul thought about you. Constantly.

The only reprieve he had was in moments like this, when their shift was over and Leah ran home along with Jared and Jake all the while you drove over to deliver Seth’s clothes for the following morning.

But Paul was exhausted tonight, so much so that he could barely keep his eyes open as you cuddled on Sam and Emily’s couch.

“Stay,” he murmurs lowly, being mindful of Emily sleeping in the other room. Sluggishly, he tightens his arms around your slender waist, a half-hearted attempt to get you to sink into him further, not that you would.

You may have been on good terms with Sam and Emily, but Leah was still your sister.

And even if you wanted to fall asleep encased in your boyfriend’s heavily corded arms, you wouldn’t.

“You know I can’t, baby,” you laugh, quietly, stroking a thumb over the apple of his cheek.

Your boyfriend chuffs at your words, blearily opening his eyes, before shifting forward so that that you can cradle his jaw.

A tide of emotion rises beneath your breast because even with everything happening, you’re so grateful for these stolen moments that you lean in, all petal lips and strawberry-flavoured gloss and Paul almost groans when your lips meet in a soft, unhurried kiss.

If it were up to him, there would be no red-haired leech and golden-eyed freaks. Just you and him and the taste of strawberries forever.

"I also think you should just crash here tonight," you tell him when you come up for air, slowly beginning to untangle yourself from his embrace.

For a moment, the muscles in Paul’s arm grow tense, and you know your boyfriend enough to know he’s about to protest. Or worse, get up to follow you.

Because if you can’t stay, then he’s going to force himself to escort you home anyway, even when he’s dead on his feet.

Gently, your hand drifts to the centre of his chest to keep him down.

“Em should have someone close by, and I’m going home to Leah anyway,” you remind him, lips curling at his small pout.

"And you can't even open your eyes properly, so I'll be back in the morning. Okay?"

Ordinarily, your shapeshifter boyfriend would move your hand away, before insisting he at least keep you company on your car ride home.

But as always, you’re right.

Paul’s tired. The kind of tired that should be impossible for someone like him, but it’s true.

So when you lean forward to press another kiss to his jaw, murmur quietly one more time for him to stay, that you’ll be okay, Paul relents.

The scent of you in the air, on his lips, is dizzying enough as it is. How can he possibly protest when all of it makes Paul want to–

"–M'okay," he slurs, eyes fluttering once, then twice, before shutting completely.

When he comes to, Paul remembers the scent of strawberries, your honeyed laughter and the lingering warmth of your touch.

It's enough to make him smile, before he blinks. In shock, then in confusion, turning around to take in his new surroundings.

Weird, he thinks.

Usually, when he dreams, he dreams of you.

On the beach, laughing as you kick up saltwater, before Paul runs after you and down the shore. Under the stars, a heated mess of tangled-up limbs, Paul in you and the feeling of you everywhere.

Sometimes, he even dreams of the two of you, together and years older, a little boy with his face and your smile held in your arms while a younger girl made in your image clutches to his pants.

But this time, though, there's none of that.

This time, he's in the middle of the forest, legs planted as if he were a tree himself.

All around him, there is a cloud of mist. Thick and encompassing, strange if not for the unnatural emptiness of the forest.

There are no cicadas clicking. No birds chirping. The forest, forever filled with even the quietest of whispers and groans, is dead silent.

That is, until Paul hears it.

Somewhere in the distance, a single voice hums something old, something ancient, the voice swelling into a song that shakes Paul to his core because he’s not alone.

He’s not alone.

The realisation is enough to spur him forward, Paul managing to take a step forward and then another, walking slowly through winding trees and thick mist before he ends up in a wide clearing where a bonfire has been lit.

Before the bonfire, still singing, sits a lone woman dressed in a traditional buckskin dress with a gentle face and two long braids.

She makes no move to indicate that she’s heard him. But the fire illuminates her face with an otherworldly glow, accentuates the way her throat flexes as she sings, the words sounding clearer now that he’s right in front of her.

It’s an old song, he remembers, one that has endured time and colonisation and everything in between.

He contemplates interrupting her, at first, uneasy by the strangeness of this situation. But then he inches closer, his wolf urging him to sit on the empty log across from her.

And so the woman sings, and Paul waits and he listens, because something in him, something instinctual, pulls at him.

Tells him that somehow this is real, that this is important.

And because the last time he felt this way was in the moments before he looked at you, Paul waits for the song to finish.

“The youngest of my sons made this song,” says the woman says after she stops singing, still watching the fire burn.

“The song opens up a door between your world and here, which my son used to communicate with us.

My older sons would listen to him with me here when he sang. They would even sing with him before he joined us, and they all left this place together."

The flames burn a little brighter, and the woman falters. Tilts her head, as if listening for something only she can hear.

And when she hears it, whatever it is, Paul catches her expression flicker in the firelight (grim, resigned) before she resumes, this time a little more hurried than before.

"But I didn't follow. I couldn't," the woman says, finally lifting her head to meet Paul's gaze from across the fire.

"Not without Taha-Aki."

And oh, Paul thinks, struck dumb.

Because painted in shadows made by the flames, the third wife–a woman he's only ever known through stories and legends–stares at him solemnly, the echo of infinity seared into her gaze.

“My husband’s spirit still roams your world," she says, ignoring Paul's clear shock.

“He guides all spirit warriors here when their time comes, and their imprints, too. This is where they rest for a while before they move on. But never does my husband come with them, though. Too ashamed, I think."

"Ashamed?” Paul asks, speaking for the first time before he stops himself.

The woman before him and Taha Aki were more than wife and husband.

They were imprinted, tethered together by the same forces that brought Paul to you. The same forces that wouldn't have put her in his dream unless there was something wrong with the imprint.

And there could only be something wrong with the imprint if something was wrong with...

"Why am I here?" he asks slowly, dread wrapping itself around his heart–painful and suffocating–as the third wife's face turns sad. Pitying.

…No.

"Why am I here?" he repeats, this time louder and more panicked as he surges to his feet.

Through the fire, the third wife stares at his face, her expression a little more troubled, a little more human, before the truth splits the air and his chest open.

"–Because my husband will soon guide your imprint here, and if you want to save her,"

NoNoNONONO

"–than you must to stop him before he succeeds."

A loud crash sounds in the distance, so loud that Paul slams his hands against his ears and grits his teeth, trying to convince himself that this isn't real.

That it's not the sound of your car folding in on itself that he hears in the distance, glass shattering into thousands of pieces.

It can't be, he thinks, agonised; and yet, it is.

Because the truth is that you're out there, somewhere in the wreckage of it all.

Paul knows it.

Feels it.

"How do I do it?!" he cries, turning to the ancient woman with wild, frenzied eyes when his ears won’t stop ringing.

(You’re screaming).

"How do I stop him?!"

(You’re crying).

The third wife at least has the decency to look regretful, before turning to look over her shoulder and into the long and dark forest.

“Have you not been listening?” she answers, cryptically.

And before Paul can snarl, beg, whatever he needs to do to get more than that (because what kind of bullshit answer is that), a howl echoes in the distance.

On autopilot, his body begins to shake, tremor, the air beginning to shift all around them before–

"Trust me Paul Lahote, you’ll know what to do," the third wife says, still looking into the unknown.

“–But you need to wake up. Now."

When I tell you the brainrot would not leave me alone for this one. But anyway, please feel free to comment, tag & repost. 🐺

©️ @intothemultifandom 2025

[prettygirl-gabi]

Title: Good Old Days

Pairing: Paige Bueckers x Reader

Fandom: Women’s College Basketball/Women’s College volleyball (UConn / NC State AU)

Inspired by: “Good Old Days” by Macklemore ft. Kesha

Summary: Childhood best friends turned lovers rediscover love during final seasons.

A/n: this is Paige’s pov…..

🏷️: @paigeshirleytemple , @paige05bby , @unknowgirlypop , @yailtsv , @nicebellee , @sitawita , @thatonesuschix , @vamptizm , @elalfywhore , @starfulani , @authentic-girl03 , @paxaz535 , @azziswrld , @jadasogay , @paigeluvvr , @melpthatsme , @lessi-lover , @courtsidewithlani , @imnotkaizer , @italyyy , @lightsgore , @private-but-not-a-secret , @aubreygriffin , @issilovesherself , @graceeeeeesblog

I wish somebody would’ve told me, babe.

Told me that the nights spent on rooftops, the laughter echoing from backyards, and those wide-eyed dreams we swore were real—those would be the good old days.

That you would be my good old days.

I met you when we were eight.

You’d just moved into the house down the street, wearing your older brother’s oversized hoodie and scowling like you hated Minnesota’s snow more than anything else.

I threw a snowball at your window. You came outside to yell at me. We’ve been inseparable ever since.

We had our first fight two months later. You didn’t want to share your last Capri Sun. I called you selfish. You cried. I cried harder. We made up two hours later when I offered you my fruit snacks.

Childhood friendship. Pure, unfiltered, untouchable.

It stayed that way until we grew up.

It was the summer before we turned sixteen when it all changed.

Fourth of July. You wore a red tank top, fireworks reflected in your eyes. We laid on a blanket behind your cousin’s truck, half-drunk on soda, half-drunk on feelings we couldn’t name.

You said, “Do you ever think about us? Like… more than best friends?”

I didn’t answer. I kissed you instead.

That was our first kiss.

That was the start of something I didn’t have the words for yet.

“I wish somebody would’ve told me, babe. Someday, these will be the good old days.”

We said I love you the next month.

We said I hate you two weeks later.

Because that’s how we were.

Passionate. Stubborn. Real.

You wanted to go to homecoming. I didn’t have the guts.

I let you go with someone else, even though my heart screamed at me to ask you.

You were furious. “But you didn’t even ask either, did you, Madison?”

When you used my middle name, I knew I’d really hurt you.

You didn’t talk to me for three days. That was a record. I hated every second of it.

We got high together for the first time senior year. An edible at a bonfire. You laughed so hard you snorted water out your nose. I couldn’t stop saying I love you. You kept repeating it back through tears of laughter.

Those were the nights we thought would never end.

Then college came.

UConn for me. NC State for you.

We promised nothing would change.

But it did.

Distance didn’t kill us. Time did. Pressure. Injuries. Growing into different people.

Still, you showed up for me when it mattered. Like that day—August 1st, 2022.

ACL tear. Pickup game. My whole world flipped.

You flew in without saying a word. Showed up at the hospital in your NC State hoodie, hair in a messy bun, eyes red.

“I knew you’d need me,” you whispered. “So I came.”

I’ll never forget that.

“I just wanted my name in a star. Now look at where we at…”

Senior Night. February 16th, 2024.

I stood on the court, mic in hand, heart racing like it was my first game again.

“I know everyone wants me to address the elephant in the room… but umm unfortunately this will not be my last senior night at UConn. Im coming back!” I said, voice breaking as the crowd exploded.

You were in the stands. I saw you. I always found you first. You were crying, grinning, clapping so hard your palms must’ve burned.

That night, we laid in my bed. Not lovers. Not exactly friends. Something softer. Something complicated.

“I feel like this is it,” I murmured into the quiet. “Our year. I think we can bring it home.”

You turned to me, eyes glossy. “I think so too. And even if it isn’t… you’re already enough, Paige.”

No one else could’ve said that and made me believe it.

April 5th, 2024. Final Four. UConn vs. Iowa. 69-71. We lost.

I was in shock. Tears running down my face.

You were the first person I saw when I looked up.

No cameras. No fans. Just you, waiting by the tunnel.

You didn’t say anything. You just hugged me like it was 2015 again and we were back in my backyard crying over a scraped knee.

“I’m proud of you,” you whispered.

And God, I needed that.

Then your shoulder tore. Final season. Senior year. The one you came back for.

You tried to push me away again.

“Go focus on your season, Paige.”

I didn’t leave. I flew out. I brought your favorite smoothie and an ugly teddy bear from the airport gift shop.

You looked at me, broken and raw. “Why are you still here?”

“Because if I had to do it all over again—us, this, the heartbreak, the magic—I would.”

We spent spring in late-night FaceTimes.

Sometimes we talked. Sometimes we just stared at each other, eyes heavy with sleep and old feelings.

Other nights, I’d find myself in Raleigh. Or you in Storrs. Quiet visits. No social media. No explanations.

We sat on my roof one night after a party. Music below. Stars above.

“I wish time would slow down,” I said.

You nodded, head on my shoulder. “I wish we could be 16 again. I wish you’d asked me to homecoming.”

I looked at you. “I wish I had too.”

April 4th, 2025. Final Four. We won.

April 6th. National Championship. Tampa. We did it. Natty secured.

I collapsed in the confetti, tears soaking my jersey.

I searched the crowd again. And there you were. Hands cupped over your mouth, eyes bright with joy.

I pointed. You smiled.

After the game, I found you in the tunnel.

“Come back to Connecticut with me,” I said, breathless. “Come celebrate.”

You hesitated for one second. Then nodded.

April 7th. Welcome Home Rally. Gampel Pavilion.

You were front row. Cheering louder than anyone. I saw you mouthing my speech with me. You’d always known me best.

Later that night, parties in Storrs. I kept looking for you.

When I finally found you on the porch steps, red solo cup in hand, you grinned.

“Remember when we thought this was impossible?” I asked.

“Yeah,” you said. “But then again… we always were kind of unstoppable.”

April 13th. The parade in Hartford. Thousands of fans. Confetti and chants.

You were in the crowd. Again.

Always showing up.

Always my good old days.

April 14th. WNBA Draft.

I wore black. You wore purple. We didn’t sit together. We couldn’t. But the after party we were glued to each other.

I pulled you into my arms and whispered, “Thank you for every version of me you loved.”

You kissed my cheek and said, “I’ll always love every version.”

And now, sitting in this quiet hotel room, draft hat on the table, champagne on the dresser—I think about us.

“I was thinkin’ ‘bout the band… thinkin’ ‘bout the fans… in a small club in Minnesota…”

I was thinkin’ ‘bout you.

How we used to sneak out, lie on the grass, dreamin’, figuring out who we were. The futon nights. The fights. The Fourth of July. The homecoming I ruined. The edible giggles. The hospital rooms. The long drives. The late nights. The confessions. The heartbreak.

All of it.

Those good old days.

And I finally understand what the song meant.

“Maybe these are the moments… maybe I’ve been missin’ what it’s about…”

I smile through the tears.

Because even though we didn’t end up where we thought we would, I had you.

And that was always enough.

I pick up my phone.

Me: You up?

🏐💕: Always for you.

Me: I don’t know what happens next. WNBA, life… all of it. But if I had to go through every moment again—the best, the worst, the magic, the pain—I would. With you.

🏐💕: I’d do it all again too.

You send a picture. It’s us. Fourth of July. Sixteen. Right before our first kiss.

And I know, deep in my bones, in my heart, in the history written in every scar and every smile line…

“I wish somebody would’ve told me, babe…”

These will always be my good old days.

I don’t remember falling asleep, only that your voice was the last thing I heard and your picture was the last thing I saw. Fourth of July. Age sixteen. A still frame of a beginning.

The next morning, sunlight pours through my hotel window like it’s got something to say. My phone buzzes. It’s you.

🏐💕: Wanna get breakfast?

Me: Always.

We meet at a little diner a few blocks from the hotel. It’s nothing fancy—red booths, sticky syrup bottles, that smell of burnt coffee and cinnamon pancakes.

You’re already there when I arrive, hoodie pulled over your head, sunglasses on despite being indoors. You wave me over with a fork in one hand, smile tugging at the corners of your lips.

“Sleep okay?” you ask.

“I did once you answered.”

You snort, nudging a mug toward me. “I ordered your coffee. Hazelnut. Two sugars. I remembered.”

“You always do.”

We fall into conversation like we never stopped. College talk. Draft nerves. Rookie contracts. Training camps.

Then, it quiets. There’s a lull between bites of waffle and sips of coffee. You glance out the window, chewing your lip the way you always do when you’re nervous.

“Can I ask you something?”

I nod. “Always.”

You meet my eyes. “Do you think… do you think we missed our chance?”

I set my fork down. My chest tightens. “I used to think that.”

“And now?”

“Now I think… maybe we needed the time apart to grow into the kind of people who could try again. And get it right.”

You look down, then back up. “I never stopped loving you.”

I reach across the table, cover your hand with mine.

“I never will.”

It’s not loud. Not dramatic. No background music or movie-score-worthy kiss. Just you and me, in a booth that smells like syrup, holding hands like we’re sixteen again and scared of what love could mean.

Only this time, we’re not scared.

This time, we’re ready.

And maybe we can’t rewrite the past, but we can choose what comes next.

“I wish somebody would’ve told me, babe…”

“…that someday, these would be the good old days.”

And maybe—just maybe—we’re about to start the best ones yet.

■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■

                 -Thank You For Reading!🩵🩶

                             -prettygirl-gabi🎀✨️

[loveanton]

until august says goodbye | lee anton pt. 1

⟶ summary: every summer job, every inside joke, zero personal space—since you were fourteen, it’s always been anton. even with college pulling you in different directions you stayed close… just less effortlessly so when he says, “one last summer job, just us,” you don’t hesitate. the only thing is, something’s different this time. he still packs your lunch, still gives you the better locker, still makes it feel like no one else exists when he talks to you but now you’re starting to look at your best friend differently. the worst part? he’s always looked at you like this.

˗ˏˋpairing: best friend!anton x f!reader, slight sungchan x reader ❀ genre:  summer love, slow burn, best friend to lovers ❀ word count: 13.52k ❀ staring: maya (22)- xg, anton (21)- riize, sohee (21)- riize, sungchan (22)- riize, harvey (22)- xg ⟶ warnings: mentions of edibles, getting high, drinking, arguments, swearing, makeout sessions, talk of toxic relationships, mentions of panic attacks and anxiety, mentions of blood, allusions to sex, let me know if i missed anything.

✎୭: in honor of my first full year as loveanton and the start of summer ! also, this was meant to be a one-shot of 28.9k words but due to tumblr rules i had to split it into two parts, part two will be up soon!

ʚїɞ taglist: @gacktsa @dreamiestay @yoursyuno @yctfreaky @stormy1408

Your dorm looks like it exploded.

The room’s a mess with half-packed boxes, a rogue sock on your bedpost and three different cups of half-drunk matcha on your desk. Your roommate’s sitting cross-legged on the floor folding your clothes like she doesn’t have finals in twelve hours.

“You always wait until the last second,” Maya says.

“I had finals,” you protest, throwing a tangled heap of chargers into a box labeled kitchen things even though it clearly isn’t.

She snorts. “You also took a two-hour nap in the middle of folding your laundry.”

You grin in response. Fair.

Maya’s been your roommate since freshman year—assigned totally at random and somehow it just worked. You weren’t expecting much but she showed up with a full-size speaker, a neon pink kettle and two coffee mugs.

She's funny, stylish and has been the kind of friend who knows when you need to be told to get it together and when you need someone to bring you overpriced sushi and sit with you in silence. Three years later you still share the same room, same favorite mugs, same playlists on loop. She's become a second home.

Your first home however has always been Anton, your childhood best friend.

You met him when you were nine in the middle of an English immersion summer camp neither of you really wanted to be at. He sat next to you during arts and crafts and told you your macaroni picture frame was ugly and then gave you the glue stick you were missing. Somehow, that was the beginning.

From that point on the two of you did everything together. Swim lessons, school projects, awkward middle school dances where both of you swore you’d rather die than slow dance with anyone else. Every summer in high school the two of you found a job be it ice cream stands, lifeguarding, even one cursed summer as camp counselors. It was a tradition, one that lasted longer than either of you expected.

Now, you’re both rising seniors in college and time’s harder to come by. If he’s not busy with swim practice then it’s late-night labs or RA responsibilities but even with the time limitations, some things haven’t changed.

You still show up to all of his swim meets sitting in the same spot cheering loud enough for him to hear underwater. Still make time to grab boba every Friday night as a trio and occasionally make time for off campus frat parties where he watches over you and Maya like a hawk.

“You still haven’t packed your toiletries,” Maya points out, tossing a pair of your sneakers into a box without bothering to make sure they’re even the same pair.

“I like to keep my skincare in reach,” you say, which is mostly true. You just don’t want to admit you haven’t figured out how to pack twelve steps of face wash and serums into one Ziploc bag.

“You’re not going off-grid,” she replies. “You’re going home.”

“Same thing.”

Maya gives you a look but doesn’t say anything before standing and stretches, glancing at the mess around the room. “This better be mostly done by tonight because I am not helping you do a 2 a.m panic pack.” She warns, heading toward her desk.

You snort, “babes, you and I both know that’s not true.”

Maya tries her best to hide her smile but can’t and rolls her eyes before opening her laptop. “Screw off,” she mutters, pulling up a stats lecture she’s already watched twice today. There’s a knock at the door before you can respond.

Maya looks up brows raised. “You expecting someone?” You shake your head and cross the room, tugging the door open without thinking.

Anton stands on the other side, holding a tray containing three drinks in one hand and a roll of industrial-sized trash bags in the other.

“Hi,” he says like it’s the most casual thing in the world, like he’s not supposed to be studying for his neurobiology final. Like showing up at your door with Dunkin’s and a stack of trash bags is a normal Tuesday thing.

You blink. “Aren’t you supposed to be studying?”

“Figured you’d be knee-deep in panic packing, I brought reinforcements.” He says, surveying the room.

You say nothing and step aside to let him in. He moves past you and enters the room like he’s done a hundred times before and sets the drinks down on your desk.

“Mango pineapple lemonade refresher,” he says, sliding yours toward you. Then, to Maya, “Strawberry matcha, extra ice, no sweetener.”

Maya happily takes the drink and thanks him before turning back to her laptop. Anton gestures to the room. “Alright. Where do you want me?”

“You have an exam,” you remind him.

“Yeah and I’ll pass,” he says as if it’s the most obvious thing then adds, “and you’ll forget your toothbrush if I don’t help so really I’m doing us both a favor.”

Maya snorts. “He’s not wrong.”

You sigh, reaching for your drink. “Fine. You can stay but only if you promise not to judge how I pack.”

Anton’s already taping a box shut. “No promises.”

You sip your drink as Anton settles on the floor beside your pile of clothes, legs stretched out casually peeling tape from the roll like he’s the one moving out. You glance at Maya who’s still half-focused on her laptop and say, “I’m gonna miss you.”

She doesn’t look up. “Okay, drama queen.”

“I’m serious, you’re ditching us. Going all the way to Japan while we rot in Jersey.” You pout.

That gets her attention. She sighs and finally looks at you just in time for you to toss your weighted dino Antoinette, a birthday gift from Anton right at her head.

She catches it with both hands and clutches it to her chest. “You’re right. I don’t love you. Only Antoinette.”

You roll your eyes, smiling. “Shut up.”

“FaceTime exists, you’re gonna call me every day. We’ll groupwatch trashy TV and complain like always.”  She says, petting the dino like it’s a cat.

“Promise?”

She smirks. “Only if you don’t cry during move out.”

You flip her off and she grins, setting Antoinette on her lap before turning her attention back to her screen. “So what are you two doing this summer anyway? Internships? Summer classes? Something productive?”

You shrug. “I don’t have plans. Probably just sleep, eat and annoy Anton.”

Anton hums without looking up from the hoodie he’s folding. “Confirmed.”

You glance at him. “What about you Ton?”

He shrugs. “Nothing locked in but I saw the old country club near my house is hiring again.”

You sit up straighter. “Wait—the one from freshman year?”

Anton glances up at you, smiling. “Yep. Same one.”

Maya looks between the two of you. “You guys worked at a country club?”

You grin. “It was our first summer job. We were like…fourteen? Mostly did poolside snacks and towel returns.”

Anton nods. “And there was the golf cart incident.” Maya raises a brow.

“She stole one of the golf carts and crashed it,” he says, gesturing at you.

You gasp. “That is not how it happened.”

He grins. “It absolutely is and I took the blame.”

You shake your head, laughing. “First of all, he’s being dramatic. Second of all, he got off with a warning. He’s making it sound worse than it was.”

“What can I say? I’m a man of the people,” Anton says, sipping his drink.

You roll your eyes. “They let you off because of your dad.”

“More like because of my amazing personality,” he says proudly.

“Privilege,” you correct.

“Semantics.”

You shake your head, still laughing as you reach for another hoodie to fold. Maya’s grinning behind her laptop clearly entertained. Then Anton casually says, “We should apply again.”

You pause mid-fold. “To the country club?”

“Yeah,” he says, like it’s obvious. “One last job. For old times’ sake.”

You glance at him and raise your brows. “Wait, you’re serious?”

Anton nods. “Why not? It’s close to home, the pay wasn’t terrible and we already know half the staff’s probably the same. No stress. Just summer.”

You eye him. “Why though? You could intern anywhere or do research or I don’t know…rest?”

He shrugs. “And you could do the same but we both know you’re not doing anything structured this summer.”

“That’s…not untrue,” you admit.

Maya shuts her laptop with a soft click. “Okay, hold on. You two are telling me you’re seriously considering spending your last free summer wearing ugly polos and dodging rich people at a country club pool?”

You and Anton both nod. She sighs. “Gosh, you’re perfect for each other.”

You throw a sock at her.

Anton leans back on his hands, sipping the last of his drink and not commenting on Maya’s words. “Come on. No essays, no cramming, just a few shifts a week and bad iced coffee, and maybe some golf cart redemption.”

You narrow your eyes. “Only if you’re driving this time.”

“I’m an excellent driver.”

“Says the man who didn’t get his license until last year.”

It’s Anton’s turn to throw a sock at you. “And yet it only took me one try unlike some people in this room.”

You gasp scandalized. “Low blow! It’s not my fault my first instructor had it out for me!”

Anton laughs and dodges the squishmallow you throw at his head. “And the second and third time?”

You roll your eyes,  “That’s rich coming from the guy who thought parallel parking meant ‘close enough.’”

Anton raises his hands, grinning. “Okay, okay. Truce.”

You toss the last hoodie into a box. “Yeah, I thought so.”

Anton shakes his head but says nothing. Maya pushes her laptop away and stands, stretching like she’s aged ten years. “Alright, I’m gonna shower before I lose the will to study.”

She grabs her caddy and heads toward the bathroom, pausing only to scoop Antoinette off her desk and cradle her under one arm.

“I’m stealing your daughter,” she says over her shoulder.

“Just don’t drop her,” you call back.

“You won’t get far,” Anton says, barely looking up. “Antoinette’s got separation anxiety like her mom.” He jokes.

You slap his arm as Maya snorts. The door clicks shut behind her and the room settles into something quieter. Anton’s still sitting on the floor, legs stretched out fiddling with the edge of a new piece of tape.

He leans back on his hands. “You know I was serious, right?”

You glance over. “About what?”

“The country club.”

“Oh. Yeah. I figured.”

“I mean, it’s dumb but…” He shrugs. “It’d be fun. Like—one last summer. Just us. Before everything…changes.”

You don’t answer right away because it sounds fun, of course it does but under the surface something else tugs at you. It’s the realization that this might really be the last summer like this. He’s right…things are changing and they’re changing fast.

Fall means senior year, your last one. After that he’s off to med school probably in a different state. Maybe a different coast. You’re taking a gap year to travel, to finally breathe after years of nonstop coursework. You don’t have much time before “just showing up” turns into scheduled calls and missed birthdays.

You’ve known him for thirteen years. He’s been in every version of your life and suddenly that constant is starting to shift.

No more Friday night boba runs. No more post-practice phone calls. No more knowing someone will always be exactly where they’ve always been. It hits you and it stings. All you’ve ever known is him.

You don’t say any of that though. Instead, you nod. “Yeah. Let’s do it.”

He looks over at you, surprised. “Yeah?”

You nod. “Yeah I’m down.”

Anton smiles, soft and boyish like it’s just another one of your shared inside jokes. “I’ll send you the link.”

And that’s it.

You don’t need to say anything more. He doesn’t push. You both just sit there in the middle of the mess, pretending like next summer isn’t already pulling you in opposite directions.

May 30th 2025

Your name tag clicks as you fasten it to your new polo—navy blue, crisp and slightly too long in the sleeves. The country club rebranded since the last time you worked there. No more ketchup red polos or painfully thick khakis. Everything’s been toned down, modernized.

It’s been a week since spring semester ended. The dorms are cleared, Maya’s off in Japan and you’re back home in Jersey sleeping in your childhood bed but everything feels different. You feel different. Mostly because of what this summer means.

You want this summer to be good.

Scratch that, not just good but fun, worth remembering. You want to laugh until you’re on the verge of vomiting, take off guard point fives and have stories to tell when you’re older. If this is your last summer being attached at the hip with your best friend, then it better be one for the books.

You head down the stairs and make a quick detour into the kitchen. The fridge hums quietly as you open it, grabbing the water bottle you left chilling overnight. It’s already fogging from the heat. You stuff it into your tote before slipping into your beat up New Balances by the door. Your phone buzzes just as you’re smoothing out your shirt.

10:53 am | ton🦕: outside ☀️

In the living room, your parents are lounging on the couch, half-watching the morning news with matching mugs.

“I’m heading out!” you call.

“Tell Anton we say hi and that we love him!” your mom shouts over the TV.

Your dad raises his mug like a salute. “Drive safe.”

“Will do,” you say, already stepping outside.

Anton’s Jeep is parked out front, angled just slightly onto the curb like he’d pulled in too fast and couldn’t be bothered to fix it. The silver paint reflects the sky, windshield dotted with pollen. He’s standing next to the passenger door in his lifeguard uniform, his name tag slightly crooked.

The Jeep was a gift from his dad last year—a “congrats on passing your road test” paired with an “I’m sorry I couldn’t be there.” It’s nice. Too nice honestly but Anton doesn’t brag about it. He hardly talks about it at all.

He was bummed his dad couldn’t teach him how to drive. Not that he ever said it outright but you know. He wanted his dad to be there, to sit in the passenger seat, correct his turns and congratulate him when he nailed parallel parking but his dad’s still in Korea. Always has been and while Anton understands why it doesn’t make it suck any less.

You don’t bring it up though, neither of you do. Some things are just better left unspoken. When he sees you Anton straightens up and pulls open the door.

You raise a brow. “Still opening doors for me? Must be nice, having money and manners.”

He snorts. “Didn’t realize chivalry was a tax bracket thing.”

You grin. “Your mom really raised you right.”

“She tried,” he says, shutting the door behind you before jogging around to the driver’s side.

He slides in, adjusts the a/c and and pulls away from the curb.

“My parents say hi,” you say. “And that they love you.”

His mouth quirks. “Tell them I say it back. My mom says hi too.”

You settle in as the car coasts through your neighborhood. As he slows at the first stop sign, he gestures to the backseat. “Oh— I packed you lunch.”

You look at him shocked. “You did what?”

“In the lunchbag, kimchi fried rice with spam. My mom made the rice, I fried the spam.”

You give him a look. “You fried?”

“It might be a little crispy but the thought counts, no?” He admits.

You snort. “Remind me to text your mom later.”

“You’re welcome, by the way.”

“I didn’t say thank you.”

He smirks. “You were thinking it.”

You don’t reply just reach into your tote and quietly pull out the water bottle you grabbed earlier. You offer it to him.

He blinks. “What’s this?”

“Cold water,” you say. “You always forget to drink when you’re on pool duty.”

He takes it from you slowly. “Thanks.”

You shrug. “It’s nothing.”

You say it’s nothing but the way his eyes linger on the bottle before setting it down makes you second guess…is it?

Is it nothing that you remembered even after all this time? That you chilled the bottle overnight just because you knew he’d forget? That he packed your favorite lunch like it was second nature or the fact that he knows your drink order without asking.

Is it nothing that your mom still calls him her other child or that your dad always asks how Anton’s doing before asking about you? That it’s been thirteen years and somehow, this still feels like home?

You tell yourself it’s nothing because if it isn’t nothing…what is it? Before you can think about that too hard, the next song clicks on through the speakers.

You freeze. “No way.”

Anton laughs. “You remember this one?”

“Growl?” you say.

He cranks it up slightly, drumming his fingers on the steering wheel. You both sit there for a second, just listening.

Back in high school, Anton was obsessed with this song. Learned the lyrics and the choreo. He forced you to learn with him to keep him accountable, you still remember late night dance practices in your garage. He ran those practices like you were in boot camp.

He told you one night after lifeguard training that he wanted to be a K-pop idol. That he was serious. Like—leave school, move to Seoul and audition serious.

It’s not that you didn’t believe in him. Anton’s stupidly talented, he can play multiple instruments, produce, sing, dance. If anyone could’ve made it, it was him but his parents shut it down. They said it wasn’t stable, that he had too much potential in science and medicine to “throw it away on a whim.”

He never brought it up again. He still makes music sometimes, beats in his room, covers for fun, a little keyboard loop here and there but it’s just a hobby now.

You glance at him. “You still remember the words?”

He nods slowly. “Not all of them. But yeah.” You start humming and he joins in.

The windows are down, the music’s too loud. You’re both singing off-key and half-laughing. The ride continues like this until Anton turns the music down as you pull into the long driveway of the country club.

The stone entrance is the same but everything else looks newer and cleaner. The landscaping is sharp, the hedges manicured like they’ve been cut with scissors and the old faded sign has been swapped for something sleeker, modernized with some fancy rebrand name neither of you care enough to remember.

He parks in the staff lot angled slightly on the curb like always and hops out to grab your bags before you can even unbuckle your seatbelt.

You follow him inside through the back entrance down a hallway lined with beige walls and emergency evacuation posters. The staff break room smells faintly like sunscreen and freezer burn same as it always did. At least the lockers have been upgraded, sleeker and less dented metal and sharp corners.

Anton eyes the row before stopping at the end. “Take this one,” he says, nudging open the cleanest locker.

You tilt your head. “Why?”

He shrugs. “Bigger shelf.”

You don’t argue. You just smile and tuck your stuff inside. You’re taking down your water bottle when he nudges your shoulder. “Let’s go. You know they hate when we’re late.”

You roll your eyes but follow him through the staff hallways back to the front desk, where three others are already waiting.

The first face you recognize almost immediately, he’s about three apples tall, warm-eyed and has a smirk that’s impossible to miss.

“Sohee? No way.” You blink, half-laughing.

He grins. “Look who finally came back.”

You rush over, giving him a quick hug. It’s been forever, two years at least. Sohee was your summer coworker-turned-honorary brother back when you were fourteen. He worked the snack shack while you manned the front desk and Anton kept an eye on the pool. He went to high school in the next town over but somehow you all clicked immediately. Sohee had a big basement, a decent playlist and a personality that made him easy to trust.

After graduation, he headed to California for college. Got tired of Jersey winters and wanted a change. You’ve only really kept in touch through Instagram and random texts, low maintenance, long-distance kind of friendship. The kind that picks back up like nothing changed.

“You working front desk again?” he asks, already guessing the answer.

You nod. “Duh.”

He glances at Anton. “Pool?”

Anton nods back, reaching out for a bro hug. “Wouldn’t be summer without it.”

The guy next to Sohee is new; tall, tan, slightly broader than Anton with soft brown hair and a jawline that looks carved.

“This is Sungchan,” Sohee offers. “New hire. Lifeguarding with your boy over there.” He’s leaning casually against the counter sipping a Gatorade like he’s already claimed his chill guy status.

“I’m Harvey,” the girl beside him says cheerfully. She’s shorter, hair pulled into buns with spikes and practically bouncing on her heels. “Poolside snacks. Is this your first summer too?”

You smile. “Not exactly. We worked here freshman year of high school.”

Anton nods. “Figured we’d come back for one last round.”

“Ohhh, that makes sense! I saw you guys come in together, he was carrying your bag and opened the door for you and everything. You guys are so cute. Are you dating?” Harvey asks brightly.

The question stuns the group into silence.

You falter. “Oh—no, we’re just—”

“Friends,” Anton cuts in, laughing a little too fast. “Definitely just friends.”

You nod quickly. “Yeah. No. We’re just friends.”

It’s not a new question. People have been asking you that since middle school. Usually, you deny it without thinking, sometimes with a laugh, sometimes with a dramatic gag for effect. Living with Maya has made it easier to ignore the comments; she’s always teasing, always shipping, always nudging with that “but what if?”

But for some reason this time it lands wrong. Like a splinter, like something you can’t quite shake off. Especially when you glance at Anton and he’s laughing like the idea of dating you is absurd. Not even worth considering.

That…stings a little more than you expect it to. The conversation moves on.

Sungchan asks where you go to school. You tell him. He says he’s at Rutgers, studying kinesiology. He asks if you’re pre-med. You say no. He asks if you’ve ever been to Atlantic City. You say a hundred times over. It takes you a second to realize he’s flirting.

Sohee notices too, he smirks subtly, eyes flicking toward Anton who says nothing. Just stands there jaw tight arms crossed like he’s suddenly bored of the conversation.

Harvey loops back into your chat easily, bubbly and warm, clearly excited to be working her first job. You like her already.

Sohee eventually claps his hands together. “Alright losers, we should probably actually, you know, do our jobs.”

Anton mutters something under his breath and turns to Sungchan. “Let’s go before they stick us on towel duty.”

The two of them walk off toward the pool deck and Harvey waves before darting back toward the breakroom for her apron. Which leaves just you and Sohee at the desk.

He folds his arms and looks at you for a second too long.

You side-eye him. “What?”

He shrugs, clearly biting back a smile. “Just surprised. Thought maybe something would’ve changed between you two by now.”

You make a face. “Don’t start.”

“I’m not starting anything.”

“You are.”

He leans forward, elbows on the desk. “I’m just saying, if I didn’t know you guys—”

“Well, you do,” you cut in. “And there is nothing going on with me and Anton.”

He doesn’t say anything for a moment just hums like he’s filing it away for later.

You look down at the sign-in binder, suddenly very interested in the pages that haven’t been filled yet because maybe once it was easy to say there’s no you and Anton and not think twice but right now…you’re not so sure.

___

You and Sohee spend most of the morning shift alternating between joking around and pretending to be productive.

He makes fun of your growing squishmallow collection, shows you a dumb video of a goose chasing tourists and bets you ten bucks someone’s gonna try to sneak in through the tennis courts again before noon.

“You still have that one video?” he asks at one point, tapping on the desk with a pencil. “The one Anton filmed after your crash out over that burger king worker getting your order wrong.”

You laugh. “Oh my gosh! I completely forgot about that night!”

He grins. “We were so annoying.”

“We still are,” you say and he doesn’t deny it.

Right before noon a girl storms through the front entrance, sunglasses still on and sandals clacking like she owns the place. She doesn’t even say hello before launching in. “My friend’s pass isn’t working and it’s hot and I swear if I have to stand in the sun one more second—”

You stare at her blakly. “What’s the name the pass is under?”

She scoffs before answering, “Lexi.”

You check the binder. “There’s no Lexi on the guest list.”

“She’s with a member. My dad okayed it.”

“I get that but if the member didn’t authorize her, we can’t—”

She cuts you off. “Are you incompetent? I just said my dad is fine with it.”

You smile—tight and polite. “I’m just following policy. Again, if your father reaches out to the front desk we can get it sorted.”

She gives you one last huff and storms out her heels clicking. You lean back in your chair, eyes narrowing. “I hate it here.”

Sohee snorts. “You handled that like a pro.”

“She called me incompetent.”

“Yeah but you didn’t cry or threaten to quit. Growth.”

You snort and toss a pen at him. “You’re so stupid.”

He dodges. “So are you, take a break.”

“I’m fine.”

“You’re going to murder someone and I don’t want to be a witness.”

You groan but nod, grabbing your water bottle from under the desk. “Text me if another demon shows up.”

“Only if they’re hot.” You laugh and shake your head as you walk away.

Outside, the sun hits you instantly. The pool is packed, kids screaming, parents sweating and lifeguards trying to look like they’re not losing their minds. You spot Anton climbing down from the stand, towel over his shoulder, hair damp and sticking to his forehead. He meets your eye. “Break?”

“Sent out by Sohee before I committed a felony.”

Anton grins. “Be right back.”

He disappears into the staff building to grab the lunch he packed while you claim a shaded spot under a cabana kicking off your shoes and letting your socked-legs rest against the cool concrete. A breeze rolls in and you lean back, eyes half-closed.

“Hey,” someone says beside you.

You turn to find Sungchan, shirt slightly damp and water bottle in hand. “Mind if I sit?”

You shake your head. “Be my guest.”

He drops into the chair beside you, stretching like a cat. “I’m dying.”

“It’s a billion degrees out,” you agree.

“You always work front desk?”

“Yeah. It’s my thing, Anton’s tried getting me to do lifeguarding but he’s always been the better swimmer.”

“Cool,” he says and then offers you a fruit snack and asks if you’re from around here. You tell him you grew up just ten minutes down the road. He makes a joke about Jersey shore and you actually laugh. Anton rounds the corner carrying the lunchbox in one hand slushies in the other. His gaze flicks to where you’re sitting laughing at something Sungchan said and something shifts behind his eyes.

He doesn’t say hi. Doesn’t look at you. Just walks up and sets the lunchbox on the table between you without a word.

Sungchan blinks. “Hey man.”

Anton glances at him. “You’re still on break?”

“Uh…yeah?”

Anton doesn’t respond. Just raises a brow like really?

Sungchan stands slowly. “I should probably get back.”

He gives you a little wave. “See you later.” You wave back a bit thrown then turn to Anton.

“Seriously?”

He doesn’t meet your eye. “What?”

“That was rude.”

He shrugs. “Wasn’t trying to be nice.”

You narrow your eyes at him, grabbing the lunchbox and flopping back into your seat.

“You okay?” you ask.

Anton shrugs again, collapsing into the chair beside you. “Just hot.”

You snort. “Yeah, hot and grumpy.”

He gives you a side glance then finally cracks a small smile. “Yeah, well. I brought slushies. That’s gotta count for something.”

You grab yours, mango, your favorite and take a long sip. “You’re lucky you remembered. I was about to write you off for being so rude.”

Anton reaches into the lunchbox and starts unpacking the contents. Two mismatched Tupperware containers, a few napkins, two forks. You watch as he places everything on the small table between you.

He pulls out the kimchi fried rice and hands you the portion with the less-burnt spam without needing to be asked.

“You’re so weirdly domestic,” you mutter, digging in.

“I don’t know what that means.”

You grin and the silence between you settles. The heat of the afternoon hums low around you but the breeze blows in every now and then and keeps things comfortable. From across the pool, a whistle blows and a kid does a cannonball that earns gasps from half the loungers.

You kick your leg slightly. “Remember that one time some kid got his arm stuck in the vending machine?”

Anton laughs with his mouth full. “Didn’t you encourage him?”

“I did not!”

“You absolutely did. He was trying to get the last bag of Doritos and you said, and I quote, ‘bet you can reach it if you just wiggle your arm a little more.’”

“That could’ve meant anything.”

“He almost dislocated his shoulder.”

“Okay but did he get the Doritos?”

Anton points at you with his fork. “You’re the reason we have warning signs now.”

You snort, shaking your head as you take another bite. You chew slowly, watching the pool sparkle under the sun.

In a softer voice you ask, “Why’d you bring up working here again? Really.” Anton doesn’t answer right away. Just sips his slushie, eyes fixed on something far off. When he finally speaks, his voice is casual.

“Figured we’d have fun,” he says. “Just us. Like before.”

You nod before really thinking about it but the words catch up to you. Just us.

You’ve said that to each other a hundred times over the years, maybe even more. When you were kids convincing your parents to let you go on class trips. When you got your first job together. When you swore off dating apps after two back-to-back disasters. It’s always been a comfort. Something easy. Something true but now, sitting here under a cabana with your lunch still warm between you and the summer breeze curling at your ankles, it feels different.

He says it so simply, like it’s not supposed to mean anything. Like it’s obvious but your chest tightens anyway, like maybe…maybe it does mean something or could mean something.

You glance over and search his face but he’s not looking at you. Just tearing little pieces of his napkin, focused on nothing at all.

You clear your throat. “Well…so far, so good.”

His lips quirk. “Even with Sungchan?”

You let out a groan and nudge his shoulder. “Oh my gosh. He was being nice.”

“He was flirting.” He argues.

“I don’t even know him.” You counter.

“He offered you his fruit snacks.”

You stare. “That is not flirting.”

“That’s first base,” he says deadpan.

You laugh despite yourself and shake your head. “He’s cool I guess but he’s still a stranger. I barely know the guy.” You take another sip of your slushie. “Besides, no one’s stealing your spot.”

He looks over at that, just for a second. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

But even after you say it something lingers in the silence between you. Something neither of you names, not yet. You look back out at the pool, squinting against the sun and pretend not to notice the way Anton shifts beside you.

June 17th, 2025

It’s a slow afternoon at the club. Sohee’s meant to be manning the front desk with you but really he’s just spinning around in the office chair balancing a bottle of Gatorade on his head while you lazily fold brochures into lopsided thirds.

“You know,” he says, steadying the bottle with one finger, “if I wasn’t working here, I think I’d make a pretty decent spy.”

You snort, folding another brochure. “You can’t even sneak snacks past the manager without getting caught.”

“That was one time and the chips were loud.”

The side door creaks open letting in a sticky gust of summer air. Anton and Sungchan walk in from the pool deck, Sungchan’s mid-story talking animatedly with his hands and Anton looks like he’s trying not to laugh.

“—and then the kid straight-up cannonballs next to me like I don’t exist. I got splashed in the mouth.” Sungchan says frowning.

Anton shrugs. “I don���t know man, you did yell at him.”

“That crotch gremlin deserved it!”

They drift behind the desk, Sungchan flops into the second chair and kicks his feet up, Anton leans against the counter beside you standing closer than necessary. You glance at the clock, only an hour left on pool duty before rotations, Harvey had the early shift and already left.

“You’re dripping everywhere.” Sohee says glaring at Sungchan who just shrugs and shakes out his hair making Sohee groan as he gets soaked.

Just then, your manager strolls in glancing toward the darkening sky beyond the windows. His clipboard is tucked under his arm and his brows furrow slightly.

“Storm’s coming in early, might have to shut the pool soon. Don’t need the whole crew if this keeps up, anyone wanna head out early?” He announces.

Before anyone can say anything, Sohee shoots to his feet. “Yes. Me. I will gladly shoulder this burden for my best buddy pals.”

Your manager snorts. “That was fast.”

“I’m a man of action,” Sohee says, already grabbing his bag. “Sungchan, you coming?”

“Yeah, I got family stuff anyway.” Sungchan says, standing with a stretch.

Anton arches a brow. “Didn’t you say that yesterday?”

“Different side of the family,” Sungchan replies smoothly, already halfway down the hall.

You stifle a laugh as the door swings shut behind them, leaving the front desk quiet. Outside, the first low rumble of thunder rolls somewhere in the distance.

Anton glances at you and tilts his head toward the towel cart. “And then there were two.”

You sigh dramatically pushing off the counter. “Guess we better make ourselves useful.”

Anton follows you to the towel cart bumping your shoulder with his as he grabs a stack. “At least it’s just for a few hours?”

“I guess.” You mutter, folding a towel sloppily.

Just then, your manager pokes his head out from the breakroom half-distracted by the radar on his phone.

“There’s not much left. Just make sure the locker rooms are clean, stack the chairs if it rains and lock up if I’m not back by closing. I’ve got a staff meeting at the main branch.” He says.

You and Anton both blink. “Wait, you're leaving?”

He shrugs. “Storm’s rolling in so no one’s sticking around today. You two will be fine.” With that he leaves, the door swinging behind him and umbrella already up.

Anton stares after him. “Did he just abandon us mid-shift?”

You nod. “Yeah, I think that’s exactly what just happened.”

The sky grows heavier as you both finish up—tossing used towels in the bin, wiping down snack bar counters, dragging pool chairs toward the fence line as wind picks up. The club slowly empties around you. A couple teens from the tennis court wave goodbye, the remaining lifeguards shout something about “good luck,” and soon it’s just you and Anton, stacking the last of the loungers as the first drop of rain hits your arm.

You both scramble under the nearest overhang just as the clouds finally open up drenching the deck in seconds. You’re out of breath, a little damp and your shirt’s sticking to your back.

“Well, guess we’re stuck.” You breathe, watching the rain hammer the pavement from the safety of indoors.

Anton props his hands on his hips. “Could be worse.”

As if on cue the hallway lights flicker once, twice then cut out completely, leaving you in the dark.

You turn to him slowly. “Seriously?” Anton winces, hands already up in surrender. “Not my fault! How was I supposed to know!?”

You squint at him but he’s already backing toward the supply closet. “I’ll grab the flashlights.”

You huff and duck back behind the front desk. It’s weirdly peaceful here without the usual hum of air conditioning and squeals from the pool. Just the sound of rain and the occasional thunder rumble.

While he’s gone, you dig into the lower drawer under the desk and pull out Sohee’s “secret” stash of cards (the one he swears no one knows about but everyone definitely does). You grab the Uno deck and a half-empty bag of jolly ranchers, shaking the cards out and ‘shuffling’.

Anton returns with a flashlight already turned on, tucking the second into the tissue box holder for hands-free lighting.

“Please tell me you shuffled better than last time,” he says, eyeing the deck suspiciously.

You pause. “...Maybe.”

You’re both crouched behind the desk, legs tangled and cards fanned out while the flashlight glows between you. The storm outside is getting heavier and you mentally sigh knowing you can kiss your rewatch of TVD with Maya goodbye.

“Draw four.” Anton says, smug as he tosses the card down.

You gape at it, betrayed. “Dude! We just started.”

He leans back, stretching like he’s got all the time in the world. “Don’t care, pick ‘em up.”

“I’m never forgiving you.” You say as you pick up four cards.

He laughs, biting into a watermelon Jolly Rancher and tossing you a blue one without looking. You catch it and roll your eyes.

You glance at him, hair still damp from the sprint, sleeves pushed up, lips slightly pink from the candy and it hits you again, just like it did in his car on the day of your first shift, how much he means to you. How dangerous this feeling is becoming but you say nothing, just slap down a wild draw four and smirk. “Your move, loser. The color is green.”

___

Eventually, the round ends with Anton barely winning and the sugar buzz from the jolly ranchers wear off. With nothing else to do, the two of you flop back against the floor, heads tilted toward the ceiling.

“This is so boring,” you groan.

“It’s either this or alphabetizing the lost and found.”

You squint at the ceiling tiles like they hold answers. Anton shifts slightly and pulls out his phone checking the battery. “Eight percent. You want music before she dies on us?”

You nod and toss your own phone over. “Bluetooth’s still connected to the speaker in here. Just use mine.”

He queues up your liked songs on shuffle and taps play. The first song to play is Ordinary by Alex Warren. You sit up immediately. “Oh my gosh, I love this song.”

Anton raises an eyebrow, watching the way your face lights up. “I can tell.”

You hug your knees to your chest swaying a little with the beat. “I’ve been obsessed since it dropped. Wanted to see him in concert but the prices were ridiculous.”

He hums. “Wanna dance?”

You stare at him. “Right now?”

He shrugs like it’s the easiest thing in the world. “Why not?”

Your eyes search his face. He’s not teasing just asking. After a moment you slowly nod. “Yeah. Okay.”

He stands first and offers a hand which you take as you get to your feet. The two of you step around the scattered cards, the dim flashlight casting shadows behind you. The storm outside softens to a steady patter and somewhere in the distance thunder hums low.

Anton places a careful hand on your waist and you loop yours around his neck. It’s a little awkward at first, a little silly but then it isn’t.

You sway and he hums along under his breath. You snuggle closer to his chest, finding comfort in the way his chest vibrates with each note.

Your heart starts doing that thing again, fluttering and aching and racing all at once. This feels like nothing but it also feels like everything.

Suddenly Anton says, “remember when you made me promise to marry you if we’re both single by thirty?”

You pull back slightly to look at him. “Wait—when did I say that?”

He raises an eyebrow. “Sophomore year. After things ended with that junior—what was his name? Woobin?”

You gasp, “Oh my gosh! I lost so many aura points that year.” You say as a shiver runs down your spine.

You were with Wonbin for a little over six months though sometimes it felt like twice as long.

At first he was exciting, mysterious with a dry sense of humor and a way of making you feel like the center of his universe until you weren’t.

What started as something fun and flirty quickly slipped into something…heavier. You started bending more, giving more. Time, patience, pieces of yourself and he kept taking. He never asked you to shrink yourself, not out loud at least but somehow you found yourself doing it anyway. To keep the peace and to keep him.

He didn’t like that Anton was always around. Didn’t like that your phone lit up with his texts or that you studied together late. No matter how many times you explained that Anton had been there long before him, that it was never like that, he’d just give you a look and change the subject. He never raised his voice, never cussed you out but he was cold in all the places warmth should’ve lived.

And his friends. You shiver at the reminder of them. Girls who barely spoke to you, who made inside jokes you weren’t part of, who looked at you like you’d taken something that didn’t belong to you. You tried. You really did but trying only made it clearer you weren’t welcome.

The breaking point came in the common room. You’d found out that one of those girls used to date him. You didn’t come at him yelling, you just asked why he hadn’t told you. Why he’d let you sit next to her, smile at her, try so hard to be liked by someone who used to be where you were.

He didn’t even let you finish, called you a hypocrite and said he didn’t owe you explanations when you had Anton on speed dial. Then he walked out. Just like that.

You didn’t chase him. You just stood there in the middle of the lounge, hands trembling.

Maya came to you not even a minute later. She’d been eavesdropping from the hallway. She didn’t say anything at first, just wrapped an arm around you and walked you back to your room.

“I always hated him but you already knew that.” She said the second the door closed.

You slumped onto your desk chair while Maya cracked open a bottle of Tito’s. She was celebrating the end of your situationship, you were grieving. Sort of.

“He sucked but you’re still hot.” She had said plainly, handing you a shot. You drank to that.

Then you kept drinking. The two of you ended up blasting music, dancing around the dorm, mascara smudged and feet bare, shouting lyrics you only half knew. That’s when the knock came.

Anton was the RA on duty that night, he looked tired but concerned, already wincing when he saw the speaker blinking blue. “Girls—”

“We got a noise complaint?” Maya guessed.

Anton nodded. “Two, actually.”

You winced. “Are we in trouble?”

He glanced at the open bottle on your desk and sighed. “Technically? Yes. Realistically? No.”

He didn’t write you up. Just stepped inside, clicked off the speaker and lowered the lights. Then he grabbed two water bottles from under your bed, handed one to Maya and sat with you on the edge of your bed helping you drink while she wandered to the bathroom, mumbling something about needing makeup wipes.

He didn’t ask what happened. Didn’t need to. He already knew. Anton always knew.

He knew that Wonbin never held your hand in public unless people weren’t watching. That he rarely walked you back to your dorm after study sessions. That he “forgot” your birthday until Maya posted a story about it.

He was the one who bought you a cupcake when Wonbin didn’t show up to your dinner plans. The one who printed your essay for you the morning your laptop died because Wonbin hadn’t answered your texts. The one who sat outside your chem lecture for an hour once, just to walk you home after your midterm.

He didn’t like Wonbin. Never had but he never said anything because you kept insisting everything was fine and he didn’t want you to feel like you had to choose so he just stayed quiet.

Anton wrapped you up in your blanket that night and helped you sober up while you ranted about love and timing and how you had “plans that you couldn’t share because the haters would sabotage you.”

You remember him giving you a blank stare before asking if you were seriously quoting Dr. Umar. You’d just shrugged then made him pinky promise. First it was to marry you if you weren’t in a serious relationship by the end of senior year but Maya chimed in from the bathroom and said that was too soon so you adjusted it—thirty. If you were still single by thirty, he had to marry you. You passed out right after.

You blink at the memory laughing softly and a little horrified. “Oh my gosh, I can’t believe I actually said that.”

Anton chuckles, his fingers tightening a bit on your waist. “You were drunk.”

“You should’ve stopped me.”

“I don’t think I could’ve. You were very persuasive” He says grinning. 

You groan. “That’s so embarrassing.”

He tilts his head, thoughtful. “I don’t know. It was kind of sweet.”

You snort. “I was in the trenches.”

“I remember. I wanted to punch that guy sometimes.” He murmurs, voice quieter now. 

You glance up at him, not shocked. “You and Maya.”

“I would’ve done it, y’know,” he says after a beat.

You cock your head still half-smiling. “Punched him?”

Anton shakes his head. “No. Marry you…you know, if we were thirty and single.”

You blink, breath catching in your throat. He says it so easily. Like it’s obvious. Like it’s always been obvious.

Your mouth opens but no sound comes out at first. “You would?”

“Yeah. You’re not exactly hard to imagine a future with.” He says simply, like the thought doesn’t scare him at all.

For a second you don’t know what to say because it’s Anton, your best friend, saying he’d marry you and saying it like it’s nothing, like it’s already written somewhere in the future, just waiting for the two of you to catch up.

You think about waking up to him. About sharing a bathroom and arguing over toothbrush placements. About movie nights in old pajamas, mismatched socks and legs tangled under the blanket. About apartment keys and slow Sunday mornings and his name showing up on every contact form you’ll ever fill out again.

You think about bringing him lunch at work. About him rubbing your back while you fall asleep. About the two of you building a home from scratch, filling it with too many throw pillows and framed polaroids and mugs that don’t match.

You even think—just briefly—about kids.

Maybe a little girl with your smile and his eyes. A boy who makes the same scrunched-up face when he’s concentrating. Anton would be the softest kind of dad, you know it. The kind who learns how to braid hair and shows up to every dance recital or soccer match early just so he can save a front-row seat.

Your chest squeezes at the thought because the idea of forever with him doesn’t feel scary. It doesn’t feel rushed or wrong. It feels…easy and almost right.

Anton shifts slightly, eyes flicking down to meet yours like he feels it too. Like he might say something more but then the lights flicker back on with a quiet buzz. You both freeze then blink dazed like a spell’s been broken.

Anton clears his throat and takes a careful step back. “We should probably lock up.”

You nod quickly. “Y-yeah. Before the storm comes back.”

Neither of you says anything else. Not about the dance. Not about the promise. Not about what might have happened if the lights had stayed off just a minute longer.

July 3rd, 2025

It’s been almost a month since the storm, you and Anton never brought up that night again. You moved on like nothing happened and went right back to being best friends.

The days have since blurred into sun-drenched afternoons and late-night group chats with slushies and sunscreen. Summer is halfway through and you’ve done more than you thought you would.

Harvey’s become one of your favorite people. You’ve spent more time with her than anyone lately, just the two of you doing silly girly things like you’ve known each other forever. You’ve gotten your nails done twice; matching pastel chrome one week then tiny hearts the next.

You’ve had sleepovers where you ate too much candy, tried on outfits for no reason and stayed up until 1 a.m freetyling to old beats Anton had made. You’ve gone on aimless shopping trips, floated in her pool while talking about first crushes and dream jobs and made it a tradition to blast One Direction during every 7-Eleven run.

You’ve spent a lot of time with the guys too. Group hangouts at Sohee’s house are now routine. His basement has become the unofficial meeting spot, snacks everywhere, a projector hooked up for movies, blankets in every corner.

You rotate who gets to pick the movie (Sungchan keeps choosing weird action flicks and Sohee only ever wants to rewatch Rush Hour) and every hangout ends with someone yelling over who ate the last bag of gummies.

One night Sungchan brought over edibles from his college roommate Eunseok. You were hesitant at first but Anton nudged your shoulder and said, “why not” so you gave in. You all ended up sprawled out on the carpet of Sohee’s basement laughing at nothing and everything, whispering nonsense while trying not to wake his family upstairs.

At one point Harvey started crying because the ceiling “felt too big,” and Sungchan offered her a half-eaten Rice Krispie treat like it was a solution. Sohee kept trying to freestyle over the Wii music theme and Anton couldn’t stop giggling every time he looked at you.

You don’t remember falling asleep, just that you woke up with Anton’s hoodie draped over you and a bag of marshmallows stuck to your arm. How they got there, you still have no clue.

You’ve also spent time with Anton. There was a week where he decided completely out of nowhere that he wanted to bleach his hair. You helped, obviously. Sat with him in his bathroom while he panicked over the yellow stage, laughed when the toner stained his ears purple and eventually helped him dye it back to black two weeks later when he said he “missed feeling like himself.”

You went on a picnic too, just the two of you at the park where you used to ride bikes as kids. You brought drinks, a bag of chips and laid out an old blanket while he strummed his guitar. It felt a little like slipping back into a memory. Safe and familiar. Comfortable in a way you didn’t even realize you missed.

You’ve texted with Maya here and there. She’s having the time of her life being back home in Japan, eating well, reconnecting with family and promising to bring back enough souvenirs to redecorate the whole dorm. You miss her but you’re glad she’s having fun. If anyone deserved a break, it’s her.

So far, you’d say this summer’s shaping up to be one for the books like you hoped.

Currently, you and Harvey have just pulled into the staff lot five minutes after your shifts have started, windows down, music still playing from your drive in. She’s wearing her “Snack Shack Queen” visor ironically and sipping from a pink water bottle covered in glittery stickers. You’re both still laughing about something Sungchan texted in the group chat.

Harvey parks her beat-up Corolla with a glitter Hello Kitty air freshener dangling from the mirror next to Anton’s Jeep. He usually drives you both but since you crashed at Harvey’s last night, you figured it made more sense to go together, his shift started before yours anyway.

“Tell Loverboy I say hey,” Harvey says, grabbing her apron from the backseat and shooting you a wink.

“He’s not—” you start but she’s already skipping toward the snack bar, waving over her shoulder.

You shake your head, smiling and sling your tote over your shoulder before heading inside. The country club smells like chlorine, sunscreen and money. You pass the front desk and spot Sohee’s station empty, he called in “sick” this morning, which you’re 99% sure just means he didn’t feel like putting on khakis today.

Out by the pool, Anton’s already leaning against the towel cart, arms crossed, hair still damp and glinting in the sun. His name tag is crooked, sunglasses hooked onto the collar of his navy polo like they live there.

“You’re late, I had to fold, like, four towels without you.”  He calls out but he’s smiling. 

“Tragic,” you deadpan, tossing your bag into the breakroom on the way over. “You want a medal or a hug?”

“A raise, actually.”

You roll your eyes but the corners of your mouth tug upward anyway. He looks good, tanned and relaxed with a confidence he only wears in the summer. You’ve known his face forever but lately it feels like you’re noticing things more than you used to.

The way his shoulders have filled out. The way his hair curls slightly when it’s wet. The way he chews on the edge of his sunglasses when he’s focused. It’s subtle. Barely anything but it’s there. You grab a towel and start folding next to him.

“How’s Sohee?” Anton asks.

“Too sick to answer texts apparently,” you say with a laugh. “But healthy enough to post a gym selfie.”

Anton snorts, shaking his head as he flips a towel. Then after a beat he says, “My dad’s back.”

You glance over, softening. “Yeah?”

He nods once, eyes still on the towel in his hands. “Flew in yesterday. Just for the week.”

You pause. “How do you feel about that?”

He shrugs, like he doesn’t want to think too hard about it. “Happy, I guess. Just wish it was longer.”

There’s more he doesn’t say but you know it’s there. Anton doesn’t talk about his dad much. Not really. You know he wishes he came home more often. That he hates how normal it’s become to miss him.

He clears his throat. “Anyway, my parents invited you over for dinner tonight. You don’t have to come if you’re busy, but my mom thought it’d be nice.”

You smile, folding another towel. “I’d love to. I miss being around her.”

He glances over and the smile he gives you is soft. Grateful. A little relieved. “Cool.”

You finish the last of the towels in silence then the two of you head off to your stations, the sun already climbing higher in the sky.

___

You and Anton clock out right as the sun starts dipping behind the trees, casting everything in a late-summer haze. Your shirt sticks slightly to your back, your name tag is crooked and your tote feels heavier than usual.

Anton unlocks his Jeep with a click and you toss your bag into the back seat before climbing in. The windows are already down helping a bit with the heat. He turns on the car and your phone automatically connects to aux before he can even ask.

You scroll for a bit before settling on a random indie playlist. You’re halfway through the second song when your phone buzzes.

5:47 pm | sungchan 🐸: tell me this isn’t you 😭

The next text is a meme of someone dramatically face-planting into a bed labeled “me after a 5 hour shift of standing still pretending to be helpful” You snort. Another buzz comes in.

5:50 pm | sungchan 🐸: also ur slushie combo is elite don’t let anyone tell you diff brodie 🙏🏻

You giggle, thumbs tapping out a quick reply. Anton glances sideways. “What’s so funny?”

You shake your head. “Sungchan went back to the seven eleven to try my slushie combo you all clowned me for and for the record he thinks it tastes great.”

Anton lets out a short laugh that doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “You two text a lot, huh?”

You glance at him. “I mean…yeah, I guess. He’s funny.”

“Hilarious,” Anton mutters as his fingers tighten slightly on the steering wheel. You blink but say nothing, turning back to your phone.

Anton pulls into his driveway a few minutes later and before he’s even out of the car, you spot someone through the window waving a controller in the air.

Anton helps you out of the jeep and unlocks the front door of his home and allows you to walk in first. “About time,” Junyoung calls from the couch, controller in hand. “I’ve been waiting for backup.”

He looks so different it almost knocks you back. He’s taller than Anton now. Freshly sixteen. Still adorable but no braces, no bowl cut just sharp cheekbones, a deeper voice and the same mischievous grin.

“Excuse me,” you say, stepping inside and tossing your bag down. “I’ve been working. What’s your excuse?”

“Don’t need one,” he says simply, then pulls you into a hug that knocks the air out of you. “Also, Anton still sucks. You’re playing next round.”

Anton scoffs. “You got lucky once.”

You throw yourself onto the couch beside Junyoung grabbing a spare controller with a grin. “Please. You’ve always sucked at gaming.”

“Facts. You remember that one time he rage quit because you beat him three rounds in a row?” Junyoung says smirking as he unpauses the game.

Anton groans behind you. “That was like eight years ago.”

“It’s okay, Ton. Losing builds character.” You say sweetly, nudging Junyoung with your shoulder.

He’s about to retaliate, probably with a pillow to your face when the soft sound of footsteps interrupts. Anton’s mom appears from around the corner, wiping her hands on a dish towel.

“There she is,” she beams, already pulling you into a warm hug. “I’ve missed you, sweetheart.”

You hug her back tightly. “I’ve missed you too.”

She pulls back just enough to cup your face in both hands. “It’s been too long.”

“I know! I’m sorry for not coming by sooner. Summer’s been more packed than I expected.” You say bashfully.

She waves off your apology with a soft cluck of her tongue. “As long as you come by again before the summer ends, you’re forgiven.”

“Of course! There’s no way I’m leaving without seeing you again.” You say.

That earns you a delighted cheek pinch and a mock stern, “Good. Now, are you hungry?”

“Always.”

“Perfect. I made all your favorites.”

You stare at her shocked. “Wait, seriously?”

She smiles. “You think I don’t remember?”

Your heart swells. “Can I help with anything?”

She waves you off. “No need. I’m sure Junyoung is dying to have you all to himself.”

Junyoung shrugs with a lopsided grin. “She gets me.”

Anton’s dad steps in next, he offers you a hug too, less animated but just as sincere.

“Hi, Welcome home.” You say, suddenly shy.

“It’s good to see you.” He says

You nod, a little overwhelmed. “It’s really good to see you too.”

He pulls back, studying your face for a moment like he’s trying to memorize it. “You’ve grown up well.”

You duck your head, smiling. “Thanks.”

“I’m glad you’re still around, means a lot to me. To all of us.”

You blink a few times, heart tugging at the edges. “Me too.”

He gives your arm a squeeze before turning toward the kitchen to join his wife.

You plop back down beside Junyoung, resuming your spot with the controller and clear your throat. “Okay. Let’s see if you’re actually good or just all talk.”

“Bet,” Junyoung says.

Anton disappears up the stairs to change and you don’t think twice about it at least not until he comes back down a few minutes later with an extra hoodie draped over his arm. Without saying anything, he tosses it into your lap.

You look up at him. “What’s this for?”

He shrugs like it’s obvious. “The AC’s blasting,” he says casually. “You always get cold.”

You blink a few times then smile. “Right.”

You tug it on without thinking. It’s soft and smells faintly like his laundry detergent, the sleeves are a little too long and the collar is stretched, proof it’s been worn a lot.

Your chest tightens in a way that’s becoming more frequent around him. It’s nothing. Just a hoodie you try to remind yourself but it still makes your chest go a little funny.

Maybe it’s because he just knows. He doesn’t ask, he just knows. Little stuff you don’t even realize you’ve said out loud like how you always run cold or that you sleep better with background noise or that you hate when your food touches on the plate even if you pretend it doesn’t matter.

“Thanks,” you murmur.

“Anytime.” He says as he shrugs like it’s nothing.

You settle deeper into the couch, tugging the sleeves over your hands and letting the warmth wrap around you. Anton turns his attention to the screen, where Junyoung is still mid-game yelling something about lag and you pulling him down.

You glance over at Anton once more and wonder when this started feeling different. When something so small, so simple began to mean so much.

Soon, Anton’s mom calls everyone to dinner and Junyoung is the first to jump up, already bragging about how he carried the team.

You and Anton follow behind and the smell hits you instantly. His mom has always been an incredible cook and the dining table proves it. Bowls of banchan, platters of rice, soy-glazed chicken, kimchi pancakes still steaming. Your mouth waters just looking at it.

Anton’s dad pours sparkling water into your glass before settling across from you and his mom gestures for you to sit wherever you’d like. You slide into the seat beside Anton without thinking.

“So,” his mom says brightly, already passing you the rice spoon, “how’s school?”

You sigh and give a small laugh. “It’s…fine. I’m ready to be done.” Everyone laughs at that. Even Anton lets out a knowing groan.

“Any plans for after graduation?” his dad asks.

You shrug. “Thinking of taking a gap year. Traveling a little before applying to grad school.”

“Ooh, I love that,” his mom says, eyes lighting up. “Where to?”

You rattle off a few places; Shanghai, maybe Spain, somewhere in West Africa if you can swing it. His dad nods. “Do you know what your concentration will be?”

“Not yet,” you admit. “Lately I’ve been leaning toward cancer research but it’s still a little fuzzy.” Anton hums beside you, like he’s storing the answer somewhere.

Then with barely a beat his mom tilts her head. “And what about dating? Anyone special?”

You choke on your water a little, coughing into your sleeve. Anton groans immediately. “Mom,” he says, dragging the word out like a sigh.

“What? I’m just asking. You’re gorgeous and smart. Don’t tell me no one’s caught your eye.” She says smiling innocently.

You laugh awkwardly but politely. “No, there’s no one right now. I haven’t really thought about it much lately.”

“Mmm, what about Sungchan?” She says then smiles again.

That makes you pause. “Wait—how do you know Sungchan?”

“I saw the photo strips,” she says with a little twinkle in her eye.

Oh. Right.

You’d completely forgotten about those. A few weeks ago all five of you had gone to Boston on a whim. No plans, just the weekend off and nowhere to be. You’d convinced everyone it would be fun. Harvey wanted to thrift, Sungchan wanted an excuse to wear his bucket hat, Sohee said he knew a good boba spot and Anton didn’t even need convincing.

You took the train into the city and spent the morning biking around the reflecting pool weaving past couples on picnic blankets and kids chasing each other through fountains. The five of you looked ridiculous riding in a single file line, Anton almost crashed into a tree trying to get a video of Harvey singing One Direction off-key.

You drifted in and out of thrift stores, tried on sunglasses you didn’t plan to buy and dragged the boys into little boutiques on Newbury with Harvey. Sungchan found a pink faux fur jacket and wore it for twenty minutes before the shop owner asked if you were planning on purchasing anything.

You ended your trip at a hole-in-the-wall record store where there was a photobooth hidden away inside. You took one group strip first, crammed shoulder to shoulder props half-falling off, the flash going off before you were ready.

You remember Sungchan's arm around your shoulders, pulling you closer at the last second. In one of the shots, you and Anton are smiling at each other and the rest of the frame is a blur of laughter and too many hands trying to hold up signs that said things like “hot stuff” and “assalicious.”

After that you and Anton took one together just the two of you. You don’t remember much about what you were doing (laughing probably) but you remember the feeling.

The warmth of him beside you in that cramped booth. The way he nudged the silly heart glasses higher on your head. You’d meant to keep the strips in your tote, maybe stick them on your mirror when you got home but now that his mom mentioned it…you must’ve left them in his car.

You clear your throat. “He’s nice,” you say carefully. “Funny. Cute, I guess. I don’t know if he’s interested though.”

She nods in understanding and asks Anton about the Country Club. You’re not shocked at how easily she jumps from questioning you about your love life to a casual conversation with her son about work.

No, what surprises you and catches you a little off guard though is that your heart doesn’t jump. It doesn’t flutter. Doesn’t twist or do any of the things it’s supposed to do when someone mentions a boy who might like you and that’s strange, isn’t it?

If you’re being honest, Sungchan was a highlight that day. He made you laugh so hard your stomach hurt when he tried to mimic a Boston accent and failed miserably. He offered to carry your tote bag without asking.

At one point, he walked beside you while you searched for somewhere to grab dessert and gently guided you away from an oncoming cyclist by your waist. It was the kind of casual touch that should’ve made your stomach flip but it didn’t. It was sweet. He’s sweet but that’s not what your brain lingers on.

You think about Anton standing at the boba shop counter, ordering and paying for your drink without needing to ask. You were all sitting along the curb outside, legs stretched out taking some polaroids. He didn’t even look at you when he slid the drink into your hand, just nudged your arm and said, “stay hydrated.”

You think about the matcha cream puff you couldn’t finish and how he took the last bite like it was nothing then wiped a bit of powdered sugar from your cheek. No one saw but it stuck with you.

There was also the walk back to the station. You were tired, arms full of snacks and shopping bags and Anton reached out without a word to take the heavier ones. A minute later, your hands brushed. Then again and on the third pass, he took yours gently and held it the rest of the way.

You also think about the tiny corner gift shop at the station, where you were killing time before the next train. You’d wandered off from the group, flipping through a rack of silly trinkets and keychains when Anton joined you, holding up a set of tiny peaches; one smiling, one frowning.

“So you don’t lose your keys,” he said, voice teasing but quiet.

You snorted. “You’re so annoying. I don’t lose my keys that often.”

But he still bought them.

Later that night on the train, he clipped the frowning one to your keys while you weren’t looking. You only noticed after he dropped you off at home and you pulled them out of your tote. The smiling one showed up a few days later, hooked to the strap of his duffle bag.

Anton doesn’t say anything. You glance over and he’s still eating but slower now. Focused a little too hard on pushing rice across his plate like it’s suddenly the most interesting thing in the world.

The conversation keeps going. His mom is asking about dessert. Junyoung’s already halfway through his second helping. His dad pours another glass of wine and says something that makes everyone laugh but it all blurs around you.

The truth is, your heart does flutter. It does twist and tighten and pull in that annoyingly dizzying way you’ve always associated with feelings you told yourself you didn’t have. They were so woven into everything that you didn’t notice when they shifted into something else. 

You look down at your plate and suddenly you’re not as hungry because it’s in that moment that it dawns on you…you’re in love with your best friend.

You stay quiet for the rest of dinner, laughing where you’re supposed to, answering questions when asked but your mind is still back there. Looping through little things—glances, touches, inside jokes that suddenly feel like more. Anton offers to drive you home. You nod.

The ride is quiet. The playlist from earlier still playing low. He drums his fingers on the steering wheel and you pick at your cuticles.

“Sorry about my mom,” he says eventually, voice softer now. “She’s just nosy.”

You force a smile. “It’s fine. She’s sweet.” He glances over. You don’t meet his eyes. Your throat feels too tight.

When he pulls into your driveway, you unbuckle your seatbelt a little too fast. “Thanks again. For the ride and dinner.”

He starts to say something, maybe to ask what’s wrong but you’re already out the door, waving. “Night, Anton.”

You don’t mean for it to sound rushed but it does. You shut the door gently almost guiltily and don’t look back as you walk up your porch steps. He stays there for a beat before finally driving off.

The second you’re inside you drop your tote in the hallway and lean against the door. The realization crashes over you again like a wave. You’re in love with Anton.

You fumble for your phone, thumbs shaking slightly as you scroll through your contacts. The tears don’t fall right away. You rush up the steps into your bedroom to avoid facing your parents. Once you’re in your room you close the door and hit call.

It’s 10 PM your time somewhere past noon in Japan but Maya answers on the third ring, eyebrows raised and hair in a messy bun. “Hey! I was literally about to text—wait. What’s wrong? Are you crying?”

You open your mouth but the tears slip out before you can stop them. Maya sits up fast. “Wait—what’s wrong? Are you okay? Are you hurt? What happened?”

You shake your head quickly, wiping at your cheeks. “I’m okay. I’m just—Maya…”

“Hey, hey, slow down, what happened?” She says softly, her voice losing its playfulness. 

“I think I’m in love with Anton.”

She pauses. Doesn’t tease. Doesn’t laugh. She just exhales like she already knew. “Okay.”

You sniff, surprised. “Okay?”

“Yeah. Tell me what happened.” She says.

You wipe your eyes and tell her everything. About the night of the storm, about dinner, about the hoodie, about the way it just hit you all at once. “I don’t know why I didn’t see it sooner. It’s so obvious now.”

Maya listens quietly, nodding like she’s been waiting for this call for years.

“But he doesn’t like me,” you add quickly. “Not like that. He’s never said anything and if I tell him it’ll ruin everything.”

Maya���s deadpan. “____. The boy gave up his summer to work a minimum-wage job at a country club with you.”

You frown. “It’s not like that. We’ve always done stuff together. It’s tradition.”

She actually scoffs. “Okay, what about the time he walked across campus in the rain just to bring you cough drops because your throat was sore? Or how he always waits outside your last class so you don’t have to walk back to the dorms alone, even when it’s freezing? He doesn’t do that for anyone else.” You open your mouth to argue but she keeps going.

“He’s the one who made you that dumb finals playlist when you were stressed remember? And brought you hot chocolate when your cramps were bad. He even learned how to fold your laundry the way you like because you hate when your shirts get wrinkled.”

She’s not even teasing anymore. She’s just listing things. Facts. Things you somehow forgot until now.

“He brings an extra hoodie to study nights without saying why, brings an extra charger in case you forget, reminds you to eat before exams, he carries your bag when your shoulder’s acting up.”

Each example lands a little heavier than the last. Maya gives you a second, then says softly, “All that isn’t just sweet. That’s someone who’s paying attention.”

She waits for you to say something but when you stubbronly stay silent she says. “That’s someone who’s equally in love with you.” You sniff in response.

It’s one thing to feel it, the persistent ache you’ve been brushing off all summer but it’s another to hear it spoken out loud. Plain, true and undeniable. Your voice comes out small. “But what if I’m wrong?”

“You’re not.”

“But what if I ruin everything?”

Maya doesn’t flinch. “Then you ‘ruin’ it for the right reason.” She says with air quotes.

You pull your knees to your chest, hoodie sleeves covering your hands. “I don’t want to lose him.”

“You won’t. You know him. Anton wouldn’t walk away just because things got complicated. He’s not wired like that.” She says gently.

Still, your silence stretches long. Maya’s voice softens even more. “Just sit with it. Don’t panic. I’m not saying confess your love tomorrow or anything.”

You let out the weakest laugh imaginable.

She smiles. “Just…think about it. Let it be true for a while. See what it feels like.”

You nod slowly. “Yeah. Okay.”

There’s a quiet beat between you, like the calm after the storm. Maya’s eyes are kind through the screen. She doesn’t say I told you so, doesn’t tease, just sits with you in the moment. Your phone buzzes and you glance down at the notification banner.

9:10 pm | sungchan 🐸: kickback @ mine tmr u losers in?

You read it twice. Maya notes your expression. “Groupchat?”

You nod. “Sungchan’s throwing something tomorrow.”

“You gonna go?”

“Yeah, I think I need the distraction.”  You murmur.

Maya hums. “It’ll be good. Just…don’t avoid Anton okay? He doesn’t know what you’re feeling. If you pull away now he might think it’s about him.”

You nod again. “I won’t. Promise.”

“Good and text me the second anything happens. Happy, awkward—whatever. I want updates.”

You smile and nod. “Thanks, Maya.”

“Of course, that’s what best friends are for. Now go to bed and call me tomorrow. I still want to finish our Vampire Diaries rewatch.”

You laugh. “You just want to yell at Damon again.”

“He deserves it.”

You hang up with a grateful goodbye then scroll back to the groupchat that’s now lighting up your lockscreen.

9:13 pm | harvey 👽: sungchan can u get more edibles and should i bring snacks 9:13 pm | sungchan 🐸: i’ll ask eunseok 🙏🏻🙏🏻🙏🏻 9:14 pm |sohehe🕺🏻: i’ll bring beer 9:14 pm | sohehe🕺🏻: also can we crash at yours sungchan? don’t feel like driving after 9:16 pm | you: does ur house have a pool it’s gonna be 90 degrees 😭 9:16 pm | sungchan 🐸: duh. bring ur hottest bikini 😉

You snort and thumbs down the message.

9:17 pm | you: reported for harassment. 9:18 pm | sohehe🕺🏻: bro u flirt like a 2007 facebook status 9:20 pm | sungchan 🐸: y’all are just jealous i’m bringing the ✨vibes✨ 9:20 pm | ton 🦕: you’re bringing a headache. 9:20 pm | you: chat he’s already sighing and we haven’t even left the house 9:21 pm | ton 🦕: i’m sighing because i know i’ll be the one cleaning up after you gremlins 9:22 pm | you: anyways can someone bring uno 9:22 pm | harvey 👽: ooo and the karaoke mic 9:23 pm | sungchan 🐸: oh it’s so over for y’all 9:23 pm | ton 🦕: if you bring that mic i’m leaving 9:23 pm | you: you say that every time and you stay the longest?? 9: 24 pm | harvey 👽: and hog the mic like it’s your world tour 9:24 pm | sohehe🕺🏻: WHO is this diva 9:25 pm | sungchan 🐸: bro sings like simon cowell is in the room 9:25 pm | ton 🦕: i hate you all. what time should we be there 9:26 pm | sungchan 🐸: idk maybe like 1 9:27 pm | sohehe🕺🏻: i’m not bringing sunscreen someone better share 9:30 pm | you: i got u 🫦 9:31 pm | sohehe🕺🏻: 🫤 that emoji was unnecessary.

You’re about to turn off your phone when it starts buzzing again but this time with a FaceTime from Harvey. You answer and her face fills the screen framed by fairy lights and the beginnings of her skincare routine. She’s got one of those fluffy headbands on, the kind with little bear ears and she’s holding a popsicle like it’s a microphone.

“Heyyy,” she sings, already grinning. “Can I come over in the morning to get ready with you?”

You nod, shifting on your blanket. “Only if you drive to Sungchan’s.”

Harvey snorts. “Obviously. You act like I trust you behind the wheel of any vehicle.” You laugh and tell her to shut up, she laughs as well but then her expression shifts still playful, just a little more curious.

“Also, random question, what’s going on with you and Sungchan?” She asks, tilting her head.

You balk at her “Me and Sungchan?”

She shrugs, licking her popsicle. “I don’t know. Just…I’ve picked up on some flirting. Has something happened?”

You shake your head. “No. Not on my end at least. He’s just a cool friend.”

Harvey hums like she doesn’t entirely buy it but isn’t surprised either. “Cool. Still team Anton, though.”

Your breath catches slightly but you force a smile. “Harv…”

“What? I’m just saying what everyone’s thinking.” She says with a lazy grin.

You don’t say anything to that. You could and you probably should but the words don’t come. Not yet, not when your heart still feels like it’s trying to catch up with itself.

“Anyway,” she says, glancing at the time, “I’ll be there at ten. Charge the karaoke mic.”

You nod. “Night, Harv.”

“Night, girly pop.”

The call ends and you set your phone facedown on the nightstand. You collapse onto your bed and stare up at the ceiling.

Tomorrow you’ll have to see him again smile like nothing’s changed and pretend everything hasn’t completely shifted beneath your feet. You roll onto your side, pressing your face into the hoodie he gave you, the sleeves still bunched at your wrists.

You don’t know what comes next, you don’t know what it’ll mean if he doesn’t feel the same. You don’t know if you’re ready to find out. For now, you just lie in bed still and silent, hoping that somehow when the sun comes up, you'll know what to do.

[hauntedbyjoel]

Just This Once

pairing: joel miller x f! reader word count - 7.2k content - mdni, 18+, no outbreak, age gap (mid twenties reader, joel is in his 40s), possessive joel, mild angst, oral sex, explicit smut, p in v sex, fingering, creampie summary - When your family drags you on a week-long mountain lodge vacation, the last person you expect to see is Joel Miller—your dad’s best friend, the man you haven’t seen since a moment years ago nearly crossed a line. Now you're stuck under the same roof with him, and the tension is unbearable. You hate each other. You want each other. And it’s only a matter of time before everything explodes in secret touches, filthy nights, and a week that will change everything.

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

You hadn’t seen Joel Miller in four years. That’s the first thing that hit you when you stepped out of your car and saw him unloading a cooler from the back of your dad’s truck—grayer than you remembered, thicker in the shoulders, still wearing that same beat-up flannel like it was a second skin. The second thing that hit you was how fast the resentment came flooding back.

Your dad’s best friend. The one who used to ruffle your hair when you were a kid and bark at your boyfriends when you were a teenager. The one who used to give you rides home from parties with his jaw clenched and his hand gripping the steering wheel like it was the only thing keeping him from exploding. The one who looked at you differently the night before your college graduation. You didn’t imagine it. You couldn’t have.

Everyone else was outside, drunk on champagne and cheap beer, and you had slipped into the kitchen to get water. Joel had followed a few minutes later. You’d been wearing that little sundress—the one that made you feel older than you were. You turned around and found him already watching you.

He didn’t say anything, not at first. Just looked at you. And then he asked, low and dry, “You always wear things like that around your dad?” You’d smiled. Teased. “Only when I know you’ll be there.” He hadn’t smiled back. Not even close. He just exhaled, said your name like a warning, and left the room.

After that, you didn’t see him again. Not at your party. Not at any of the holidays that followed. If you asked your dad where Joel was, he always brushed it off—working, traveling, things got busy. You knew better. So when your dad invited you to the “family lodge trip” and casually dropped that oh, by the way, Joel’s coming, your gut twisted. You’d almost said no. You should have.

The lodge was up in the mountains—three hours from the nearest real town, with six bedrooms, a wraparound porch, and a hot tub that supposedly worked “if you didn’t touch the wrong switch.” It was your dad’s idea of heaven. It was your idea of hell.

The rest of the family arrived in chaotic waves: aunts, uncles, cousins, screaming toddlers, someone’s new girlfriend named Cassie who didn’t eat gluten. You tried to stay in the background, helping unload bags and pretending not to notice Joel already inside, talking to your dad like nothing had ever happened.

You almost made it through the first hour unnoticed. Almost. He turned around while you were unpacking the beer into the fridge. You didn’t look up. Didn’t give him the satisfaction. But you heard his voice shift. A beat of silence. Then: “Didn’t know you’d be here.” You closed the fridge too hard. “Guess that makes two of us.” Joel didn’t reply. He never did, not when you had that bite in your voice. You didn’t turn around until he was gone.

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

Joel avoided you the first two days. You weren’t exactly complaining—but you weren’t exactly unaffected, either. It wasn’t subtle. He kept his distance like you were contagious. Always one room away, one beat behind in conversation. If you went into the kitchen, he left. If you started a story, he suddenly remembered something to do outside. Your dad didn’t seem to notice. Nobody did. But you felt it. Because it wasn’t new.

It was just the same rhythm as before—like the two of you had learned how not to orbit each other years ago, and now you were slipping back into that old, silent routine. But it was different now. More bitter. More deliberate. And maybe that’s what made it worse.

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

The last time you saw Joel Miller, you were twenty-two. You were home from school for a few months, in that weird limbo between graduation and whatever came next. Your dad had thrown a summer party in the backyard—beer, a grill, some acoustic guitar, the whole neighborhood vibe. You hadn’t expected Joel to be there. He hadn’t come to much of anything after that weird little moment at your graduation the year before. You figured that distance was permanent.

But then you came outside in your sundress and saw him sitting at your dad’s patio table, nursing a beer and looking like he hadn’t aged a day. Or maybe he had—he looked tired, but in a good way. Worn in. Rough around the edges. That salt-and-pepper scruff, those eyes that never gave away a damn thing. You didn’t speak at first. You couldn’t.

You spent the whole evening pretending not to watch him. Pretending you weren’t wondering if he remembered. If he still thought about that look he gave you in the kitchen. The almost. The maybe. The fuck, don’t do this that hung between you. But something shifted that night. You were walking back from the bathroom, barefoot on the grass, tipsy from sangria and nostalgia, and Joel was there—just standing on the porch in the shadows, arms crossed, that same unreadable expression on his face. You didn’t stop. You just raised an eyebrow and said, “What?”

He looked at you for a long time. Then: “You don’t know what you’re doing.”

You scoffed. “Right. Because you know me so well.”

“I know what that dress means,” he said. Quiet. Low. “I know what kind of game you’re playing.” You took a step forward. Too bold. You always were with him.

“And what if I’m not playing?”

That silenced him. His jaw worked. His eyes darkened. He looked like he wanted to grab you and shake the words out of your mouth—or kiss you until you took them back. Maybe both. But he didn’t do either. He just muttered your name like it hurt to say, shook his head, and walked off into the night.

After that, nothing. No texts. No holidays. Not even a birthday message. You’d disappeared from his life—or he’d erased you. Either way, you’d gotten the message. You were off-limits. Not just because of your age or who your dad was. But because Joel knew better. He knew himself. Knew the kind of man he was. The things he’d already lost. And he didn’t want your name on that list.

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

So when your dad said Joel was coming on this trip, something inside you buckled. You didn’t say no. That wasn’t your style. Instead, you packed your best shorts, your skimpiest swimsuits, and a book you weren’t going to read. If he wanted to act like you were a mistake he never made, you were going to make him remember just how close he came.

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

The first night was fine. Mostly. Everyone was excited, loud, full of wine and bonfire smoke. You stayed in the background, floating from conversation to conversation like nothing was eating you alive. Joel didn’t say a word to you. Didn’t so much as glance in your direction. The second day, you caught him staring from across the cabin porch. Just a flicker of something in his eyes. A memory. A warning. But by day three, the silence broke.

It was over something stupid—a cooler left out on the porch in bear country. You’d forgotten to bring it in after everyone went down to the lake. Joel saw it first and dragged it in, dropping it at your feet with a muttered, “Real smart.” You blinked.

“Excuse me?

“Bears like easy food. You want ‘em crawling up to the cabin?”

“I didn’t realize I was personally responsible for every item on this trip,” you snapped. He narrowed his eyes.

“No, just the ones with your name on them.”

You didn’t say what you wanted to. You didn’t say, You’re still the same arrogant, self-righteous asshole who can’t admit he wanted me. Instead, you smiled sweetly and said, “Glad to know you’re still excellent at blaming everyone but yourself.”

He didn’t respond. He didn’t have to. The heat between you spoke loud enough.

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

That afternoon, you avoided him. Took your book out to the dock, let the sun bake your thighs, dipped your legs into the water, and tried not to replay every word of that argument in your head. It wasn’t even a real fight. But your heart was still pounding. And he’d looked good. Too good. That worn t-shirt clinging to his back, sweat on his collarbone, that low voice still rasping in your chest long after he left the room. You hated that he could still do this to you. You hated that you still let him.

That night, there was a bonfire again. You wore a tank top that clung to your skin and made no apologies. You laughed too loud. Let your cousin’s boyfriend sit too close. Ignored the heat of Joel’s stare from across the flames. Until he stood up without a word and walked inside. You followed five minutes later, breath caught in your throat.

You found him in the kitchen, alone, leaning against the counter with a drink in his hand. His eyes didn’t move when you stepped inside.

“You gonna keep acting like this?” he asked.

“Like what?”

“Like a brat.” The word bit. “Like you didn’t do anything wrong.” You crossed your arms. “I was twenty-two. You were thirty-nine. You were the one who disappeared.”

“I had to,” he said. His voice was quiet, hoarse. “You think I wanted to?”

“You think I cared?” you shot back. “You don’t get to act like you’re the one who got hurt.” Joel’s expression darkened. “You have no idea what it cost me not to touch you that night.” The air between you went still. Then your aunt came in looking for wine glasses, and the moment shattered. Joel disappeared again—just like before.

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

Now, on day five, it’s unbearable. Every look, every brush of your shoulders, every shared room—charged. You’re running out of places to avoid each other. And worse—you’re running out of excuses not to want it. You swear at one point he almost says something during dinner, but then your dad claps him on the back and the spell breaks.

Later, you find a reason to go outside. To breathe. To drink. To slip into the hot tub alone. To stop pretending this isn’t tearing you apart.

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

The cabin was quiet. Too quiet. Everyone had gone to bed, eventually. You could still hear the muffled sounds of the TV in the back room—someone watching an old movie half-asleep—but otherwise, the place had gone still. The kind of quiet you only get in the woods. Thick and soft and unsettling. You couldn’t sleep. Not like this. Not with him still under the same roof. Not with your skin buzzing like it was trying to crawl off your bones. So you slipped outside.

A hoodie thrown over your tank top. Nothing under it. Bikini bottoms still damp from the lake earlier. A bottle of wine grabbed from the counter on your way out—half-full and yours now. No glass.

The hot tub creaked when you stepped in. Lukewarm. The jets barely worked. But it was something. Some kind of escape. You sank down into the water with a hiss and let it cover your thighs, your hips. Steam rose into the air around your face, humid and pine-scented. You sipped straight from the bottle. Tilted your head back. Let the stars blur. The ache in your chest hadn’t gone away. It had just learned to settle low—like a bruise behind your ribs. Dull, bitter, always there. Four years of unresolved tension pressing on your lungs. Four years of trying not to think about him. About the way he said your name. About the way he looked at you like he hated himself for wanting to.

You took another swig. The patio door creaked open behind you. Your pulse jumped. You didn’t move. Boots on the wood. A pause. Then—“Figured I’d find you out here.” Joel’s voice, low and even. But not casual. Never casual with him.

You didn’t turn around. “Want me to leave?” he asked. You took a slow breath. “No.”

Silence. The soft clink of glass—he set a bottle down on the ledge. Whiskey, probably. Of course it was. You heard the scrape of wood as he pulled a chair closer, the creak of him settling into it. Still didn’t look at you.

The stars shimmered overhead like they knew something you didn’t. “You always drink alone?” he asked after a while. You shrugged. “Better than company I don’t like.” He huffed once. Dry.

“You don’t like me.”

“Do you like you?”

That one hung in the air. He didn’t answer. You didn’t press. Another sip. Another minute of silence. It wasn’t peaceful—it was electric. The kind of quiet that buzzed with everything unsaid.

Finally, you asked, “Why’d you come?”

Joel didn’t pretend not to understand. “Your dad invited me.”

“And that’s it?” you asked. You turned your head just enough to see him. “You didn’t think twice?”

He looked tired. The firelight from the screened porch lit the edge of his jaw, the slope of his nose. His expression was unreadable.

“I thought twice,” he said.

You raised an eyebrow. “And the third time?”

His mouth twitched like it wanted to smile. But it didn’t. “I knew you’d be here,” he admitted. The words landed like a punch in your stomach. You swallowed. Hard.

“So what—” you leaned back against the tub wall, stretched your arms across the edge, “you wanted to torture yourself? Or me?”

Joel’s gaze slid to your collarbone. Your throat. The way your nipples had hardened under your thin top, the fabric clinging wet to your skin. He looked away fast, jaw tight. “I didn’t come here to start anything.”

“Bullshit.”

He met your eyes. This time, he didn’t flinch.

“You wanna talk about starting things?” he said, voice sharp. “You think I didn’t see what you were doing back then?”

“I was twenty-two.”

“You were my best friend’s daughter.”

“Not by choice.” He stood suddenly. Pushed off the chair, walked toward the railing like he couldn’t stand being that close. You watched his shoulders rise and fall, tense. “You think I’m proud of this?” he said. “Of wanting you?”

You stood, slowly. The water sloshed. Your tank top clung to every curve—wet and transparent in the porch light. You didn’t hide. You didn’t flinch. “I don’t want your pride,” you said.

Joel turned. You didn’t know which of you moved first. Maybe it didn’t matter. One second, you were dripping water onto the porch. The next, you were in his arms, mouth on his, kissing him like you’d been waiting your whole life to do it. He groaned into your mouth—low, raw, like it hurt. His hands came up to your waist, gripping hard, dragging you closer until your soaked chest was flush against him. It was messy. Desperate. All tongue and teeth and four years of restraint unraveling like thread in a storm. He backed you into the side of the cabin wall with a thud. You gasped. He kissed you harder.

“This is wrong,” he muttered against your lips.

“I don’t care,” you whispered.

He kissed you again. Hands under your shirt, dragging it up, baring your wet skin to the mountain air. His palms were rough and warm, moving over your ribs, your waist, up to your breasts. You arched into him.

“I thought about this,” he said. “Too many times.”

You bit his shoulder. “Show me.”

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

His mouth was everywhere.

You didn’t remember how you got from the hot tub to the porch steps, but suddenly he had you pinned to them—back against the rough wood, legs spread over his lap, and Joel’s mouth on your throat like he was trying to brand you there.

The porch light flickered behind his head, catching the silver in his hair, the tight clench of his jaw as he kissed you. It wasn’t soft. Nothing about this was. It was desperate. Hungry. The kind of kiss you only give someone after years of pretending you didn’t want to. You whimpered into his mouth. His hand slid up the inside of your thigh, fingers teasing the damp hem of your bikini bottoms.

“Still wanna pretend this isn’t happening?” he rasped against your cheek.

You shook your head, gasping. “No. I want you.”

He groaned—like you’d said something obscene. Like you’d ruined him. Joel didn’t waste time. He lifted your top up, pulling it over your head until your bare chest hit the open air. Your nipples peaked, still wet from the tub, and his mouth was on them in seconds. Sucking, groaning, biting just enough to make you squirm.

“Jesus,” he muttered against your skin. “You’re perfect. You fuckin’ knew what you were doing back then, didn’t you?”

You arched your back, fingers in his hair. “I wanted you to look.”

“I did,” he growled. “I fuckin’ looked every time.”

His hands were already moving—down your hips, hooking into your bikini bottoms, dragging them off and tossing them somewhere behind him. Then he leaned back and just stared. You felt raw under that gaze. Bared open. Not just your body—your want. Your need.

“Joel—”

“Goddamn.” His voice dropped lower. “You’re soaked.”

“I was in the tub,” you teased.

He gave you a warning look. One hand slipped between your thighs, two fingers running over your center. You gasped—wet, throbbing, aching.

“This isn’t the tub,” he said.

And then he tasted you. Dropped to his knees between your legs and pushed them open wider with both hands. You moaned—loud, unfiltered, filthy—as his mouth found your core and sucked.

“F-fuck—” your hips jerked. His arms locked around your thighs, holding you still. He licked you like he was starving. Like he hadn’t let himself want this and now couldn’t stop. Long, slow swipes of his tongue that made your stomach clench. Then little flicks over your clit that made your toes curl.

You grabbed the porch railing behind your head, panting, “Joel, I’m—oh my god—”

He didn’t stop. If anything, he doubled down—moaning against you like your pleasure was his, like he could feel you coming apart in his bones. His beard scratched your skin in the best way. His grip on your thighs bruised.

When you came, you shook. Back arched, mouth open, your whole body trembling under him. He held you through it—let you grind against his face, let you cry out into the night with no shame. And then he pulled away, mouth wet, eyes black.

“You sure you wanna keep going?” he rasped into your ear.

You nodded, breathless. “I’ve never been more sure.”

He kissed you like that destroyed him. Like you’d just said I love you and he didn’t know what to do with it. You were slumped against the cabin wall—wet, aching, and trembling from the orgasm he’d just coaxed out of you on the porch. His hand was slick with it, shining in the low light, and he looked at you like he didn’t know whether to kiss you or drag you back to hell with him.

You beat him to it. You stepped forward, dropped to your knees on the wood floor, and looked up at him with fire in your eyes.

“Let me take care of you.”

Joel froze. “Sweetheart—”

“Let me.” You reached for his belt. “I want to.”

He didn’t stop you. Couldn’t.

The sound of leather sliding through denim made your thighs clench all over again. You undid his fly, pushed his jeans and boxers down just enough, and there he was—thick, flushed, leaking at the tip. Your mouth watered.

Joel watched you with something close to pain in his eyes. “You don’t know what you’re doing to me.”

You smiled, slow and wicked. “I think I do.”

And then you took him into your mouth. His hips jolted like he’d been shocked. A deep, raw groan escaped him—so loud it echoed in the trees.

“Jesus fuck,” he hissed. One big hand gripped your hair, not forcing—just grounding. “You’re gonna fuckin’ kill me.”

You sucked him slow. Deep. Let your lips drag along the underside of his cock as you worked him down your throat. He was hot and heavy on your tongue, the salt of his skin making your head spin. You gagged a little, spit sliding down your chin, but you didn’t stop.

“Goddamn—” Joel’s hand tightened. “You look so fuckin’ good like this.”

You moaned around him. His thighs flexed.

“You always act so tough, don’t you?” he rasped. “But look at you now. On your knees. Mouth full of cock. Drippin’ for me.”

You pulled off with a slick pop, panting. “Only for you.”

He lost it. Joel yanked you to your feet and kissed you like a man on the edge—mouth open, tongue messy, hands everywhere. You could taste him on your own lips. He grabbed your ass, squeezed hard, and muttered, “Inside. Now.”

-── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

The guest room door slammed shut behind you. He didn’t even bother with lights. The moon through the window was enough to see him—dark and dangerous, shirt halfway off, jeans undone, chest rising and falling like he’d just run through the forest. You stripped for him without a word. You climbed back onto the bed, naked, legs spread—offering. Joel stared.

“Lie back,” he said roughly. “I need—fuck. Just lie back.”

You obeyed. He crawled over you slowly, like a man approaching something holy. And then he was there—settling between your thighs, spreading you with both hands.

“Still so fuckin’ wet,” he muttered. “That just from my fingers, baby? Or suckin’ me off got you like this?”

“Both,” you breathed. “I want you so bad.”

Joel groaned—feral.

“Fuckin’ filthy girl,” he growled. “You want my mouth? Wanna come on my tongue?”

You nodded, frantic. “Please.”

That was all he needed. Joel lowered his head and devoured you. There was no teasing. No slow buildup. He licked into you like a man starving, tongue everywhere at once, sucking your clit into his mouth so hard your back arched off the bed.

“Oh my god—Joel—”

“That’s it,” he groaned against you. “Say my name.”

You did. Again and again. Cried it out while he fucked you with his tongue, his nose pressed against your clit, beard scratch burning your inner thighs.

“Taste so fuckin’ good,” he murmured. “Been dreamin’ about this. How sweet you’d be. How you’d sound.”

You couldn’t speak. Couldn’t breathe.

You came with your fingers in his hair and his name in your mouth—shaking, moaning, soaking his face. He didn’t stop until you begged. Then he climbed up your body, kissed you with your slick still on his mouth, and lined himself up between your thighs.

“Ready?” he asked, voice hoarse.

You looked him in the eye. “Don’t be gentle.”

Joel’s face twisted—like you’d just said something cruel and beautiful.

“Fuckin’ finally,” he growled.

And then he thrust in. You gasped—so full, stretched wide, your whole body tensing at the intrusion. He cursed, slammed a hand against the headboard, and stayed there for a second, buried to the hilt, not moving.

“You feel—fuck, baby, you feel unreal,” he rasped into your neck.

“Move,” you begged. “Please.”

He did. Slow at first. Then harder. Then brutal. Joel fucked you deep, steady, with a kind of controlled rage—like he was punishing himself as much as he was giving you what you wanted.

“This what you needed?” he grunted. “Old man’s cock? Daddy’s best friend fuckin’ you stupid?”

You cried out—clawed at his back, wrapped your legs around his hips.

“Years,” he growled. “Years I told myself I couldn’t touch you. And now look at you.”

He sat back on his knees and dragged you with him—lifted your hips off the bed and fucked up into you until your head hit the pillows and the air left your lungs.

“You were mine the second you looked at me in that fuckin’ dress,” he said. “You know that?”

“Yes—Joel—”

“I’ll never be able to stop now,” he whispered. “You ruined me.”

You came with a scream. Your entire body clenched. Shaking, soaked, ruined beneath him—and he followed seconds later, growling your name into your neck as he emptied inside you with a broken moan.

He didn’t pull out. Didn’t move. Just held you there, panting against your skin, his cock still buried deep, his arms around you like he couldn’t let go.

“This changes everything,” you whispered.

“I know,” Joel said. “And I’m not sorry.”

Neither were you.

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

You didn’t see him all afternoon. After breakfast—silent and unbearable—you watched Joel disappear down the trail with your dad and two of your uncles, a cooler over his shoulder and a rifle on his back. Some day-hunt, they said. Nothing serious. Deer if they got lucky. Beer if they didn’t. You stayed behind. Tried to read. Tried to nap. Tried not to think about how sore your thighs still were from the way he’d held you. How your lips still tingled from the way he kissed you—like a man grabbing for something he never thought he’d get to keep.

By evening, the house was full again. Laughter, music, chairs scraping across the floor. Your cousin burned a pan of garlic bread and someone dropped a bottle of wine. The usual chaos. Joel returned just after sunset. You caught the sound of his voice before you saw him—low, gruff, tired. But not angry. Not cold. Just… careful. You stepped into the hallway to grab towels and he passed you. Barely looked at you. But when he did? That glance leveled you. One second, and your whole body remembered everything.

You waited again that night. Waited until the noise died. Waited until the lights clicked off one by one and the lodge settled into creaks and wind. Then you crept down the hallway. Breath tight. Bare feet silent. You didn’t knock this time. Joel’s room was dark when you slipped in, but you didn’t need light. You found him by feel—sitting at the edge of the bed, elbows on his knees, shirtless, boxers low on his hips. His head lifted the second you closed the door. He didn’t speak. You crossed the room and stood between his knees. You were wearing nothing but a thin tank top and cotton shorts. No bra. No panties. Joel’s eyes dragged over you, slow and unreadable.

“You’re not gonna let me walk away from this, are you?” he asked.

“No.”

His hands came up to your hips. Stayed there.

“You’re gonna ruin me.”

You leaned down, voice soft at his ear. “I think I already did."

Joel's hands slid up beneath your shirt. Slow. Heavy. Callused.

You let him.

You stood still as his palms swept over your waist, your ribs, up to your bare chest. His fingers spread wide, rough and reverent as they cupped your breasts—thumbs brushing slowly across your nipples until they hardened, tight and sensitive under his touch.

“Fuck,” he whispered. “No bra?”

“No need.”

Joel exhaled through his nose like it physically hurt him to keep control. He leaned forward, nuzzled his face into your chest. His scruff scratched your skin, made your stomach clench.

“You’re tryin’ to kill me.”

You pulled your shirt off without answering. He groaned when you were bare in front of him.

“Get on the bed,” you whispered.

Joel did. Leaned back on his elbows as you climbed into his lap, straddling him, letting your thighs spread around his hips. You reached between your bodies, raked your nails softly down his chest, then lower—palming the length of him over his boxers. He was already hard. Of course he was.

You watched his jaw tighten as you touched him. Slid your hand beneath the waistband, freed him slow. His cock was flushed, thick, heavy in your hand. You licked your lips. Joel’s breath caught.

“Don’t fuckin’ tease me,” he said. “You know what you do to me.”

You leaned in close. “Then make me stop.”

His hands flew to your hips. He flipped you—smooth, fast, practiced—until your back hit the mattress and he was over you. Heavy. Solid. Dangerous.

“You got a smart mouth, sweetheart,” he said. “Know that?”

“Maybe.”

“Maybe I oughta shut you up.”

“Maybe you should try.”

He kissed you hard.

You don’t remember when your shorts came off. Just that they were gone and Joel’s fingers were between your legs again, stroking through your folds like he already knew exactly what would make you whimper.

“Still wet,” he rasped. “You come into my bed like this?”

You nodded.

He shoved two fingers inside you in one smooth thrust. You gasped—back arching, walls clenching, hands gripping the sheets.

“Fuck,” he growled. “So fuckin’ tight. You missed me, baby?”

“Yes—yes, Joel—please—”

He pulled out slowly. Watched your cunt twitch around nothing. Then he lowered himself between your thighs.

“I told you I wasn’t done tasting you,” he said.

And then his mouth was on you. Joel had your legs pinned open with his hands wrapped tight around your thighs, your hips pulled to the edge of the mattress, and his mouth already back on your pussy like he’d missed it. And you realized quick—he wasn’t going slow tonight. He wasn’t soft. He was starving.

“Fuckin’ hell, baby,” he groaned into you, tongue parting your folds, mouth wet and messy. “I could eat this pussy every night. Every goddamn day.”

You gasped—already shaking, already too sensitive from his fingers. But he didn’t care. He licked through your slit, dragged his tongue flat and slow from your entrance to your clit, then sucked hard.

You cried out, hips jerking. “Joel—!”

“Don’t run,” he rasped, tightening his grip. “Don’t you fuckin’ run from me.”

His mouth latched onto your clit and stayed there. Tongue flicking fast, lips sucking firm, his beard rough on your thighs—just enough to burn.

You whimpered, hands flying to his hair. He let you pull, let you shake, let you grind into his face. He wanted it. All of it.

“Goddamn, you taste good,” he growled, breath hot against you. “You know that? Know how sweet you are, drippin’ like this? Soakin’ the sheets for me like a fuckin’ dream.”

Your head hit the pillow.

“Tell me,” he said, fingers digging into your hips. “Tell me how good it feels.”

“S-so good—Joel, I—fuck, it’s—”

“That’s right. That’s my girl,” he groaned, dragging his tongue in slow, torturous circles. “Gonna come for me, baby? Gonna let me taste it?”

You nodded frantically, eyes rolling back. “Yes—yes, I’m close, please—”

He moaned into your pussy, deep and rough and wrecked.

“That’s it. That’s what I want. Wanna feel you come on my fuckin’ tongue. Wanna hear you cry for it.”

You did. You cried out, thighs clamping around his head, whole body shuddering as your orgasm hit you like a wave. He held you through it—licked you through it—groaned like you were feeding him life itself.

“Fuckin’ perfect,” he muttered. “You hear me? Perfect. This pussy’s mine now. Mine.”

You were still twitching when he pulled back, lips swollen, beard soaked, eyes dark with something dangerous. Then he kissed the inside of your thigh. Once. Soft.

“You’re not ready for what I’m gonna do to you next.”

You were still gasping when he kissed your inner thigh.

Still shaking when he rose onto his knees and looked down at you like he’d never seen anything so fucking good in his life. Joel’s beard was soaked with you. His lips were red and swollen, his chest rising and falling heavy. His hands were still on your legs, holding them open, keeping you bare for him like you were something he earned.

“You good?” he asked, voice hoarse.

You nodded. Your voice didn’t work yet.

Joel exhaled through his nose. Then:

“Because I’m not done.”

Your stomach flipped. He moved slow—like a man taking his time unwrapping a gift he’d waited years to touch. He crawled up your body, licking and kissing and dragging his scruff over your ribs, your breasts, your collarbone. You arched into him, hands threading through his hair, your body already begging for more.

“Still want me, baby?” he rasped into your neck.

“God—yes—”

“Need to hear it. Say it like you mean it.”

You looked up at him. Eyes wide. Voice shaking.

“I want you, Joel. I want you so bad.”

He growled—low and deep, like it tore straight through his chest—and pressed his cock against your soaked folds.

“You’re gonna get me,” he muttered. “Every inch.”

He reached between your bodies, lined himself up, and dragged the thick head of his cock through your slick—teasing you, smearing your wetness over his tip.

“Fuck, baby,” he groaned. “You feel this? How wet you are for me?”

You whimpered. “Please—put it in—”

“Not yet.”

He smirked. Cruel. “You sure you can take it?”

“Yes—fuck—Joel, please—”

He leaned down, lips brushing your ear.

“Beg for it.”

“Beg,” Joel whispered again. His lips were at your ear, his cock pressed thick and hard against your entrance, but not inside—not yet. His hand gripped your thigh, thumb rubbing slow circles into your skin like he wasn’t already seconds from breaking you.

“C’mon, baby,” he murmured. “You wanted to act all grown back then? Show me now. Show me how bad you need it.”

You swallowed. Chest heaving.

“Please, Joel.”

“Not good enough.”

You reached down and wrapped your hand around him—hot, thick, twitching in your grip—and guided him to your entrance yourself.

“I need you,” you breathed. “I need you so fucking bad, I can’t think. I’ve been waiting for this. Begging inside. Since the second you walked in that door.”

Joel froze. Then he thrust in. One smooth, filthy stroke—slow, deep, so deep, and your mouth fell open in a silent gasp. Your body stretched around him, impossibly tight, impossibly full, the stretch burning and perfect all at once.

“Jesus Christ,” Joel gritted out, voice breaking. “So fuckin’ tight. You feel that?”

You nodded, breathless.

He didn’t move yet. Just stayed there, buried to the hilt, his forehead pressed to yours.

“I can’t—” he whispered. “I can’t go slow.”

“Then don’t.”

Joel let out a growl—feral, wrecked—and pulled back before slamming back into you so hard your breath caught.

You cried out. Your nails dug into his back. He started moving. Rough, deep, steady thrusts that pushed you up the bed inch by inch, his hands on your hips to keep you where he wanted you.

“This what you wanted?” he panted. “Daddy’s friend to ruin you?”

“Yes,” you moaned. “Yes—fuck—just like that—”

He fucked you like he was trying to carve it into your spine. Like he wanted your body to remember him even if you never saw each other again.

“Thought about this every fuckin’ night,” he groaned. “Touchin’ myself to the thought of you on your knees, on your back, ridin’ me—fuck.”

Your legs wrapped around his waist. You pulled him closer, begged him deeper, and he gave it to you—all of it.

“You’re takin’ me so well,” he said, voice dark. “So fuckin’ greedy for it. This pussy’s mine now, you understand me?”

You nodded. You couldn’t even speak.

“Say it.”

“Yours,” you whimpered. “Joel—it’s yours—”

“Damn right it is.”

He slammed into you harder.

“Turn over.”

His voice was low. Flat. A command, not a request. You blinked up at him, still dazed, your body shaking under the weight of everything he’d already done to you.

“Joel—”

“Face down. Ass up.” His hand wrapped around your hip. “Now.”

You obeyed. Your limbs were slow, heavy, fucked-out, but you flipped onto your stomach, pushing up onto your elbows. You felt the air hit your wet skin, your thighs slick, your cunt leaking for him—and you felt him behind you, shifting up onto his knees.

“Look at you,” he rasped. “Just beggin’ for it.

He grabbed your hips and yanked you back onto him.

You gasped—loud, broken—as he filled you again from behind. Deeper, somehow. Angled to hit something inside you that made your toes curl and your jaw drop.

“Fuck—Joel—oh my god—”

He didn’t give you a second to adjust. Just started thrusting. Harder now. Rougher. His grip on your hips bruising. The sound of skin slapping skin filling the room, filthy and wet and constant.

“You were made for this,” he growled. “You hear me?”

“Yes—fuck—yes—”

“Say it. Tell me this pussy was made for me.”

You were already crying, but it wasn’t sad—it was too much. Too deep, too good, too intense.

“It’s yours,” you sobbed. “Joel, it’s yours, I swear—fuck—”

He leaned over your back, one hand sliding up your spine to the base of your neck. Then he grabbed your hair. Gentle but firm. And pulled. You gasped as your head tilted back—and he kept fucking you, right through it.

“Look at me,” he ordered, twisting your head just enough so your cheek pressed into the mattress, eyes catching his in the mirror across the room.

You hadn’t even realized it was there.

“You see that?” he panted. “You watch me fuckin’ you like this. You see what you do to me?”

You moaned, clenching around him. “I see it—I feel it, Joel—don’t stop—”

“Oh, I’m not stoppin’.” His voice dropped even lower. “Not until I’ve filled you up. Not until you know you’re mine. Not until you come one more fuckin’ time.”

You whimpered.

He let go of your hair, slid his hand under you to rub your clit while he slammed into you from behind, every thrust sending you forward, your cries getting louder, messier.

“I’m gonna come—Joel—fuck—I’m gonna—”

“Do it,” he growled. “Soak me. Let me feel you fall apart on my cock.”

And you did. You came hard—full body, voice gone, hands gripping the sheets as your pussy clenched around him, milking him through it. Joel cursed loud, deep, broken. Your orgasm hit you like a wave crashing through every nerve—your body seized, thighs trembling, walls clenching hard around him. You screamed into the pillow, shaking as pleasure ripped through you, too big, too much— And Joel didn’t stop. He groaned—long, rough—but held himself back, jaw clenched like he was in pain. His thrusts slowed, not because he was tired, but because he was trying to hold on.

“Fuck—shit, baby—” his voice was wrecked. “You’re squeezin’ me so tight—fuckin’ beggin’ me to come—but I’m not done.”

You whimpered, twitching, still pulsing around him.

“No,” he growled. “You don’t come once and get off easy.”

He pulled out. You let out a weak, needy cry—your whole body aching from the loss—but Joel didn’t go far. He gripped your hip and flipped you back onto your back, sliding down your body, mouth pressed to your thigh again.

“Wanna taste you like this,” he murmured. “Wanna feel how sweet you get after I’ve fucked you open.”

You could barely breathe. He buried his face between your legs again—and this time, his tongue worked slow. No teasing. Just deep, soft licks, a finger pressing back into your soaked, fluttering entrance while he moaned against your clit like you were his favorite fucking dessert.

“You feel that?” he muttered, voice thick. “That mess? All mine. You’re fuckin’ ruined for anyone else now.”

You were sobbing—sensitive, overstimulated, panting as he licked you through another orgasm so slow it almost hurt. When he slid back up, his mouth was wet and his cock was throbbing. But he didn’t let himself come. Not yet.

“You ready to come one more time?” he asked, lining himself back up.

“Joel—fuck, I don’t—"

“You do,” he whispered. “You’re gonna take it. Gonna let me fuck it outta you. Let me fill you up.”

He started again—deep strokes this time, slower, heavier, grinding against your sweet spot as his thumb worked your clit. And you came again. Tears in your eyes. Nails in his back. Legs shaking like you’d collapse if he let you go. That’s when he gave in.

“Fuck, fuck—that’s it—that’s my fuckin’ girl—”

He pushed in deep, one final time, and groaned into your mouth as he finally came, hot and hard, hips twitching, cock pulsing deep inside you.

This time he didn’t move.

Just stayed there. Breathing hard, forehead pressed to yours.

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

You were still shaking. Your legs didn’t feel like they belonged to you. Your mouth was dry. Your skin slick with sweat and Joel’s breath still warm against your collarbone. He hadn’t pulled out. He didn’t move. His arm wrapped around your waist, the other under your neck. Protective. Possessive. Like if anyone opened that door, they’d have to go through him to get to you. Neither of you spoke for a long time.

Just breathing. Soft. Quiet. The only sound in the dark was the wind in the trees and the slow, steady beat of Joel’s heart against your shoulder. Then—

“That mouth of yours,” he muttered. Voice low. Wrecked. “Gonna be the end of me.”

You smiled faintly. Couldn’t quite look at him.

“Didn’t seem to mind it earlier.”

His nose brushed your jaw. “Didn’t say I minded. Just said it’s dangerous.”

“You’re dangerous.”

He hummed.

“Guess we’re both fucked, then.”

You turned your head toward him. His eyes were already on you. Heavy-lidded. Dark in the moonlight.

“Do you regret it?” you asked. Quiet.

Joel’s fingers traced a slow line down your spine. Thoughtful.

“No.”

A pause.

“Scares the hell outta me,” he admitted. “But I don’t regret it.”

Your chest ached. You let yourself curl in closer. Just a little.

He didn’t stop you.

Didn’t let go.

[bbydoll18xx]

Plotting and Scheming

Paige Bueckers x reader

When UConn’s wbb team gets tired of Paige’s pining, they concoct a plan to get you into her arms.

Themes: Mutual pining, slight angst, fluff

Word count: 3.3k

I've gotten a lot of love on my other three little fics, so I hope this one is okay, as well. Let me know if you guys have anything specific you'd like me to write!

Here we go!

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

You sat on the sidelines of UConn’s basketball court, admiring the girls fiercely practicing. It was still early in the season, but the dream of winning the NCAA championship kept their grit going.

Having met several of the girls on the team early in your college career, the women’s basketball team had adopted you as one of their own. As a nursing student, you were deemed ‘the fixer of boo-boos’ and you were often around to tend to their cuts and scrapes or to answer their ridiculous medical questions.

That’s where it had all started, and you couldn’t believe where you had ended up because of it.

Your eyes bounced back and forth, following the balls and the whipping ponytails. You always felt so much pride watching them; they were your girls.

Your gaze finds Paige, as it always tends to, and you are mesmerized. She runs, throwing the ball from half court and making it into the basket effortlessly. Without thinking, you stand up, whooping and clapping rambunctiously. She makes eye contact with you, sending you a wink and blowing you a kiss dramatically. Your stomach lurches at the display of affection towards you, and you blush, causing you to glance around making sure no one saw.

Your feelings for the tall blonde had only grown as you got to know her throughout the last several years. She made you feel giddy, like a child with a school crush. As much as you enjoyed being her friend, you had wanted something more for a long time now.

You’d never admit that though. To anyone.

The other girls had spent countless hours trying to get you to admit your feelings for Paige. You held firm, though, vehemently denying any pull or attraction. They would over analyze every interaction between the two of you, and they loved the way your cheeks would bloom with pink from Paige’s compliments and affections. 

In fact, they were absolutely sure that the reason you broke up with your douchebag ex-boyfriend, Zach, was because of your feelings for Paige.

They did not need to know that was actually the case, thank you very much.

It had been on the forefront of your thoughts for weeks before the night where everything had finally exploded. 

You had dragged Zach along to the bar where the basketball team was partying it up, hoping your man would distract you from the longingness you felt for your friend. You felt such a pull towards Paige, and it fucking terrified you. 

You had walked into the bar with Zach, his hand around your waist possessively. The touch reminded you of the last time you and Paige had gone out drinking together. Trying to ignore how you wished it was slimmer and more feminine, you had allowed Zach to lead you towards where the team had gathered in a circle. 

The girls cheered as they saw you approach, thrusting a drink into your hand, encouraging you to catch up to their drunkenness. You glanced around, trying to find Paige in the crowd. 

“Well look who it is,” you heard from behind you. Whipping your head around, you were met with the familiar smirk of your favorite blonde.

“Paige!” you exclaimed, running up to give her a hug, eliciting an eye roll from your boyfriend. You pretended you didn’t see it to keep the peace. You melted into Paige’s embrace, feeling more comfortable in the moment than you had in days.

“K, Bueckers, you can get your grimy hands off my fuckin’ girlfriend,” Zach had sniped, walking away. Pretending as if the man did not even exist, Paige had looked down at you with a wide grin. It was getting harder to overlook her effect on both you and your relationship. 

 The rudeness and nastiness directed at Paige had immediately sent you over the edge.

‘How fucking dare he talk to my girl like that,’ you had thought.

In a sudden fury, you stomped over to him, already busy staring lewdly at some girl who was dancing provocatively in front of him. 

“You can fuck off. Paige can put her hands on me any time she’d like. We’re through. Kiss my ass!” you spat. You spun on your heel and marched back towards the team feeling lighter than you had in months.

“Let's do shots!” you screamed, missing the fond look Paige was giving you.

You snap out of your daydream as you see Paige sauntering over to you where you sat in the bleachers.

“Enjoying the show, huh?” she questions smugly. 

Feeling generous, you nod with a genuine smile. “You guys are doing so great already. You’re gonna go far this season; I can feel it.” The candor of your words causes Paige to beam.

“Listen, we’re all getting drinks tonight at Ted’s. You gonna come with us?”

“Oh I don't know, I've got homework and stuff…” you trail off, trying to find a suitable excuse.

Paige all but pouts. “The girls really want you there. They all told me,” she says knowingly. As if she had planned it, Azzi, KK, and Nika walk over to join you two, all sweaty from practice. 

KK all but jumps on you, causing you to groan under the sudden weight of her body being thrown against you.

“Y’all, please convince this one over here to join us tonight,” Paige pleads, turning back toward you with wide eyes.

You giggle as the girls all jump in, interrupting each other in an attempt to persuade you to come out with them.

You cut them off, trying to stop the cacophony that was echoing off the walls of the gym. 

“I would love to come, but I really have a lot of work to catch up on,” you reason. “If I finish up early, I’ll text you, Paige.” 

Paige nods at this, but you don’t miss the glum look that flits across her face. You sigh half-heartedly, suddenly feeling guilty. You hated making excuses. It was just so hard sometimes, liking her.

“Have fun, guys,” you wave before making your exit from the arena.

As you walk back to your dorm, you feel the pit in your stomach grow larger, enveloping you. Of course you wanted to spend time with Paige, but pining mixed with alcohol and the sensual music of a bar would cause cracks in the hard foundation of your skillful indifference. 

You had been perfecting it since freshman year, but with the way Paige had you feeling lately, you knew it wouldn’t take much for everything to come crashing down.

Walking through your door and sitting at your computer, you get to work, trying to distract yourself. After reviewing your notes for the tenth time and finishing your nursing care plan, you glance at the clock.

Fuck.

It was only 10:30. The girls would probably just be arriving at the bar now, and you really wanted to go meet up with them. 

‘Screw it,” you think. You are going to get drunk tonight, and you’re gonna look hot. You whip out your phone and send a quick text to Paige. Your heart races as she instantly responds. You needed to get your shit in order. Your emotions could not get the best of you tonight.

Over at Ted’s, Paige’s bored expression had quickly turned into an excited grin, causing her teammates to exchange looks of interest.

“What’s got you smiling like that, P?” asks Nika.

“More like who,” smirks KK, glancing at Paige’s phone at your text.

“I don’t know what you’re talkin’ about,” Paige grumbles, trying to hide her blush with her drink.

“Oh c’mon, Paige, this crush is getting ridiculous. Just tell the damn girl you like her,” Azzi demands. “We’re all getting tired of watching you pine over her.”

“Pine?” sputters Paige. “I’m hardly pining. If anything, I’m just admiring…” she trails off.

“Sure, P,” KK drawls sarcastically. “Nothing like admiring your friend’s ass.” 

The other girls snort derisively. KK was not at all off base with that observation.

“Whatever, I need another drink,” grumbles Paige. “Gotta be drunk when my friend shows up.”

Paige walks off, and the second her teammates lose sight of her, they circle up to discuss.

“Jesus, we really need to do something to fix this shit,” Ice says firmly. 

“For real, this is straight embarrassing now!” KK agrees loudly.

Azzi contemplates for a second, before a smirk slides onto her face. “I know what we can do. The only way to get Paige to make a move is to make her super jealous. We can all take turns flirting, and boom! We’ll have two happy lovebirds before we even know it!”

The ploy causes the other girls to laugh hysterically, reveling in the idea of a jealous Paige.

“Sounds perfect!” Nika laughs. “Paige is gonna hate us, but she will be fine once she finally admits her feelings.”

The rest of the girls agree, sipping their drinks and taking great pleasure in what would be coming. 

About an hour later, you walk into the bar feeling incredibly anxious. You were confident in the way you looked; tight jeans with rips that allowed the smooth flesh of your upper thigh to peak out, and a top that showed off your curves deliciously. Lips glossy and hair blown out, you were alluring, wanting all eyes on you tonight. You figured if you got hit on enough, you could distract yourself from Paige’s enticement. Little did you know it’d be at the hands of her own teammates.

You stretched your neck, scouring the bar for the basketball team. Considering their height, they were easy to spot. Flouncing over, you are greeted with the loud, drunken cheers of your favorite girls. 

You giggle at their enthusiasm, suddenly feeling more at ease. You look around, trying to spot the long blonde hair and the wide smile that constantly occupies your consciousness. 

“Where’s P?” you ask casually, trying to avoid any suspicion. This causes the faces of the aforementioned teammates to exchange sly glances that immediately have you worried.

“Oh, she's just over by the bar talking to some brunette,” Nika responds, attempting to gauge your reaction. Luckily, you had been training for this over the last several years.

Did it fucking hurt? Sure, it was like you were being stabbed repeatedly with a fucking knife, but no biggie. You could handle it.

“Cool,” you mumble, staying aloof. “I’m gonna grab a drink...”

Your reaction causes the girls to hoot with laughter once you’re out of reach.

“This is so mean. I feel bad,” mutters Caroline. “I thought we were only going to make Paige jealous…”

“It’s more fun this way. It’s like a secret mission!” KK exclaims. “Getting both of them jealous is fuckin’ perfect.”

As you walk over to the bar, you see Paige talking to a girl. She is smiling in a way that had your stomach doing somersaults, and your face screws up into a look of annoyance. Attempting to ignore the obnoxious giggles of the girl Paige was wooing, you flag down the bartender and order a double of your favorite drink. Lord knows you would need the extra alcohol tonight. 

You look around apprehensively, trying to move time forward with your brain. Your sobriety, in addition to the crammed bar, had you feeling panicked. You needed to get away from Paige before you combusted from jealousy.

Thanking the bartender, who finally slides your drink towards you, you head back to the basketball team, eventually catching Paige's attention.

Pretending you didn’t see your blonde best friend, you bring your straw to your lips in a seductive manner, catching it with your tongue and relishing in the way the alcohol begins to cloud your inhibitions. 

Paige trails behind you, desperately trying to avoid staring at your jean-clad ass.

KK doesn’t miss this. Neither does Ice. They share shit-eating grins, making mocking faces towards Paige, who flips them off in return, a look of embarrassment covering her face. 

You finally turn around, giving up your bit of pretend indifference. 

“Oh hey, P,” you say breezily. “Didn’t see you behind me.”

Before Paige could respond, Azzi is already wrapping her free hand around your waist, bringing her closer to you. She says, “I missed you. C’mon, let’s go dance.”

The blonde’s eyes narrow, but Azzi is already leading you towards the brightly colored dance floor before she could respond to you. 

“The fuck?” Paige mumbles under her breath as the rest of the team exchanges deranged giggles at her shock.

The truth was that Paige was terrible at sharing. Especially you. Even before she wanted anything more than a friendship with you, Paige slightly resented anyone who took away your time and attention from her. 

The signs were so clear. So fucking clear.

Half of the girls follow you to the dance floor, leaving the others to stay with a pouting Paige. Her reaction to Azzi’s contact gives you the tiniest amount of hope, and it gives you a second wind of confidence. 

You dance with the girls, slightly confused at their antics. You were close with all of them, but the touching and incessant compliments had your head spinning.

What the hell was going on? 

Paige was usually the one clinging to you, wanting to make you blush and giggle. Tonight she was acting like a wounded puppy. Her face continuously flashing between a clenched jaw of annoyance and straight bitterness. 

Your attempts to avoid looking at her were futile. This did not go unnoticed by the team, who looked like they were enjoying your longingness way too much. 

You look up at Azzi, begging her with your eyes to tell you what was going on with Paige tonight. 

“Why is she acting like this?” you ask no one in particular, just trying to deduce the weird energy that had accompanied the entire night. The girls shrug and avoid the question altogether, carrying on with their laughing and gyrating.

You sigh, exhausted from the game they were clearly playing. You needed more alcohol or it was going to be a rough night; you were too sober to deal with this. 

“C’mon, shake those hips,” an evidently very drunk Nika, whispers in your ear with a smirk. She brings a hand down to rest on your waist, the other trailing down your back…lower and lower. You look at her, slightly shocked at the affection. Before Nika’s hand could even reach your ass, you feel yourself being ripped away from her by a swearing Paige.

“What the actual fuck, dude?” Paige all but yells at her Croatian teammate, her eyes wild with anger and her jaw clenched with an impressive amount of control. 

Nika just laughs at Paige’s overreaction, along with every other girl on the team.

“What’s wrong, P?” Azzi asks with a mocking tone. “Pissed that someone other than you touched your girl?”

Paige’s voice falters as she responds, “she’s not my girl…just don’t want her to be uncomfortable or whatever…”

Hearing Azzi refer to you as Paige’s girl made your head spin. What the fuck does that mean?

Your head quickly bounces between a smirking Nika, an uncomfortable-looking Paige, and the rest of the team, who were trying and failing, to hold in their laughter.

“I’m confused…” you trail off in a quiet attempt to get some answers.

A few seconds of silence pass before KK breaks it. “Girl boo, just talk to Paige. And use protection.”

Excuse me, what?

The girls vacate the area, leaving you and the blonde staring at each other, both afraid to make the first move.

“Let’s walk back to my apartment. We can talk there,” Paige finally mutters. 

You let out a breath you didn't even realize you were holding. Things felt vulnerable. Like one wrong move and everything would come crashing down into oblivion. You didn't want your relationship with Paige to be ruined; your one-sided crush already disrupting the delicate balance of it all.

The ten minute walk back to Paige’s felt like years. The air was heavy, constricting your entire being. You held back a sob as the dread seeped into your soul. You couldn’t let Paige see you cry; it was embarrassing enough knowing that she probably already knew of your feelings.

You would get through this. Just let her let you down easy and then you could escape.

As you mentally plan the funeral for your friendship, Paige reaches for your hand, cold from the bitter chill of the night. Your reflexes are quick, wanting to rip it away from her in an attempt to guard the tiniest bit of pride left in you, but you still. 

Nevertheless, you wanted her. And even worse, you needed her. So you allow her to gently take your hand, interlacing your fingers and rubbing a thumb over the smooth skin soothingly. 

It felt so intimate, and the tears in your eyes threatened to spill over your cheeks once more. You glance up, feeling relief as you spot the parking lot of the apartment building. 

As you enter Paige’s room, you look around, trying to memorize everything that made up your friend. ‘This’ll probably be the last time I’ll be here,’ you think solemnly, gazing at the purple comforter thrown haphazardly over the unmade bed. No more giddy nights spent pressed against the blonde, praying she can’t feel the thumping of your heart as she cuddles you.

You sit on the bed warily, readying yourself for the rejection from your most favorite person in the entire world. 

Paige can tell you’re anxious. You unconsciously pick at your fingernails, and your bottom lip is already swollen from being habitually bitten.

She sits beside you, placing a hand over yours again, as if she thinks it belongs there for some reason. In your version of the story, it did. Everything that was yours belonged to Paige.

“I have to tell you something. And I'm really not sure how you’ll react…” Paige trails off, hesitant of how to approach the situation. She clears her throat and continues, “I have feelings for you. I know you probably don’t feel the same, but it’s fine. And the girls knew tonight and were messin’ with me. They thought if they made me jealous enough, I’d do somethin’ about my feelings. And I guess they were kinda right.”

Upon hearing the long winded confession, your ears start ringing and your heart feels as if it might actually combust. 

She has feelings for you? 

You pinch your thigh, slightly wincing at the pain before your face slides into an elated grin. This was actually real.

She has feelings for you. 

Paige searches your face for some sort of guess on how you were reacting to her maundering. With the alcohol still in your system and the shock of her words still reverberating through you, you could do nothing except launch yourself at her gorgeous mouth.

She squeals, momentarily caught off guard by your sudden movement before realizing that the pining she had been doing the last several years was in fact mutual.

Your lips collide, fuckin’ finally, in a kiss that could only be described as heavenly. It was passionate and slow, deliberately savoring the feel and taste of what had been only daydreams for a very long time. 

Ultimately needing to break away for some air, you gaze at each other, reveling in the idea that the pain and heartbreak of years of pining and jealousy was no longer. It was peaceful. It made sense to you, though. Paige was your peace, and you were hers.

Laying down together, you whisper fondly, “I love your teammates so much. Even if their methods are a bit crazy, they really do mean well.”

Paige chuckles in reply. “We are so getting them back for that little stunt, though, right?”

“Of course,” you hum. “Two can play at that game.”

[passmethatcokezero]

hot and bothered... (18+ // woozi!friends with benefits au) pt. 2

- jihoon x fem!reader - 4.4k words - warnings: smut. minors dni! bff!woozi is hot and bothered at work so bff!you came to the rescue, here comes the hoo-haa!, penetration, mention of pills (ALWAYS use protection!), overstimulation, loud af on bed!jihoon (we love a moaning and whimpering man) goshwhy is needy Jihoon so hot, friends-to-lovers (almost), some fluff here and there. enjoy! - tagging: @cherrylovescheol @syluslittlecrows

[ part one ]

The clothes that once added a sense of thrill to your heated session were now flying across the room. No more game-changers or whatnot, there is a mutual craving to be satisfied and you both wanted it now.

Albeit having your patience tested by the journey home, the kiss you two shared has never been this innocent and slow (not like you two have had so many.) This time felt like something in the air had just shifted, and you two were savoring the newfound connection. His weight on top of yours, lightly, careful not to crush you. Slightly suffocating as your mouth is being occupied but still bearable, it even makes you feel safe and comfortable. Your hands softly treading through his hair until you found a spot to tug onto as he deepens the kiss, dipping his now bare hips to the bare yours.

The hint of contact of his hardened cock to your dripping pussy had you arching your back, almost pulling his hair as you unintentionally broke the kiss. He smirked, trying to hide the hiss he just made and how the contact almost had him exploding as well. You were too wet for his sanity, and he knows it’s because of him, and now only for him.

“So… how would you like to be fucked tonight, princess?”

You choked, almost wanting to slap him for making you laugh, or maybe you weren’t used to him actually calling you princess in ways other than snarky, when he only called you that to mock you for your bratty tendencies.

“I’d like to make it quits. You made me feel like royalty earlier.” He kisses your neck down to your chest.

“Actually, I don’t mind the tempo right now.” You had your eyes close, trying to feel the trail of kisses his supple lips leave onto your shivering skin. “Just don’t tease too much or—”

“Or what?” he smirks once again, this time being a full-time menace, rubbing his dripping tip against your wet folds.

“Fuck you,” you glared at him with hooded eyes, brows furrowed from annoyance mixed with lust. “Fuck you, Jihoon.”

“My pleasure, princess.”

Jihoon cannot stop thinking, does edging turn you on? Or you just wanted to take your time? He knows he isn't your first. You had told him about the guy you met in college, a total bastard who left some cash the next morning and a rather sweet note of thanks as if it could console your shattered ego. Or that selfish one who only fucked you for quick satisfaction. And this woman who made you feel so good you almost had a thing for scissors until you realized it was just a spur of the libido confusing your sexuality.

But Jihoon, he never told you he actually never had sex. The workaholic never had a relationship, but somehow you had always thought he must have been getting laid because how on earth could he subtly refer to making love on some of his lyrics if has not had one? The only thing you knew about his sex life was how he actually had his own moments most of the time, just like how he confessed in the studio earlier. Oh and that one time you gifted him a fleshlight as a payback for gifting you a vibrator on your eighteenth birthday because you imposed on him and your group of friends that you will only be accepting useful things for your birthday from then on (that was the first time he called you princess, by the way).

His hand made its way to your abdomen down to your mound, even though his dick was itching to just finish the night off. But like what he said, it’s his pleasure to give you a royalty treatment tonight.

His finger did not need much time to tease your opening, and slips right into your hole with ease. “Jihoon-ah…” you whimpered his name, as his mouth met yours after telling you how tight you were.

His slender finger creating friction with your hole was enough to send you into a moaning mess while his mouth conquers your chest, giving both nipples attention as equals as he can.

“So wet, for me.” Indeed, he was right. You must like edging and keeping your release until you cannot anymore. What a naughty princess, he thinks. Another finger joins in, knowing one cannot stretch you out to his size. 

Jihoon’s is thick, there’s no denying you had your fair share of curiosity about it since you have seen a hint of it when he wears his favorite sweatpants. But of course, you wanted to remain wholesome so you just shrug away some unthinkable thoughts that once crossed your mind, at least that was before the first kiss you two shared. Ever since then, there had been a few times you allowed yourself to think about him when you were horny because, how would it feel, having that kind of feisty relationship with someone you hold close?

“Aren’t you a little too tight?” Beads of sweat were already forming on his forehead and you were unsure if he was just exerting a lot of effort fingering you, or maybe holding himself from jumping into you. He retracts his hand and kisses you again, before slipping his fingers coated in your juice straight into his mouth. He moaned into a lip bite. How come you tasted so sweet, just like how he must have imagined?

He was really down bad and aching for you he did not have any idea he just said that out loud.

“You’ve thought of me?”

“What? Did I…?”

You chuckled at how his eyes went wide, “Yes, you just said that out loud.”

“God I’m fucked…” He mumbled under his breath.

“You can have more,” you told him, widening your legs which signalled him to get in between and he did not waste time thinking if you really just said that, just like how he did not catch himself saying his thoughts out loud.

His mouth was warm, making you feel things and even questioning yourself if you’re doing something so sinful right now, having someone not your boyfriend eating you out while you were arching your back and moaning his name out loud for your neighbors to hear. You can’t help it, his tongue was so good flicking your clit and playing with your hole while sending vibrations through his moans, all the while staring at you with hooded eyes like was trying to engrave that image of you writhing under his spell in his mind to become a memory he would like to go back to anytime he wanted to. Oh, you’re just so glad he is just married to his work and nobody else. 

There were tears in your eyes already, trying to hold back the impending release. He was just so naturally talented at eating you out that you did not realize you were humping his mouth wanting for more. Jihoon, who has been really attentive throughout the night, tried to increase intensity when he heard your moans pitching higher, turned airy as if you were losing your voice to the nirvana you surrendered yourself into.

“Jihoon, I’m close… fuck…” his fingers once again made contact with your hole, fucking your spot as his tongue focused its pressure on your clit. The stimulation was too much taht you began seeing white at the back of your eyes, and not long enough you were clenching around his fingers.

“Go on, come for me,” amid the clouding of your hearing, you heard Jihoon’s voice sounded hoarse, which made you feel even hotter causing you to squirm and finally release your cum.

He was quick to slurp you clean of your release, humming at every sip as if it was his favorite drink. Not even coke zero can make him moan the way your taste quenches his thirst for you.

He then wipes his mouth with his arm, “I can have that all day,” he hisses and proceeds to make your mouth his again, tasting yourself in the process. It was wild, you thought, you’ve never really tasted your own even though you had been curious before. And now you just had to, straight from your friend’s delectable tongue.

The kiss once again turns somewhat slow, as you calm yourself from your high while he preserves his energy for perhaps another round if you’re not too tired enough. Anyway, his cock is still hard. It's like a never-ending cycle now because you wanted him to come, a testament to the kind of relationship you have—a very generous one. 

“I like how you kiss me…” you blurted all of a sudden. “They feel like… confessions I have never gotten.”

His eyes meet yours, a gaze like a thousand stars have been sucked inside it. It was one you’ve rarely seen him with, one which only comes out when he talks about how proud he is of the current song he is working with, or that one time you two had hours of debate over the best animes you have ever watched.

“Never gotten? Or never taken?” he wanted to ask, rhetorically that is, but his lips never moved, nor his voice made even a minute of a sound. He’d rather kiss you again, and tell you more of the words that had stayed hidden behind the walls of his mouth. He’d rather have his tongue tied for now, if it means with yours and let his actions speak. Even if you won’t still get it.

He liked the way you kissed him too, if only he could tell. He liked how your mouth synchronizes with his, and moves in perfect harmony. He liked how you get sloppy sometimes when you are trying to catch your breath, or how you adjust when it is him who gets messy because his mind just can’t control his speed. Or how you moan inside his mouth, warm breath enveloping his wet cavern that sends electricity throughout his body. He liked the way his tongue fights for dominance with yours, but even more so when they’re just simply dancing to the rhythm of his heartbeats.

Lost in thoughts, he did not realize you had him toppled over until he felt your hand over his chest, and your damp folds grazing against his girth.  “Ah fuck…” both of you chorused, making him chuckle.

“If you want it so bad…”

“Yeah, acting as if you weren’t the one who almost broke my door coming here.” you rebutted, rolling your eyes.

“It got stuck!”

“It’s extra protection!”

“Oh shit, now that you said it” he suddenly perks up, “I almost forgot,” he says squandering about to get to his pants, flailing to the air a foil packet he had been keeping in his wallet. 

“Are you sure that thing is not expired?”

He scoffs as he makes his way back to bed, “actually, maybe.” he checks the packet and to his horror, it has been way past due. “Yeah yeah, way to slap me in the face. Thanks, universe.”

“Sorry I didn’t mean to laugh, oh my gosh.” you were almost brought to tears by the comedic timing of it all. He really had not gotten laid. Poor boy, everyone knows he very much deserved it considering he had been busy his entire life.

“I have pills, don’t worry.” his face lights up, but it is still evident how annoyed he was at the situation.

“I’m sorry, I… I won't forget next time…” and then his own words struck him. “Shit, I mean—”

You chuckled at the flushing of his face. He looked so embarrassed, you did not have the heart to tease him anymore assuming there would be more sexy encounters after today. Besides, you’ve been craving for some action now.

“You know I can always keep you company—that is until I get myself a boyfriend,” you pulled him close, as you settled underneath him, head nested in between his two arms that support his weight.

His eyes once again turned soft, as one hand began tracing your cheek, trailing to the back of your ear. “I think… I know someone,” nose scrunching while smiling ear to ear, his eyes turned crescent at his own words, cringing at what sounded like a hard-sell.

“Oooh, I’d like to meet him,” your smirk drowns in the kiss that once again began, while his body shifts so that his tip aligns with your entrance. Your knees instinctively wrap around his waist. 

“I’m going in, “ he says in courtesy when he had his head right in your opening, making both of you gasp for air. You didn’t even ask for it but nonetheless had you melting for his consideration, especially when he adds, “You wanted it slow, right?”

And with your nod, he goes in painfully slowly that gradually leaves you in pleasure. He was hard and thick, your hole contracting to his size as it delicately found its way inside. It was your first time for so long you forgot dicks can get this big. You clung onto him, while his mouth rested just by your ears, whispering sweet nothings to comfort you.

He kisses you passionately as your warmth envelopes him whole, taking time for you to adjust. He was a perfect fit inside, as if his cock was molded out of your hole, and it's driving you crazy the breathy moans just wont stop coming out of your lungs. You slowly opened your eyes and it was met by his, looking intently at your face with the same thought plastered on his face: you want him just as much as he wants you—both your eyes tell, no words needed. 

He began moving his hips in long thrusts to initiate his rhythm. Mouths hovering over another, catching each others’ breaths as your hips met his. “Fuck,” he curses under his breath as he increases his speed as well as the depth of his thrust. “You feel so, so good.”

Jihoon was just as loud as you are, if not louder. You kinda liked it, a man moaning to his pleasure, not afraid to admit how needy he can be nor stingy for reactions. And you had to admit, it just turned you on even more. 

“Jihoon… fuck… you’re so hot.” 

Jihoon, feeling the rush of wetness from inside you and also hearing his name through your whimpers, was going insane stopping himself not to pound onto you, drilling into your hole until you were begging for mercy. You were just so wet that it makes it so much easier to thrust inside deeper and faster, but he can save it for another time. For now, you were his princess, he keeps reminding himself. He’s got orders to fulfill, unless you amend it yourself, he will gladly obey.

“You’re so fucking wet… and tight… fuck.” he trailed the last word as he increased his intensity unknowingly, which you didn’t mind. 

“Harder… please…” 

He follows suit, pulling far and pushing deep into you in perfectly timed intervals. He definitely got rhythm, perks of being a composer, you thought, you have to tell him that later as a compliment.

“Like that, oh sh- ahh…” you cannot even form words anymore, the way he makes you feel so good was almost inconveniencing the wiring of your brain. Your body now sprawled on the bed, no other movements, just your back arching and…

And your fingers interlaced with his.

The scene felt like two passionately infatuated people making love. You two were connected south of your heated bodies, but that did not seem enough for him; he had to lock his free hand with yours just by his chest.  Heck you did not even notice how he planted kisses on the back of your hand when you were busy trying to savor how inch by inch your hole gets filled.

He is great in bed, you gotta admit, and he can be romantic as well. Why was he single again?

“I… I think I’m…” close. He knows. He felt you clenching around him.

“Yeah,” he speeds up, as he can feel him coming too. “Together?”

You nod mindlessly, gasping at the speed he is now going. The pitch ofn his moans went higher, almost sounding like a cry. The thrusting went on not long before both of you finally climaxed in unison. His forehead rests on yours, hand on your cheeks and weight slumped onto you as he rides out your high. He’d like to believe that got him tired, but not exhausted. He can definitely go for rounds given he gets rest for a while, if he gets permission that is.

He groans as he pulls himself out, a decision which gained a whine from you. The guy just chuckles as he pumps himself dry. The view looked mesmerizing, him with an afterglow, sweaty in full glory, and face contorting to pleasure accompanied by guttural moans he did not try to suppress even a bit. You imagined, does he look like that, flushed in red, shining from the little light inside the room, when he touches himself?  You thought there's nothing sexier than a JIhoon who is fully immersed in his projects. Well, you just have gotten corrected.

You leaned into him, feeling his breath touch your lips. Your eyes still hooded from your release, and you’re still a bit sensitive but damn, you’re craving for more.

“You look hot like that,” you just had to say it. There’s nothing to lose in being honest in words and in action, right?

“Uh-huh, how’s that for a boyfriend?”

“I’d love it,” You bit your lips, standing on your knees to straddle him in between. Your eyes are still hooded, and your hole sensitive. But damn, your friend over here just looked a little too irresistible and you just craved for more.

You sat on his thigh as your mouth found its way to his neck, hitting that sweet spot of his right off the bat. He was hissing at the contact, leaning backwards with support of his one arm. “No way… You’re going to make me hard again in no time.”

That’s exactly what you were aiming for. The night has just started anyway. Might as well spend the whole time enthusiastically riding out fantasies. Jihoon himself had too many of them. He got advantage, he need not think hard and just live the dream. Daydeams, rather.

The guy cannot believe he is not gonna touch his fleshlight tonight. You were here right on top of him, making out as you went down on him, reaching the twitching target that was just gaining filled up yet again.

Your tongue traced his shaft from its base, maintaining eye contact with him. He tried so hard to keep it, but failed because your naughty tongue makes it difficult for him to. The process was all too familiar, you had your own practices at this very mattress accompanied by your dildo when you’re alone. The fascinating thing now is that you witness it grow right in front of your eyes as you give your full attention to it.

“How are you so good at this—hmmphhfuck!” His brows are furrowed and mouth hanging wide, obviously having the time of his life watching your mouth take him in whole. He has gone full erect in no time after bucking his hips for a few seconds and then deciding he misses your pussy around him.

“Come here baby,” he pulls you for a kiss, with your knees automatically straddling him in between. It was like he had been away for a long time the way your arms wrapped around his shoulder, kissing him deeper. Your throbbing wet folds full of arousal was resting against his pulsating girth, making you moan in between kisses.

“Fuck, I can’t get enough of you,” his kisses went sloppy as he goes into your neck, and also your chest, giving your erect nipples more attention it deserves.

“God… I need you too, Jihoon-ah…. I need more please….”

You did not need to beg, but hearing it with your needy voice and lustful eyes had him acting from adrenaline, pulling your body closer, groping you as if you would even run away from his arms. His cock was poking your entrance by then, and you let yourself sink on it almost immediately without warning.

“Fuck!” screamed halfway through, when Jihoon himself thrusted up so he can fill you in, albeit he himself is still a bit sensitive.

The sting was quick to be washed out by sensual gratification as the overstimulation picked up your pace when you began riding him. 

“Holy shit,” tears well up in your eyes, as you writhe in pleasurable pain. Jihoon too was moaning out loud, gaining his momentum in thrusting upwards as fast as he could. Your bodies were clinging into each other, sweats mixing and skin slapping, but nothing matters. Not the sound of pattering rain drops outside the window, nor the volume of your moans that may have already reached the maximum your walls can hide, not even the creaking of the bed that has reached the floorboards. Only the pleasure you share is important right now, and nothing should come in between.

“Hold it, please…” Jihoon spoke in behind his gritted teeth when he felt you clenching around him. “Please… just….a little bit more…” He goes on thrusting, losing his rhythm once in a while due to his greed in taking his precious time with your clenched pussy.

You can feel him holding his release as well through his flexed thigh muscles and his eyes shut tight. “Fuck I dont wanna cum yet… i dont wanna cum… please….”

You were already shaking your head, arms hugging him tight to support yourself. His moans suddenly dips as he chokes on his own, and then gradually changes into whimpers like he is the neediest person in town.

“Ji… I can’t….hold it—” exhaling a breathy moan, you squirmed in his arms, head falling down his shoulder while panting heavily from your release. Jihoon came simultaneously, filling you up as he stayed inside for a while, catching his breath to its normality. Both pulsating and sensitive, no one dared to move a single muscle.

It took a while when one of you was consciously looking for the other’s lips. It was a simple kiss, a short one, but holds a lot of words he’s been meaning to tell you. He cooes, your name sweetly slipping off his drying throat.

“Hmm?” you hummed, as you rested your forehead against his, letting his hand cup your cheeks. 

“What do you think?”

You chuckled at his words. He is insufferable. He really can’t wait until you’re all cleaned up and cozy? 

“Actually, save it. I gotta clean up my princess before anything else.”

If there was an award for being the most outstanding service of an aftercare, Jihoon would have another plaque to be displayed somewhere not in his studio. It was a premium experience, even getting warm towels for the both of you before submerging you in a hot, bubble bath, complete with aromatherapy applying your lavender-scented lotion all over you right after. Stepping out of the bathroom in robes, he goes straight to your kitchen, you following him behind. He insisted actually, he wanted you to stay comfortable in your room, but you figured you did not need that right now. You just enjoyed his company way too much tonight, and you can’t seem to find another spot at home comfortable unless he was right beside you.

He prepares you a cup of warm tea just as how you preferred while he picks some drink available in your fridge.

“Banana milk? Are you sure? I’ve got juice over there.”

“Yeah, this is fine.”

“Sorry, no soda.” you shrugged with an apologetic smile.

You were sitting at the high chairs by your mini bar, with him by the edge as he pokes the carton with the straw. You stared at him for a moment, head full but no thoughts being formed.

“Ah, you were asking earlier,” you broke the stare before he senses it. “I’d be honest with you and say, that was probably the best sex I have ever had so far.”

“Pfft,” he laughs, without looking at you, trying to hid the blush forming on his cheeks. Too bad you can see his ears reddening. “Yeah?”

“Yeah…” at this point you were trying to calm the butterflies that started fluttering inside your stomach, distracting yourself as you dunk the teabag in the fully saturated cup of water. What is this sudden, stupid feeling in your gut? “Gotta give credit to your musicality. You’ve got a perfect rhythm. Oh and how your moans harmonized with mine. It literally sounded like music. You were also good with your mouth, and how you touch me. Attentive as well, the entire night. And the aftercare was a total royal treatment! And uhm…” you paused when you realized you were just babbling, staring at the ripples created by swirling the teaspoon in your tea. “Oh my gosh… sorry I got carried away.”

“No it was fine, I think I also wanted to hear that. Like a feedback you know,”

“for reference next time, huh?”

He chokes on his drink, dipping his head down in embarrassment. “No I mean…”

“I am looking forward to it,” you muttered cutting his words, as your eyelashes fluttered, feeling a bit tired yet relaxed.

He looks at you in full adoration, and a hint of boosted ego. God, why are you the most beautiful person in the world and why is he lucky to have you this close to him? Even looking forward to next time?

“I do too. I actually think we’re compatible in bed…” he says rather shyly in reference with what you told him earlier. 

“Right…” you trailed. He meets your eye almost a millisecond long (short), and goes to sip his beverage until it’s empty. He breathes deeply, as he disposes of the trash all the while avoiding any contact with your eyes as he came back, not able to hide how he suddenly feels so nervous around you right now. You can’t help but shake your head. Gosh, Jihoon, can’t you be any more dense than this?

“We do seem compatible, no?” you continued, waiting for him to look at you again. He does, revealing the blush that never left his face, and your next words deepens its hue even more.

“...how’s that for a girlfriend?”

hope you enjoyed this as much as i did writing it! ^^ here's the prequel because we need it!!!

[teslasucks37]

still thinking abt tommy saying “smash” for charlie in his smash or pass vid and im giggling and twirling my hair bc hes SO REALLL i would be super comfortable w experimenting w slime he would be so sweet 🥰

likeee okie hear me out,,, asking him to help practice w kissing and hes sooo sweet and guides u thru it ans then oops!! gets a little too heated and yall end up fucking lmaooo

- sloobiesanon

CW: NSFW under the cut, BestFriend!Charlie, Dom!Charlie, Corruption Kink, afab!Reader (Fem clothing but no pronouns), Ownership Kink, HornyVirgin!Reader, Slight Degredation

A/N: Omg I need that dick I NEED THAT DICK!!! This is 2.5k words… 😨

Charlie Slimecicle x Reader

Experimentation

Charlie was speechless, his palms sweating into the material of his jeans.

The two of you had been sitting on your couch watching a movie, completely innocent, until you’d brought up the fact that you were going on a date the next day.

Your first date ever.

“You wanna…”

“Please? I just- I don’t want to tank my first date because I’m inexperienced.” You pleaded, your body turned to face him completely.

Charlie was your best friend.

You’d known each other since sophomore year of college, being practically inseparable ever since, even becoming roommates after graduating around a year ago.

And for all those years that he knew you, never once did you mention your dating life.

He supposed this was why.

He felt stiff next to you, not uncomfortable, just processing. “And so… You want me to…”

You frowned, burrowing your face in your hands. “Please don’t say it again, I already feel weird.”

“No! It’s not…” Charlie stammered, struggling to find what words he really meant. “You don’t need to be embarrassed… I just…”

He didn’t want you to feel bad.

It was flattering, if anything, that you trusted him enough to even ask.

And it’s not like he didn’t want to kiss you…

He did.

He really did.

And maybe that was the problem…

But when you were sitting across from him, eyes big and pleading, how could he ever find it in himself to deny you?

“Just to practice?” He asked softly, glancing at you nervously, his teeth chewing on the inside of his cheek.

You nodded frantically, scooting closer to him like a nervous puppy. “I would also appreciate… Tips.”

He chuckled, almost in disbelief at how open you were being about this. “If it won’t… Make anything weird-“

“It won’t, scouts honor!” Your hand shot up, your open hand facing toward him.

Charlie grinned, reaching for your hand and folding your thumb and pinky finger into your palm to form an actual scout’s salute.

His touch was warm in your hand, lingering for just a moment too long.

“Okay.”

“Really?” You released your salute to grip onto his hand, something you would do often, grabbing his hand to reassure him or ask for his help.

He’d originally seen it as an innocent gesture, just something you did with all your friends, but when you were holding his hand asking him to kiss you, asking him to take away your chance for a real first kiss, he wasn’t so sure it was completely innocent anymore.

“Yeah.” Charlie’s tone was low, not realizing how close you’d gotten to him until then, glancing at your lips. “I’ll help.”

Your heart skipped a beat.

You really didn’t think that would work.

But here he was, your best friend, ready to kiss you.

And as he leaned in, lips parting slightly, you closed your eyes and felt fireworks explode from your mouth, back to your cheeks and brain, blood rushing to every inch of your body.

Your hand twitched and tightened your grasp on each other.

Charlie’s lips were so soft, tasting like strawberry jelly, the donuts you’d eaten together just mere minutes ago.

You couldn’t move, couldn’t breathe.

Until he pulled away.

You nearly chased his lips, but took a deep breath instead.

Charlie grinned, a small smile that made his dimples obvious. “Breathe through your nose.”

You brought a hand to his shoulder, gently dragging him back to your lips, which he accepted.

He smelled like home, like comfort and joy.

You supposed you’d never noticed it before.

How he smelled.

Other men would wear colognes, musk mixed with spice or something oddly vascular.

But Charlie smelled vaguely of citrus, just the beginning hints of it, enough to recognize the smell but not enough to really identify it.

Every time you kissed him you felt something new.

A new depth of him that you’d never gotten to experience before.

But you wanted more.

So you pulled away.

He could see you getting frustrated, a look of upset in your eyes.

“But… How do I…”

He just grinned at your impatience. “I’ll show you…”

Your body shivered at his words.

“Open your mouth a little…” He whispered against your lips, waiting for you to do so before he pressed back into you.

His instructions made your mind race, you wanted him to teach you more, to tell you how to do everything just the way he liked it.

When your tongues touched it felt electric, causing you to jump slightly, before falling into a rhythm that made too much sense to pull away.

It felt so right, his familiar touch, his newly-familiar taste.

A tingling fell to below your chest, seating deep in your core.

Your thighs clenched at the sensation, giving only the smallest gratification to your clit.

You were so wet, you could feel it underneath your skirt, on your soaked panties that pressed against your thighs.

His tongue in your mouth was the only thing you’d ever imagined when pleasuring yourself.

When he pulled away, you knew you’d be chasing that feeling for the rest of your life.

But you could have it right now if you wanted, it was inches away from you, Charlie was right there to provide.

So you slowly leaned in to kiss him again, Charlie’s eyes fluttering shut as your lips met again.

He groaned into your lips as you climbed into his lap, straddling his hips and continuing to kiss him.

Charlie’s hands hovered just inches away from your waist, twitching with want, until he caved and cupped your body like it was breakable.

His own brain was melting, everywhere you touched felt like it was on fire.

He had to fight tooth and nail to keep his hands from lowering onto your ass.

This was just supposed to be practice, right?

But he gasped when you’d brushed against something hard beneath you, causing you to pull away, wondering if you’d done something wrong. “Sorry, I just-“

He didn’t have the words to explain himself, why he’d gotten hard at his best friend kissing him.

But you didn’t give a damn.

“Will you teach me?” You whispered to him, rubbing your clothed core on the hard print of his dick in his jeans.

Charlie’s brain nearly short circuited at the request. “Teach you… What?”

You thought for a moment, before you grabbed the hem of your shirt, rolling it up and off your body.

You wanted for him to see all of you.

To gaze at you through those eyes you’d tried so hard not to stare into for any longer than necessary.

You’d just felt so wrong, imagining him touching you, kissing you, fucking you…

You weren’t really sure how you actually felt about him.

Maybe you had a little crush on him and all of this talk of “inexperience” was just your way of creating something between you two.

A desperate attempt, you would admit.

You’d imagined him taking advantage of you in the smallest ways during sleepovers, watching you change through the door to your bedroom you may have intentionally left open just a crack once or twice.

Or catching him staring at the pair of slutty panties you’d one time left on your floor of your room just so he would see them.

One time, you’d thought about cuddling up to him during one of your sleepovers and rubbing your ass against him to egg him on, but you didn’t.

You just wanted him to do something.

But he didn’t.

He was just so nice.

So caring.

Completely respectful of you and your personal space.

But you didn’t want him to be respectful anymore.

You wanted him to want you as much as you wanted him.

Charlie’s eyes dilated at the sight of your tits, cupped in a cute little bra.

“Teach me how to make someone feel good…” You pleaded, your face flushed and hot.

Charlie opened his mouth to object.

He had definitely taken this too far.

He’d wanted you so bad, he’d managed to push aside any feelings to help you.

He just couldn’t do this with you if it wasn’t him that you actually wanted…

But how could he stop when you were practically begging him to keep going?

So Charlie’s hands released your waist, slither down between your bodies and unbuckling his belt.

You watched as his fingers unzipped his fly, opening his jeans to reveal his boxers, simple and black, before he pulled his cock from the confines of his clothes.

You felt your pussy flutter around nothing, the ache in your core getting stronger.

“Take your… Your hand.” Charlie stuttered, obviously embarrassed that he was exposed like this, but still trying to keep his cool.

He gripped your wrist, bringing your fingers slowly to his tip, flushed and leaking.

You shuddered at the feeling of a cock in your hand for the first time.

And not just any cock, Charlie’s.

He was smooth, but hard, the stiff muscle beneath the skin twitching at your touch.

He was breathing harder than you’d ever heard him before, practically panting as you experimentally circled over his slit with pre-cum beading over it.

“Just uh… Hah… Go slow.” Charlie mumbled, his gaze trained on your hand as you stroked him slowly.

The rasp in his voice made a warmth form in your brain, sliding like honey down your spine.

Your wrist turned around him slowly, pumping him up and down all the way down to his base.

“Squeeze tighter… I can take it.” He grinned, licking his lips and glancing between your legs.

In your passion, your skirt had managed to ride up on your thighs, revealing the slightest view of your panties to him.

They were soaked, darker in the middle where your pussy had drooled all over itself.

You followed his instructions, tightening your grip on him and speeding up just slightly.

“Fuck~” Charlie’s head fell back, letting out a groan at your movements. “Yeah, just like that.”

You felt your chest heave, watching him struggle to keep sounds down.

It wasn’t fair, you wanted to feel good too.

So you took your hands off him.

His head lifted to look up at you, eyes foggy and out of it. “Why’d you stop?” He slurred out, a hand moving to grip your thigh.

You whimpered with guilty eyes, so sensitive to his touch, which made his eyes widen.

“Oh…”

“I still haven’t…” You struggled to get the words out.

“And… You want me to…”

You nodded bashfully.

You wanted it to be him, needed it to be him.

You felt so safe with him.

You couldn’t imagine anyone else you would be willing to go this far with.

Both of you realized then that this wasn’t for practice anymore, but for your pure lust.

Charlie knew you hadn’t had sex yet.

It was one of the many things he teased you for.

But to hear it straight from your mouth when you were begging for his cock…

He wanted to fuck your virgin pussy and ruin you for anyone else.

You’d been such a whore in front of him so many times.

Every dirty thought he’d ever had toward you could finally come out to play.

Charlie’s fingers dug into the meat of your thigh. “You want me to fuck you?”

You nodded desperately, shy, yet so fucking horny.

He couldn’t resist, shoving his hands between your legs and moving the middle of your panties to the side to see the pretty little cunt that was so hungry for his cock.

Shit, he’d imagined what your pussy would look like for years, but nothing could compare to the real thing, so cute and wet for him.

He thought about having you bounce on him, but it just wouldn’t be enough.

Charlie needed to be so deep inside you that you would feel him for days afterward.

He needed to corrupt you, make you feel so good you’d never turn to someone else ever.

Turn you into such a cock hungry slut, you’d want him all the fucking time.

So he gripped your hips, flipping you around so you were on your knees for him on the couch.

He flipped your skirt up, moving your panties out of the way completely, and kissed your entrance with his tip.

“You want me to take your virginity?” He asked teasingly, moving half of the head of his cock in and out of you.

You breathed heavily, moaning and wiggling your ass at him. “Please, Char~ Fuuuck!”

Your pleads were cut off as he slowly sunk inside you.

It hurt a little, the pain only turning to pleasure when he stopped at the hilt, completely balls deep in you.

It was such an intoxicating feeling, having your best friend inside you.

“God, you’re so fucking tight.” Charlie moaned, trying an experimental movement of dragging out and slipping back in.

And it was so fucking easy cause of how wet you were.

So he thrusted harder, faster, making you whine even louder.

“Feels good?” He whispered to you, leaning down to grip your arms, pulling you back onto him vigorously.

You gripped his arms in tandem, pulling yourself back onto him. “Ooh~ yesss~”

“Practicing, my ass.” Charlie growled out, forcefully thrusting into you enough to punch the air out of your lungs. “You just wanted me to touch you like a little slut.”

You moaned in response, smiling wildly.

You knew it was true, every time he would tease you or make fun of you for being a virgin you’d have to restrain yourself from jumping his bones then and there.

Cause you knew he would be so nice and let you fuck him.

But if you knew sex would feel this good, you would have propositioned him so long ago.

“You’re all mine.” Charlie mumbled deliriously. “Pussy’s all mine…”

You felt so helpless, his iron grip on your arms releasing, sure to leave the most delicious bruises.

His fingers trailed around your body to grasp your tits, still sitting pretty in your bra, before he tugged it down and freed them, wrapping his big hands around them.

“Char~ Charlie~” You moaned, feeling him switch angles and pound up into a spot that made you see stars. “So deeeeeep! Aahh~”

“Yeah? Did I find your spot, baby?” He asked, pinching and tugging on your nipples. “Are you gonna cum?”

You nodded frantically, making him growl out a moan, going even harder and fucking into you with a fervor that only Charlie could give you.

“Ohhh fuuuuckk~” You cried out, grabbing the hem of his shirt and pulling him into you as you came, squirting everywhere on shaking legs, your pussy fluttering around him.

He let out a groan, his legs shaking as well as he pumped into you, cumming in tandem.

Your cum dripped down your legs, his balls, even the bottom of his shirt, the green fabric wet and smelling of sex.

Fuck, the whole room probably smelled like sex.

You finally could say that, too, knowing what that meant.

He pulled out, making you shudder, and laid down, bringing you into his chest.

“You should maybe uh… Cancel that date tomorrow…” Charlie chuckled under his breath, pressing a kiss to your temple.

You grinned in response, nuzzling into his neck. “Definitely.”