#probably texts like ‘can you even get your leg that high

[reidrum]

i think he knows

A/N: more doctor!reader!!!!!!! can you tell i love them. if you have requests for them please send them my way thank you <3

summary: in which spencer and reader try to find time for each other to have their first date

cw: doctor!reader, fluff, spencer being a flirt, medical talk

wc: 2.5k

A month passes before Spencer gets to see you again. A long, long month.

He stayed in the hospital for observation for another two days after meeting you, which were entirely medically necessary but don’t ask Spencer how his chest pain stopped the moment he signed the discharge papers because they just couldn’t keep him any longer. He knows it’s illogical, and a bit immoral, to fake symptoms for his personal gain. But who could blame him, had they seen you?

You didn’t make it any easier on him either, the times you’d check on him you’d leave him red for hours. Morgan had gotten suspicious seeing him be surprisingly high in spirits for someone who just got shot. You’d even talked to the nurses to get him extra jello, a love language in its own.

But his daydream was soon shattered upon his discharge, where he couldn’t just lay in a hospital bed and wait for you to come to him. He was to be sent to exile (home) to finish out the rest of his sentence (recovery), while he so agonizingly waits for the next chance to see you again.

The first day back home was already enough to send him into house fever, and he couldn’t even freely pace off the nervous energy because of his leg. You had given him your number, which meant he had to text you. It was a lot of pressure. He knew his assignment and yet couldn’t figure out what the right thing to start off this conversation with you should be.

Should he be formal and hit you with a simple Hello. Or give a bit of a flirty edge and add a heart emoji—one that Penelope taught him how to do, thank you very much. No, he should probably introduce himself since you don’t have his number. So you don’t think a random freak is trying to message you.

He types out a message and sends it before he can second guess himself anymore.

Spencer: Hey there, this is Spencer. Room 207?

Spencer flips his phone face down so he doesn’t manically check the notifications for your reply. You’re busy, you could be in surgery or doing rounds, or sleeping on a break or—Ding!

Or typing out a reply to him, perhaps.

You: Hi Spencer ☺️ how are you feeling? Spencer: Better now, how are you? You: Better now ;)

Oh, you’re everything to him.

Spencer: Are you on a break or am I bothering you? You: Lying down in an on call room bed! I love when you bother me please don’t stop

He actually giggles aloud, thank god he lives alone.

Spencer: Good, because I was running out of medical emergencies to fake just to get to see you again. You: Gasp, faking? Sweet talking works well on me, don’t get me wrong, but I might have to report you to the medical board. Spencer: I’m not that kind of doctor so I don’t think they’ll care, plus I think once they see you were my doctor they’ll side with me. You: Flattery will get you everywhere Spencer Reid be careful. Spencer: I’m sure hoping it does.

It goes on like that for a few weeks, to Spencer’s delight. Back and forth texting, the blatant flirting on both ends and his poor but endearing attempts to match it. He wants to get to know every part of you, and thankfully you’re just as curious as he is, so every waking minute either of you aren’t working ends up being spent by talking with each other.

Not just the casual things like where you grew up or where you went to school. No, he’s learned what your go to coffee shop order is, what latent hobbies you have hidden under your belt, what your favorite movie is and the specific line that makes it your favorite.

He’s told you about his favorite Doctor Who episodes—which you made him promise to show you someday, showed you pictures of his mom and his godson, his go to Indian food order for the place down from the office.

While Spencer loves talking to you, it’s simply not enough. He has to see you soon or he might combust spontaneously. He might do that anyway but it’s much more noble to have a good and valid reason to perish in such a way, like being in your presence.

Spencer: Hey, can I ask you something? You: Uh oh, I don’t like the sound of that. Spencer: Nothing bad, pinky promise. You: Ugh, the most sacred of promises <3 Okay, let’s hear it. Spencer: Are you free this Friday? You: AH I thought you’d never ask!! I am so free this friday night doctor, setting out my best dress just for you ;) Spencer: I’m sure everything you wear is beautiful, but I’m looking forward to seeing you again :) I’ll pick you up at 7? You: I’ll be waiting <333

He asks you out officially on Monday, and he spends the rest of the week praying to whatever unsub or case gods that are out there watching to calm down this week so they don’t get whisked away on a case. Tuesday through Wednesday only consisted of paperwork, and it gives him hope he might actually make it to Friday and finally get to see you. Even Morgan and Emily’s teasing of his suddenly happy mood can’t bring him down.

Thursday night comes around and he’s about ready to jump for joy as he finishes packing up his things. JJ walks by and he’s about to say goodbye to her when she waves a manila folder in the air, “Sorry Spence, conference room in 5.”

He deflates. So close.

Spencer lets his satchel slide off his shoulder and reluctantly pulls his phone out to open his message thread with you.

Spencer: Hi, I’m really sorry to do this but we just got called on a case. Do you think we could reschedule dinner? You: Hi handsome, don’t worry I understand. The world needs you crime fighters :) I’m free next friday?

He tries to ignore the way his heart stutters reading ‘handsome’ and types.

Spencer: I’ll make it up to you, I promise. Next Friday sounds great.  You: Be safe out there please Spencer: Always am. You: Need I remind you we met because you got shot on the job Spencer: That was one time, and I told the guy to shoot me. You: Yeah, that’s not making me feel better. Spencer: I’ll be safe, getting to see you next week will be my motivation to be extra careful. You: I’d hope you’re being careful regardless but whatever works for you, handsome <3 Spencer: Got a pretty girl waiting for me, I have to take extra precautions. You: Oooh that was good, you’re getting better at this Dr. Reid. Spencer: What can I say, you make it really easy. Spencer: Okay I have to go for the briefing, talk to you soon. You: Bye handsome 💞

The case comes and goes, an easy solve but it took a few more days than the team would like to admit for a case of this caliber. They return back only a week later and it’s another Thursday night where he’s hoping nothing steps in to prevent him from seeing you. He’s lucky in the sense that nothing is stepping in to prevent him from seeing you, FBI mandated break and all after a long case.

He’s not so lucky when you regretfully tell him you’re scheduled for surgery all day on Friday. You’re entirely too apologetic for his liking, for someone who flaked on you initially and had to alter your schedule to his. Especially for someone who, of all people, understands the busy lifestyles you both lead. He reassures you a thousand times over that it’s okay and that you can reschedule.

Spencer: Please stop apologizing, it’s okay I promise You: I just feel soooo bad. I was really looking forward to seeing you. Spencer: I know. But we’ll see each other soon. You: Promise? Spencer: Pinky. Did you eat anything? You: No I wasn’t hungry, too sad about not seeing your face. Spencer: A poor reason to starve yourself, I’m ordering food for you. Are you at the hospital? You: I’m at home but you don’t have to do that. Spencer: Okay but I want to, are you going to give me your address or will I have to find it myself? You: How are you going to do that? Spencer: I have my ways. You: It’s your tech analyst friend isn’t it Spencer: Maybe. You: So if I share your address it’s a HIPPA violation but when you do it no one bats an eye. Spencer: It’s for a worthy cause. Please let me do this. You: Fiiine. 1563 Rock Lakes blvd. What are you getting? Spencer: Thank you, honey. Pad thai with chicken satay. You: Ugh, you know me so well <3

To yours and Spencer’s dismay, this pattern continues on for another few weeks. Whenever your schedule finally clears, he gets dragged away on a case. When his schedule is clear you have back to back surgeries or consults. It’s like you just can’t get the timing right, no matter how hard you pine for each other.

The doubt travels and festers in both of your heads, the blatant evidence showing you that this may not work between you. Thing is, you both love your jobs too much to even try to accommodate the other. You’re both so busy you can’t even find time for one evening alone together.

Then George Foyet happened. The Haley Hotchner of it all, happened.

It hit the entire team hard, watching a colleague they viewed as family lose someone they loved so deeply and in such a torturous way. Spencer forced himself to take a step back and really evaluate what he was doing—was he willing to subject someone he cared about to the world he lives in? To the horrors they become exposed to? He still thinks about the heart attack he had when the Fisher King sent his mom a key after being in the same facility with her for some time. He’s not sure he can handle that kind of fear again.

Spencer knows he doesn’t have to do this, it’s so early in whatever this is between you both. You haven’t even had time to go on a date. Maybe your lives are just incompatible. Maybe he can save you before he ever even puts you in danger’s way—the ultimate act of valiant efforts in the form of preemptive measures. 

What you don’t know can’t hurt you, literally.

Ding!

But then you go and do something like this, where he gets to flip his phone over and blush red in the face at your name on the notification. That he gets to open his messages and be met with the beautiful sight of your face, smiling in a picture you took just for him showing off the coffee you got on your break and reading the book he recommended to you a few weeks ago.

And he’s just not sure if he can imagine a world where he doesn’t meet you and immediately fall in love with you.

Another week, another attempt at finally being able to take you on a date. Except this time fate has stepped in on both ends and sent Spencer on another case and you scheduled for surgery. Lovely.

The case goes fine again, save for the unsub with an overt penchant for clipping FBI agents aiming their guns at him. Enough damage to send him to the ER needing stitches on his forehead and a concussion evaluation.

The doctor seeing him was a good doctor, but he wasn’t you. It was a man who, no offense to him and his medical training, definitely did not have hands as soft as yours stitching him up. He sighs out loud in the ER as he waits for a nurse to come by and discharge him. God, he wishes it was you. 

“Seeing other doctors behind my back? I thought we had something special, Dr. Reid.”

He has half a mind to look up at the sky and mouth God?, as he feels his prayers have been answered in the most literal way.

“What are you doing here?” he asks incredulously, fully in disbelief at the sight of you in front of him.

You smile and step towards him, closing the curtain behind you, “I told you, I had surgery.”

“In Maryland?”

“In Maryland,” you nod, “They needed someone with my background to help out so I flew out.”

God, you’re so smart it physically hurts him how attractive it is.

“How’d you know I was here?”

“I didn’t, I was looking at the patient log to see if they needed help in the ER when I saw an S. Reid age 27 in bed 4 and thought to myself ‘This couldn’t be a coincidence.’”

He chuckles softly, “Well, you found me.”

“That I did,” you lean in to inspect his cuts, “I thought I told you to be careful, handsome.”

The blood rushes to his face, “I know, maybe I just knew I’d get to see you this way.”

You gently readjust the butterfly bandage on his forehead, securing it more tightly. “You could have called me if you missed me, Spence.” you whisper.

“You were busy.”

“So were you.”

Spencer pauses, “Are you busy now?”

You step back and look at his face, his borderline puppy eyes doing the most to convince you to say yes when you were about to ask him the same thing in about another minute if he hadn’t. 

You grin widely and check your watch, “I clock out in an hour. Wait for me?”

“Always.”

It makes all the missed connections and unaligned schedules entirely worth it when he gets to finally pick you up from your hotel room for your date turned into a weekend getaway. Spencer doesn’t even bat an eye when Morgan teases him about the mystery lady he’s staying back in Maryland for, or when Hotch gives him a multilayered nod of approval when he asks for a few personal days.

It’s entirely worth it and more when you and Spencer drive up to a lake house to spend the weekend together, and you joke about how your first date ended up being your first trip as a couple. Spencer doesn’t even stumble when you refer to yourselves as a couple, just tightening his arm around your shoulder and kissing the crook of your neck softly.

It’s the most worth it when, even after you said you were a couple, on the last night after staying up watching Doctor Who reruns post other activities, Spencer curls his arm around your body tugging you closer to his and whispers into your hair, “You will be my girlfriend, right?”

To which you simply beam up at him and whisper into his neck, “Of course, handsome.”

[hoshifighting]

Two words. Dilf Cheol. (I am on the brink of insanity thank yewww)

dilf!seungcheol

WARNINGS: smut, fluff, crying, marriage, his kid loves u, shy dilf!seungcheol at the beginning.

oh man, dilf!seungcheol though? i think about it every single day, i swear. and yeah, it all starts with that awkward-ass moment at the café. he’s standing there all buff and shy, trying to work up the nerve to ask for your number, his daughter hanging onto his leg like she’s his bodyguard. her big, curious eyes peeking out at you while he stumbles over his words. “uh… I just… I thought maybe you’d… uh,” seungcheol scratches the back of his neck, all nervous—like he isn’t the size of a tank. “you know, if you’re not busy… you could give me your insta?” he’s waiting for you to laugh at him, probably thinks he’s gonna get rejected because, you know, he’s got a kid and all. like that makes him less attractive or something. but you’re all heart-eyes the second his little girl pipes up with, “daddy thinks you’re pretty.”

dude nearly dies on the spot. he’s so red, you could probably cook an egg on his cheeks. but you just crouch down to her level, giving her the same sweet smile you flashed at the waitress earlier, and say, “well, I think your dad’s really handsome, too.”

game over. you’ve got him hooked, right there.

from then on, you’re texting nonstop. it’s almost like a high school crush thing, except the guy’s a full-grown dad who still somehow makes your stomach flip like you’re sixteen again. his insta’s basically a whole love letter to his daughter, like, every other post is her: her in some princess costume, her making pancakes (or trying to), her at the park with him, her with his dog. sometimes, you’ll scroll through his feed just to see him smile because, damn, it’s so rare he smiles like that anywhere else.

but then there’s the gym photos. god, those gym photos. all sweaty and pumped up, and you swear he’s showing off just a bit for you now that he knows you’re watching. his arms look like they could crush you, but the way he talks? it’s like he’s this big ol’ teddy bear wrapped in all that muscle.

“you eat today?” he texts you at like, 2 p.m., no greeting or anything.

you text back, “noo :(( too busy.”

not even a minute later, you get a notification from some food delivery app—he’s already sent something to your place. he’s like that. doesn’t even ask, just takes care of it. if it’s cold out, he’s dropping off a coat. if it rains, a brand new umbrella’s somehow at your work's door.

one night, you're scrolling through insta, and there’s this photo of him at some fancy work event, all dressed up in a suit and tie. goddamn, you think, biting your lip, because who knew seungcheol could clean up like that? the suit hugs every muscle, and it’s wild how he can look that good in anything from sweats to formalwear. you double-tap, and not two minutes later, he’s texting you.

“you like that one?”

you don’t even bother playing coy. “nah, I loved that one.”

there’s a pause, and you can almost picture him blushing on the other end, even though you’re the one getting all flustered.

“well, maybe you’ll get to see it in person soon,” he shoots back, and there’s a teasing edge to it, the same one that’s been driving you absolutely crazy since you started talking.

you roll your eyes, but your heart’s doing that dumb fluttery thing again. “maybe,” you reply, playing along.

and it’s like, you’re not even sure how this all happened so fast, but seungcheol? he’s always making sure you’re good, like his whole day revolves around making you smile, checking in, making sure you're eating, keeping warm. it’s low-key intense but in the best way possible.

and somehow, between all the little text convos and the insta stalking, you’ve found yourself seriously catching feelings for this dad with the cutest kid, the sweetest heart, and a whole-ass gym routine that’s absolutely unfair.

and you wonder: how the hell did you get this lucky?

seungcheol's always been like that—taking care of you like it’s second nature, probably because he’s used to being in dad-mode 24/7. you kinda feel spoiled, in the best way possible. he’s always looking out for you. it’s not that he’s overbearing; it’s just that this is how he shows he cares. but you know it goes both ways.

so one day, you decide to return the favor. you find this pink polo, something that screams him but in the softest, most endearing way. you know his daughter will love it too, ‘cause she’s all about pink and matching with her dad. you send it to him without saying much, just a little note saying, “thought this would look good on you.” the next time you see him, he's wearing it, and yeah, the shirt hugs his body perfectly. he’s acting like it’s no big deal, but you catch the way he blushes when you compliment him. “didn’t have to do all that,” he mutters, rubbing the back of his neck, but his eyes are softer than usual, that little glint of he’s falling harder than he planned.

but what really seals the deal is how u handle his daughter. every time you two try to plan a date, something comes up—his mom’s busy, or the babysitter falls through, and suddenly, the whole night’s flipped. instead of a fancy dinner, you’re headed to the park or some kid-friendly café, making sure his little girl has fun. and somehow, you end up having more fun on those “ruined” dates, watching seungcheol let loose, running around with his kid while you cheer them on. it’s like you get him, get his life, and he’s not used to that.

and then, finally, one night, the stars align. his mom takes the kid for the weekend, and it’s just you and him. alone.

and oh god, does he reward you.

he’s been holding back for weeks—months even. all that pent-up frustration, that tension from constantly having to play the responsible dad while trying to not let himself get too attached to you, it all comes crashing down.

he’s rough, no question about it. but it’s the kind of rough that makes your whole body sing. his hands are everywhere, grabbing, holding, pressing you up against walls and furniture like he’s desperate to feel every inch of you at once. he’s strong, and he knows it, lifting you like you weigh nothing, carrying you from one spot to the next without breaking a sweat.

the first time, it’s almost frantic. he’s pounding into you like he’s afraid the moment’s gonna slip through his fingers, grunting into your ear, his breath hot and uneven against your skin. your legs wrap around him, but you can hardly hold on—he’s relentless, hitting that spot over and over until you’re crying out, body shaking violently.

you don’t even realize your legs are spasming until hours later, when you try to stand and nearly collapse from how shaky you are. but seungcheol’s not done. oh no. he’s far from done.

before you can even catch your breath, he’s down between your legs, eating you out like a man famished. this time, it’s slower his tongue doing things that make you arch off the bed, hands fisting in his hair as he drags you to the edge again, then pulls you back just to do it all over. every time you think you’re about to lose it, he eases up, grinning against your skin like he knows exactly what he’s doing.

and yeah, maybe it’s been ages for him, but fuck, the man knows how to destroy you. by the time he’s done, you’re a complete mess, legs trembling, heart flying from your chest, your body so sensitive that even the thought of him touching you again makes you shudder.

seungcheol though, he’s the type to take his time. slow and unshakable, like he’s gotta be absolutely sure before he makes any big moves. but with you? he’s struggling. there’s this itch under his skin, this need to lock it down, put a ring on your finger, make it official. and yeah, he’d never say it out loud, not yet. he’s got too much pride to come off that desperate. but every time he watches you with his daughter, every time she calls you her “best friend” or shows you the drawing she made of you three as a family, he’s fighting the urge to drop down on one knee and ask you to make it real.

he hides it well, though, keeps up the usual routine. he keeps taking you out on dates, some with his little girl tagging along, others just the two of you. and he’s always scolding you whenever you show up with yet another gift for her.

“y/n, you’ve gotta stop,” he groans, shaking his head as you hand his daughter a set of pink hair clips that match her favorite doll. “she’s gonna expect something every week at this point.”

but there’s that soft look in his eyes, the one that betrays how much he loves seeing you spoil his kid. he’ll roll his eyes, but you notice how he always says “my girls” now, so casually like it’s the most natural thing in the world.

you and her. his girls.

one day, he takes you to her father’s day presentation at school. you’re not sure who’s more nervous, seungcheol or his daughter. but when she walks on stage in her tiny tutu, all giggles and shy smiles, it’s seungcheol who completely loses it. you’re sitting beside him, watching him tear up before she’s even started dancing. by the time the performance is over, he’s full-on crying, holding his face in his hands as you rub his back, trying to calm him down.

“it’s just… she’s growing up so fast,” he sniffs, looking up at you with watery eyes, completely unashamed of the tears streaming down his face. and you can’t help but love him more for it, for how much he loves his daughter, for how raw and real he is when it comes to her.

your intimate life? that’s been steady too, despite how busy things get. with a kid around, it’s not always easy to find the time, but seungcheol makes sure you’re never left wanting. there are the quickies, yeah, when his daughter’s asleep and you’ve got the living room to yourselves, stealing a heated make-out session that somehow ends up with your back pressed against the couch cushions, his hands roaming under your clothes while he kisses you senseless.

but if things get too feral, you two will sneak off to the laundry room or the closet, anywhere you can get a little privacy. he’s fast, efficient, but still so thorough, making sure you’re fully satisfied every single time. it’s like, no matter how quick things have to be, he’s always got this laser focus on making you feel good.

but even with all the passion, he’s still got that soft side. sometimes, it’s just enough to make out on the couch, your lips swollen from kissing, the weight of him pressed against you. and in those moments, there’s this quiet comprehension between you two. you don’t need the sex to feel connected—sometimes, just being close is enough.

but it’s getting harder for him to hold back. every time he sees you playing with his daughter, every time she asks if you’re coming over for dinner, he feels it. that pull. that urge to make you his. and one night, after his daughter’s fallen asleep and the two of you are tangled up on the couch, catching your breath after another one of those wild, stolen moments, he looks at you, really looks at you, and the words just fall out of his mouth.

“marry me.”

it’s not planned, not rehearsed. hell, he hadn’t even thought about it until the moment the words slipped out. but once they’re out there, he realizes he’s never been more sure of anything in his life. his hand tightens around yours, and he’s staring at you like you’re the only thing in the world that matters, like he’s already bracing himself for the answer.

and all you can think is, finally.

[nanaslutt]

Ok so I was thinking about soul swap (??) With gojo. Gojo doing🫣 stuff to his body in which readers soul is from readers body. Or can have reader doing stuff with her body..hope u understand kinda high rn. 😵‍💫😵‍💫

Body swap with Gojo

contains: fem reader, masturbation (m&f), reader & Gojo’s perspectives, perv!gojo & reader, multiple orgasms, “first orgasm” (experienced as the opposite sex), dirty talk, teasing, mutual pining

MDNI

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ

"Gojo this is fucking serious!" You yelled, still getting caught off guard when Satoru's voice could be heard in your ears even though you were the one talking. "Okay okayy, I'll text Ijichi to come to get us, relax your little head." He responded in your voice. This whole thing was so fucked up. The two of you were fighting some curse together-- Gojo had no real reason to be there but he insisted on it for "safety reasons" (he was bored). You had gotten hit once by the curse right before you finished it off, and nothing strange had happened until Gojo came up to you and laid his hand on your shoulder to make sure you were alright, and that's when it happened—the soul swap.

Gojo pulled out his phone and held it out in front of himself, waiting for the face ID to scan him in. The man that currently resided in your body shook the device, frustrated. "Oh, this fuckin'..." He gave up, typing in his password as the device buzzed again and again, refusing to let him in. His antics made you giggle, turning your head to the side you sniffed to conceal any laughter he might pick up before you went back to watching him call for help.

"Ijichi? Heyyy, little problem~" Your higher-pitched voice reverberated through his speaker, no doubt confusing the poor overworked man on the other end. "Why do I have Gojo's phone? Funny you ask.." Gojo went on to pace around the area, throwing your hands up in the air as he explained the situation to Ijichi. You took the opportunity to look down at your temporary body, running your hands down the sides of Gojo's massive coat, which actually fit him. You felt the hardness underneath his clothes, pouting your bottom lip out in surprise, you figured Gojo would be fit, but you never knew for certain.

You had been a teacher at Jujutsu High for as long as he had, and the two of you had gotten quite close—which is why you didn't put up a fight when he insisted on coming on this mission with you, now you were starting to regret your decision. "Checkin' out my body while I was callin' for help? Perv~" Gojo teased, blocking your body off in a cross with his arms dramatically as he spoke. "Don't flatter yourself Satoru, you had something on your jacket." You lied through your teeth.

"It feels weird to hear my own voice chastise myself.." He pouts, placing a hand on his hip. "Yeah, well it doesn't feel great to see you flaunting around in my body either." You respond, holding a dejected look on Satoru's features that he probably has never made in his life. "Oh? you don't like me inside you?" He teased, covering his mouth as he giggled mischievously. "Please don't say gross things in my voice," you responded, rolling your eyes as you started to make your way out of the run-down building so Ijichi could see the two of you from the street.

"You're so serious~" He teased, using your shorter legs to run up to you and wrap himself around your arm, leaning your head against his arm as the two of you walked. "Also why did you not tell me you had to pee so bad." He said, making you choke on your own spit as you stopped in your pursuit of the road. "You are not under any circumstances going to piss while you're in my body." You emphasized, making a point to look into his eyes when you spoke.

"Why? Don't want me to see your cunt? heh." He laughed, once again using his filthy mouth to defile your voice. "What do you think Satoru?" You said, deadpanning at him. "Ahh~ you make my face look so scary~" He teased, curling your body up to his own arm once more as the two of you pushed forth towards society once more.

Once Ijichi's car, and the anxious man himself, came into view, you pushed the body that was clinging too tightly to your arm off of you. "Are you two alright?" He asked, coming up to your body. "Oh, Ijichi ~ you're such a caring man~ why don't you-" "That Gojo Ijichi, don't forget.' You reminded, looking blankly down at the dark-haired man, who had started to blush at your words. After an apology from the nervous man, and a quick slap to your body's shoulder that made Gojo whine through his laugh, the two of you got into the car.

The drive had started off with more shenanigans from Gojo in your body, trying to fluster Ijichi, which you quickly shut down by slapping Gojo's large hand over your own mouth. After that though, the drive started to quiet down, the three of you falling into a comfortable silence save for the radio playing some generic song in the background to fill the void. You noticed Gojo had started to bounce his leg in your body, peeking out the corner of your eye you saw your head was tipped back on the headrest, your eyes were squeezed shut, and your lip was pulled between your teeth; you looked like you were in pain.

"Gojo." You whispered, making him drop his chin and look at you, before he smiled through the uncomfortably, "I wasn't lying about needing to-" You quickly cut him off, waving his hands in front of you, "I know, I know." You said, before heaving out a sigh, "This fucking suuuuck." You drawled, letting your own head tip back agaisnt the headrest as you heard your own voice giggle at your unfortunate situation.

—

"Satoru hurry!" You yelled, tapping your foot anxiously on the ground as you stood in front of the bathroom door with your arms crossed, waiting for Gojo to finish his business. "Don't rush me! It's hard to pee with a blindfold on you know." He sighed, your voice coming through the door muffled. You had tied Gojo's own pitch-black blindfold over his eyes before you let him go into the bathroom, making sure he couldn't see a thing. You wanted him to leave to door open so you could make sure he really didn't peek, but then you put yourself in his shoes and realized you wouldn't want Gojo to watch while you were.. so you abandoned that thought.

Right before you were about to yell at the man for taking too long again, he opened the door, the blindfold off of your eyes and in your hands. Your face tunred beat red, your jaw dropped and your lungs filled with profanities and curses, ready to spill but- "I took it off to wash my hands captain stick-up-her-ass, relax~" He said, giving you a smug look before he pushed past you and started walking down the hallway. You bit your tongue as you watched your body move down the hall, "Where are you going?" You asked, placing your hands on his hips.

"Well~ I was hoping you could show me to your room because.." He held your hands out in front of him before he gestured to your body, which was covered in dirt, debris, curse blood, you name it. You could feel a headache start to come on, rubbing your fingers against his temple you sighed, realizing he was going to have to take a shower. You followed in his footsteps down the hall as you passed him, leading him to your room. "Thank you~" He cooed, a pep in his step as he followed behind you.

Once you reached your room you gripped your hand on the top of the door as he slipped under your arm and made his way into your room. You were caught off guard for a second, you knew Gojo was big, but you never really realized your size difference until now. Feeling yourself grow hot in the face you quickly snapped yourself out of it as you followed him into your room.

"Ahhhhh~" Gojo moaned in your voice, plopping him and his filthy body down on your pristine sheets. "You have two seconds to get off my bed before I use your own technique to kill you." You said with his deep voice, making him sigh as he reluctantly dropped his legs back down onto the floor and dragged his body off the sheets, standing as he crossed his arms at you. "Im tireddd, you seriously need to work on your stamina." He said, rubbing your thighs with your hands, "This body is exhausted, I feel like I'm going to collapse." He complained.

You ignored his comments as you dug through your drawer, trying to find something sufficient for him to change into. You settled on a pair of shorts and a baggy t-shirt, collecting them under your arm you threw them in his direction, the man skillfully catching them in his hands. "You don't have anything a little sexier?" He said, holding up the ragged band tee in front of him while he tucked the shorts under his arms. "Please." You begged, your eye twitching when you turned to look at him.

"You should probably.." You froze, your face heating up at the words you haven't even spoken yet. "Stop making me look so bashful, it's unbecoming." He said, a face of displeasing spreading itself on your futures. "God- Fuck, please just go take a shower and don't.. don't- don't be weird!" You sputtered, throwing your hands in the air in defeat before you opened the door and stepped aside so he could leave your bedroom and head for the shower rooms. "Yes ma'am~" He cooed, looking up at you through your lashes at you while he walked past you and started down the hallway.

Once he was out of view, you shut your door behind yourself as you slid down the wood dramatically, burring your face in Gojo's massive hands as you tried not to think too hard about what he might see, or what he was going to do with your body.

--

Gojo locked the door to the shower rooms behind him, screw anyone else that needed to wash up he needed to be alone right now. Your pleas and begs to not look at your body too long or be weird with yourself getting thrown out the window when your frame came into view in the full-length mirror that was in the bathroom before the shower stalls. He whistled at what he saw, turning himself around he looked over your shoulder and stared at your ass through the mirror.

Gojo was having the time of his life checking out his new temporary body. He was astonished at how pretty you still managed to look with messed up hair and ruined clothes. He stared intently at your body as he turned back around and started unzipping your jacket slowly, biting his lip when your body clad in a tight black t-shirt came into view. "Fuck, this is insane." Gojo laughed to himself, feeling a familiar yet unfamiliar warmth blossom in your stomach.

He let the jacket drop to the floor before he crossed his arms over your body and gripped the bottom of your shirt as he slowly dragged the fabric up and over your head, a shaky breath escaping your lips when he saw your bare flesh, the top half of your figure only being clad in a bra. "She'll never know." He giggled to himself before he turned around again, slipping your fingers under the hem of your pants he slowly and seductively slid them down your body, the heat in his stomach growing when your pantyclad pussy came into view as he kicked the pants to the side.

"Who knew all I had to do to get you naked was to do it myself." He said, watching himself in the mirror. Fuck, your voice was turning him on. He might be the one in control of your body right now, but the soul residing inside was still Gojo Satoru, the man who got hard watching you stretch your arms over your head before you spared. He turned around and reached his hand behind his back to unclasp your bra, biting his lip and smiling when he felt your tits fall freely in the air.

"Fuck." He wined in your voice, making your body grow wet as he slid the garment off your body and let it join the pile that had built up on the floor. He brought your hands up to your breasts as squished them together, kneading the soft mounds in his hands, pinching your nipples, jiggling them around, he touched and manipulated them in all the ways he could thing, all while he giggled at his own ministrations. "Now to see this cunt~"

--

Back in your room, you were still on the floor, your head had left the confines of your hands as it rested against the door with your eyes shut. You were going over in your head the way you looked from his point of view; how much smaller than him you were, the height difference, his deep voice, how warm his body was, how- what the fuck was that? You swore you felt something twitch in his pants. You dropped your gaze hesitantly to his lap and noticed a large tent was poking up right where his crotch was.

You had got to be joking. While fantasizing in his body, you had accidentally riled yourself up to the point you were sporting a boner? This was unreal. How did it go away? How long would it take? Oh god, why was his pervy body so sensitive? You did notice the familiar warmth in your lower regions, only in this body, instead of almost feeling your arousal throughout your whole body, you felt it more focused on his crotch.

You bit your lip, shutting your eyes as you tipped your head back against the door again. You couldn't stop your mind from wandering back to all the little things you noticed while being in his body, you wanted to stop you really did, you could not be like Gojo, you were not a perv, you were not a hypocrite.. but one look couldn't hurt anything right? Gojo would likely be in the bathroom for a while, he would never know if you just looked at it, right?

With a heavy sigh, you stood up and walked up to your full-length mirror, unzipping his jacket quickly and throwing it on your bed you lifted his shirt up on his body and stared at his insane physique. His abs seemed to glow under the light in your room, and the indents and muscles on his frame seemed to go on forever. How did he manage to stay so fit when he was constantly eating all those sweets? Men..

The bulge his body was sporting in his slacks made the whole view look so much more erotic, you bit your lip, your breath picking up the more you shamelessly gazed at his body in the mirror. You lifted his shirt more to get a view of his rock-hard pecs, a shaky breath leaving his lungs at his long and toned torso completely unobstructed by clothes to your eyes. You had already come this far.. looking a little more wouldn't hurt right? It's not like you were going to touch anything and besides! Gojo was absolutely doing the exact same thing right now.

Although the thought of Gojo checking out your body the way you were doing to him right now made your face heat up, you once again felt that same twitching under his pants. "Ugh, fucking quit that!" You chastised his dick, your face scrunching up in annoyance as you spoke to it.

You slipped his fingers under his waistband, you slid the fabric down lower- his v-line became more visible to you, lower- a white happy trail was exposed, lower- the base of his cock was unveiled as you could now see it throb under your gaze. You slid his pants down to about his mid-thighs, biting your lip as a shaky moan left his lips, making you feel dizzy at the erotic sound. His cock dripped a thick drop of pre onto the floor beneath you as you watched it hang freely in the room, twitching in the air.

He was so big it almost made you mad, realizing at that moment his cockiness and confidence not only came from his good looks and impressive talent but also from his massive cock. You dropped to his knees, perching yourself on them as you pulled up his shirt and bit the fabric between your teeth, letting yourself have a full view of his body. "Fuck." You moaned, the sound coming out muffled from the fabric tucked between your teeth as you let his warm hands come up to caress his body.

You felt every indent and ridge his body had to offer as you smoothed his massive hands over his body. Any guild you might've felt earlier being washed away at the unreal sight in front of you. The throbbing in his crotch was becoming unbearable the longer you worked yourself up. You tried to stop your hands from dropping any lower, you really did, but when you felt the way his hand wrapped around his cock, the relief, the pleasure, you had no regrets.

--

Gojo sat on the floor of the shower with a slack jaw as he watched your small fingers piston in and out of your tight cunt, moaning and whining at how warm and wet you felt around your fingers. "S-Satoru, Satoru-" He moaned in your voice, getting himself off on hearing your voice moan out his name. "Fuck- this feels so fucking good-" He whined, tipping his head bak agaisnt the shower wall.

He thought fingering himself would feel uncomfortable, but he was sorely mistaken. Your body was made for taking things inside your tight little cunt, the feeling of pleasure immediately washing over his body from just sliding his fingers inside your cunt. He had already cum twice from fingering your body and rubbing your fingers over your sensitive clit, he just couldn't get enough. He had no idea how long he had been in there for, but the water was still running hot so it couldn't have been that long.

"Fuck me, fuck me, fuck me, yesyesyes-" He moaned in your voice, wanting to get the most out of this experience while he could, he didn't know if he would ever get to be this up close and personal with your body again after all. He tweaked your nipples in his fingers, biting your lip as loud moans echoed off the walls of the bathroom, his hips humping into your fingers as he felt himself approach another orgasm.

"Soooooo fucked- heh- S-so fucked up" He groaned, your voice raising in pitch as he fought the urge to keep your legs apart, moaning out his name once more when he came. Your body curled in on itself as he continued fucking his fingers in and out of your cunt, working himself through the orgasm. "A-ahhh ngh- fuck-" He wined, pulling his fingers from your walls as your legs snapped shut, and your cunt clenched around nothing. The friction your thighs brought on your sensitive cunt as you came down from your orgasm felt heavenly.

Your body relaxed under the pelting water droplets hit his body, your gasps filling the bathroom as he tried to catch his breath. Gojo couldn't help but think how much better it felt to come as a woman, he felt like his whole soul left his body each time he came, the electricity that zapped through his whole body and made his mind cloudy was a feeling that could not be beat. He almost started mourning the curse you had killed, he wanted to experience this all the time.

With a sigh he pulled himself off of the floor, standing on shaky legs as he shut off the water and giggled to himself as he took the towel down from the side of the shower. "Fuck, it feels a little sore down there.. hope she doesn't notice, heh." And with that, the white-haired man started to dry off your hair and dress your body back up in the nice clean clothes you had given him.

--

"Fuck- fuck- o-ohmygod" You rapidly stroked your hand over his cock while you stared at Gojo's body in the mirror. It was a weird feeling, being aroused by this body while you had full control over it, but the fucked up situation almost made it more exciting. Gojo's balls felt so heavy and warm under your palm as you massaged in between your fingers. His back arched in the mirror every time you ran your hand over the sensitive tip of his dick.

It had taken you a minute to get used to the feeling and to find the right rhythm, but once you did, you were going fucking insane. You don't know how Gojo had lived his whole life with such a sensitive cock, every time you stroked over his length his body jerked and twitched, pre cum dripped from his dick, and his breath hitched, it was a mess. His needy whines and deep groanes you had occasionally let slip was driving your arousal up the walls, the way his abs clenched under your ministrations, and the feeling of his cock twitching when the stimulation got too much; you were feeling drunk.

"Right fucking- there- yess~" You groaned in his voice, stroking his cock slower but rougher as you squeezed your fist tightly around him. You wished you could fuck someone while you were in his body. If his hand felt this good, could you imagine how a mouth felt around it? Or a pussy? An ass? The possibilities and fantasies you were painting in your head were making his balls tighten, a familiar feeling coiling itself in the pit of his stomach.

"Shit, think I'm gonna cum." You vocalized, wanting to hear his voice, as the effect it had on you was embarrassing. You might be incapable of saying the filthy shit Gojo says on a daily basis, but you were sure as hell good at moaning and vocalizing your pleasure when something felt good. You wanted to hear how his voice sounded when it moaned out your name, but the embarrassment was too much, just thinking about it made you blush.

Your breath picked up as you thrust his hips to meet your strokes, both losing rhythm as you brought his body closer and closer to orgasm. "A-ahhh- fuck its coming its- fu-fuck-" You groaned, watching with a slacked jaw as long ropes of cum spurted out of his dick. Some of the ropes coated his hand and eased the slide on his cock as you stroked him through his orgasm, some being shot out onto the mirror in front of you, making the whole scene look pornographic.

His orgasm felt different from the ones you were used to, but it felt just as good. The heat was stronger in the pit of your stomach, and his cock was ten times as sensitive as your clit usually was right when you came. You felt different afterward too, a wave of shame and realization flooded over you when you realized what you had just done. "Ughhhh.." You groaned, being able to blame the unreasonable hornieness on this new body of yours as you washed the shame from your head, using a nearby towel from the other night to wipe off your dirtied mirror and his sensitive cock.

You winced and sucked a breath in through your teeth at the oversensitivity you felt while you wiped off his softening cock; silently curing him as it was still massive when it was flaccid. As soon as you tucked his cock back into his pants and straightened his apearance back up, you heard a knock on your door that nearly sent your soul flying out of your body.

"Let me innn, it's cold out here~" You heard your voice whine from the other side of the door. You took a deep breath before you walked over to the door and pulled it open, being faced with a damp-haired you. "Why do I look like shit? My face is so red." Gojo complained, walking past you as he dumped your clothes in your hamper before he walked over to your mirror to fix up your still-wet hair.

"Just got hot," You brushed off his remark. "How was your shower?" You asked, avoiding eye contact as you watched him fix your hair in the mirror. "Ohh you know~ Hot." He giggled. You rolled your eyes at his words, dismissing him as you plopped his heavy body on your bed and stared at the ceiling.

"I need to get my body back." You mumbled under your breath, making him look over to you from his place in front of the mirror, "What was that?" He asked, making you bite your lip between your teeth as you sighed heavily, replaying the last couple minutes over and over in your head. "Oh, nothing." You replied, biting the inside of your cheek.

part 2 :)

[nativegirltapes]

pairing: toxic!rafe x bubbly!kook!reader

you and rafe always took 'breaks', but they never lasted. when he asked you to meet him in the middle of the night you could never say no.

you and rafe had been on your longest break yet, going on 3 weeks. and you couldn't lie, you'd been doing really good without him. but you missed him, a lot.

you didn't know why you missed him so much, it was almost like a drug you just couldn't live without despite knowing you're better off without it.

2AM, sitting in your room, music blasting through your earbuds, paging through your favorite clothing catalog; you felt your phone vibrate right next to you. thinking it was pope; the cute pogue you had recently befriended and been texting, you had a slight smile on your face.

that smile faded when you realized it was indeed not pope, but rafe. of course from some random number because you blocked him on his own.

252-###-### - It's me. Can we talk? Meet at tanneyhill in 15? PLS. I love you.

you sighed, partly of self disappointment because you knew you were going to do exactly what he wanted. but also partly from relief, this being you and rafe's longest break, you wondered what had been keeping him so busy from trying to reach out to you. on previous breaks he'd be begging to see you a few days in.

⊹ ۪ ࣪ ꒰ 🍰 . .

rafe was sat on the front steps of tanneyhill, he looked stressed and upset, but really when wasn't he?

"hey," you said softly, standing in front of him, not wanting to get too close.

"hey." he looked up at you. "thanks for coming."

"yeah." your voice was full of shame. it was embarrassing how you couldn't say no to rafe. you liked to rationalize your embarrassment by convincing yourself that you were doing this for him, that he needed you and how could you say no to someone who needed you? but no, you knew deep down your relationship with rafe was self-inflicted and self indulgent. if you tried hard enough you could say no, but the thing was that you just really didn't want to. and that was the most embarrassing part.

you liked getting treated like you were everything one day, and nothing the next. the feelings rafe made you feel were ones close enough to addiction. the highs were so high, but the lows were low.

rafe patted his lap, signaling for you to come take a seat on his lap. of course you did. "i missed you," rafe placed his hand on your inner thigh.

"missed you too rafe." you were basically now bridal style in his lap, ass on one of his thighs, your legs propped up on the other, and your ams wrapped around his neck. you missed being held like this.

"yeah? how much you miss me?" he had a smirk on his face while looking at you. god he looked so good. you hated how good he always looked.

"i dont know," you giggled softly, "a lot."

"heard you been talking to that pogue," rafe looked into the distance, you could tell he was trying his best to remain calm. "what's his name? pope."

you were confused as to how he would even know that, but to be honest it was probably best you didn't know. "just texting." you immediately defend yourself. "just friendly."

"friendly huh?" rafe scoffs. "do y'know how many guys would love to be 'just friendly' with you?"

"really rafe?" you dropped your legs from his lap. only rafe would invite you over to resolve things just to start another argument.

just as you were about to get up from his lap, he pulled you back down onto it. "cmon don't leave now," rafe moved your hair to the side, leaving the side of your neck that was closest to him on full display. "was just teasin'." his hot breath on your neck sent shivers down your spine.

“i don’t want to be teased.” you sighed under your breath.

“what do you want?”

“i want you to love me.” a singular tear fell down your face, rafe immediately wiping it.

“i do love you,” rafe’s voice was soft in a way you’d never heard before. “i love you more than,” you could tell he was really trying to pick his next words wisely. “i love you more than everything.” rafe kissed you on the cheek, his wet lips colliding with your wet tears.

and maybe that was also half the reason you couldn’t leave rafe. you knew that deep down aside from all the bad things he’s done to you; he has real love in his heart, he just doesn’t know how to show it.

[thyme-in-a-bubble]

was binge reading under your wing au and had an idea for it

What if the boys were playing mario party and reader sits on the dick who has the highest points

(lowkey they get her high & theyre not allowed to bust in her)

a/n: no but the way intox kink is so high on my list of things i wanna play around with these guys!! you get meeeee! you’ve hacked my computer and looked at my nasty notes! ♡ 

∼ gentle reminder that feedback, but especially reblogs are the way you support writers on here ∽

take her under your wing au masterlist | 101, intro to the au

masterlist | join my taglist 

when your stepbro had texted you saying that he had gotten his hands on the newest game and was inviting you over for the first official time he and the rest of the frat got to play with it, sweet little you had of course assumed that that was just it. you would just go over there, play some nintendo, laugh till you cried, nothing else whatsoever 

how fucking wrong could you have been

it was Marc who was the one who suddenly conjured a joint from his stash. 

your eyes went wide when you realised that it wasn’t just a hand rolled cigarette that the frat boy was about to light in the middle of the living room. 

now, you’d never done any drugs before, much less seen any in real life, not even a simple joint, so naturally you instantly became paranoid, looking over your shoulder because what if an officer of the law suddenly burst down the door and saw you all doing illegal shit? it wasn’t gonna happen, but the ache still bloomed in your stomach 

then they say all of this stuff about how you should try it for the first time in a safe space around people who you know, which calms you enough to timidly take the blunt when it is handed to you

the first hit makes you cough like crazy and you quickly begin to feel strange, but the guys then just nudge you and say that if you take another drag then you’ll feel better. glancing to your stepbrother, he of course is all in as well and just lulls you into a false sense of security, assuring you that everything will be alright and how you should trust him since he’s your big stepbro after all

so you quickly turn into a giggly mess, all foggy and pliant for them to toss you to whoever wants you in their lap

maybe at first it gets you so hazy and turned on that you unconsciously start humping the thigh that you’re sitting on, like you’re in fucking heat or something

or maybe it’s the guys who take the opportunity to tease you as soon as you get all fuzzy. light caresses all over your body, so light that you don’t even register them through your high. tickling your little nipples as they poke through your shirt. basically just teasing you till you’re all drippy for them and trembling on top of them like they’ve edged you for hours. 

they don’t really take any of their clothes off, just unzips and such for the ✨important✨ parts of them to spring forth

but they do rip all of your clothes off, not that you really notice till it’s way too late because of how brainless they’ve got you

now, i’m imagining that since you’re all melted, the perfect little pocket pussy for them all, the position you’re often moulded into is like you in their lap, your back completely melted back against them, your legs folded up against your chest while their arms are wrapped around you and their just bouncing you in their laps, using you like a fleshlight

that vibe or they make you cockwarm them if they still gotta have their hands free to play 

they probably tried to get you to move on your own, but you are just way too high to be able to do it, so they settle for just the feeling of your weepy cunt clenching tightly around them as you try to keep up with the bright colours flashing on the tv

oooorrrr maybe someone who isn’t playing (because there are tons of them and there's a limit to how many players there can be at once) can swoop in and help move you. you know, just dudes being dudes, bros being bros and getting each other off, jerking your pal off with the pussy that you’re all head over heels for lol

now, your eyelids feel so so heavy, and at one point you finally loose the battle, but then when you blink them open again, it takes you a while to notice that you’re sitting on someone else’s cock

and if your whining gets too much and starts messing with their concentration of the game, then they just grumble for you to shut up before the person next to you suddenly grabs your hair and folds you over to silence your whimpers and fill up your mouth 

they also get you to say all sorts of nasty things that you’d normally blush and put your foot down at if they tried to make you repeat such filth when you were sober

and if all of this happens after they’ve trained you to take multiple of them at once in your warm little holes, well then you best believe that they make you cockwarm multiple of them at once, filling up all of your holes with at least one dick at a time

now, your stepbro may not have allowed his friends to finish in you that day, but that just means that instead of it leaking out of you, you just get covered in cum :) 

and maybe at the end, the next morning when you wake up, you don’t remember too many details from what happened, just that you played that new game and then you must have fallen asleep on the couch… strange… maybe the guys will just have to remind you then of all of the things that actually happened while you were stoned out of your mind…

© 2025 thyme-in-a-bubble 

[leighsartworks216]

Ominiscience

Sylus x gn!Reader

I just love when Sylus gets to protect MC from others

Warnings: unwanted advances, alcohol mention, protective Sylus, Mephisto keeping an eye on you, pet names, swearing, established relationship

Word Count: 1,009

Main Masterlist

Love and Deepspace Masterlist

AO3

Tag List Form

Wish you could’ve come with me. It’s boring here without you :(

You sigh as you send the text, leg bouncing as you thank the bartender for your drink. There’s no alcoholic sting when you take a sip, but you don’t expect there to be. You do have to drive back home, after all. Or maybe you’d risk the drive to the N109 Zone, just to see Sylus.

Tara invited you out to a bar to celebrate a mission success. And despite helping you in that success, you didn’t want to risk the leader of Onychinus being in Linkon around other Hunters. But you also didn’t want to disappoint Tara, especially when you’d been spending so much time in the N109 Zone when you aren’t working. You didn’t want her to think you didn’t enjoy her company or value her friendship.

Except, she got swept up by a cute guy five minutes after sitting down. They smiled together and laughed as they danced to the music, holding hands and swaying close like they’d known each other for years. And you were left at the bar to nurse virgin mocktails and cling to every message he sends you.

Awe, poor kitten. Shall I send Mephisto to keep you company?

You can’t help grinning.

For company, or for target practice?

“Hey, gorgeous.” You startle and turn toward the voice. A man gestures to the stool beside you with a smirk that makes your skin crawl. He looked completely normal, even a little handsome, but something about the way his eyes looked at you had your senses on high alert. “This seat taken?”

You glance down the row of seats. There are quite a few open, further away and a safe distance from you. “No, but neither are any of those.”

He laughs at your comment and sits down, leaning his elbow on the counter and barely glancing at the bartender when he orders. You shift your drink closer.

“I like a seat with a view.”

Your phone buzzes again. You start to pick it up so you can answer the new message, hoping your clear lack of interest will get this stranger to leave you alone, but another hand grabs it and slams it back onto the bar, trapping your hand with it. His grip is relentless, squeezing your fingers together uncomfortably as he leans closer. You smell the alcohol from his drink on his breath.

“It’s rude to ignore someone, sweetheart,” he chastises. “What’s the matter, you got a boyfriend?”

“Yes.”

He chuckles. “I don’t believe you.”

Your phone begins ringing, vibrating against your crushed hand while it plays a silly tune, one you’d picked out just to annoy Sylus. The man snickers. “What kind of ringtone is that? Is your friend calling? She must be cute, too, huh?”

“You can answer it if you want,” you say, taking on an air of confidence. “Maybe she’ll think you sound pretty cute, too.”

He grins, eyes studying your hand beneath his as he considers the offer. Your heart is leaden in your chest. If he doesn’t answer and Sylus doesn’t threaten him into the next lifetime, you don’t know what else to do. The bartender’s back is to you as he talks with another customer, and Tara is probably too engrossed in her new admirer to notice your struggle.

“Alright,” he finally agrees. You try not to breathe a sigh of relief just yet as he releases you and you hand over the device. The idiot doesn’t even bother checking the call photo background, a stolen snapshot of Sylus with snow in his hair and fireworks lighting up his face. He just accepts and brings it right up to his ear, smiling at you confidently. “Hey, cutie.”

You bite your lip to fight a growing laugh from bubbling up as you watch in real time as his face changes through several different emotions.

At first, he’s just confused when a man’s voice answers the call. Then pissed. He’s glaring at you when he starts to hang up, but stops and listens again. The anger flickers into worry for a second. A split second. Enough time for his mind to try to rationalize that the words, the threats, coming in from the receiver aren’t real and can’t possibly happen to him. And then it settles. Color drains from his face. His eyes are wide, glancing from you to the people around him helplessly, clutching the phone with both hands. You can’t hear Sylus’s voice, but you wonder if he’s using Mephisto to relay the man’s movements.

It’s only been a couple minutes when the man slowly pulls the phone from his ear and holds it out to you, cradling it in both hands like a highly reactive bomb. He stammers until he finally whimpers out, “It’s- It’s for you. S-Sorry.”

You take the phone and he trips over himself trying to get away, frantically searching the crowd for the mysterious stranger that threatened his life seconds ago.

You hold it up to your ear. “Thank you for that.” You take a relaxed sip of your drink.

Sylus chuckles. “Did you enjoy the show?”

“Mhm.” You glance over your shoulder. “Where’s Mephisto hiding?”

“Outside. Up a little, look to your right… There you are, sweetie,” he purrs. Mephisto’s red eyes shine like rubies through the glass of a high-set window. You can’t see his body, only the movement of his eyes as he jerks his head around. “As I was saying, have you had dinner yet?”

“Not yet.”

“Good. Name anything you want. The chef will have it ready by the time you get here.”

You turn away and smile, trying to hide just how dopey it looks from him. “Do you have any work to do tonight?”

From the smile in his own voice, you’re sure he saw it anyway. “Just say the word and my schedule is cleared.”

“Which word?”

There’s an anticipatory pause. You can imagine the feel of his breath on your ear as he whispers into the microphone. “Please.”

[parkerluvsu]

can u write something about art and reader having high sex 😛😛😛🙏🏻🙏🏻 like idk just like a chill night at the dorm at stanford or something where they smoke a couple blunts and grind on each other idk!!!!!!!!!!!

MOONLIGHT (art donaldson x fem! reader)

sometimes you felt like a bad influence on art.. he wouldn't let anything that wasn't on his pre-planned diet touch his lips before he met you. but from the first puff of your joint under the bleachers of the tennis court, he was hooked. not just on the woozy feeling he got when he took too long of a hit, but on the feeling of having you around him.

the more you two hung out, the more art associated the feeling of his head in the clouds, not with the large puffs of smoke drifting around his room, but you the feeling of you sitting next to him, your legs draped over his. art feels guilty, if he got caught, he'd absolutely get thrown out of the tennis program, and probably never be able to attend a good school again, but on the other hand.. your sweet giggles as you blow smoke into his face gave made him forget all the consequences if he got caught.

the problem with you (and it's not even really a problem to art.. he thinks you're perfect) is you like things casual. sure you've made out with art in a haze of smoke, maybe grinded a bit over his jeans in the back of his overly clean jeep, and he can't even count the times that you've texted him "you up?" at 2am, but he's never been your "boyfriend".

art knows it would be hard to have a serious conversation with you without the guise of just coming over to smoke, so he shoots you a text.

art: hey can i come over? need to relax :)

the buzz of your phone from the desk beside you steals your attention from your math homework, a welcome distraction. you text him back quickly, eager to have an excuse to smoke.

an eager knock on your door comes only minutes later, arts face a mixture of nerves and excitement, like a kid sneaking candy from their parents. art looks as cute as ever in his wrinkled stanford shirt and his checkered shorts, hair tussled from a night at practice. "cmon in artie" his cheeks blush at the nickname as he enters your dorm, making himself comfortable in the cozy chair in the corner. you pull out the box of paraphernalia from under your bed, flower stickers peeling off of the box from overuse. you tilt your head to the side, looking at arts body language, his constant shifting telling you he's trying to seem calm but he really isn't. "what do you wanna smoke?" you ask him, knowing what his answer will be before he even opens his mouth, "whatever you want".

that seems to be arts answer for anything, "whatever you want", sometimes you think if you walked off the edge of a cliff he'd do the same. art was one of those people who followed everything you did, the way you sat, the way you talked, and even your vocabulary, he would shift to be more similar to you. even when he smoked for the very first time, he watched you inhale so deep and hold it in before blowing a large cloud of smoke into the air, he tried to do the same.. but ended up greening out and throwing up in the trashcan next to the tennis courts. the truth is, art would do that all over again if it meant even one more second with you, and he knew it was clingy and definitely too dependent for the casual situation you were in.. but he can't help himself.

me: sure, come over anytime

art is a lightweight in every sense of the word, whenever Patrick would take him to a frat party to get totally wasted, all it took was one red solo cup full of beer to have art stumbling over his own feet. It was the same with weed, it only took one hit for art to start slurring his words, his body pretty much melting into any surface near him. currently, it's the cozy chair in the corner of your room, but you can see his eyes drifting towards the cozy blankets on you bed. "art, you know you can go sit on my bed right?" his eyes widen and he shuffles over, flopping down on the bed in such a way that would make sober-him flush with embarrassment. you giggle as he wraps himself in the blankets, his head lolling onto the pillow. art blearily watches you come sit on the bed too, leaning against the wall for support. the sight of him tangled up in your blankets reminds you of previous late nights spent together, causing a flutter in your stomach that you're a little ashamed of. art leans over to give you the joint back, your fingers brushing together softly. "y'know you look super pretty right now" art says, "n-not that you don't always look pretty but like.. right now especially" he revises his statement, he's always such a people pleaser. you laugh, taking a long hit from the joint before giving him a wide smile. "thanks artie, you're pretty too" you reply, knowing he likes being called pretty, even though he'd absolutely never say it, the way his ears go red gives him away every time.

as the night goes on, and your shared joint turns into a stub, you find yourself closer to art than you thought you were, your sides pressed up against each other as you lay on your backs, staring up at your ceiling. the boring white paint suddenly seeming very interesting until you felt movement beside you, art was tuning on his side and leaning his face on his hand. you blink, "what are you looking at?" glancing at arts eyes that were fixed on your face. "you" art says simply, causing you to shake your head and laugh. "i know that art.. but why?" you ask, pressing for an answer from him. "dunno.. just your face is nice" he says, his face dropping into your shoulder. arts breath was hot against your neck, making you almost want to pull away, but you'd never do that, enjoying the weight of him against you. arts breathing rate increases against your neck and you wonder why until you feel a pressure against your thigh. "art.." he hums in response, only focused on the small sharp movements of his hips. you know how quickly he shifts from being all innocent and sweet to taking what he needs.

you're such a sucker for art, especially when he's high and he can't hide his feelings like he usually does. you shift your leg to the side to help him, inciting an immediate response of his eyes fluttering shut against your shoulder, his eyelashes tickling you gently. the position that you maneuvered into allowed arts leg to slot between yours as well, letting you slowly rock your hips against his leg, the feeling of his bare skin only making you feel more pleasure. before you know it, art is pressing hot kisses into your neck and your arms are wrapped loosely around his neck. "mmmmmfuck" art groans against your neck, even though he's feeling less woozy than earlier, he's still sensitive, just the feeling of grinding against you having him teetering on the edge. suddenly, you feel his hips stutter and a dampness cover the front of his shorts. art holds his breath for a second before his whole body goes limp against you, his fingers not clenching the sheets anymore.

a comfortable silence falls between you, before art breaks it with his soft voice. "can we go again? 'm sorry i just.. i need you" he whines out, still not showing his face. you giggle softly and nod, lifting up your hips to pull off your pajama pants and panties, art doing the same with his shorts and boxers. "how do you want me?" you ask, sending a flutter of butterflies into arts stomach because of the sense of control you're giving him. art thinks for a second, "can you turn around..? please" he asks, a bit of hesitancy in his voice. you nod, turning to face the wall next to your bed, your back facing art. his gentle hands maneuver your legs into a position that's easy for him to slip into you. he does so slowly, more for your sake than his, he thinks if he pushed inside of you too fast he would surely cum prematurely (not like it hasn't happened before).

you feel art shiver against you, his hips pausing when he enters your fully, his balls resting snugly against your ass. art could truly stay like this forever, if he had the patience and resolve.. but he doesn't, his hips snap into yours quickly, the overstimulation getting to him. he wraps his arms around your stomach, holding you close to him, his head yet again smushed into the crook of your neck. every thrust he gives you feels like it's punching the air out of you, art isn't even pulling all the way out anymore, just humping his hips into you the best he can. even in his delicate headspace, art still wants to please you first, his fingers making their way down your stomach before rubbing messily at your clit, his fingers catching on your nub every few circles, causing you to tighten up around him. art is close, you can always tell by how his voice shifts from more coherent to just straight up blabbering, "mgh.. god.. 's so warm.. you're so warm.." "it feels s' good.. it's feels good to you too right?" "gotta be closer to you.. wan' be closer to you" but you snap to attention when he moans against you, "please be m' girlfriend please.. i wan' you to be mine.." you're sure art has no idea what he's saying until he repeats himself, almost sounding like he's about to cry. you nod quickly, "y-yeah artie okay.. ill be your girlfriend.." now you swear he actually sobs, his hips making one last deep thrust before you feel him fill you up, the sensation sending you over the edge right after him.

art stays inside of you for a minute, dating his breath before pulling out, grabbing a tissue and helping you clean up. when you open your eyes, arts looking up at you with his signature puppy dog eyes. "um.. did you mean what you said?" he asks quietly, his head bowing down quickly, as if he didn't want to see your reaction. you think back to your agreement, sure it was in the heat of the moment, but would it really be such a bad idea to say yes? you pause, and arts head droops even lower, expecting the worst. "art you know ive purposely been keeping this casual.. but i.. i trust you now artie, i do want this to be serious" you reach out for his hand, squeezing it gently. arts face lights up like a kid getting the one present they wanted for christmas as he quickly hugs you. "thank you.. thanks, you won't regret it i swear" you smile, pulling the blankets over the both of you, snuggling into arts chest as you admire the beautiful rays of moonlight streaming into your bedroom.

art is easily entranced by the quick movements of your fingers as you roll a joint, it sounds silly but he's always admired the fact that you didn't buy pre-rolls, preferring to be more independent. you lick the paper to get it to stick shut (and art is grateful you were too focused on that to see the way his eyes widened when you did) and root around your drawer for your lighter, a stupid pink one decorated with hello kitty that you got for your birthday. art couldn't help but find it endearing, the way you were so independent and "too cool" for a real relationship, but you still kept all the things that people gave to you, even if they weren't to your taste. the click of your lighter snapped art out of his observations, the light from the tiny flame illuminating your face in a way that made art want to take a picture, the fluttering flame casting an orange glow onto your skin. the strong smell of the joint caused art to become a little lightheaded even though he hasn’t even taken a hit yet, his fingers grabbing the joint from you after a couple failed tries that make you laugh, the soft giggles a soundtrack for the night.

[rafesorchid]

Hiiiii! I love your work so much and I have a request. Can you do where the reader and Rafe are best friends but everyone knows they like each other except them. At a bonfire the reader comes up to Rafe and they have a conversation and she leaves and Kelce is like “you only smile like that with her.”

only ever you ──── ୨୧ ────

i should be working on my research paper...but oh well. i had to write this!!

the bonfire was already burning high when you got there, the sky dark and the air thick with smoke and laughter. you weren’t really in the mood for the crowd, the noise, the stupid stuff kelce and topper always got into when they were drunk off their asses—but you figured maybe you’d catch a glimpse of him. that usually made it worth it.

and sure enough, there he was, leaning against the cooler, his eyes scanning the crowd like he was looking for something. your stomach did that familiar flip when you saw him. he was rafe. and you were definitely looking for him.

you swung your legs from where you sat on the back of someone’s truck, drink in hand, talking to a girl whose name you didn’t care enough to remember. you couldn’t help the laugh that bubbled up from your chest. it was easy to laugh around rafe. always had been.

you spotted him then, the way his eyes flicked over you before narrowing in, catching your gaze. his face softened, just for a second. you felt your heart stutter.

you hopped off the truck—almost tripping on your way down—and made your way over to him, grinning like an idiot. his expression softened the moment you were close, and your heart sped up.

“rafe!” you chirped, bumping into his side as you got close. “was starting to think you weren’t gonna show up.”

he smiled back, a real, wide smile that made something flutter in your chest. “wouldn’t miss it,” he said, his voice low and warm as his eyes softened.

you felt that familiar warmth spread across your cheeks, a shy little laugh escaping as you tucked a strand of hair behind your ear. you looked up at him, all wide-eyed. “thought you were mad at me or something,” you teased, half serious.

rafe frowned, leaning down a little so you could hear him over the music. “why the hell would i be mad at you, baby?” he asked, voice rougher than he probably intended.

you shrugged, sheepish, suddenly feeling small. “dunno. just felt like maybe i was being… annoying. kept texting you today.”

his expression shifted, like you’d just taken the wind out of him. he shook his head and reached out, without thinking, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. his fingers brushed your cheek, and you nearly melted right there.

“could never be mad at you,” he said, his voice low, like he meant every word. “ain’t nothing you could do that’d annoy me, m’sweet girl.”

your heart skipped a beat at the way he said it, your cheeks flushing even deeper. you ducked your head, laughing softly. “you’re just saying that.”

“ain’t,” he murmured, softer now, his gaze locked onto yours like it was just the two of you standing there. he almost said something else, you could tell, but then someone called his name from across the fire, and he broke his gaze, looking away. you pulled back, swaying on your feet as you tried to act normal again.

“i’m gonna go get another drink,” you said, nodding toward the coolers. “you want something?”

he shook his head, his eyes never leaving you as you turned. “nah, i’m good.”

you smiled again, a little smaller this time, and made your way to the coolers, leaving him standing there with your heart all tangled up in his gaze.

“jesus christ,” kelce said, sidling up next to him with a shit-eating grin. “you only smile like that with her, y’know.”

rafe scowled, taking a long pull of his beer. “shut the fuck up, kelce.”

“no, for real,” kelce laughed, nudging him with his shoulder. “you’re hopeless, man. everybody sees it. everybody. she’s fuckin’ made for you or something.”

rafe didn’t respond. he just stared into the fire, the words sitting heavy in his chest. he thought about the way you looked at him, like he was something worth looking at. he thought about the easy way everything was with you. nothing ever felt right unless you were there.

fuck.

maybe he was hopeless. maybe he’d been hopeless for a long time.

when you came back, arms full of two drinks even though he’d told you he didn’t want one, you handed him one with a proud little grin, like you’d done something important.

“got you one anyway,” you said, looking up at him with a smile that had his heart stuttering again.

he took the drink from you, his fingers brushing yours, and for a second, neither of you pulled away.

“thanks, baby,” he said, his voice thick in a way that made your insides twist.

the two of you ended up sitting on the tailgate of his truck, away from the loudest parts of the bonfire, the firelight flickering over your face as you told him some story about losing your shoe at the mall earlier that week. he listened like it was the most important thing in the world, hanging on every word you said.

every laugh, every wide-eyed look you gave him, pulled him deeper under, like he didn’t even have a say in it.

at some point, you leaned your head on his shoulder, letting out a soft sigh. “dunno what i’d do without you, rafe,” you mumbled, half asleep, half dreamy.

he closed his eyes, resting his head against yours. “you’ll never have to find out, baby,” he whispered, too quiet for anyone but you to hear.

maybe you didn’t understand it fully yet—not the way he did, not all big and heavy and aching—but you felt it. you could feel it in the way you stayed close, in the way your hand found his without thinking.

rafe looked down at you, his heart thumping hard in his chest, and smiled.

hopeless.

and he wouldn’t have it any other way.

only ever you

[mead-iocre]

˚　.˚　　✦　　　.　　. 　 ˚　. ੈ

brat!reader is planning to wear this shirt to one of alexia's games. she paired it with her favourite black balloon mini skirt, coperni aged leather brown knee high boots, and her favourite vintage denim coach bag.

she double checked her bag, making sure all her essentials were in there-- sunglasses, gum, phone, and vape. check check check and check.

she was just about to walk out the door when all of a sudden she is yanked by the arm by none other than her girlfriend. alexia's eyes widen when she reads the text on her shirt.

"bebé, you cannot wear that"

an eyebrow raise. sometimes she underestimated how good alexia’s english is getting. damn. brat!reader was really hoping she could get away with it. "what do you mean I can-not wear this?"

"I mean-- people-fans might see you or the cameras might catch you--and people might think--"

"might think what? that all we do is hold hands and touch foreheads?"

alexia sighs audible, her hand instinctively coming up to massage her temple. her blood pressure is rising and the match hasn't even started yet. she starts mumbling a prayer in her mother tongue. the last thing she needs right now is a migraine before a home match against a tough opponent.

"estoy hablando en serio. just change the shirt and we can go"

brat!reader stomps one boot-covered leg down against the wooden floor, frustrated that she's being asked to change when her outfit looks so good. alexia willed herself to not pick a fight, not when she's got a match to focus.

"Vale. fine. puta madre. just wear this over it." Alexia shrugs off her own sweatshirt that she had on, hastily throwing it at her girlfriend before rushing to find something else to wear.

brat!reader could hear her cursing up a storm, muttering in broken spanish under her breath. she complies anyway because the sweatshirt is kinda cute, plus it smells like sandalwood, violet and old leather that lingers from alexia's signature perfume. she wears alexia’s sweatshirt, snapping a few pics with her new fit to post on instagram later.

she can wear the t-shirt some other time.

"ready to go, baby?" is what greets alexia when she finally manages to find another top to throw on that would suit the rest of her fit. her nicely styled hair a few minutes ago was now in slight disarray from the amount of shirts she tried on and then yanked back off. her face is stoic, eyes dark.

"cierren la boca. keep your mouth shut or else i will leave you on the side of the road." is all alexia says before she ends it with a pinch to brat!reader's ass beneath her billowy mini skirt. "do not piss me off. I mean it."

since the match will be played at home, players are free to drive to the stadium with their own cars. when they arrive at the stadium they have to split up— brat!reader to the suits and alexia with the team (obviously). by some miracle, brat!reader had somehow managed to leave alexia alone for the entire drive, far too focused on her phone, replying to instagram comments and messages. alexia was finally able to clear her mind for a short while.

“I’ll see you after” all low and monotone. alexia grabs her Louis Vuitton toiletry bag and locks the car behind her.

“still mad at me?”

“hm.” yeah. she's still mad.

“ok…kiss?”

alexia rolls her eyes and huffs, as if she just got asked to do the most tedious chore. she reaches for her jaw, cupping it with one hand, squeezing her cheeks and forcing brat!readers lips into a pout. she presses a rough kiss onto her lips before pulling away to mutter. “me estas enfadando. you get on my nerves, ya’know that?”

brat!reader just grins at her. oh how she loves to annoy her lover. she sneaks one more quick kiss and bounces away yelling “i love you too. have a good game, la reina!” behind her shoulder, waving at alexia as she walks towards the entrance to the suits. she knows alexia absolutely detests that nickname. she can picture alexia cursing her out in her head, probably saying the most obscene spanish insults she won't even be able to translate to english.

hopefully alexia channels that frustration for her into the game later on and scores a few goals. afterall, alexia plays her best games when she's angry x

˚　.˚　　✦　　　.　　. 　 ˚　. 　

saw the shirt and had to write the quickest blurb ever. must cope the shirt one day x

[manias-wordcount]

Coming Back for More (Jinwoo Sung)

Kinktober 2024 Day Six: Reunion Sex

𝙒𝙖𝙣𝙩 𝙩𝙤 𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙙 𝙢𝙤𝙧𝙚? ⇒ 𝙈𝙖𝙨𝙩𝙚𝙧𝙡𝙞𝙨𝙩

𝙟𝙤𝙞𝙣 𝙢𝙮 𝙙𝙞𝙨𝙘𝙤𝙧𝙙 𝙨𝙚𝙧𝙫𝙚𝙧?

𝙗𝙪𝙮 𝙢𝙚 𝙖 𝙘𝙤𝙛𝙛𝙚𝙚?

You wouldn’t have ever gone for him.

Of course, now that you’re struggling to breathe through your orgasm and he’s finishing inside of you in missionary- the sixth position change of the night, mind you- you don’t think you can exactly say that anymore. Especially since you were more than willing, more than happy to let him rip your panties in two just to get you there. But you wouldn’t have gone for him. Not in the past. Because you just saw him differently in the past. You just did.

You always thought Jinwoo was cute, sure. And you enjoyed the friendship you had with him. And maybe you might have had a teensy little crush all throughout high school since he was always so nice and sincere and just plain adorable. But you never made a move in high school. And even though you kept in contact all throughout university, you didn’t find yourself thinking about moving in on him then either. Even when you knew for sure he was single. It just… never passed your mind. Never was more than a small crush on a boy who you thought was nice. Never even really thought about him in that. Though, of course, that was then. That was the past. But now…

“You alright there, sweetheart? I didn’t hurt you, did I?”

You’re kicking yourself in every way possible, wondering why the hell you didn’t swoop in sooner. Well… at least, you were. Back before he fucked your brains out and made you cum more times than you count.

“Umm,” You make a soft noise in the back of your throat, your eyes blinking up blearily in front of you. Your mouth forms the words you want to say, but based off of the slurred sounds you hear in your own voice and the light chuckle you hear in the much deeper voice above you, it seems you weren’t able to say much. Although it’s not surprising there. You can just barely register the feeling of the cock inside of your abused cunt finally going still and soft for once this entire session. To be honest, you’re still reeling from your last orgasm. The one Jinwoo was able to bring to you despite you not thinking you were capable of such a feat. The one that had you squeezing your legs around his hips and biting at his shoulder so hard that you swore you tasted blood. “Uh…”

The one that you could safely say that was probably your best orgasms just about ever.

Still, the craziest thing about this to you is how you never thought this was possible. You never thought about him in this way. And you never thought he’d ever think about you in this way either. Though, he was the one who texted first out of the blue. He was the one who suggested going for drinks. He was the one who had to grab you by the shoulder as you walked past him to re-introduce himself as the hunk of a man you don’t remember him ever being. And later in the night, sometime after you both finished catching each other up about what has been happening lately in your lives, he was the one who put his hand on your thigh and asked if you had anywhere important to be in the morning.

And sure, you did have to do some prompting all throughout the night to get him to that point. And you did witness an awkward moment or two while he was in the midst of trying to get you to come home with him. But even so, the Jinwoo you knew never was this forward or bold. The Jinwoo you knew had hands that could never engulf yours like they do today. But the man who met up with you at the bar knew all the right things to do and say. So much so that the man who met up with you at the bar now has the honor of pulling his thick, heavy cock out of your pussy while reaching for the tissues by his nightstand so he could dab at the mess of cum he left between your thighs and talk you back into the land of the living.

“Hey, look at me.” The deep rumble of his unfamiliar comes right by your ear. It makes you gasp and shiver as the sound rolls down your spine. It’s still rough from the way you both exerted yourself during sex. You don’t recall ever being that vocal with a guy before. And you don’t recall him ever being as loud as he was tonight either. But somehow he fucked you like he knew what he was doing. Somehow he bounced you on his cock, folded you in half, topped you, and have you ride him all like he knew what he was doing. All like he wasn’t the Jinwoo you used to know. The lovable, timid, and practically experienceless Jinwoo. But that’s the thing… “Was I too rough? I’m sorry, you’re the first I’ve-”

…he was. He is. He is your Jinwoo. He just is.

“No, no! That was-” You’re quick to cut him off at this point, not willing to let the man who just gave you the best sex of your life get down in the dumps over something he only perceives to be a problem. He was rough tonight, sure. But you wanted it rough. You asked for it rough. And he gave you exactly what you wanted. He gave you exactly what you asked for. Like the good boy, he always was. Though luckily, it’s been long enough that even though your mind is still spinning and there’s still an unbearable sensitivity pulsating through your lower body, you can still gather enough focus to meet his eyes and speak to him. “That was great. Really great.”

And surprising. 

That’s what you want to say to him that you’re staring him in the eyes that aren’t clouded over by lust for the first time tonight. You’re surprised. You’re surprised the sex was so good for someone who had all but admitted to you that he was a virgin. You’re surprised he was able to hide such a monster in his pants. You’re surprised his voice has gotten so deep. You’re surprised he has gotten so tall and so muscular. You’re surprised he has gotten so much more confident than you remember. You’re surprised about nearly every single aspect of him. But most of all, you’re surprised that he’s no longer the boy you had a crush on, but rather a man would have considered yourself lucky to know.

Has it really been that long since you’ve last seen him? Can someone change this much in such a short amount of time? Did he always look like this? Did he always want you in this way? Did you ever want him in this way before tonight? You don’t know. You feel like you don’t know a lot of things. 

You feel like while he was inside of you, stuffing you and stretching you out like it was nothing, you were the closest you’ve ever been to him. You feel like while he was splitting you open and mumbling in your ear about how good you felt around him, you felt like the two of you were connected. You feel like while you were digging your nails into his skin and hooking your legs around his body as you begged him not to stop, you felt like you were rekindling the flames of your crush only to let the fires grow higher and higher in fits of passion and adoration and seduction. But at the same time, you feel like you don’t know anything at all.

He was keeping from something you at the bar. He wasn’t telling you the full story of what was going on in his life when you asked. And a secret or two usually wouldn’t ever feel like much. It has been a while since your high school days after all. He has no reason to trust you with everything going on in his life. But right now, you don’t feel like you truly don’t know anything at all. Because you don’t know how this man was before you ended up being Jinwoo. The same boy you went to school with. The same boy you had a crush on for forever. The same timid boy who you thought you would never end up with in any capacity. You don’t know how this man was before you ended up being Jinwoo. Your Jinwoo.

Though somehow, you know he is. 

You just know he is. Even though his voice has changed. Even though his body has changed. Even though his personality is a little different. Even though every fiber of your being is screaming at you- telling you that this person, this aura has to be entirely someone else. Still, you know it’s him. You know it’s your Jinwoo. He proved it to you earlier tonight. It’s the whole reason he was able to take you home, after all. And honestly, if he wants? He could prove it to you all night long so long as he keeps fucking you like that. And He could keep every secret in the world if he had to too. Just as long as he stays being Jinwoo. As long he stays your Jinwoo. That’d be more than enough to keep you coming back for more. 

That’d be more than enough.

[sturnsblogs]

ITS THE WEED

Loser!Matt X Popular!Reader

Warnings) Smut w plot. Ice cube play (idk how to explain it). not established relationship.

—

You and Matt were supposed to have a “you day.” You even texted him that morning:

you: “can we hangout allllllll day?”

You already knew the face he made when he replied. Probably rolled his eyes, scoffing like he was annoyed even though you both knew he wasn’t.

matt: “nah. i think i’m gonna get high just chill.”

You stared at the screen for a second, your chest tightening in that stupid way it always did when he blew you off.

you: “k. wtv. i thought maybe you would wanna hangout with me but it’s fine.”

He stared at your message longer than he’d admit. Then, with a heavy sigh, he typed back:

matt: “otw.”

Twenty minutes later, he walked in through the front door like he always did, barely sparing a glance at your yelling parents in the background.

“Hey,” he said casually, dropping his bag on the floor as his eyes flicked up to your face. “No makeup?”

You shook your head and crossed your arms. “Call me ugly already, it’s fine.”

Matt raised a brow and set his stuff down on the table. “Chill. I didn’t say that. I was just asking.” Then, softer, “You look fine.”

You rolled your eyes, pretending not to feel the small flip in your stomach.

He unzipped a small pouch and started laying out his rolling papers and grinder, pulling the jar of weed from his bag. You walked over without thinking, and before he could say anything, you were climbing onto his lap, straddling his thigh and leaning in to watch what he was doing.

He tensed slightly but didn’t move. Just looked at you out the corner of his eye. “Comfortable?”

You rested your chin on his shoulder, peeking at the way his fingers moved skillfully over the paper. “Kinda.”

Your thighs pressed tighter around his as you adjusted, trying not to squirm—but you already felt too warm. Too aware of how close you were. His jeans rough against the soft skin of your inner thighs.

Matt didn’t say anything.

But he noticed.

He kept rolling slowly, licking the edge of the paper before sealing it and setting it down. You were still on his lap, still pressing against him every few seconds like you couldn’t help it.

He exhaled slowly through his nose, pretending not to look at how your fingers gripped his hoodie or how your thighs kept shifting against him. But he definitely noticed.

Still didn’t say anything.

But the corner of his mouth twitched—just barely.

Like he knew exactly what you were doing.

And he was gonna let you keep doing it.

NOW

You were tucked into Matt’s side, still sitting on his thigh, your legs draped over his as he lit the joint. The room smelled like him—woodsy cologne and faint weed—and the soft bass of a playlist you’d made was playing from your speaker in the background.

Matt leaned back against the headboard, exhaling slowly as he passed it to you.

“Here,” he said, voice low, calm. “Just a little. Don’t overthink it.”

You looked up at him nervously. “If I cough and die, it’s your fault.”

He smirked, lazily. “I’ll give a real sad eulogy. Promise.”

You rolled your eyes and took a small hit, trying to do it exactly how he showed you. But the second it hit your throat, you choked on the harsh burn, doubling over in a fit of coughs.

“Shit—” you wheezed, eyes watering, clutching your chest. “Matt, I hate you.”

Matt’s smirk dropped. “Alright, drama queen,” he mumbled, but he was already getting up, brushing your thigh gently as he stood. “Stay there.”

He came back not even a minute later with a glass of iced water, condensation dripping down the side. He handed it to you and knelt beside the bed, watching you carefully. “Sip slow.”

You took the glass, still coughing but grateful. “Thanks,” you muttered, voice raspy.

He stayed crouched there for a moment, looking up at you. “You good?”

You nodded, and he climbed back into bed beside you, arm wrapping around your waist like before. You scooted close again, this time with no hesitation, letting the warmth of him settle you.

“I feel weird,” you mumbled after a bit, voice still hoarse. “Floaty. Like I’m gonna melt.”

“You’re just high,” he said, voice soft, calm again. “Relax. You’re fine.”

You laid your head on his shoulder, the haze settling in like a heavy blanket. His fingers started tracing lazy shapes on your thigh, and you felt your legs tense. Your thighs pressed together, a slow, subtle reaction you couldn’t stop—and Matt noticed. You knew he did. But he didn’t say anything.

You peeked up at him. “Matt…”

“Yeah?”

“…you’re warm.”

He looked down at you with a lazy half-smile. “That’s what you’re going with?”

You shrugged, nestling closer. “Shut up.”

His hand moved again—this time over your thigh, the touch light, comforting. You didn’t move away.

“You’re really pretty when you’re not trying so hard,” he said after a long pause, voice low.

You blinked up at him, blinking slowly. “So I’m not pretty when I do?”

He smirked again. “Didn’t say that. Just… like this. No makeup, no fake laugh, no trying to prove anything. Just you.”

You didn’t answer. Your fingers found the fabric of his hoodie and curled there, holding onto it gently. His fingers kept moving, grazing slow across your thigh, and your breath caught for just a second—but you didn’t move.

Neither did he.

Your fingers stayed curled in the fabric of Matt’s hoodie, anchoring you as the haze of the weed deepened, wrapping your senses in a soft, heavy fog. The room felt smaller now, the air thick with his scent—woodsy cologne, faint weed, and something distinctly him. The playlist’s low bass thrummed in the background, syncing with the slow, steady rhythm of your heartbeat.

Matt’s hand on your thigh hadn’t stopped moving, but now his touch expanded, exploratory yet maddeningly light. His fingers trailed up your thigh, skimming over the sensitive skin before drifting to your hip, then along the curve of your waist. They brushed the exposed sliver of skin where your shirt had ridden up, sending a faint jolt through you. His touch wandered further—down your arm, across the back of your hand, then back up to the nape of your neck, where his fingertips grazed the soft hairline. Every movement was slow, deliberate, like he was mapping you out, testing your reaction without ever crossing into something more.

You felt it everywhere. The warmth in your core sparked and spread, a low, pulsing ache that made your thighs press together instinctively. Your breath grew shallower, and you tried to stay still, to act like his touch wasn’t unraveling you. But your body betrayed you—the subtle shift of your hips, the way your fingers tightened on his hoodie, the faint heat creeping up your neck. You didn’t dare meet his eyes, afraid he’d see the need written all over your face.

Matt noticed. You could tell by the way his fingers paused, just for a heartbeat, before continuing their lazy path across your skin. His breathing stayed even, but there was a shift in his posture—a slight tension, like he was hyper-aware of you now. His hand slid back to your thigh, higher this time, his thumb brushing the sensitive inner seam of your jeans, and a soft, involuntary whimper caught in your throat. You clamped your lips shut, praying he hadn’t heard it.

But the faint curl of his lips told you he had. He didn’t say anything, though. Didn’t push. Just kept up that slow, torturous touch—fingers grazing your lower back now, then skimming along your side again, each brush stoking the fire building inside you. He was waiting, you realized, giving you space to make the next move, to say something, anything, to break the unspoken tension hanging between you.

Your head was still resting on his shoulder, and you shifted slightly, pressing yourself closer, your legs shifting restlessly against his. The ache was unbearable now, and every nerve in your body was screaming for more, for him to do something, but you couldn’t find the words. Not yet. Your fingers dug into his hoodie, and you let out a shaky breath, hoping it sounded casual.

“Matt…” you murmured, voice barely above a whisper, testing the waters but not quite ready to dive in.

“Yeah?” His voice was low, calm, but there was an edge to it, like he was holding back.

You swallowed, heart pounding. “…You’re making it hard to think.”

His fingers stilled for a moment, resting lightly on your hip. He tilted his head slightly, looking down at you with that lazy half-smile, eyes darker now, searching yours. “That so?” he said softly, teasing but gentle. “You want me to stop?”

Your breath caught. You shook your head, just barely, cheeks burning. “No.”

His smirk deepened, but he didn’t move, didn’t escalate. His fingers resumed their slow, feather-light tracing, this time along the edge of your waistband, and you felt like you might combust. He was waiting for you to say more, to give him the green light, and the ball was firmly in your court.

Your breath hitched, the weight of Matt’s fingers still lingering on your waistband, each subtle brush of his touch sending sparks through you. The haze of the weed had you floating, amplifying every sensation—the warmth of his body against yours, the faint thrum of the playlist, the way his scent seemed to wrap around you. Your fingers, still curled tightly in his hoodie, trembled slightly as the ache inside you grew impossible to ignore.

You shifted closer, your legs brushing against his, and without overthinking it, you tilted your head, letting your lips graze the side of his neck. The touch was soft, tentative, a gentle kiss pressed just below his jaw. His skin was warm, slightly rough with the faintest hint of stubble, and you felt him tense under you, a quiet hitch in his breath.

Another kiss, slower this time, a little bolder, trailing up toward his pulse point. Your lips lingered, soft and deliberate, and you heard the low rumble of a laugh escape him—a warm, surprised sound that vibrated against your mouth.

“Bold move,” he murmured, voice low and laced with amusement, his head tilting slightly to give you more access, though you could tell he was still holding back, letting you set the pace.

You smiled against his skin, heart racing, and pressed another kiss, this one teasingly close to his earlobe. “You’re still warm,” you whispered, echoing your earlier words, your voice soft but carrying a playful edge.

Matt’s laugh came again, quieter now, more like a hum, and his hand tightened briefly on your hip, fingers digging in just enough to make you hyper-aware of his touch. “You’re trouble,” he said, but there was no bite to it—just that lazy, teasing tone that made your stomach flip.

You pulled back slightly, just enough to meet his eyes, your face inches from his. His gaze was darker now, heavy-lidded, the smirk still tugging at his lips but softened by something else—something careful, like he was still waiting for your signal. Your cheeks were burning, but the haze and the pull of him made you bold, made you want to push just a little further.

“You didn’t tell me to stop,” you said, voice barely above a whisper, your lips hovering near his jaw again, close enough to feel the warmth of his breath.

His smirk widened, and his hand slid up your side, slow and deliberate, fingers splaying across your ribcage. “Didn’t plan to,” he said, voice dropping lower, rougher now. “But you’re gonna have to say what you want, sweetheart.”

The nickname hit you like a spark, fanning the heat in your core. Your breath caught, and you leaned in again, lips brushing his neck once more, this time with a little more pressure, a little more intent. You felt him shift beneath you, his thigh pressing against yours, and the subtle movement sent a shiver up your spine.

“Matt…” you murmured, your lips grazing his skin as you spoke, not quite a question, not quite a plea, but enough to make his fingers twitch against your side.

He tilted his head, giving you a better angle, but his voice stayed steady, teasing. “Yeah? Use your words.”

You huffed softly, half-embarrassed, half-frustrated, and nipped lightly at his neck in retaliation, earning another low laugh from him. His hand slid to your lower back now, pulling you closer, your body pressed snugly against his. The shift made you hyper-aware of every point of contact—the heat of his chest, the firmness of his thigh under you, the way his fingers seemed to burn through your shirt.

“I want…” you started, but the words caught in your throat, your courage faltering under the weight of his gaze. You kissed his neck again instead, slower, letting your lips linger, hoping he’d take the hint.

Matt’s fingers traced a slow path up your spine, and he hummed, the sound vibrating under your lips. “with a hint of challenge in his tone. “You’re killing me here,” he said, but there was no mistaking the heat in his voice, the way he was letting you lead but meeting you halfway. “You gonna make me guess what you want, or you gonna tell me?”

His hand slid to your thigh again, higher now, his thumb brushing just close enough to the seam of your jeans to make your breath hitch. You felt the tension coiling tighter, the air between you electric, but he still didn’t push, didn’t cross that final line. He was waiting, patient but not passive, his touch a quiet challenge daring you to speak up.

Your lips lingered on Matt’s neck, the taste of his skin and the faint pulse beneath making your head spin. The weed’s haze had you teetering on the edge, every touch amplified, every breath heavy with want. His fingers, still tracing slow, deliberate paths along your thigh and spine, were driving you crazy, and the tension between you felt like it might snap. You pressed another kiss to his jaw, softer this time, but the ache in your core was unbearable now, a desperate need you couldn’t ignore.

A soft whine slipped from your lips, low and needy, as you shifted restlessly against him, your thighs squeezing together. “Matt…” you breathed, the sound almost a plea, your voice trembling with frustration and want.

His fingers stilled, and for a moment, you thought he’d tease you again, make you beg for it. But then you felt his body shift, his hand tightening on your hip as he let out a quiet, “Fuck, you’re gonna kill me with that.”

Before you could process his words, Matt moved. His hands slid to your waist, firm but gentle, and in one smooth motion, he shifted you off his lap and onto the bed, your back sinking into the soft mattress. He hovered over you, one knee braced between your legs, his eyes dark and heavy as they searched yours. The smirk was gone, replaced by something intense, almost reverent.

“Alright, sweetheart,” he murmured, voice low and rough. “I got you.”

He leaned down, his lips brushing your collarbone first, soft and deliberate, sending a shiver through you. His kisses were slow, unhurried, as he worked his way across your skin—down the curve of your neck, along the dip of your shoulder, then back to the sensitive spot just below your ear. Each kiss was gentle, but there was a weight to them, like he was savoring every inch of you. His hands followed, sliding under your shirt to graze your sides, his touch warm and grounding.

You squirmed beneath him, the ache in your core flaring hotter with every kiss, every brush of his lips. Your breath came in shallow gasps, and another soft whine escaped you as his mouth found the hollow of your throat, lingering there with a slow, open-mouthed kiss. “Matt…” you whimpered, your hands finding his shoulders, fingers digging into the fabric of his hoodie as you arched slightly toward him.

“Shh,” he murmured against your skin, his voice a soothing hum. “I’m right here.” His lips moved lower, kissing the exposed skin of your stomach where your shirt had ridden up, his breath warm and teasing. His hands slid to your hips, thumbs brushing just beneath the waistband of your jeans, and the sensation made your legs tremble.

You were needier now, the slow burn of his kisses only stoking the fire, not easing it. Your hips shifted instinctively, seeking more, and you tugged at his hoodie, a silent plea for him to do something, anything, to ease the ache. “Matt, please…” you whined again, your voice breaking, raw with want.

He paused, lifting his head to look at you, his eyes dark but soft, taking in your flushed cheeks and heavy breaths. “God, you’re beautiful like this,” he said, almost to himself, before leaning down to kiss you properly this time—his lips on yours, gentle but firm, tasting faintly of weed and mint. The kiss was slow, deliberate, but it sent a rush of heat through you, making you arch into him, your hands sliding into his hair.

When he pulled back, his lips brushed down your jaw again, then back to your neck, your collarbone, kissing every inch he could reach. His hands stayed steady, one sliding up to cup your side, the other gripping your hip to keep you grounded. But it wasn’t enough—you felt like you were unraveling, the need coiling tighter with every soft kiss, every teasing brush of his fingers.

“More…” you mumbled, barely coherent, your voice a needy whimper as you tugged at him again, hips lifting slightly off the bed.

Matt let out a low chuckle, the sound vibrating against your skin as he kissed the curve of your ribs. “Greedy,” he teased, but his voice was thick, and his grip on your hip tightened, betraying his own restraint slipping. He didn’t push further, though, still keeping his touches soft, his lips worshipful, waiting for you to set the pace, to tell him exactly how far you wanted this to go.

Matt’s lips were still tracing slow, reverent kisses across your skin, each one sending shivers racing through you. His mouth lingered at the curve of your collarbone, then dipped lower, brushing the sensitive skin just above your stomach. The weed’s haze amplified everything—the warmth of his breath, the graze of his fingers along your sides, the way his touch seemed to burn through your clothes. Your body was a live wire, every nerve humming with need, and the ache in your core was so intense it was almost painful.

You whimpered again, a soft, desperate sound, your fingers tugging at his hoodie as you arched beneath him. “Matt, please…” you breathed, voice trembling, barely holding together.

He lifted his head, eyes dark and heavy as they met yours, a flicker of amusement mixing with the heat in his gaze. “So needy,” he murmured, voice low and rough, but there was no mockery in it—just a quiet awe, like he was seeing you in a new light.

Then, without warning, he shifted, pressing his knee forward, slotting it firmly between your legs. The pressure hit your core, right where you needed it most, and a sharp, involuntary whimper tore from your throat. The sensation was electric, a jolt of relief and torment all at once, and your hips bucked instinctively, chasing more. Your thighs clamped around his knee, trying to hold him there, but the movement only made you squirm harder, the friction sending sparks through your already fraying nerves.

“Fuck,” you gasped, voice barely coherent, your hands flying to his shoulders, fingers digging into the muscle beneath his hoodie. Your body moved on its own, grinding faintly against his knee, desperate for more, but it wasn’t enough—not nearly enough.

Matt’s breath hitched, and you felt his grip on your hip tighten, his fingers digging in just enough to keep you grounded. He didn’t pull back, didn’t ease up, keeping his knee pressed firmly against you as he watched your reaction, eyes flickering with something darker, hungrier. “That what you needed?” he asked, voice a low rumble, teasing but laced with tension, like he was barely holding himself back.

You couldn’t answer, not with words. Another whine slipped out as you squirmed again, your hips rolling against his knee, the pressure sending waves of heat through you. Your head tipped back, exposing your throat, and Matt took the invitation, leaning down to kiss the sensitive skin there, his lips soft but deliberate. His kisses trailed lower, brushing the dip of your neck, then back up to your jaw, each one stoking the fire in your core.

His knee shifted slightly, pressing harder, and you moaned softly, the sound raw and unfiltered. Your fingers slid into his hair, tugging lightly, and you felt him groan against your skin, the vibration making you tremble. “Matt…” you whimpered, your body a mess of need, squirming relentlessly now, chasing the friction, the relief, anything to ease the ache.

“God, you’re killing me,” he muttered, his voice rougher now, his lips brushing your collarbone again as his hand slid up your side, thumb grazing just beneath your bra. He didn’t push further, though, still keeping that careful balance, his knee a steady, torturous pressure against your core. He was giving you just enough to drive you wild but not enough to tip you over the edge, waiting for you to ask for more, to set the pace.

Your hips bucked again, harder this time, and another desperate whimper escaped you, your nails digging into his shoulder. The need was overwhelming now, consuming, and every kiss, every shift of his knee, made you feel like you might unravel completely.

Matt’s knee stayed pressed against your core, the steady pressure driving you to the edge of sanity as you squirmed beneath him, whimpering with every subtle shift. His lips were still on your neck, kissing slow and deliberate, each touch sending fresh waves of heat through you. The haze of the weed made every sensation sharper, your body a live wire under his hands. Your fingers clung to his hoodie, tugging desperately, and your hips rolled against his knee, chasing relief that stayed just out of reach.

“Matt…” you whined again, voice breaking, raw with need. The sound seemed to snap something in him, his grip on your hip tightening as he pulled back slightly, eyes dark and searching yours.

“Alright, sweetheart,” he murmured, voice low and gravelly, thick with want. “Let’s take care of you.”

His hands moved to the hem of your shirt, fingers brushing your skin as he looked at you, silently checking in. You nodded, breathless, and he tugged the shirt up and over your head, tossing it aside. His gaze flickered over you, lingering on the soft curve of your bra, and you felt your cheeks burn under the intensity of his stare. His hands slid to the waistband of your jeans next, deftly unbuttoning them, and you lifted your hips to help as he peeled them off, leaving you in just your bra and panties.

Matt’s breath hitched, his eyes raking over you, dark and reverent, like he was seeing something sacred. “Fuck,” he muttered under his breath, almost to himself. “You’re gorgeous.”

You squirmed under his gaze, the cool air hitting your bare skin only amplifying the ache in your core. Your hands reached for him, tugging at his hoodie, but he caught your wrists gently, pinning them above your head with one hand. “Not yet,” he teased, a smirk tugging at his lips, though his voice was strained, betraying his own slipping control.

His free hand reached for the glass of iced water still sitting on the bedside table, the condensation dripping down its side. He fished out an ice cube, holding it between his fingers, and your eyes widened, breath catching as you realized what he was about to do. “Matt—” you started, but the words dissolved into a gasp as he brought the ice cube to your collarbone, the cold shock making you arch off the bed.

“Shh,” he murmured, voice soothing but commanding, his lips brushing your jaw as he dragged the ice slowly across your skin. The contrast of the freezing cube against your overheated body was overwhelming, a sharp, delicious sting that made you tremble. He trailed it down the center of your chest, between the swell of your breasts, watching your reaction with a focus that made your core throb.

“Fuck,” you whimpered, your hips bucking instinctively as the ice slid lower, over the soft skin of your stomach. The cold left a wet trail, and Matt followed it with his lips, kissing the chilled skin, his warm breath a maddening contrast. Your hands strained against his grip, desperate to touch him, but he held them firm, his control unwavering.

He moved the ice to the edge of your bra, teasing along the lace, and you moaned softly, the sound raw and needy. Your body was a mess of sensation—the cold, the heat of his mouth, the ache between your thighs growing unbearable. He dragged the ice across your ribcage, then up to the sensitive skin just below your navel, and you squirmed harder, thighs pressing together as the need coiled tighter.

“Matt, please…” you whined, voice trembling, your body arching toward him, begging for more. The ice was melting now, dripping cold water onto your skin, and he let it linger at the waistband of your panties, the chill sending a jolt straight to your core.

He chuckled softly, the sound low and teasing, as he kissed the wet trail on your stomach. “So impatient,” he murmured, but his hand finally released your wrists, sliding down to grip your hip instead. The ice cube was nearly gone, but he pressed what was left against the sensitive skin just above your panties, making you gasp and buck again.

You were needier than ever, the cold and his slow, deliberate touches driving you to the brink. Your hands flew to his hair, tugging lightly, and you arched into him, whimpering as the ache in your core pulsed harder. “Matt, I can’t…” you mumbled, voice barely coherent, desperate for him to do something, anything, to ease the torment.

He looked up at you, eyes dark with want, the smirk softening into something almost tender. “I’ve got you,” he said, voice rough but steady, as he tossed the remnants of the ice aside and leaned down to kiss your stomach again, slow and worshipful, his hands sliding up your thighs, teasing but not quite giving you what you craved.

Matt’s kisses lingered on your stomach, soft and deliberate, each one stoking the fire in your core as the remnants of the ice cube’s chill faded into your overheated skin. The haze of the weed made every touch feel electric, your body trembling with need as his hands gripped your thighs, thumbs brushing teasingly close to the edge of your panties. Your breath came in shallow gasps, your fingers tangled in his hair, tugging lightly as you squirmed beneath him, the ache between your legs unbearable.

“Matt…” you whimpered, voice raw and pleading, your hips shifting restlessly, seeking more. The sound seemed to spark something in him, his eyes darkening as he looked up at you, the tenderness in his gaze now laced with something hungrier.

“Alright, sweetheart,” he murmured, voice low and rough, thick with restraint. His hands slid up your thighs, fingers hooking into the waistband of your panties. He paused, eyes flicking to yours, silently checking in. You nodded, breathless, heart pounding, and he tugged the fabric down slowly, peeling it off and tossing it aside, leaving you bare beneath him except for your bra.

The cool air hit your exposed skin, and you shivered, but it was Matt’s gaze—dark, reverent, almost possessive—that made your breath catch. He reached for the glass of iced water again, fishing out another ice cube, and your eyes widened, a mix of anticipation and nerves fluttering in your chest. “Matt—” you started, but the words dissolved into a sharp gasp as he brought the ice cube to your inner thigh, the cold shock sending a jolt through you.

“Shh,” he soothed, his free hand gripping your hip to keep you steady, his lips brushing the sensitive skin just above your navel. “Just relax.”

He dragged the ice slowly up your thigh, closer to your core, and you trembled, your legs parting instinctively as the anticipation built. Then, with a deliberate, torturous slowness, he pressed the ice cube against your folds, the freezing touch on your heated skin making you cry out softly, a mix of shock and pleasure. Your hips bucked, but Matt’s hand on your hip held you firm, grounding you as he moved the ice, gliding it gently over your slick folds.

“Fuck,” you whimpered, voice trembling, your head tipping back as the cold sent waves of sensation through you. The ice was unrelenting, a sharp contrast to the heat pooling inside you, and when he guided it to your clit, circling slowly, you moaned, loud and unfiltered, your hands clutching the sheets. The pleasure was intense, almost too much, every nerve in your body lit up as you squirmed beneath him, torn between pulling away and pressing closer.

Matt watched you, eyes locked on your face, drinking in every reaction. “You’re so fucking beautiful,” he murmured, voice rough, almost reverent, as he leaned down to kiss the inside of your thigh, his warm breath a maddening contrast to the ice. The cube was melting now, dripping cold water onto your skin, mixing with your own slickness, and he kept moving it, slow and deliberate, teasing your clit before sliding it back down your folds.

Your thighs trembled, and another desperate whimper escaped you, your hips rolling against his hand, chasing the sensation even as it overwhelmed you. “Matt, please…” you gasped, voice barely coherent, the need in your core so intense it felt like you might unravel.

He didn’t stop, but his kisses softened, trailing up your thigh as the ice melted away, leaving a wet trail he followed with his lips. His hand slid to your other thigh, spreading you open gently, and he kissed closer to your core, slow and worshipful, but not quite giving you the release you craved. “Tell me what you need,” he said, voice low and teasing, though you could hear the strain in it, like he was barely holding himself back.

You moaned again, squirming under his touch, your body a mess of want, the ice and his teasing kisses pushing you closer to the edge but not quite enough. “You…” you mumbled, voice shaky, desperate, your fingers tugging at his hair, urging him closer.

The melted ice left a slick trail on your skin, mingling with your own arousal as Matt’s lips hovered teasingly close to your core, his warm breath sending shivers through you. The weed’s haze had you hyper-sensitive, every touch and whisper amplified, your body trembling with need. His kisses, soft and worshipful, only stoked the fire, and your whimpers were growing harder to stifle, especially knowing your parents were somewhere in the house, oblivious but dangerously close.

Matt pulled back slightly, his eyes dark and heavy as they met yours, a silent question in his gaze. Your chest heaved, and you nodded, desperate, your fingers still tangled in his hair. “Please…” you whispered, voice raw, barely holding together.

He didn’t make you beg this time. His hands moved to his hoodie, tugging it off in one fluid motion, revealing the lean muscle beneath. Your breath caught at the sight of him, and when he shed his jeans and boxers, your eyes widened, a mix of anticipation and nerves fluttering in your stomach. He was big—intimidatingly so, the kind of size that promised both pleasure and a challenge.

He crawled back over you, bracing himself on one arm as he leaned down to kiss you, slow and deep, his lips grounding you even as your body buzzed with need. “Gonna take care of you,” he murmured against your mouth, voice soft but laced with hunger. “But you gotta be quiet for me, okay, sweetheart?”

You nodded, biting your lip, but the thought of staying silent felt impossible with the way your body was screaming for him. He reached between you, guiding himself to your entrance, and you tensed, the anticipation making your heart race. “Relax,” he whispered, kissing the corner of your mouth, his hand stroking your thigh soothingly. “I’ve got you.”

He pushed in slowly, inch by inch, and you gasped, the stretch intense but delicious as he filled you, his size hitting every sensitive spot with a precision that made your toes curl. The sensation was overwhelming, a perfect blend of pleasure and pressure, and you clenched around him, a soft moan slipping out before you could stop it.

“Shh,” Matt murmured, his voice gentle but firm. He brought his free hand to your mouth, pressing two fingers against your lips. “Suck on these, baby. Keep you quiet.”

Your eyes fluttered as you obeyed, drawing his fingers into your mouth, your tongue swirling around them. The act was grounding, muffling your whimpers as he started to move, his thrusts slow and deliberate, each one dragging against every nerve inside you. He was gentle but deep, his hips rolling with a rhythm that made your core tighten, the pleasure building so fast it was dizzying.

“Fuck, you feel so good,” he whispered, his voice low and reverent, his lips brushing your ear. “So perfect for me.” His words sent a shiver through you, and you moaned around his fingers, the sound muffled but desperate. He kept his pace steady, each thrust hitting that sweet spot deep inside you, the stretch of him filling you so completely it was almost too much.

Your hands gripped his shoulders, nails digging into his skin as you rocked against him, chasing the rising wave of pleasure. The weed made everything sharper—the warmth of his body, the slick friction, the way his cock seemed to know exactly where you needed him. Your thighs trembled, and you sucked harder on his fingers, trying to stay quiet as the coil in your core tightened, threatening to snap.

“Look at you,” Matt murmured, his voice soft but thick with awe, his eyes locked on yours. “Taking me so well.” He shifted slightly, angling his hips to hit even deeper, and you arched beneath him, a stifled cry vibrating against his fingers. The pleasure was blinding, each thrust pushing you closer to the edge, and you could tell he felt it too—his breathing was ragged now, his control fraying, but he stayed gentle, keeping you safe even as he unraveled you.

“Matt…” you mumbled around his fingers, voice barely audible, your body shaking as the pressure built higher. You were so close, every nerve alight, and the need to stay quiet only made it more intense, the secrecy adding a thrilling edge.

“I know, baby,” he whispered, kissing your neck softly, his thrusts never faltering, slow but relentless. “Let go for me. I’ve got you.”

His words, his voice, the perfect stretch of him—it was too much. The coil snapped, and you came hard, your body shuddering as waves of pleasure crashed over you. You bit down on his fingers to muffle your moans, your walls clenching around him, and Matt groaned softly, his own release following as he thrust deep one last time, spilling inside you.

He stayed there for a moment, buried in you, his lips brushing your forehead as you both caught your breath. Slowly, he eased his fingers from your mouth, wiping them gently on the sheet before kissing you, soft and languid, like he was savoring the taste of you. “You okay?” he murmured, voice still low, his hand stroking your side.

You nodded, dazed, your body limp and sated, the afterglow mixing with the weed’s haze to leave you floating. “Yeah,” you whispered, a shy smile tugging at your lips. “More than okay.”

He chuckled softly, pulling you close, his arms wrapping around you as he kissed your temple. “Good,” he said, voice warm and steady. “Let’s stay quiet, though. Don’t need your parents ruining this.”

—

A/N- it’s so flipping long i’m sorry

My beautiful babies- @blushsturns @starrii-sturns @izzylovesmatt @chrisslut04 @oopsiedaisydeer @csturnioloswifey @just-a-girl-1 @sturdyyolo @sturnslvtt @sturnbows @sturniolosrtewsexy @chriss-slutt @franticroads s @thecrawlys @ribbonlovergirl @freshlyinlovewchris @whore4chris @matts-girlfriend @ariana3lovesu @sturnl0ve @cass-sturn @sturns-mermaid @sunrisemill @fadedstvrn @ikyoudreamofme @mattsdemi @kitkatbar1275 @skelet0nsinmyycloset @lezleeferguson-120 @bells-sturn @sturniolosymphony @kenziesturniolo54 @kikirasweatsweathoho @emely9274 @cherryystemm @realuvrrr @zenithsturniolo @kier-with-a-k @eeyoresturnz @elizasturn @ribread03 @sturnslux3 @costalgirlyr @pizzapocketpocketpizza @arianna1342 @mattsplaything @ed1tssturnn

[dokries]

sunshine

pairing: yoon jeonghan x gender neutral reader

genre: fluff, established relationship

word count: 1.1k

warnings: mentions of bruising (reader gets hurt), passing mention of alcohol (no one drinks), a kiss on the forehead, jeonghan gets called a loser lovingly, pet names (babe/baby, sunshine)

author note: this was requested by an anon! thank you so much for requesting once again, and i’m sorry that my work isn’t exactly what you asked for. i still hope you enjoy this though <3 lots of love!!

masterlist

you probably should’ve taken up jeonghan’s offer when he texted you earlier, asking if you wanted to be dropped off before he went to a group dinner with his friends.

of course, you had said no, assuming that it would be the normal amount of traffic when leaving work. to your luck, it turned out the elevators stopped working right before it was time for you to go home and you risked going down the stairwell with everyone else—no one wanted to be stuck in the plain office building any longer, that’s for sure.

however, that also meant that there were some people rushing and elbowing others aside, despite it being…you know, a somewhat steep stairwell that was already crammed with others walking down it. sadly, you were one of the victims of a particularly brutal shover and pushed towards the railing and the cold metal had dug into your body multiple times, which is exactly why your legs ache as you sit down onto the couch slowly.

you take a peek at the back of your forearm and sigh seeing the small red marks leading up to the hem of your shirt sleeve.

you contemplate changing into a shirt with longer sleeves so you don’t worry your boyfriend but decide against it, knowing that he won’t be back for a while; when it’s the whole group of thirteen, they usually stop around one am at the earliest.

you grab an ice pack from the kitchen before stumbling back to the comfortable couch once more with a sigh, turning on the tv to a random channel as you wince at the feeling of the pack touching your tender skin. you keep treating your new bruises gently, with most of your attention on the screen in front of you—it turns out you put on a random reality show and there is drama that’s way too interesting to not watch.

it’s a little after eleven pm when the door unlocks and jeonghan lets himself in, carding a finger through his long hair before he places his motorcycle helmet and keys down, his lip ring glinting in the dimly lit room—he didn’t get to drink anyway since some of the guys had to cancel, and went bowling instead with mingyu and seokmin.

he hums the song that kept playing at the bowling alley as he looks up at you with a mischievous grin. “hey, babe.”

“hey, jeonghan!” you chirp, your voice unusually high as you hurriedly hide the ice pack behind you.

he raises an eyebrow at your cheerfulness this late at night but doesn’t press it, not yet noticing your bruises—that are on full display, even though they are starting to look better—as he goes to hang his leather jacket on the hanger specially designated for it.

your boyfriend turns and walks over to where you’re sitting, placing a small kiss on your forehead as he slumps down on the couch beside you, dangerously close to the biggest bruise you have.

jeonghan smirks at the way the two women on the screen argue with each other. “wow, over a man? he doesn’t even seem to be all that.”

you nod and he smiles, leaning his head against your shoulder as the guy cuts in, taking one woman’s side.

as jeonghan nuzzles his face into your arm, getting bored of what’s on the tv, his lip ring digs into one of the red spots you had gotten earlier and he can feel the way you tense. he frowns at your furrowed brows before looking down at your arm and sighing, his face freezing. “what’s this?”

when you don’t answer, he sighs. “what happened.” he phrases it like a statement instead of a question and you roll your eyes, already knowing he would be like this.

“hannie, nothing happened, i promise,” you say and jeonghan stares at you until you begrudgingly continue. “fine, fine. the elevators stopped working so i went down the stairs when work ended and people kept pushing me off to the side ‘cause they were in a rush. that’s all.”

your boyfriend scoffs, looking out at the window before back at you, his eyes hard. “are you serious? that’s not nothing at all.”

he grabs your hands gently, making sure he doesn’t touch any sore spots and speaks softly. “i’m sorry you had to go through that, baby. next time, i’ll make sure to just pick you up and not ask in case there are jerks like that again. in fact, i’ll be dropping you off and picking you up until the stupid elevators get fixed. i’m not about to take any risks when it comes to you.”

“this really isn’t helping your ‘bad boy’ agenda, you know that, right?” you smile teasingly, squeezing your boyfriend’s hand.

jeonghan looks at you in confusion. “what do you mean by that?”

you smirk. “come on, hannie. you have the whole package: a motorcycle, your leather jackets—even your lip ring!” you pause, sighing. “all my coworkers talk about how you seem so brooding and like a lone wolf. it’s like they think you’re the coolest person ever when really, you’re just a loser.”

“hey, i’m not a loser!” jeonghan scoffs before reaching for the ice pack behind you and putting it to the bruises he can see.

“what?” he says when you raise an eyebrow and look down at the pack in his hands. “oh, this? i knew it was behind your back since earlier. you���re not very good at hiding things.”

you roll your eyes before leaning on his shoulder. “see what i mean? loser.”

jeonghan’s eyes soften as he looks at your big grin next to his face and places a kiss on your knuckle. “there’s my sunshine.”

“hey, that’s part of the ‘bad boy’ agenda too!” you chuckle, moving away from him slightly to hit his arm lightly. “besides, i told you not to call me that, it’s so cringey!”

“what, sunshine? i’ll never stop calling you that because it’s true.” your boyfriend sticks his tongue out at you before smirking when you roll your eyes again.

jeonghan then pauses before winking, his head making its way onto your shoulder once more with a content sigh. “either way, i need to make sure i keep up my reputation with your coworkers, am i right?”

[bunny-jpeg]

small military things - 141

"what is the comfort item the men of task force 141 keep close to remind them of the most important thing in their life, you." - starring: john price, simon riley, kyle garrick and john mactavish

a/n: was this inspired? yes. inspired by what? you can probably guess..

captain john price: call him an old romantic, but he keeps a photo of you in his helmet. tucked away in the straps, out of sight but still in his mind. you were always n his mind, while he laid in the uncomfortable cot, he thought about your sugary voice and the sweetness between your legs. he thought of home, how you were probably tucked away in bed. while he wasn't there to protect you, he knew that he was keeping the world safe and therefore you safe. the love of his life! it was of you smiling, that time you went to the zoo and the keeper put a large snake across your shoulders. you were laughing, a reminder to price that he had to do everything he could to keep the laughter coming. seeing that beautiful smile. but it also burned something fierce in the captain, a need for his missus. just make sure to send another printed out picture of you in your next care package because his other one, well, got a ruined.

lieutenant simon riley: he gifted you patches from his military gear. they were old, frayed at the edges. a sign of well worn material. he didn't need to wear "riley" across his chest anymore while on base. but you, you were the mrs. riley! if anyone should have it, it was you. and in return you gifted him a small bear plush. officer bear was the name that you gave it, even though simon explained that officer wasn't a very high rank, but he still took the toy. he never owned stuffed animals, the ones in his home were yours. but officer bear was a nice comfort item on base. he stayed there when simon left for a mission (safer that way). however, simon had to put the stuffed toy in the closet while he masturbated. but he did touch himself to thoughts of you cuddled up with the plush toy once he came home, the brown bear's soft head stuck between your breasts while you cuddled with it. soon simon thought about his big head between your soft breasts. how many more days was it till lt. riley and officer bear got to go home to the missus?

sergeant kyle garrick: he would say his little military thing was that he slept with your old university hoodie as a pillow case when he was on base. the worn fabric, the wear and tear around the cuffs of the sleeves from how well loved it had been. the brick red coloured fabric up against his cheek while he slept - memories of you. however, he had another article of clothing that he kept in his tactical vest. it wasn't from university, but rather your wedding night - thin cotton panties that you wore on your wedding night. pastel blue that held precious memories of the lovely, stunning mrs. garrick. however it was hard to clean when 141 does their laundry, everything is put together, so it was rather up against his face rather than around his cock when he gets a few quiet of moments for stress relief.

sergeant john mactavish: things have moved a long way since the second world war, now john can simply text you, every little thought that comes into his mind. some days he cannot text; trainings, missions, flights, etc. but when he got his phone back, the cracked screen with the flimsy scotland themed case (that you bought him), he was texting you. maybe some of those messages would make the likes of price look away out of modesty, but for the most part john behaved. but you had woken up to hi waxing poetically about how much he wanted to eat you out when he got home - only weeks till he got to have the sweetest fruit of the highlands once more. - he wanted to eat you out. he always tried to egg you on to tease him i situations where he couldn't jerk off. he loved the rush of your dirty talk over text! and he could save it for later, your dirty text continued to be the subject of his sexual fantasies after he retired and got to have your sweet pussy every night.

[cherriegyuu]

high for this | csc/kmg

pairing: seungcheol x f!reader x mingyu genre: smut word count: 4.3k warnings: minors do not interact, threesome, dirty talking, swearing, petnames, oral, multiple orgasm, forced orgasm, unprotected sex (don't do this), boob play, kind of intense, little bit of degradation, anal (?) a/n: this happened... i blame @ressonancee, she made me do it, also thank u to @ssinboo too for helping me, both of you 💕 this is my last fic of the year, so why not make it the wildest thing i've ever written? lower case was intencional. read it through once, probably needs a lot of editing

"is there anything you want to try?" 

you looked up from your toenails to find your boyfriend's strong gaze on you. it was a sunday night much like any other sunday, you were watching a movie together while you painted your nails. much to your dislike, that week you had an appointment with a nail stylist but she had to cancel last minute so it was up to you to do your own nails. you liked doing it by yourself, but only your hands. 

"hm" you looked at the bright numbers on your phone. it was just past eight, around time for dinner "i feel like pizza, you?"

seungcheol nodded and reached for his phone, texting the place you usually ordered from, mindlessly typing away on his phone. 

"that was not really the question though," he said looking at you "i asked if there's anything you'd like to try"

you cocked your head to the side, not sure what he meant but since you were talking about food just a second before, you figured that it was still the topic. the movie too was about a waitress turned chef, so it seemed like a natural path of conversation. 

"i don't know, all the places i want to try don't deliver and i don't feel like going out" you murmured. 

your boyfriend laughed, his hand tracing random circles around your ankle. 

"in sex, babe. something you want to try while we have sex"

if life was like a cartoon or an animation, you were certain that there was probably going to be a question mark over your head. you thought that there was nothing wrong with your sex life, if anything it was great. 

thorughout the three and a half years you and seungcheol had been together, sex had never been boring or dull. if anything it was always exciting. you had always been eager to try different things and fulfill most, if not all, of each other's fantasies. 

so his question, though not really surprising, was somewhat unexpected. 

"not that i can think of right now, why?"

he chuckled, turning his eyes back to his phone, and quickly typing your order. he didn't need to ask what kind of pizza you wanted, it was always the same order. you were sure that when the workers saw his name they didn't need to read the order in full. 

"because i think there’s something you've always wanted to try and never told me"

you started to shake your head but stopped midway, narrowing your eyes at him. 

"how do you know?"

he turned around, now completely facing you on the bed, and pulled your feet up on his leg. many times before seungcheol had painted your nails for you, the reasons usually varied a lot, but you knew that this time he was trying to get you to confess to him. 

he would have to work a little harder for that.

"baby, i know what ticks you. you can try to hide it all you want, but in the end, you're not the innocent girl everyone thinks you are"

you bit your lip, thinking just how far you could talk. there was only one fantasy that you were yet to complete and though he was your boyfriend and judgment from him was usually very low, if it even happened at all, you weren't sure if the one you kept a secret was one he would like to hear, much less make it happen for you.

the truth was that seungcheol was more on the jealous side of the spectrum of the boyfriends you had in your life. he was, undoubtedly, number one on that list. so, perhaps, telling him that you would like to partake in a threesome would not be the best idea.

"i don't know if i should tell you about it"

seungcheol's eyes were focused on the brush running over your nail but you didn't miss the way he ran his tongue over his inner cheek.

"if you don't say it out loud, i'm not going to make it happen"

you analyzed him for a second, narrowed eyes at the way he looked so nonchalant about it. he looked too calm with the idea. familiar with the thought already. 

"you've done it before!" you said, mouth agape, sort of laughing, shaking his arm "when? with who? you and two girls, or you, a guy and a girl? oh, oh oh! you and other two guys?"

of course that was it. of course, that was why he was so chill about it. 

"i'm going to mess up your nails," he said without raising his eyes, a hint of entertainment in his voice.

"who cares about my nails? i want the stories"

seungcheol said that he knew what made you tick but you also knew how to get him to do the things you wanted. you patted his hands away from your feet and climbed on his lap, making sure to stretch your legs behind him so you wouldn't mess up your nails, which would make seungcheol pout like a child. 

"tell me," you asked, in your sweetest voice, poking at his dimples that decided to make an appearance.

he set his hands around your waist, a grin on his face when he pushed his hand under your shirt - his shirt actually - so he could touch your skin. 

"me, a guy and a girl"

you sighed and kissed him. the image of him, you and someone else crept up in your mind again, and slouched over him again.

"i'll let you pick whoever you..."

"mingyu" you said even before he could finish his sentence. 

he pinched your waist, pouting.

"you could at least pretend to think about it"

you had thought about it, more times than you were willing to admit. out of all the people you knew, mingyu was the only one who ever crossed your mind. 

"i'll make it happen" 

you sat in the middle of the bed, expectantly looking from seungcheol, who stood close to door, to mingyu, who anxiously shifted his weight from a foot the other on side of the room.

after seungcheol said that he was going to make it happen, he never mentioned the situation again. and although it had been fun to tease him that day, you didn't want to push your luck with him. 

it took him a couple of weeks to say anything at all and then he suddenly just said "mingyu will come by tomorrow"

no dinner, no wine, beer, or talk. it was just an announcement and then the three of you were in the same room, expectantly looking at each other.

"you should kiss her, get her in the mood," seungcheol said to mingyu "this was something she wanted to try, but i think she got a little shy now that you're here"

mingyu adverted his eyes from seungcheol and finally set them on you again, trying to make sure that it was really okay to touch you. when all you did was blink at him, he hesitated.

"do you actually want this?" he asked, looking over at seungcheol who smiled while leaning against the door, arms crossed over his chest.

your silence didn't come from cold feet or suddenly having second thoughts, it was more because you felt hot all over. neither of them had even touched you yet but just the fact that both of them were in the same room with you and you knew what was about to happen. your mind had sort of stopped functioning the moment you saw mingyu walk in, trailing behind seungcheol.

"dude, maybe some other time," he said to seungcheol "i don't think she wants this"

"no," you said finding your voice again, suddenly gripping his large hand "i want this, i'm just a little nervous"

mingyu didn't need to be told twice. he had gotten a green light from you and that was all he needed to move. he started with your shoulder. he placed a light kiss on your skin, brushing away your hair and the strap of your nightgown. 

you never thought that seungchel would agree to something like that and that was why you never told him about it. being with two men was one of your fantasies and while your boyfriend had worked hard to meet all of them, you were certain that there was one he would never say yes to. and yet, somehow, there you were, in the middle of your bedroom with the two hottest men you had ever laid eyes on. 

the promise of what was about to happen was more than enough to get you started. 

mingyu trailed kisses up your neck. the contrast between the delicate caress of his lips and the roughness of his hands was enough to make your legs shake a little. finally, his lips touched yours. tentatively at first, mimicking the silky touch of just a second before. when you responded to his actions, hand gripping his forearms, mingyu deepened the kiss, his tongue brushing past your lips, demanding control. 

whenever you imagined yourself in such a position, the third person never had a face. it was only you and seungcheol and someone else, a faceless man. but the second you met mingyu, months before, he became the faceless man in your fantasies. just how many times had you imagined yourself in between the two men, falling apart in their arms? 

countless had been the nights you woke up needy, after yet another dream, turning to seungcheol desperate, begging for more and more. 

just as mingyu slightly pulled back you felt seungcheol behind you, his hand on your upper thigh, dragging the fabric of your gown up. he made a pleased sound on the back of his throat when he didn't feel the usual band of underwear. you thought that there was no point in wearing one. 

“i'm going to blindfold you now” seungcheol whispered, lightly nibbling at your earlobe.

you moaned when you felt the lace being placed over your eyes at the same time mingyu kissed your chest, his thumb running over your nipple. 

seungcheol wrapped his arm around you and pulled your back flush against him, his lips sucking your skin as mingyu left airy kisses over your chest.

you had completely forfeited control at that point, even if maybe it was a little early for that. the lace covering your eyes only gave you small glimpses of the man in front of you, of his chest still covered in the white t-shirt he had on when he arrived, his tanned skin. but even if you were able to see a little, there was still so much that you didn't and that made every touch feel hotter, needier, more demanding.

you felt seungcheol taking a couple of steps back, until both of you were seated on the middle bed.

"why the blindfold?" you asked.

seungcheol pulled your weight over him, his hands pushing your gown down at the same time mingyu pushed it up, leaving all the fabric pooling around your waist.

"because you like it, because i want you to enjoy this to the fullest" his voice was low, rough, and each word that left his lips sent waves through your body, straight to your core "so enjoy it while he eats you out and then fucks you, there won't be a second chance. i won't share you again"

one of the reasons you even said yes in the first place to the idea was because mingyu was leaving town soon. he got a job in another city and it required him to move. so when seungcheol brought up you fantasy and teased you with it, agreeing and choosing mingyu had been easy. you wouldn't have to see him again any time soon, so there was no chance of you being embarrassed in front of him. by the time you saw him again, the things you allowed both of them to do to you would be a distant memory. 

"when do you fuck me?"

that was the whole point of the night, you thought, having both of them at the same, but in seungcheol's little speech, there was no mention of him. 

his chest vibrated with laughter, chuckling. 

"i will, baby, don't worry"

seungcheol snaked his arm around you waist, his fingers sliding over you until he reached your thighs. your boyfriend pushed your leg to the side, while mingyu did the exact same thing, leaving you in complete display for him. 

"if you don't like something," seungcheol said, his breath tingling your skin "if you want to stop, whatever it is. just say it, and we'll stop"

you could see it perfectly in your mind, mingyu kneeling on the floor, kissing you while looking up to see your reaction. one thing about having one of your senses taken away was the fact that everything felt magnified. so the touches weren't simple touches anymore. actions that normally would have only made you excited about the situation, suddenly made you horny. 

there was no need to touch yourself to know that you were already wet and you had only started. your muscles started to tense up in anticipation of what was to come. 

no imagination or dream could have prepared you for the reality that was mingyu. instead of playing with you a little more, something that he would definitely enjoy doing, mingyu placed three small breathy kisses on your pelvis before his lips finally found your center.

his tongue was one of a man who knew what he was doing.

it started with a tickle, a flutter of a touch and then it was all too consuming. 

you moaned when he wrapped his arms around your legs and pulled you closer to him. the sounds were all loud, wet, and dirty, and somehow you felt hotter with each passing second. 

"more" you begged. 

he flicked your clit once, then twice, before pulling it into his mouth, sucking hard like it was a goddamned lollipop. he kept going until you became a begging mess in front of him, your hand found its way to his hair and pressed him harder over you. 

seungcheol let out a hum of approval from behind you, finally placing his hands on you. he pinched your nipples, tugging at them harshly only increasing your pleasure, all the while mingyu blew and lightly bit on your clit. 

it felt like being worshiped by the two men. two sets of hands all over your body whose only purpose was to pleasure you. 

mingyu slid a finger inside of you, without warning, making you arch and seungcheol tighten his grip around your waist.

"she's so loud," mingyu said, pleased. 

seungcheol laughed again, kissing your neck. he wrapped his hand around your neck, forcing your head back. your moan was swallowed by his hungry lips.

"add another finger, she'll get even louder"

you felt mingyu’s devilish smile, before he did exactly what seungcheol said. the stretch was simply perfect. he curled his fingers just the right way, pushing them all the way in before almost pulling out, while his tongue paid full attention to your clit. there was no stopping the moans that escaped your lips, loud and needy. the combination of mingyu's agile tongue and seungcheol’s skilled hands was enough to drive you crazy.

“it’s okay baby,” seungcheol whispered, pinching your nipples relentlessly “you can cum on his fingers”

his words were enough to drive you over the edge. your grip on mingyu’s hair tightened, your free hand searching for seungcheol’s thigh. mingyu held you closer when your head started to spin, your legs shaking, licking you as if you were an ice cream he couldn’t get enough of. he flattened his tongue, licking you in one big motion, his fingers moving faster. all of it almost too much but you catch yourself begging:

“ah… don’t stop… please” 

you were arching, pleading, demanding and you didn’t care. never before had you felt like that and you knew it was only the beginning. 

suddenly mingyu’s hands and lips were gone, but just for a second. he crawled over your body. you touched the lace covering your eyes, wanting to push it away, needing to see both men, but your boyfriend stopped you, pushing your hands away. 

“the fold stays on” he said and suddenly his voice became a distant sound, muffled by the weight of mingyu over you, his lips demanding your attention.

you could taste your release on him, and you couldn’t help but moan a little at the feel of his naked chest over yours. somewhere along the way he had taken his shirt off. the bulge in his sweats giving you the tiniest bit of friction but not nearly enough.

you wanted to see seungcheol's face, wanted to study and memorize every tiny expression on his face. wanted to see if his eyes darkened like they usually did when he was aroused, if the moment was also pleasurable for him, or if he was doing all of it because it was something you wanted.

“but i want to see you”

seungcheol was a hands-on kind of boyfriend, not in a suffocating kind of way, but in a way that made you feel cherished. his hands were always on you. if you were both in the same room there was no way he was going to stay away. 

one of your friends decided to have her bachelorette in the same club her fiancé was having his bachelor's party, to which seungcheol had been invited to. though the night started as expected, somewhere around 2 am you found your boyfriend sitting by your side when you had gotten too tired to keep dancing with the other girls.

if he was driving, his hand was on your leg or holding onto yours; if you were walking down the street, his arm was around your shoulders. he was always all over you.

“get on your knees,” he said.

there was no need for you to make a single movement when mingyu turned you around and dropped you on the bed like you were some kind of ragged doll. laughing might not have been the best reaction but it was the only one you had to give.

“you wanna her first?” mingyu asked.

“you can have her”

something about the way they talked, as if you had no say and were there only for their entertainment, turned on you even further. 

the sound of plastic being torn was the only one in the room, as well as your small pants, while you still tried to catch your breath. you desperately wanted to remove the blindfold. for whatever reason, you enjoyed the sight of a man rolling up a condom. maybe you liked that it helped build anticipation or maybe you just liked knowing what was in store for you.

even so, you put your ass as high up as you possibly could, your knees apart. 

“i guess she's excited” mingyu said, his tone cocky as he ran his hand over your ass “nice and slow, or hard and fast?”

mingyu pressed the tip of his fingers to your cunt, moving them up and down a couple of times, getting his fingers wet, and then running them over his dick. not that he needed it, he knew that he could just slide in without effort, but he enjoyed seeing you tremble on fingers one more time.

he aligned his tip with your entrance, rubbing himself on you a couple of times but stilled a second later, waiting for your answer. 

"in, would be great"

he laughed, slowly pushing inside. you were a little sensitive but that only heightened the feeling. your breath hitched as he finally sank into you. you held onto the sheets, hands balled into fists, squirming, urging him to just fucking move. he wasn't as thick as seungcheol but he was long, touching you somewhere that you were yet to be touched by anyone before. 

suddenly you felt seungcheol's cock against your lips, his thumb forcing them open. he thrust himself in, hitting the back of your throat just as mingyu started to move. 

their paces were completely different, while mingyu pushed in long, sensual strokes, seungcheol forced his hips harshly, holding your head in place until you squeezed his waist. despite being different, they somehow felt complementary to each other.

an unfamiliar sound left your lips, a weird mix of a moan and a gasp for air. your boyfriend wrapped your hair in his hand, pulling on it, forcing your head back. it should have been painful but it only made you clench around mingyu's cock.

"look at you" seungcheol chuckled a little, his fingers running across your face, further turning you into a mess of tears and spit "taking two cocks at the same time"

you moaned when he pushed himself into your mouth again, at the same time mingyu started to move faster, his index fingers circling your hole. 

"wouldn't you just love it if he pushed his finger in a little" seungcheol taunted "all holes filled like a good little slut"

you cried, needing more of everything.

the entire situation was degrading, from your actions to his words, but you were beyond caring. all of it was just beyond anything you could have ever imagined. every sort of contact you had with a threesome before, from hearing your friends talk about it, reading it, watching it, imagining it, was nothing compared to the reality. 

"oh she loves to be called a slut" mingyu grunted "she's milking me, man, i'm not gonna last much longer"

mingyu's thrusts became frantic, almost sloppy and he lost his constant tempo. 

"in my mouth" you pulled away from seungcheol long enough to say.

to hell with seungcheol’s rules and blindfold. you turned around, whimpering at the emptiness, pulling the blindfold from your eyes and tossing it aside.

mingyu stood at the edge of the bed, one foot propped on the mattress. his large hand stocking his cock, a grin on his face while you crawled towards him. his dick right in front of your face, long, veins high, a thick layer of your juices coated him. you moaned as you pulled the condom away before you took him in your mouth.

you knew what pulling away from seungcheol would cause, in fact you were hoping for it. so when you felt his hands roughly grab your hips, you smiled. the scream that left you when he slammed into you wasn't of pain, but of pure pleasure. he moved hard and fast, leaving you no room to breathe. you cried, your nails digging into mingyu's flesh as seungcheol mercilessly fucked you. your boyfriend grunted with every thrust.

you felt mingyu’s dick twitch in your mouth, scraping him with your teeth, making him hiss. 

“i’m gonna cum in you sweet little mouth, sweetheart” he said, grabbing the hair at your scalp, forcing himself all the way in, holding himself in place, until he found his release. 

slowly he rocked his hips, his hot cum running down your throat. you sucked him dry, not a single drop left behind.

you felt a second wave of pleasure consume you and the entire world seemed like it was crashing down around you when seungcheol inserted his index inside your only empty hole, a second later his middle finger too.

“yes, cheol, fuck”

your entire body contracted, shaking in absolute, delirious, pleasure. it went through your entire body in waves, from your head to your toes.

seungcheol kept going, moving into your sensitive slit restlessly. you cried out again, feeling your orgasm build once more when you felt him fill you with his warm cum.

“that's my perfect cum slut, filled to the brim” cheol praised you

you allowed your limp body to fall on the mattress, face down, completely exhausted but feeling pleased in a way you had never before. 

but seungcheol wasn't done with you, not yet anyway. he turned you around, his hand immediately found your clit, rubbing it slowly in circles, in a way that he knew drove you crazy.

“no” you said

you tried to close your legs, holding his hand still. you were too sensitive, your body entirely too tired to keep going. seungcheol got on top of you, using his knees to keep your thighs apart.

“remember what you promised, baby?” he whispered, kissing your cheek tenderly, “you said that you would cum for me the same you came for him”

you shook your head, small tears forming on the corners of your eyes. yes, you had promised, but you couldn’t follow through with it

“i can't, it's too much”

“you can, baby” he pressed harder against your clit, adding two fingers inside of you, curling them just the right way “give me one more. just one more”

your body tensed up once again, eyes rolling to the back of your head. his words were the last straw, enough to drive you once again to the edge. a scream rippled through you, your hips bulking up from the bed hard enough that seungcheol had to hold you in place. 

you struggled to breathe again, your lungs doing a terrible job at what they were supposed to do. the situation became a little worse when seungcheol dropped his entire weight over you, pulling his digits out of you. he too breathed heavily. you ran your hand over his hair, caressing it while you slowly came back to your senses. 

"you okay?" he pushed back to look at you, pushing your hair away from your face "was it too much?"

you shook your head, smiling at him. you couldn't talk yet, body still shaking a little, sensitive all over. you were certain that you looked like a complete mess, you could feel your entire body sticky with sweat. 

seungcheol kissed your cheek again, pulling the sheets from your bed over you. you left knowing what he was doing.

"dude, i've seen it all. in fact, i did a little more than just look at it" 

“keep talking and your eyes will magically disappear”

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[honeyinthesummer]

VIDEO PHONE — rafe cameron.

warnings: nsfw, f!reader, reader is a sex worker, 1.2k words.

SUMMARY: Out of impulse and lust, you decided to film yourself on Rafe's phone.

What you're about to do is way above your pay grade.

Rafe is specific in what he wants. You've never tried it out with him; he hasn't asked you to, but you just feel like it. It's one of those early mornings when he allowed you to stay over at Tannyhill, your favorite client, probably in his father's home office drowning in paperwork.

You spot his phone getting charged by the corner, and you feel like Rafe won't be coming up soon, so you take that as a sign to do it. Standing up, you swiftly locked the door before prepping with a quick bath.

It wasn't clicking the record button the hardest thing to do; it was choosing the right angle that compliments you. Ultimately, you lean his phone against a pile of pillows by the foot of the bed, press record, and prop yourself against the headboard. Fingers fidgeting and taking off your purple lacy set that Rafe is obsessed with, your toes curling in anticipation, you start the show.

It took you longer than you expected, but you sensed he would appreciate the extra few minutes of the footage. Stuffing three fingers in your hole, you attempt to mimic the way Rafe fingers you, but it's just not enough, and now you have your other hand rubbing circles in your clit, the sensation leaving you panting and overwhelmed.

"Need you, Rafey..." you moaned just enough for the phone to capture, your legs closing in now and then due to the pleasure. It takes all of your might to keep your thighs apart. The windows of his room were slightly ajar, causing the curtains to flutter, and the sunshine gave the most natural lighting for your video. The sunrays hit your skin warmly, the light helping you appear blissful and extra erotic, the essence leaking out your cunt and dripping down your thighs being highlighted.

Screw Rafe for fucking you so good you can't bear to do it alone anymore.

Taking out your fingers, you sat on your heels, watching yourself on the phone as you lustfully lick your digits, releasing them with a wet pop. You crawled forward, taking a pillow from the pile behind the camera, your tits swaying at your every move. You returned to the center of the frame, folding the pillow, and let the stiffer part settle right below your cunt.

You whimper at the feeling, a wet patch forming in the spot you're sitting on, the black pillowcase now extra shiny. You take it off below you before facing the camera sideways and sitting on it again, letting Rafe see how your back arches.

It was pure filth. The way you were a moaning mess, your aggressive grinding on his pillow, and now you can feel it. You sat once again to face the camera, opening your legs as your fingers played with your pussy, letting the camera film the exact moment you felt your high, leaving your middle finger in to fuck yourself to prolong your orgasm, overstimulating yourself in the process. You moan and grunt Rafe's name, along with the strings of "please, sir" to rile him up.

Finished with your stunt, you charged his phone again, put his sheets in the laundry, and bathed. You noticed the hard cash he left by the bedside table for your service last night, grabbing it before heading out, afraid to face Rafe after what you did.

It wasn't like you needed to kiss him goodbye. After all, he's your client, not your boyfriend, even if the lines in between in the past few days have become blurry.

You told your regulars not to text you for a week as you will spend some time with your family outside the island, in your hometown. Your favorite and most demanding customer, of course, disagreed, and you swear he's masking his true feelings under the pretense that he doesn't want to be denied pleasure whenever he wants. That's why you did it, leaving him some souvenir for when he misses you, which you hoped he would.

But he didn't text you, though. Not a single letter, not even a call, makes you spiral whenever you're out of your family's view. He probably didn't check his gallery, just skimmed over your video, or maybe he has seen it and sent it to his kook friends, laughing and reeling at your desperation.

At some point, you decided not to return to the island. If you would, you would just ghost Rafe, not bothering to tell him you came back. But guess who's waiting by the docks, shades on and leaning against the hood of his black cruiser? Ignoring how your chest thumps in nervousness, you approach him, your grip on your bags tight.

You don't know how it led to this, but you're certainly not complaining. Because here is Rafe right now between your legs, one hand behind your thigh to fold it up your chest, the other lining his cock to your entrance. You whine at the feeling, begging him to just fuck you already.

"So fucking needy, dollface," he says breathlessly. "So. fucking. needy." Each word he stressed was equal to a single thrust into you. When he bottoms out, Rafe adjusts your position. He sits on his heels and wraps your legs around his waist, grabbing his phone to record where you guys connect, capturing how your precum eases him, sliding in and out.

And with one hand on your hips as leverage, Rafe pounds into you mercilessly, the noise of his cock abusing your cervix filling the room.

"This is what you're after that day, baby?" he grunts, bringing his phone closer to your cunt, watching on the screen how you take him so well, your pussy all wet and bruised. "Three fingers? You think three fingers is enough to make it feel like my cock?" You blissfully nodded, and he laughed at your reaction. You bring down your hand, one to toy with your clit, your digits applying more pressure, and the other hand pressing down on the bulge of your tummy every time Rafe thrusts in.

He doesn't let you come quickly, oh no. Rafe was pissed you did such a thing behind his back, knowing he wants to be there every time you pleasure yourself. Just as you were about to cum, he pulled out of you, making you sit up immediately at the sudden emptiness.

You felt something light hit your face, and now a pillow suddenly rests on your lap. You look at Rafe, confused, who is now standing at the foot of the bed, his cock upright and slapping against his abs, his precum tainting his skin. He ushers to the pillow on your, his hand busy pointing the phone at you with the flash on.

"Show me how you made yourself cum that day, doll. And I might just let you ride me next."

[callsign-mayhem]

loving is easy (b.b)

Part three of the 'Heartbreak Feels So Good' sequel series!

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female!Reader Word count: 2.5k CW: Use of Y/N

The rest of the Dagger Squad find out about your relationship with Bradley—some in the most inconvenient way possible.

FIND THE ORIGINAL SERIES HERE!

The morning sun hung high over the base, casting long shadows across the tarmac as the squad went about their daily routines. Reuben Fitch stretched his legs out on the tarmac, basking in the warmth of the sunlight. He’d already done his laps and his push ups, and he was taking five with a cup of crappy coffee from the cafeteria. 

He closed his eyes and turned to face the sun—he could feel the positive effects it was having on him. 

Well, up until Javy stood directly in the sun, dousing him in shadow.

‘What the hell, man?’ Reuben snapped.

Javy stepped aside and sat down next to him. ‘You seein’ this?’ He asked.

‘Seeing what?’

He pointed to you and Bradley. The two of you stood out like a beacon of light—though you weren’t intentionally drawing attention to yourselves, it was difficult not to notice. Bradley was giving you a piggyback ride, your laughter floating in the air like a sweet melody. His strides were carefree, and his back was straight and proud as he carried you. Your arms were wrapped loosely around his neck, and the way you moved together—so comfortable and at ease—made it clear that you were something more than friends. ‘When did that happen?’ Reuben exclaimed. Javy shrugged, pulling out his phone to take a video. ‘I have no idea. I gotta send this to Jake.’

Jake, who was still on deployment, would definitely want to know about this interesting turn of events. ‘Honestly,’ Reuben said, sipping his coffee and wincing. ‘I’m glad. For a minute, I was scared she’d never get over Viper.’ Javy’s lips twitched in a half-smile. ‘I wasn’t worried. They were always gonna get together. Shouldn’t come as a surprise.’ He watched you and Bradley with an air of mild amusement. ‘More surprising that it’s taken this long.’ 

Reuben’s eyes flicked between you, watching you laugh, utterly oblivious to the attention you were attracting. ‘Did we miss the announcement? Or do they just suck at hiding things?’ ‘They’ve always been like this. Always lookin’ at each other like—’ He paused, mimicking how Bradley looked at you in a way that made Reuben laugh. They watched as Bradley set you down, both of you still laughing. Bradley wrapped an arm around your waist as you walked, heads together as if you shared some secret nobody else knew. 

‘They’ll tell us when they're ready.’ Javy reasoned. ‘We just have to do our best to act surprised.’ 

Bob wanted it on the record that he thought this was a bad idea. Being a backseater meant he’d perfected the art of listening to his intuition; right now, it was screaming at him.

‘Will you stop being such a pussy?’ Natasha hissed, lifting the welcome mat in front of your door. Underneath, your house key glistened in the late morning light. 

‘If she’s not answering our texts, she probably has a good reason.’ Bob rationalised. 

Nat glared at him as she put the key into the lock and twisted it. The door swung open to your tidy apartment, and she stepped in. ‘Look, you can wait outside if you want, but after everything she’s been through with Viper, I don’t trust this situation. She used to freeze us out, even when she needed us the most.’ Nat reminded him. ‘Maybe she hasn’t broken that habit yet.’ 

As much as Bob didn’t like this plan, he knew that Natasha had the right idea and that she meant well. Besides, he was worried about you too. He followed her in, gently closing the door behind him. 

The apartment was eerily quiet.

‘She must be sleeping.’ Bob whispered. ‘We should go.’ 

‘We had breakfast plans, though. She wouldn’t forget; we arranged it yesterday before leaving base.’ Nat started heading down the hall that led to your bedroom, the bathroom, and the guest room.

‘You can’t go in there, Phoenix!’

‘I can and I will.’ 

God, Nat could be stubborn as hell. She couldn’t back down even if she wanted to, not when it came to her friends. 

Your bedroom door was already slightly open. Nat pushed it, and Bob reluctantly followed her in. The curtains were open and hazy, golden light pooled on the floor below your window. Bob’s eyes landed on the group photo you had stuck to your vanity mirror, and he smiled thoughtfully. 

‘Well, shit.’ Nat murmured bemusedly. 

You were nestled into Bradley’s side, tangled under the covers, asleep in each other’s arms. Bradley’s face was relaxed and soft in sleep, with your head resting on his chest and your hand lying gently against his stomach. The faint sound of your synchronised breathing filled the air.

Bob and Nat shared a look, trying to contain their smiles. 

‘I guess this answers some of our questions.’ He said. 

‘I guess so.’

You started to stir, eyes squinting as they adjusted to the light. When you noticed two of your best friends standing at the foot of your bed, you sat bolt upright. The sight of your bedhead was Nat’s final straw, and she couldn’t help but laugh. 

She crossed her arms casually. ‘Wondered where you’d gotten to. Did you forget about our plans?’

You groaned in embarrassment, covering your face with your hands. Bradley started to stir next to you. ‘I’m so sorry.’

‘Don’t apologise. Looks like you had more pressing matters to attend to.’ She smirked.

‘Phoenix!’ Bob hisssed.

Bradley blinked his eyes open slowly. He shifted, trying to pull you back down as he groggily mumbled something under his breath. When he heard Natasha’s voice, he stiffened slightly. His brows furrowed when he saw her and Bob, clearly trying to process the bizarre situation.

‘What the fuck are you two doing here?’ He grumbled, voice thick with sleep. 

‘Checking on Y/N since she didn’t make it to breakfast. Seems to be a regular occurrence these days.’

Bradley squinted at her. ‘Couldn’t you have knocked? Like a normal person?’

‘I told her to knock.’ Bob said. ‘I’m sorry. She’s sorry.’

‘No, I’m not.’ She smirked. ‘Cause if we hadn’t let ourselves in, we would never’ve known.’

Bradley launched a pillow at her, which she dodged. Instead, it hit Bob, knocking his glasses slightly. 

‘Okay!’ You exclaimed. ‘This is officially the weirdest wake-up call I’ve ever had! Both of you, wait in the kitchen while we get dressed.’

‘No funny business, you two. I’m starving.’ Nat winked. 

Bob practically dragged her out of the room, leaving you and Bradley to get ready and salvage what was left of your dignity.

‘Guess the cat’s out of the bag.’ You grumbled. 

The morning air was warm with a slight breeze as the four of you stepped out of your apartment building. The drive to the beachside diner was quick, and as the sun climbed higher, the ocean glistened against the horizon. Bradley walked beside you, the two of you comfortable in each other's company. Bob and Natasha were ahead of you, still talking, but Natasha’s eyes were sparkling with that familiar mischief. The diner was quiet, a perfect little spot overlooking the beach. You settled into a booth beside Bradley, and Natasha wasted no time. ‘So, you guys finally stopped dancing around each other.’ Bradley stirred his coffee, his eyes soft as he glanced at you. He let Natasha have her moment, though you could see the amused smile tugging at his lips. ‘Stop with the teasing.’ He warned, although his heart wasn’t in it. ‘I’m just curious. All the years of ‘nothing’s going on’, and now you two are all cosy in bed together?’ Bob, who’d been quietly sipping his coffee, shifted uncomfortably in his seat. He was not as eager to probe into your personal life. ‘I mean, come on,’ she continued, her eyes dancing between you and Bradley. ‘You two are practically inseparable. What was it that finally did it?’ You looked over at Bradley, your heart swelling with affection. The teasing might have been playful, but a part of you was still not used to having a public conversation about your relationship. With Elijah, you pretty much kept it all bottled up—partly because you didn’t know how to talk about it and partly because you knew it was fucked up, and if you told anyone, they would convince you to end things. Bradley leaned in slightly, his voice gentle. ‘I’ve always liked her, but I didn’t want to push things too hard while she had a boyfriend.’ Your heart clenched at the mention of your ex, but you were starting to realise that the only way you’d ever get over it was if you stopped bottling things up. ‘Bradley helped me through it, made me realise that I deserve better.’ You smiled at him, momentarily forgetting that your friends were there. ‘And he’s the very definition of better.’ Nat watched the two of you, shaking her head with a smile. She already knew all of this. She just wanted to hear the two of you say it. ‘Well, thank God. Honestly, I was waiting for someone to finally admit it. It was like watching a slow-motion car crash.’ Bob chuckled under his breath, which he quickly tried to hide with a sip of his coffee. ‘It was getting a little painful watching Rooster pine for you, Y/CS.’ This made all of you laugh, probably because Bob rarely spoke his mind so frankly. Despite the playful digs, the warmth of the moment was comforting. ‘We had to get there in our own time,’ you said, squeezing Bradley’s hand under the table. ‘And we’re there now.’ Natasha’s expression softened momentarily, her teasing smile giving way to something more sincere. ‘I’m happy for you two. It’s about time you stopped being idiots.’ Bradley smirked but didn’t argue with her, his hand resting comfortably beside yours. ‘It feels good not to be an idiot anymore.’ He said, his voice low but full of affection. Nat tapped her fingers on the table, grinning. ‘So... when’s the wedding?’ You choked on your coffee, but Bradley just laughed, squeezing your hand a little tighter. ‘Slow down, Nix.’ You glanced at Bradley; how he looked at you made your heart flutter. ‘Yeah, slow down.’ You repeated softly, but it was clear to everyone at the table that you’d already taken the biggest step. The rest would fall into place in time. Bob shook his head, not interested in delving deeper into the teasing. ‘Can we just have a peaceful breakfast for once?’ Everyone laughed again, the tension easing. You felt a deep sense of contentment as the conversation shifted to lighter topics. With Bradley by your side and your friends around you, you knew you’d found your place—together.

Drenched with warm summer rain, you entered The Hard Deck on Bradley’s arm—your favourite place to be. With Elijah, it had never felt this way. With him, entering a bar spiked your anxiety levels beyond control, as there was never any telling how he would act after one too many beers. And if he decided to go for top shelf spirits that night, it would undoubtedly end in tears. With Bradley, you never had to worry about any of that. When you went out together, you only had to worry about trying to pay for a round of drinks without him catching on and snatching your debit card out of your hand. Tonight, the bar was quiet. It was a Wednesday and you knew that a lot of the pilots who frequented Penny’s place had been deployed on an emergency humanitarian aid air drop mission. It was pure chance that none of your squad had been sent away. Aside from Jake, who was still away on a classified mission. It had proven difficult to stay in contact, but you all did your best. Besides, you knew how quickly time flew—he would be back where he belonged in no time. Mickey, Reuben, Javy were already in the group’s usual spot by the dart board. When they saw you and Bradley approaching, their conversation trailed off and they looked up. ‘Hey.’ Bradley greeted, pulling a stool out for you. Mickey glanced at the others. He seemed to be silently asking permission to say something. Reuben nodded once, granting him permission. ‘So, Coyote and Payback have something they wanna ask you two.’ Mickey said. Javy glared at him, and Bradley’s eyes darted to you. Had Mickey slipped up and let on about what he’d seen in the hangar the other week? Bracing himself, Bradley said: ‘What’s going on?’ Reuben smiled sheepishly. ‘Coyote and I saw you giving Y/N a piggyback ride across the runway on Friday morning, and we thought you looked kind of like a couple.’ The last thing Bradley expected you to do was laugh, but that’s just what you did. ‘That’s ‘cause we are.’ You said nonchalantly. Even though Reuben and Javy already seemed to be in the know, both of their mouths dropped open at your admission. Maybe they’d expected you to lie, or be embarrassed, but what was the point? You and Bradley had already had your fun, sneaking around for a month or so. After Mickey had found out, and then Nat and Bob, you realised it was time to tell your closest friends—your family. Mickey beamed, and Bradley eyed him suspiciously. ‘Did you tell them?’ He asked, pointing to the others. Mickey’s happy smile faltered. ‘What, no! I promised I wouldn’t.’ You put your hand on Bradley’s thigh. ‘He wouldn’t do that, babe. Besides, we haven’t been all that secretive lately.’ ‘No,’ Bradley smiled. ‘I guess we haven’t.’ A soft, electronic trill filled the air. Javy leaned his phone against a pint glass, and after a few seconds, Jake picked up. It was rare for him to pick up his phone. ‘Jakey-boy!’ Javy exclaimed. ‘How are you, man?’ ‘All good. They reckon I’m gonna be home sooner than they thought.’ ‘That’s great. I told you that would happen.’ ‘What’s up, anyway? How is everyone?’ Jake inquired. With a knowing smirk, Javy turned his phone around. ‘These two have something they need to tell you.’ You rolled your eyes playfully and grabbed the phone. ‘What’s goin’ on, darlin’?’ He asked. Before you could speak, Bradley snatched the phone. ‘There isn’t gonna be a wedding invitation waiting for you when you get back, but maybe someday.’ Jake’s face split into the brightest grin you’d ever seen. You nudged Bradley, confused. ‘What are you talking about?’ Jake chuckled. ‘Before I left, I told him there better be a wedding invitation waiting on my doorstep when I get home.’ Your breath hitched in your throat at the thought of marrying Bradley. What a dream that would be.

‘So you really were crushing on me the whole time?’ You teased. ‘Oh, he has it bad.’ Jake replied. Even though you already knew this, hearing it from someone else made it hit home.

‘Well, that’s just fine, because I do, too.’ Jake pretended to gag, and you handed the phone back to Javy with a laugh. Suddenly, you couldn’t remember why you and Bradley had wanted to keep your relationship secret, even for a little while. It was so much more fun, and so much more real now it was out in the open. The jukebox switched songs, the squad’s laughter filled the bar, and Bradley pulled you a little closer—because after all, this was just the beginning.

A/N: It's finally here! Sorry for the wait. I thought it would be interesting to see how the rest of the Daggers would find out, so here it is. I've got something really exciting planned for the next part... I'm thinking the Daggers take a long weekend trip somewhere. :)

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