#this is just a short little intro to the au :)

[carpetbug]

welcome to the beginning of my ML Feline Blue AU!

in which Marinette is forced to become guardian before ever wielding a miraculous. Chaos ensues when she uses the black cat ring to become feline blue and through a silly little turn of events, Adrien gets his hands on the ladybug earrings and becomes beetle rouge

BIIIIIG thank you to my lovelies @isabugs and @thimbleb3rries for being so kind and encouraging, for their WONDERFUL ART OH MY GOD, and for beta-ing this!

The beginning: Becoming Guardian

1 • 2 • 3

“You’re not going to beat me like that, old man” The looming figure taunted.

Hunched in a ball before him, a much smaller elderly man struggled for breath. Blood trailed from his mouth, combining with his saliva to messily drip from his lips as he fought for air. Just by the effort he had to put into continuing breathing, he could tell this was not a fight he could win. Still, his fists clenched in defiance as he pushed himself from the floor and steadied himself upright on his feet. His spine screamed in protest and searing pain at the task, but he managed to remain standing.

“I know I can not beat you, old man” He coughed, hands trembling slightly. “But I must continue to fight”

The taller man scoffed before taking a step forward “I’ll make sure it's the last thing you ever do, you pathetic excuse of a guardian” He spat, tightening his grip on his cane as his rage boiled beneath his skin.

“I’d expect nothing less from a villain like you, Hawkmoth”

“No need to act like you’re so much better than me. After all, we've all made mistakes, haven’t we Master fu” Hawkmoth sneered.

“Leave my past out of this. I’ve worked to fix what I have broken, you only aim to destroy” Master fu panted, feeling his shoulders to check if his bag was still on his back, and letting out a small sigh of relief when he felt the thick material. Next his hands slowly traveled to support and feel the bottom and sides of the bag, searching for an object. He took another relieved breath when he felt the item's weight, and then he prepared himself for the worst. Bunching his muscles, he sprang into action and bolted away from Hawkmoth.

He focused only on moving forward, getting as far from this wretched evil as he could before time ran out. When he finally collapsed, legs giving out from under him in pure exhaustion, he found himself at the Pont de Arts, above the seine. Hawkmoth was nowhere to be seen, but master fu knew that was only a false sense of security. The villain would find him soon enough. He needed to find someone. Anyone.

“-ir? Are you okay?”

A voice. Master fu looked up, vision shaking just slightly. In Front of him stood a teenage girl, dark hair pulled back into pigtails and eyebrows pushed together with worry.

“Sir? Can you hear me?” She asked with a panicked look in her eyes. “How can I help?” She stepped closer and offered him a hand.

Master fu gathered his strength to pull his bag from his back and carefully draw open the zipper before reaching in to pull out the contents. The girl watched intensely, eyes following his pained movements. He pulled a large dark wooden box from the bag and held it close to his chest, then brought his eyes upwards to meet her face. “I’m sorry, young hero” He said sadly, then joined his hand to hers before she could respond.

An intense feeling washed over him, and he closed his eyes to take a deep breath. This girl was strong. He hoped she will forgive him for the burden he will make her bear.

She flashed an anxious smile “That’s okay, and I promise I’m no hero. Just a normal g-” He cut her off with a sharp tug, then slammed the box into her chest. She gasped as he knocked the air from her lungs, clearly not expecting such a feat of strength from the battered man. As she fought to breathe, Master fu gathered the last few remnants of his strength and lifted the girl from the ground. “I, Wang Fu, hereby relinquish the Miracle Box-”

“Stop! What are you doing!?”

“-and name Marinette Dupain-Cheng the guardian” His body lit up, skin glowing as the box between them lifted upward and burned like a star in the air.

“How do you know my na-?!” Before she could finish what she said, the box dropped back into her hold and the elderly man -still glowing like some sort of deity- held her over the railing and dropped her into the rushing water below. She hit the surface with a loud splash, getting thrown under but quickly resurfacing a few feet away, miracle box still in her arms.

The last thing she saw before being pulled away by the fast moving current was the man falling backwards to the ground in exhaustion as the light emitting from his skin dimmed.

Master fu slowly blinked his eyes open, carefully taking in his surroundings with an expression of pure shock and confusion on his face. He seemed so frail, all of a sudden. Like he had lost all his fight.

“What did you do?!” a booming voice hissed behind him. He started to turn his head to look, but something beat him to it. All of a sudden, a hand tightened around his throat and picked him off the ground, nails digging into the thin skin of his neck.

“What- what’s happening?” Master fus strangled voice hardly escaped his lips. He tried to thrash his legs, do anything to get free, but a fatigue he couldn’t explain had overcome his muscles. Weakly prying at his attackers hands, panic began to set in. There wouldn’t be any escape. “Who are you?” he managed out in a pained mumble.

“I am the next guardian of the miraculous” the seething voice responded as nails began to break through his skin. “I am the consequences of your greatest mistake” the words rang through his head as his vision went black, and sickeningly warm blood poured from his throat.

Marinette struggled to hold her head above the surface and keep the container in her grasp as the river pulled her this way and that. Her mind raced and her lungs screamed, everything inside her begging to let go of that weird old man’s weird old box and save herself instead. Still, her grip remained glued to the sodden wood, as if she would rather drown than set the box free to face the waters’ wrath. Nothing was making any sense. And despite the deafening chorus of the racing water that surrounded her, the only thing ringing in her ears was the man’s words.

He had called her a hero. He had entrusted her with something clearly important to him. He had thrown her into the seine. He had been badly wounded. He had been a complete and utter stranger. What did everything mean? Suddenly, her feet felt solid ground beneath her, and she hurriedly moved to follow it. She pushed forward, focusing on reaching the bank that lay on the other side. Eventually Marinette was able to pull herself and the box from the water onto an empty platform beneath a bridge.

As soon as she was safely out of the water, Marinette threw herself backwards in exhaustion. She laid against the cool pavement underneath her and passed through all the events that had just occurred. What the fuck was this ‘miracle’ box? And why was she the ‘guardian’? Ignoring the new aches in her body, she sat upward and brought the box closer to her.

There she sat for a few moments, toying with the lid and gently tracing the intricate pattern displayed. Taking a deep breath, she slowly opened it.

“HELLO YOUNG MASTER” A loud chorus of voices rang out as a beam of light emitted from the open container and what looked like small differently colored masses of stars flew all around her. Marinette fell back onto her elbows, overwhelmed at the sudden sensory overload. Her vision was a blur of nauseating colors accompanied by what she could only imagine to be auditory hallucinations.

Before she had a chance to speak, to catch her breath or try and scream for help, the almost magical colorful masses slowed until they were still, then began to morph into a solid form. Marinette watched, intrigued and terrified, as these small creatures took shape in front of her. They each seemed to be a different animal, though they all shared an alien-like anatomy. Some had tails, others long whiskers and a few antennas. Two of them caught her eye, a sleek black cat and what she thought to be a ladybug (though it looked much more like some sort of bug-mouse combo).

As if the creatures could read her mind -which they could, for all she knew-, they began to speak in sync. “WE ARE THE KWAMI, MAGICAL BEINGS THAT CAN BESTOW POWERS UPON OUR WIELDERS.” They said, in an almost sing-songy voice.

“AND YOU, MARINETTE, ARE OUR NEW GUARDIAN.”

[smileysuh]

eat it

🌙 starring. Jaehyun x afab!Reader 

🔮 preview. “I mean, what if we make a deal? For every ‘A’ you get on these three tests in November, I’ll eat you out till you’re begging me to stop. And in December, if you pass your physics final with a grade above eighty-six percent, I’ll fuck your brains out.”

tw/cw. Unprotected sex, pussy eating, foreplay, face grinding, dry humping, breast worship, fingering, squirting, dirty talk, using sex as inspiration to study, no nut november, blue balls, dirty talk, praise, multiple little sex scenes, big dick Jaehyun, slight phone sex, mentions of masturbation, teasing, etc… I pet names: (hers) baby.

👹 rating.18+ explicit I wc. 4.5k

🍭 aus. Uni au, fuck buddies to lovers, no nut november, etc…

☀️ mlist + an. Short but sweet :) was missing Jae

One:

Jaehyun can tell something is off with you, and despite you being someone he holds at a distance with the label ‘fuck buddy,’ he actually cares about what’s going on in your head, especially when it’s clearly taking away from your enjoyment of him.

He’s not the type to bring something up mid fuck session, but when you both finish, he takes the opportunity to address it.

“You seemed distant today,” he notes.

You release a deep sigh. “November is coming up, I’ve got three big tests and then finals in December, and I’m just… I’m feeling overwhelmed.”

The two of you had decided to keep a purely physical relationship with the idea of focusing on school. You both feel as if you’re too busy with your studies to put as much effort into dating as you’d like, so you’d come to an agreement to fuck whenever you’re both needing it, and keep other things as surface-level as possible.

Despite this arrangement, Jaehyun knows he would be the biggest asshole ever if he didn’t act as at least a friend to you. He has massive emotional walls that he keeps fortified, but there’s no harm in checking in with you. Besides, stress relief is a cornerstone of your relationship, and if his cock couldn’t dristract you from the issues in your life right now, maybe being an avid listener can. 

“What class?” he enquires.

“Fucking physics,” you groan, falling back against your bed and covering your face with a pillow.

There’s a reason Jaehyun had chosen Marine Biology instead of a more mathematics-based science when he got to university. Hell, the intro to physics class in first year had nearly killed him, so he understands where you’re coming from. 

“Well…” Jaehyun swallows thickly. “My frat is doing the whole ‘No Nut November’ bullshit, and we both know I don’t like to lose… but just because I can’t fuck you to destress you, doesn’t mean I can’t eat you out and make you cum as a reward for doing well in classes.”

“Huh?”

Jaehyun laughs, shaking his head. “I mean, what if we make a deal? For every ‘A’ you get on these three tests in November, I’ll eat you out till you’re begging me to stop. And in December, if you pass your physics final with a grade above eighty-six percent, I’ll fuck your brains out.”

You stare at him, the cogs of your mind working clearly behind your inquisitive eyes. “What if we agree on an above eighty average instead of eighty-six?”

“Nah, has to be eighty-six, what kind of floozy do you think I am?” Jaehyun jokes.

“Uh… the kind that just dicked me down without me needing an eighty-six average?”

Two:

It’s November, and while the idea of using Jaehyun as encouragement to study had seemed like a good plan to begin with, you find yourself distracted by the notion of him. Numbers and calculations give way to thoughts about the frat boy studying marine biology, and after struggling with it for an hour, you give yourself a breather to unpack everything.

You and Jaehyun have had an on-again off-again fuck buddy relationship for a little over a year now, and in that period, you’ve fucked only a handful times. With Jaehyun, things are strictly business. There’s not much foreplay, not much chit-chatting- it’s entirely about you both getting your rocks off as stress relief, then going your separate ways.

There’s a part of you that’s always thought extensive foreplay is less of a fuck buddy type of deal, and more of a budding relationship experience, which is why it’s generally been off-limits.

Having a man’s dick in you is one thing, having his mouth on your pussy while he’s neglected, looking up at you and doing his best to make you cum without any pleasure for himself- well, that’s something else entirely.

Neither you nor Jaehyun like to be selfish in this arrangement you have, it’s always a mutually beneficial interaction.

But… if you let him eat you out for doing well in physics… if he doesn’t get to cum or be touched at all… then that’s you being selfish, and the flip side is, he’s being selfless with you. 

Selfless has never been a word you connect to the idea of fuck buddies- and sure, some men love eating out women, some men get super turned on from that, but… you worry you’ll just be blue-ballsing the poor man. 

You never want to blue-ball Jaehyun. Despite your relationship being surface level - except for when he’s buried in your guts - you care about him. And you think it’s this care that has made you put up walls.

You’d agreed when you’d met that neither of you wanted a relationship. You wanted easy sex when it was convenient to you both. No strings attached, no emotions, no foreplay- although, that last caveat was never something verbally agreed to or discussed, moreso of an offshoot of the entire arrangement. 

In an odd way, letting Jaehyun eat you out while he gets nothing in return will be a new stepping stone for your dynamic, and you’re not quite sure where the path it creates might lead. 

Three:

You open your door with a grin, holding your most recent test in your hand. Before you can even tell Jaehyun the good news about your eighty-six percent - on the dot, mind you - score, he’s grabbing you and pressing his lips to yours.

A laugh tumbles out of you as you drag him into your apartment, kissing him back eagerly while the door shuts.

He feels so good, and your body immediately reacts to him, your nipples pushing up against the fabric of your thin night shirt. Jaehyun notices, because his hand comes up to cup your breast, his thumb brushing against the bud and making you moan.

When his lips move to your throat, you take the opportunity to speak. “You don’t even know what score I got on my test.”

“You wouldn’t have called me over if you didn’t get an eighty-six or above,” he notes, breath hot against your neck as he licks at your sweet spot.

“What if I brought you here to beg, to plead for that eighty average to be acceptable?” you tease.

“Begging is really not your style,” he insists, his hands moving down to your sleeping shorts to roughly tug them down.

“Looks like I won’t have to beg for this, though.”

“A deal is a deal,” Jaehyun tells you in the most earnest tone, and it makes you giggle.

“Let’s go to my bedroom.”

“No, I’m eating you out here.”

A moment later, he’s lifting you, setting you onto your kitchen island. The cold surface feels good against your hot skin, and it’s hard to breathe properly as Jaehyun pushes your thighs open.

“Lay down,” he instructs, “and let me give you your reward.”

Four:

“So… This time, I got a ninety,” you tell Jaehyun, holding your phone close to your chest so he can hear you clearly as you meander around your apartment.

“Well, look at you go.”

You can hear the smile in his voice, and it has your body tingling with excitement. “When can you come over?”

“Just finishing up a few things,” Jaehyun explains. “How about nineish?”

“But that’s a whole four hours away!” you groan.

“Somebody is eager.” 

You swallow the lump in your throat. “I was sitting in class and taking the test and all I could think about was your mouth.”

“Yeah?”

“Was getting so wet while doing fucking physics calculations- thinking about your tongue, and the way you hold me down when I cum. You’re a guy who just knows how to eat it, and it’s kind of making me go crazy.”

“Did I mention I’m at the gym right now?” Jaehyun asks, releasing a choked cough.

You grin, moving to sit on your couch. “Gonna sport a stiffy while doing bench presses, Jae?” 

“Pretty close to that, yeah.”

“All I’m saying is- you could be a great tutor, if you gave out sexual favours to all the cute girls who need help.”

Jaehyun laughs. “I feel like that would put me on a career trajectory that has nothing to do with marine biology, and I’m not spending all this money every year just to not use my degree.”

“True, true,” you sigh. “Anyways, I guess I’ll be waiting to see you at nineish.”

“Try not to touch yourself before I get there,” Jaehyun warns. “Or it defeats the purpose.” 

Five:

You’d been shocked to discover upon receiving your third test back, that you had somehow managed to score the highest in the entire class. And now, you’re even more shocked to find that Jaehyun has a few cunnilingus tricks up his sleeve that he hadn’t shown you in your first two strictly oral encounters.

His face is buried between your thighs, his lips wrapped around your clit while his fingers are pumping into your wet core. He angles his digits upward, crooking them in a way that has your whole body tingling-

He’d told you he wanted to make you squirt, you know, as a real celebration after your high marks, and at first, you hadn’t quite believed it would happen.

You’ve never squirted, and no man has ever taken the time to work that sort of thing out of you-

Yet here you are, feeling the first few dribbles splooshing out of your core and onto Jaehyun’s fingers.

It’s an intense pressure, but a completely welcomed one, and it makes your entire body tense with pleasure as he continued to finger fuck wetness out of you, his mouth never leaving your clit.

The sounds you’re making are obscene, but you can’t help yourself, can’t bring yourself to care about noise complaints or people hearing you-

You deserve this after scoring so well on your physics test, and you’ll be damned if you tell Jaehyun to stop or slow down.

“Fuck,” Jaehyun groans, pulling away from your clit to look down at you. “That’s it, baby, let it out.”

God, his dirty talk? It’s gotten better- or maybe you were both just not very verbal before, maybe when things were strictly business you were both holding back a lot of talents in the sexual scheme of things.

You release a whimper, more squirt gushing out of you and onto his hand.

“You look so fucking hot like this,” Jaehyun tells you, his mouth returning to your clit.

The past few times, losing yourself to him eating you out had been easy- but this time, you’re aware that finals are looming on the horizon. You’re not going to see Jaehyun for a couple of weeks, and after pleasure like this, you’re not sure you have the patience to wait that long.

You’re also keenly aware that this will be the third time Jaehyun leaves your house with blue-balls, and while he doesn’t make a big deal about it, you still feel bad.

This whole thing has definitely gotten more complicated, and you have the sneaking suspicion that when finals are over, and you finally get to fuck- they’re going to get a whole lot more confusing.

Six:

Jaehyun is about four hours into studying for his marine biology final when your ringtone sounds through his room.

He releases a groan, because sure, you’re a welcome distraction- but the mere thought of you is enough to give him a half chub and about two hours of distracted thoughts.

“Hey,” he sighs, answering his phone and putting it on speaker next to his text book.

“Hey,” you respond. “Studying?”

“Yup, you?”

“Trying to study,” you release a deep breath. “So… No Nut November has been over for a couple of days, how are you feeling?”

Jaehyun groans, putting his head in his hands. “Like I’m about to bust.”

“So come over?”

Jaehyun’s gaze turns to his phone. The temptation is overwhelming- and he can almost imagine how good your wet pussy is going to feel around his cock- how big his load is going to be when he buries it deep inside of you-

“We both know I can’t do that,” he sighs.

“Why not?”

“I told you, I’m not a floozy.” Jaehyun can’t help the chuckle that escapes him at his own words. He kind of enjoys this whole teasing game of not being the guy who puts out unless you do well on tests. He also kind of enjoys it when you release an irritated sigh.

“Be serious,” you insist.

“In all seriousness,” Jaehyun says. “We both know we can’t see each other until after our finals in three days.”

“But three days is so long away! That’s like seventy-two hours from now!” 

“You’re not going to be awake for all seventy-two of those hours though,” Jaehyun grins.

A grumble escapes you. “You know what I mean.”

Jaehyun can feel his cock beginning to rise in his pants, and he knows he has to cut this call short-

“Well, if you’re not going to come be my stress relief, maybe I’ll have to do it myself,” you tell him.

“Huh?”

“I’m rubbing my clit right now, and you wouldn’t believe how fucking wet I am for you. Been thinking about you for hours.”

“Fuck,” Jaehyun groans.

“It would be an awful shame if you didn’t come and fuck me stupid.” 

“I’ve got to go,” the marine biology major says, and it takes every ounce of his determination for the words to leave his lips.

“For a frat boy, you can be such a prude, Jaehyun.”

“I’m just focusing on something we both agreed a year ago. We both said school comes first. We both said grades above sex, and I’m just keeping us both in line with that intention.”

“I’ll try not to be too upset about this, because you’re right, and I hate that you’re right,” you sigh. “Good luck studying, I’ll see you in seventy-two hours.”

You hang up, and Jaehyun lets out a breath he hadn’t even known he’d been holding.

He looks down at his rock hard cock, which is pressing up against the fabric of his sweat pants, and with one last surge of determination, he goes back to his text book. 

Seven:

You finished your final two hours ago, and you’re now just laying on your couch. Your mind is pretty much blank, your body exhausted- and that’s when there’s a knock on your door.

You release a groan, forcing yourself to your feet.

While you know you’re going to see Jaehyun sometime soon, you definitely don’t expect him to be on your doorstep, and you’re at a loss for words as you stare at him.

“How bad was your final, baby, you’ve got a whole ‘thousand yard stare’ going on,” Jaehyun grins.

“You’re here,” you force out, so shocked that you still don’t know what to say.

“I’m here, and even though your final is done, it looks like you need stress relief.”

A tingle rushes through you, and you nod eagerly, pushing your door open wider so he can enter your apartment.

“How- how was your final?” you ask.

“Wasn’t so bad,” he shrugs, “And don’t get me wrong, I’m not saying marine biology is easy, but it’s not physics.” 

“Jae?”

“Uh huh?”

“I’m so exhausted.” The words come out of your mouth and you break a little, your shoulders slumping. “I won’t have results for a couple of weeks and I don’t know if I did well, and I know you have this whole, ‘I’m not a floozy’ running joke thing-”

“Baby, I’m here to fuck you, don’t worry about getting an eighty-six percent, I’m taking care of you right now even if you failed. Do you think you failed?”

“I don’t think so-”

“And you were highest in your whole class on the last test, so let out a breath, shake off the anxiety, and for the first time in two months, let’s just enjoy fucking, okay?”

“Okay.”

You let Jaehyun grab your hand and he leads you to your bedroom. Once there, he begins to kiss you. He cradles you against his chest, and it’s the most passionate lip lock you’ve ever shared with the marine biology major.

His hands stroke your body, and it’s not some quick tearing off of clothes- no, this time, it’s clear he wants to go slow. 

You stroke his muscles, massaging his shoulders through the heavy fabric of his hoodie. The motion makes Jaehyun groan, and he removes the layer, tossing it onto the floor before wrapping you in his arms again.

One of his hands moves to cup your cheek, and he slowly guides you to your bed. He lays you down before getting on top of you. Your thighs wrap around his hips, and you groan at the first amount of pressure on your sleeping short covered core.

The kiss deepens, but it’s not the kind of erratic and eager lip lock, it’s calculated, passionate, and in a way- loving.

Jaehyun cares about you, of that, you are certain. He cares enough to make this experience an act of worship, of self care, to balance out the absolute shit show that was your physics final, and you really appreciate the attention to detail that he’s putting into this.

His hand slips under your shirt, toying with your breast.

You’d been planning on having a nap, so you’re only wearing a shirt and shorts, no underwear or bra, and the sensation of his fingers playing with your nipple is the most relief you’ve had in a week.

You whimper, breaking the kiss to wiggle under him, hoping for more pressure on your pussy.

Jaehyun’s lips move to your throat. “Proud of you,” he whispers. “I’m sure you did well today.”

You don’t even know what to say, all you can do is moan in response, your brain too fried from your exam to think of words.

“Gonna get you naked,” Jaehyun tells you next. “You good with that?”

“Yes, please.”

Jaehyun pulls away, adjusting so he can slip your shorts off. You work on your shirt, and in moments, you’re naked for him. Then, Jaehyun begins to strip, joining you in nudity before getting onto the bed again.

His lips find yours, and his hand slips between your thighs. His fingers tease your clit, making you whimper against his lips.

If this was Jaehyun from three months ago, his cock would already be inside of you, and you’re reminded again that a November full of foreplay has changed your relationship. He’s more caring with you now, and you kind of love it, especially after the day you’ve had.

His digits slip into your pussy, working you open, and his palm continues to put the right amount of pressure on your clit.

His mouth moves to your throat, giving you space to moan and fill the room with sounds of pleasure.

He begins to do the motion he did when he made you squirt, and soon, that pressure in your abdomen is reaching a breaking point. You can feel the small gush as it wets your inner thighs, pleasure consuming you with the release.

Jaehyun descends to your breasts, sucking on your nipple gently before continuing to kiss down- he gets all the way to your pussy, and he pulls out his fingers in favour of licking your slit.

You whimper desperately as he takes position between your thighs, hands massaging the muscles there and keeping you pinned as he eats you out.

When you look down, you notice his eyes are closed. He’s fully immersed in the act of pleasuring you, and it makes everything feel better.

You give in to the sensation, mind going blank, body going numb except for the feeling of intense pressure that’s beginning to build in the pit of your stomach.

His lips suction around your clit, tongue flicking the sensitive bud, and your own hips begin to wiggle. You’re grinding down against his face, breathing hard as your orgasm becomes closer and closer-

There’s a difference between squirting and a clit orgasm, and while squirting had felt really good, this is about to feel even better.

You try not to put pressure on yourself, and that’s something you’ve learned this past month with Jaehyun.

He could stay between your thighs for half an hour and not get upset that you haven’t cum yet- however, you know it won’t take that long.

You give in to the feelings in your body, focusing on the pleasure as it builds and builds-

“Jae,” you whimper. “I’m close!”

He growls against your clit, sucking even harder, and that’s when you explode.

You release a gasp, the tension in your abdomen snapping as your clit begins to throb, sending delicious pleasure surging through your entire form.

Your thighs threaten to close around Jaehyun’s head but he holds you steady, working you through your orgasm.

The feeling of his tongue on your core isn’t one you ever want to give up, and Jaehyun’s the type of man who doesn’t like to lose- no, he continues to eat you out until you’re finished, until you’re pushing at his head, begging for his cock.

“Please, Jae,” you whimper. “I need you so bad.”

“I need you too, baby,” he nods, swallowing thickly as he adjusts on the bed, getting between your thighs again.

He looks down at you as he positions the head of his cock against your pussy. 

There’s a wordless agreement between the two of you as you stare into each other’s eyes, and Jaehyun slowly pushes into you.

You gasp loudly at the stretch, grabbing at his shoulders to steady yourself.

Nothing but fingers have been inside of you for a month, and the stretch is perfect as Jaehyun’s large cock fills up your core.

“Good?” Jaehyun asks with a grin.

“So good!”

His lips find your throat, and he sucks on your sweet spot, making you grip his shoulders even tighter.

Nothing has ever felt this intimate. You’re clinging to Jaehyun like a life line, your hearts trying to push through your pressed ribcages to meet, as if they were always meant to be one.

There are a thousand emotions bubbling up inside of you, but none of them can be vocalized, all you can do is pant in his ear as he lavishes on you, taking away all your stress. 

He begins to fuck you, starting slow as your body adjusts. You can hear him groaning as he licks your sweet spot, the muscles of his shoulders tensing with effort as he holds himself over you.

You get the sneaking suspicion that he’s very much holding back- that this slow build up is torture for the man who hasn’t gotten his cock wet in over a month.

“Let go, Jae,” you whisper, stroking his hair. “Fuck me stupid, you promised you would.”

Jaehyun releases a groan, pulling away from your throat to look down at you. “After all of this, we need to talk.”

“Huh?” your heart sinks in your chest.

“It’s nothing bad,” he’s quick to assure you, obviously having read your scared expression. “Just, fuck- look, I’ve been thinking- this month has proven we can get good marks and also be fucking, be more than fucking- and I just- I was thinking maybe we could try actually dating, if you wanted.” 

“Jae-” your voice cracks.

“You don’t have to answer now-”

“Let’s do it,” you nod. “I want to try that with you.”

“Thank god.” You can practically see the relief in the way he exhales, and then he presses his lips to yours, beginning to fuck you even harder.

You wrap your arms tight around his shoulders, kissing him deeply as he rails you. Your whole bed is shaking with each powerful thrust, and the pleasure of his cock inside of you mixes with the emotional ecstasy that had been triggered by the notion of dating.

You seriously feel like you’re on cloud nine, and it’s such a massive contrast to how you’d felt even an hour ago.

This man can change your entire mood, and you kind of love that. All your stress has melted away, because of his targeted effort to lift you back onto your feet after such a devastating final exam. 

He cares about you, you can feel it in the way his hips move, the way his lips caress your own. You can even hear it in his deep groans, all his inhibitions going out the window as he gives himself to you completely.

There’s also something to be said about fucking missionary.

When you’d first had sex, you’d done it doggy, not wanting to be staring at each other, not wanting to feel too emotionally connected as you looked into each other’s eyes-

So much has changed in the best possible way, the two of you pressed chest to chest, pressed so tight it’s as if you want to consume each other.

You’re connected, like puzzle pieces, and each thrust has Jaehyun hitting a spot deep inside of you that makes you feel so completely whole.

You’re both gasping into your kisses now, the tension rising by the second-

“Fuck, I haven’t cum in so long-” Jaehyun groans, breaking the kiss to press his forehead against yours.

“Then fill me up, Jae,” you whimper, stroking his hair and strong shoulders. “Give me all of it.”

“Fuck.”  

“I want this,” you tell him. “I want you so bad.”

He lets out a shuddery breath, and then he kisses you, grunting deeply- the last three thrusts are powerful yet erratic, and his entire body shivers as he falls over the edge. You can feel him filling you up, shooting rope upon rope of cum deep into your core.

Your legs wrap tightly around his hips, keeping him buried to the hilt inside of you, and you press kisses along his face, stroking his hair.

His orgasm lasts five or so seconds, and you can tell from the tension in his muscles that it’s an intense one. He all but slumps over you when he finishes, breathing hard against your skin as he buries his face by your throat.

“Fuck.”

“You can say that again,” you laugh. 

Usually, when Jaehyun and you finish up having sex, he immediately goes home and you go to shower, but today, you hold him close, keeping him wrapped in your embrace.

Neither of you say anything as you wait for your hearts to slow down, and you continue to press little kisses along his skin.

“How about we shower then cuddle and watch a movie?” you ask.

“Baby,” Jaehyun releases a small chuckle, “I would love that more than anything.”

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🔮 preview. “This is how you inspired me to study when we first started dating,” you point out. “Encourage yourself with pussy. Get some good sucking now, fuck me stupid, and then, use that as fuel to get your studying done.”

cw/ tw. Unprotected sex, oral, blow job, hand job, masturbation, use of toy/vibrator, multiple reader orgasms, sucking Jae off while he studies, multiple sex positions, dirty talk, praise, rough sex,  etc…   I petnames. (hers) baby.

👹 rating. 18+ explicit I wc. 2.5k I teaser wc. 110

🌙 starring. Jaehyun x afab!Reader

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You can tell that Jaehyun is struggling. His end of the year final is coming up, and he’s as anxious as you’ve ever seen him. 

You’ve done your best to support him with studying, but after everything you’ve learned at the start of your relationship last year, you think you might just know the best way to help him focus.

“Jae?” you call, looking at your boyfriend as he studies at the table by your bed. “How’s it coming along?”

He releases a deep sigh. “Not great.”

You approach him, resting against the table. “Anything I can do to help?”

“Probably not,” he groans.

“Are you sure about that?”

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[thyme-in-a-bubble]

too big

a/n: honestly, bless this man for being such a dick (and having such a dick, holy fuck i’m gonna pass out)

summary: cock throbbing in his grasp, he stared down at your pussy as he swept his intimidating girth against it, “you know, you have been such a fucking tease for way too long… only giving me handjobs or rubbing that little cunt on me, basically taunting me, while the rest of these assholes get to have you, all of you, anyway they want,” he stopped nudging your buzzing pearl and instead dragged through your petals till he found your opening, quivering and dripping as he nuzzled against it, “I’m fucking tired…” he groaned slowly, “…so I’m done waiting… I’ll finally feel this fucking pussy wrapped around me whether you like it or not.” 

warnings: innocent!reader x frat!bucky barnes, stepbro!steve rogers, frat!ari levinson, marc spector, ransom drysdale, curtis everett, lloyd hansen, andy barber, thor odinson, scott lang, miguel o'hara, frank castle, billy russo, smut, dark content, dubcon halfway through, college au, polyamory, kissing, corruption kink, shower sex, bondage, exhibitionism, voyeurism, crying, dacryphilia, dirty talk, size kink, gaping, belly bulge, manhandling, overstimulation, orgasm denial, edging, multiple orgasms, squirting, impact play, pain kink, spit kink, choking, masturbation, oral, fingering, anal, pussyjob, penetrative sex, unprotected sex, creampie, bukkake

word count: 6770

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

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“Ah, not yet,” your stepbrother groaned over the booming music, that rocked the frat house, as he cut the sip of his beer short, “if you really don’t wanna be here anymore, can’t you just like go up to my room and wait?”

“Seriously?” a long sigh flowed from your lungs, “then I’d rather just walk back to my dorm alone, I don’t even know why you insist on escorting me like I’m a child.” 

“Because you shouldn’t walk alone at night,” Steve shot back as his gaze continued to keep his focus on the party around him, “don’t be a brat, just go wait upstairs.”

“Well, can’t someone else do it then if you’re so busy, your majesty,” your comment earned you a glare. 

“You’re my responsibility,” he stated, the bridge of his nose twitching heatedly as he glowered down at you, “I’m not just gonna dump my problems on my friends for them to deal with.”

“Wow, okay,” you nearly choked on the lump that promptly formed in your throat, “I’m sorry for being such a burden then,” you muttered before spinning around and storming up the stairs. 

The door to Steve’s room slammed shut like a crack of thunder behind your spine. 

Chest still heaving, you stared down at the ground for a long moment before you finally managed to force your feet to move once again and peel you away from the door. You flopped down onto the bed with a heated huff, blinking up at the ceiling before your gaze flickered to the night sky twinkling on the other side of the windows. 

Though as you laid there, your stepbrother's last words nearly swallowing you whole as they played on a loop in your brain like a plague, a different sound suddenly caught your ears and caused your cheeks to instantly heat up with something other than fury. 

Reverberating through the thin wall, shrill moans were tangled with deep ones, some that were familiar, though you didn’t place them till the female whines started screaming out his name. 

“Bucky, Bucky, Bucky–,” the cries rang out each time the thud of a headboard thumped against the wall. 

And though you couldn’t make out every word, you still thought that you could hear Bucky’s low timbre crackle in dirty soliloquies, fractured sentences that soon persuaded your hands to subconsciously drift down along your frame.

Though by the time that your fingers had found their way down your pants and stuffed up your hole, rocking them to the same rhythm of the pounding that nearly cracked through the wall, the door to Steve’s room was suddenly ripped open and you tore your hand away from your cunt. 

“I am only gonna say this once, so you better fucking listen up,” he grumbled as he kicked the door shut behind him, “I–… am sorry…” he struggled to huff, “there, you happy now?” 

The lewd noises that echoed through the wall didn’t faze him at all as he apparently was so used to such background noise in the house that he barely registered it at all. 

“So, you don’t think I’m a burden?” you uttered, propping yourself up on your elbows as doubt stiffened your words. 

“…no…” resisting a roll of his eye, he instead faintly shook his head as he began to walk closer, “you’re not a burden… a brat? Yes,” he stated, “but I guess you’re not that bad…” a slight smirk twitched at his lip before he then bent down over you and kissed you. 

Though as it turned out to not just be a swift peck he’d sought after as he layed down at top of you, one of your palms pressed against the centre of his burly chest before you twisted your lips out of the way, “wait, wait,” your head faintly shook as you tried not to succumb to his intoxicating kiss, “no, if we do this, then we’ll both just fall asleep here.” 

“Would that really be so bad?” a soft scoff crackled in his throat. 

“I wanna sleep in my own bed tonight,” you tilted your head as you blinked up at him, your brows gently knitting together at the plea, “I didn’t even wanna come tonight.” 

“Oh, come on,” he leaned back down till his nose ghosted against your own, “I’m too tired to walk across campus right now, and if I’m tired, then I can only imagine how you must feel. Come on, just crash here tonight, do it for me,” he croaked, “and you’ve been so boring all evening, barely had a sip of anything, so at the very least you owe me this.” 

“But–”

“You can pop in some earplugs, then you won’t even know the difference,” his lips began to flutter across your cheekbone till his voice tickled your ear, all the while the party right downstairs still boomed above his manipulative murmurs. 

And though you knew that it wasn’t true, that even if you could somehow block out the noise, you still couldn’t stop the base from rocking the entire house and make you dizzy as you laid in your stepbrother’s bed. So, as fear arose inside of you at the thought of telling him no, you instead heard yourself timidly whispering, “…alright…”

You’d managed to slip out of Steve’s bed without waking him up before you then sneaked down the long hallway to borrow the upstairs shower. 

Though once the water was drizzling down upon you, in the relaxing steam that floated around your form, your thoughts couldn’t help but drift back to the night before, though not of the manner that your stepbrother had put you to sleep, but instead to the sinful sounds of his best friend that you’d overheard. 

Swiftly, the pads of your fingers began to draw needy circles over your clit to try and dull the scandalously intruding thoughts, though even when you detached the showerhead to spray the gush of water directly against your pussy, a dire problem continued to stand in your way, like you were peeping over the edge of a cliff, too petrified to jump by yourself. 

However, as time began to slip away from you, the door suddenly barged open.  

Your stifled whimpers promptly ceased echoing in the shower as your eyes snapped to the figure now standing in the doorway. 

“B-Bucky!” you dropped the showerhead in your humiliated scramble to twist your nude frame out of his sight. Picking it up as it began to spray up into your face, you swiftly spun around and splayed your hands across your frame in a feeble attempt at covering yourself up.   

“You do know that this door locks, right?” he chuckled as he gently pushed the door closed behind him, the one that you had apparently still been half-asleep when you forgot to bolt, “that’s twice now,” he pointed out with a grin as his stare pierced through the fogged up glass, deja vu smacking you in the face as well, as he reminded you of the incident that had happened over the summer break, “I think if it ever happens a third, then I should win a prize or something.”

“Get out!” you screeched, embarrassment eating you alive. 

“Why? So that you can go back to getting yourself off?” 

“I–,” your head swiftly soared to catch sight of him over your shoulder, “I wasn’t–…” before you squeezed your eyes shut and huffed, “oh my god, I hate you…” 

“I know,” he simply smiled at your groan before he shifted to go grab his toothbrush from the cabinet.

But before he could be on his way and slip back out, your head started spinning as your gaze traced him on the other side of the glass, going about his business as if you weren’t standing stark naked one single meter away from him. 

“W-wait!” you then heard yourself squeak right as his fingers reached for the door handle. Glancing back over his shoulder at you, the words that then slipped out of your lungs were accompanied by a shiver that trickled down your spine, “…could you–…”

Blinking back at you, his eyes faintly squinted as a smirk plagued his lips, “could I what?” 

“Well, I just–,” your breathing was ragged as you averted your gaze, “I’m having a bit of trouble making myself–, uhm…”

“Aw,” his broad shoulders gently shook in a laugh as he then began to mock, “what’s the matter? Can you not make your little pussy cum? Have you still not learned how to do it on your own?” 

“I–, n-no!” you hastily lied, “I’ve totally done it myself, loads of times, what are you talking about?” even though the truth actually was that the sought-after high was still too overwhelming to reach on your own, “I just right now when I tried that it won’t happen… I–… I don’t know what’s wrong with me…” 

“Well, maybe you’re doing it wrong,” he shrugged, “or school’s just got you crazy stressed out or something, so it can’t snap into place.”

“Yeah?” a small drop of assurance settled within your belly, “…so would you maybe–, I mean, I know that you’ve done it for me before, but still, could you maybe help me out a tiny bit?” 

A big huff flowed from his lungs as Bucky then pretended that your request was something he wished to be no part of, “alright,” he teasingly grumbled, “I guess I could lend you a hand, but just saying, it’ll cost you.” 

“Cost me?” 

“Yeah,” he tried to keep a straight face, “I don’t give out favours free of charge.” 

“Fine,” a short giggle bubbled out of you as you assumed his dramatic terms were but a joke, “I promise I’ll be your getaway driver on your next diamond heist or whatever.”  

His tongue briefly flickered out to wet his lips before he simply chuckled condescendingly in return, “you’re cute,” before he then began to strip out of his sleepwear. 

Though you probably shouldn’t have been surprised, in your mind, you had merely pictured that he would stay on the other glass a moment longer to give you the guidance that you needed, only explaining what you should do and nothing more before he then left you to carry it out on your own. 

“What are you doing?” your eyes instinctively grew wide as his clothing hit the tile floor. 

“Sweetheart,” his head swiftly cocked, “you literally just begged all pathetically for my help,” he pushed his underwear down, revealing his beast of a cock, already half-hard and heavy, resting like a freaking baseball bat against the top of his thigh, “so that’s what I’m doing,” he brashly stated before he then joined you in the shower. 

Grabbing your face with both of his hands, he then held you in a kiss until the tension in your body gradually began to fade away. When you started to suck in deep breaths through your nose, truly landing in the devilish deal you’d just agreed to, one of his fiendishly, inked hands then began to wander. Skimming down over your wet skin, his palm first caught your tits, briefly giving one of your nipples a teasing tug, before his touch strayed down to knead your ass and draw you that much closer to his frame. 

With the showerhead still clutched in your hands, hugged closely to your body, and gushing onto the both of you, the drawn-out kiss then broke when Bucky’s hand snuck down between your legs. Swiftly, he sought out your clit, already puffy and throbbing from the way you had bullied it mere moments earlier. 

However, then, as you blinked up at him, mouth falling open in a gasp, he suddenly spun you around for your spine to be pressed up against his brawny chest, before stealing the showerhead from your grasp. 

Extending his thumb, he dexterously switched the settings and changed the flow of water from several small and gentle streams to one thicker, and much stronger, jet. 

A whimper rolled off your tongue as he then held the gush down to spray its firm pressure directly against your little pearl, and as you had already been so worked up when he found you, it didn’t take very long at all before you finally tasted that sweet high that you still weren’t yet brave enough to catch on your own, his expert touch instead guiding you there. Your eyes squeezed shut as, not only your head fell back against his broad shoulder, but your knees also threatened to give out, lending him to snake a swift arm around your waist to keep you from collapsing entirely. 

“Oh my god,” you panted, completely melted back against his bulky physique, “how did you do that so fast?”

And as the muffled grunt, that had vibrated in his chest at your unravelling, morphed into a cocky chuckle that tickled your ear, he simply murmured, “you’re welcome,” before he then pressed a peck to the top of your head and began to tilt your body back away from his. 

But at the loss of contact, one of your hands suddenly shot out in desperation before he could disappear completely, “wait, please I–,” you gasped foggily, “more–, I want more–, please don’t stop–”

And as you peeked over your shoulder to meet his eye, a glimmer flickered in his blue ones, “oh, looks like someone’s getting greedy,” he smirked, “you finally developing a taste for all of this? Becoming the little slut we’ve been telling you all along that you actually are?” 

“No, I’m not a–,” you couldn’t even echo the same word out loud, “…Bucky, please? I just–, I can’t do it on my own–, I mean, not like you or any of the others can…”

“Well, you’ve just not had enough practice yet,” his palm swept up to find your jaw as he took a step back in your proximity, “you’ll get there if you just listen to Steve and stick with all of us,” he uttered as he turned your head for his lips to capture your own.

As he kissed you over your shoulder, his now raging hard-on digging into the softness of your bottom, he then blindly slotted the showerhead back into place on the wall, lending the water to drizzle down over the both of you as he swept his tongue ravenously against your own. 

His feet then began to shift on the wet floor, and steered your own to move slightly as well, till your tits smooshed up against the cool tile wall of the shower. When his lips then faded and began to migrate down and past your neck, you continued to peek back at him as he then sank down onto his knees behind you. Grabbing your hips, he yanked your butt closer to his head till your back was arched and your arms were folded up against the wall for support. Burying his face in between your thighs, he then spent the next chunk of time eating you out till he once again had you tumbling over the edge.

Though after you’d cum this second time, he feverishly reached up and shut off the water before he plucked up your dazed form and dragged you out of the shower, planting you instead on the counter beside the sink. 

Still all dizzy, you swayed slightly as Bucky then took a few steps away from you, enough to be out of your reach. 

“I wanna see how many of your fingers you can fit inside that pretty little pussy of yours,” he demanded as his stare coasted down to your core, utterly on display as your limp legs hadn’t drifted closed yet. 

“W-what?” you breathed, still too hazy to keep your heavy eyelids from temporarily blinding your vision. 

“You heard what I said,” he briefly let a dollop of spit drop down into his open palm before he then grasped his thick girth and initiated a silky stroke, “show me.”  

Though try as you might, the max you managed to cram inside of your drooling cunt was three of your digits as your stare stayed glued on his fist working over his big cock. 

However as he watched you reach your capacity, he then stepped back up and, with his free hand, joined your own touch between your thighs. At first, as his gaze found your own and held it captive, the tips of his fingers traced your hole, all stretched out by your comparatively thin digits. But then, gradually, he traded your own touch out with his. To begin with, his finger hooked under one of your knuckles to pull one of your fingers out of your pussy, barely waiting any time at all before he then swapped places with it and slid his own digit in beside the two of yours that remained.

The stretch sent a shiver trickling down your spine and you swiftly tilted closer to crash your lips messily against his own. 

And soon, none of your own fingers remained as he instead stuffed you full. Though you thought that two of his thick digits were a struggle, he somehow managed to work himself up and double it to four after he had coaxed your own touch away, his thumb being the only one he couldn’t cram inside, instead stretching it up to sweep against your swollen clit and roll it under the broad pad. His other hand stayed on his dick as your pussy began to stain his fingers with your cream, leaking needily into his palm. 

Though just before you could cum once more, his zealous touch suddenly disappeared, denying you of the luxurious sensation once again. As you desperately reached down to take care of it yourself, he swiftly swatted your hand out of the way. 

Both of his palms, still sticky from your essence as well as his own spit, then floated up to grasp the sides of your face before he then uttered, “grab my cock,” and frantically, you fulfilled his command as you shared his hot breath, “both hands, that’s it, good girl,” a gravelly groan rumbled in his throat as you wrapped your fingers around his fat girth and attempted a gentle stroke, “rub it against you,” he murmured as the tip of him was already mere inches away from your throbbing clit, “rub that big cock against your pussy, go on.”

And as you then tilted your hips and began to drag his hardness through your folds, parting your petals for his girth, a pout found your lips as you peeked down at his size as your juices soaked him, “why do you have to be so fucking big…” you heard yourself whine, “it’s not fair…” 

“Aw, what’s wrong, huh?” he huffed out a cocky grin as he promptly leaned in a bit closer, “are you tired of not being able to take me? I thought you liked all the fun ways we make it work since you won’t let me even try to stick it in, how scaredlittle you think I’m too huge for it to ever work.” 

“You are, that hasn’t changed, I’ve accepted that,” you puffed as you continued to tickle the bulbous tip of him against your core and drive yourself closer to the edge once again, “but I can just still, simultaneously, be a little sad about how I can’t do that with you, even with how crazy you make me, which is a mystery in itself, I don’t get it, frankly I think you’re a complete and utter asshole, but–, fuck… it’s like I lose my mind when I’m around you… all of you… I can’t even enter this house without forgetting my own name…” 

But then, just before you could catch another orgasm, a low growl crackled in Bucky’s throat as your words caused him to finally snap, grasping your frame and tossing you over his shoulder before he nearly ripped the door off its hinges from how feverishly he yanked it open.

Stalking down the long hallways that slithered throughout the upper floor of the fraternity, fear arose in you at the thought that someone might spot you, though as you squeaked about it through your billowing laughter, Bucky only smacked your ass in return, lending you not to notice the handful of doors that clicked open behind you. 

As you reached his room, your giggle still remained as he dropped you down upon his bed. You were too focused on him as he sank down over you to notice how he hadn’t bothered to shut the door. 

Messily making out, his fingertips tickled your sides as he wrestled you lightly, grasping both of your wrists and pinning them above your head before his hips then grinded down against your own. Though your legs didn’t manage to tangle around him before he then flipped you around to lay on your stomach beneath him. 

It continued to be all fun and game as he twisted your squirming hands down to the small of your back, even as he reached for a pair of handcuffs that rested on his nightstand before swiftly clicking them around your wrists, as you merely thought that it was something new and exciting, not him on the verge of crossing a line.

Though as he then yanked your hips up off of the mattress, your knees curling beneath you as your face and shoulder smooshed further into the bed, you playfully wiggled your ass back at him as you fully expected to feel the touch of his fingers or his tongue once again. But to your surprise, when you did feel something brush against your weepy cunt, your giggle finally ceased, gradually fizzling out as you realised what exactly it was that you were feeling caress against you. 

“Wait, what are you–,” your neck twisted further as you tried to catch a glimpse of what he was doing, though only managed to spot his silhouette looming behind you. 

Cock throbbing in his grasp, he stared down at your pussy as he swept his intimidating girth against it, “you know, you have been such a fucking tease for way too long… only giving me handjobs or rubbing that little cunt on me, basically taunting me, while the rest of these assholes get to have you, all of you, anyway they want,” he stopped nudging your buzzing pearl and instead dragged through your petals till he found your opening, quivering and dripping as he nuzzled against it, “I’m fucking tired…” he groaned slowly, “…so I’m done waiting… I’ll finally feel this fucking pussy wrapped around me whether you like it or not.” 

“But I’m not ready–, Bucky, wait!” you tried to wiggle away from him, but he only grasped your ass and brought you back flush against him, “let’s just talk about this for a second–”

“What’s there to talk about, huh?”

“It won’t fit!” you yelped into the sheets.

“Yeah, probably not,” he smirked from behind you, “but I don’t care… I’ll just make it fit,” he uttered before then attempting to sink it in, though without success, his massive cock instead slipped through your slick folds and dragged roughly across your clit. 

“Bucky, please! I’m scared!” you whimpered as his fat tip continued to nudge at your hole, smearing the mess leaking out of you further against your core, “you’re gonna break me in half!” 

“I know, fuck, I know,” he chuckled darkly as he kept up his efforts, “your little pussy is just too goddamn tiny for this,” he pointed out before continuing anyway and trying once again to bury himself in your warmth, though this time failing as well, “fucking shit!” he exclaimed as rage began to bubble within him, making him huff like a bull behind you. 

With a smack against your propped-up ass, he then took a step back before making his way around the bed to the nightstand. Once he’d grabbed a bottle of lube, he briefly dipped down to smother your frown with a peck. 

“Please, Bucky,” you tried to plea once again, “you can stop now. You tried and it didn’t work, so just–, we can do something else, whatever you want, just please don’t try again.”

“But this is the only thing I want,” he murmured before kissing your nose and disappearing back behind you once more.

As he settled back into the same position as before, he liberally glazed his cock with some of the lube, as well as smearing some on your already slick pussy too, even pushing some inside of you with one of his long fingers. 

And as he then attempted a third time, snapping his hips with all of his might, the very tip of him finally popped inside and an actual scream erupted from your lungs, partly from the severe stretch as he split you open with his monstrous girth, but also just from the pure shock of it miraculously working. 

“Ah!” your vision blurred up with tears and you could barely breathe as your poor pussy ached around his obscene size he tried to wreck you with, “Buck! It’s too big! It’s too big!” your mind began to grow fuzzy as you’d never experienced such an intense sensation before, “o-oh, fuck, please take it out, it hurts!” 

“Oh yeah, does it?” his palm swept up the goosebump-ridden skin on your back before he caught the cuffs that linked your wrists together, crudely tugging on them to drag you further down onto his cock, cramming even more of him inside of you, “it sure fucking looks like it, goddamn… I should take a picture of this shit, you’re so fucking stretched out right now, it looks like you might actually break on me,” his other hand drifted to your core to trace the way you struggled to take him. 

“Oh fuck, too much–, too much!” you began to sob as he began to buck his hips and bury himself further inside of you, “t-that’s too deep, Bucky!” 

“No, it’s not,” he chuckled breathlessly through a groan as he continued to stretch you to fit him, “I’m barely halfway.”

“Half–,” you gasped as it already felt as if he was so deep that you could feel him everywhere. From your toes that curled to all the way up in your fucking throat, there wasn’t a single part of you that didn’t flicker and spark for him like a bomb about to go off. 

And as he huffed behind you with every laboured thrust, his hips snapping to crave his way deeper into your sweetness, his hands on you got rougher as they began to come down upon the curve of your bottom, smacking it and making you clench achingly around him at each blow. 

The sniffles that filtered through your strangled moans then found Bucky’s ears, and he briefly tore his stare away from where he split you apart, to glance to your face and spot the tears that rolled down your cheeks. 

“Are you fucking crying right now?” he couldn’t help but huff out a faint and amazed laugh, “aw, that’s okay, baby,” your mouth then fell open as one of his thumbs moved to plug up your tiny asshole, “you can cry if you need to…”

But through the piercing stretch that terrorised your soul, like shocks of electricity flicking through your nerves, you began to notice the euphoria slowly overpowering the pain, confusing you from how the two mixed and mingled. And then suddenly, Bucky’s greedy thrusts started to sound wetter and wetter with each sloppy slam into your soaked pussy, soon coming to a crescendo when your walls promptly squeezed down around him so tight that it forced his huge cock back out as your cunt achingly gushed around nothing and your wobbly knees collapsed beneath you.

Though as you came crashing down upon the bed, he wasted no time at all sinking down with you, “fuck… you’re doing so good for me, you know that?” your eyes rolled as he hummed directly in your ear, “just a little bit more, okay? Just relax around me, let me in,” he groaned as he struggled a moment to stuff himself back inside, pushing past your trembling sensitivity to make room for his length once again.

Though when he sank in, a low and blissful groan rumbling in his chest, it vibrated against your spine as he nearly crushed you as his hips began to roll and rut down into you, burying himself even deeper than before. 

“Be a good girl, just lay right there and take it while I finally get to use this tiny little hole of yours,” he grunted as his efforts overstimulated you so fiercely that your legs trembled violently beneath him and drool began to trickle out of the corner of your mouth, soaking the sheets below, “mould you so good around me, make you take me, fit me perfectly, just the way you should, make you a pretty little fuckdoll for me…”

Though your face was twisted to face the door, it was a struggle to keep your eyes open, lending you only to notice the figures that filled up the exit when one of them took a step to the side and spoke up as he knocked on the neighbouring door. 

“Yo, Steve!” Thor slammed his fist against the door till it creaked open, “bro, come out here.” 

“Yeah, you gotta see this, man,” Ransom called out as well, his feet remaining in the threshold so his stare could stay glued on your cockdrunk visage. 

And when your stepbrother stepped out to spot what was happening just in the next room, he swiftly leaned his form against the doorframe as a wide grin bloomed on his features. 

“Holy shit,” Steve chuckled breathlessly as he stared at the pair of you in amazement, “well fucking done, Buck!” 

“Thank you,” the man that squished you further into the mattress chuckled smugly as he tangled a burly arm under your chin and let his inked bicep flex against your pulse and choke you lightly, “thank you very much.” 

“I mean, I for sure thought you’d have to hold out even longer,” Steve tilted his head slightly to catch a glimpse of how your cream stained Bucky’s cock as it helplessly leaked out of you, forming a messy ring around his fat girth. 

“Well, sometimes patience doesn’t get you what you want. Sometimes you just gotta stop playing by the rules and make life your bitch,” Bucky grunted before his lips began to nibble at your ear, “right, Y/n?” 

Scarcely registering their sinful words through your fucked out fog, all you could reply with was a slurred, “mmngmphh…” your mumbled moan only triggering Bucky to grow even more cocky than before. 

“That’s right, baby, I knew you could fucking take it. You didn’t, but I sure did,” he panted against your neck, “see, if you weren’t such a little prude, then you would have gotten this big dick so much earlier, wouldn’t you have liked that? Instead of being such a brat and making me wait till everyone else had gotten to use you as their own personal little fucktoy to get off with.”

And though you tried to answer, you instead heard your stepbrother chuckle over your pathetic moans, “fucking hell, look at how wrecked she is. Buddy, I think you might have actually broken her,” before he glanced over his shoulder at Thor, “hey, go get the other. Wake them up if you have to, they shouldn’t miss another second of this shit.” 

You barely noticed as the rest of the fraternity slowly filtered into the room as your eyes soon fluttered shut and yet another orgasm rocked your sense, your cunt creaming all over Bucky’s excruciatingly thick cock. When he then suddenly flipped you around onto your back, you dizzily discovered the audience that had formed as you hazily blinked around the crowd. Some were lined up behind Bucky, others off to the side of where you laid melted against the sheets, and a few remained staring in the doorway, though over half of them had already freed their own dicks, while the remaining few that hadn’t yet still only palmed their palpable tents as they watched intently.

A shrill yelp bubbled up your lungs as Bucky then tapped the hefty weight of his length against your overly sensitive pussy. Your legs were folded and crumbled on either side of your frame as he sloppily rubbed himself against your mess, letting the rest see just how much he had ruined you.

“You guys wanna see how pretty I can make her gape for me?” Bucky asked the others as his gaze stayed glued to your little hole, nuzzling against it as it looked as if it had snapped back into place, almost like he’d never been in there at all. 

And with the cheers that promptly rumbled behind him, he then repeatedly rammed his cock inside your cunt before retreating completely with the lewd pop of your poor pussy letting go of his monstrous girth. Each time he slid inside, he gradually ventured further, burying himself deeper before pulling back out and watching as your hole steadily relaxed for him, moulding to his size. At first, your leaky entrance only winked back at them all a brief moment before snapping back into place, till you eventually gaped properly enough for them all to applaud in awe as Bucky paused a moment to grasp you with both of his broad palms and spread you wide, holding you open for everyone a moment longer before your hole quivered back into place. 

Struggling to keep your eyes open, you then forced them to blink as you felt Frank momentarily step up beside you and swiftly free your hands from the cuffs that still kept them bound behind your back, seeing as you couldn’t possibly escape now that you were so cockdrunk you could barely stay awake. 

All of their deep voices and lewd comments washed over you like a stormy sea, crashing into you and making you even more lightheaded than before. 

Ari then shifted to kneel down next to you and scoop his palm under your head, tilting it up for your hazy vision to flicker down to the unobscured crude view of how your pretty pussy got impaled by Bucky’s obscene size, stretching you apart way beyond your limits. 

And as he mercilessly drove his cock into you, his balls managed to smack against your slick skin as he finally buried himself completely inside of your warmth, the tip of him not only diving deep enough to kiss your cervix, but to bump and bully against it with such force that it caused you to repeatedly lose your breath. 

You had never felt so full before in your life, surely too full, as even though you were blinking down at the hard evidence before you, you still didn’t fully believe that you were capable of such feats, of taking him the way that he made you. 

“O-oh, fuck…” you shakily whimpered when you caught sight of the way his monstrous size bulged through your belly, making it seem as though he was fucking straight through your pussy and into your guts.

Your teary eyes then flickered to find Steve in the crowd before one of your hands weakly grabbed for him. Seeing as it was the very least he could do, he granted you the comfort and closed the short distance, trading places with the frat’s president, before he grasped your trembling palm in his own. 

“Damn,” you faintly heard Curtis mutter as he stared, his girth ever throbbing in his fist, mirroring the rest of them, “maybe you should just make her cockwarm you for the rest of the day, just as a precaution to make it easier for you next time.”

“Oh, you’re right, she might need that princess treatment,” Steve murmured as he raised the back of your palm up to his lips for a brief peck, “you’d let him do that, wouldn’t you, sis? For me? Be good for my best friend?”

“Uh-huh,” you found yourself panting as their words flew straight over your dazed head as it jostled on the mattress each time Bucky’s hips snapped against your ass, your zealous slickness being so messy at this point that it clung to his skin as well and kept you both connected in glossy strings, like spiderwebs, each time his efforts retreated. 

“Shit,” Marc groaned as his fingers, tightly wrapped around his own dick, began to speed up, “this is so hot… I think I might blow my load.” 

“Me too, fuck,” Scott harmonized. 

“Cum in her mouth,” Bucky uttered, “go on, be a good girl, open up for them,” before you then felt your stepbrother beside you pry your lips apart mid-moan. 

And as the pair stepped up and, one by one, painted your breathless tongue with their essence, you heard Lloyd rumble firmly, “you better swallow every single drop they give you, sweetheart.”

“Yeah, doesn’t it taste good what you do to them, to all of us?” Billy purred before he let a dollop of spit drop from his lips into his palm as he paused momentarily before silkily stroking his length one more to you. 

“Maybe if you beg real pretty, it could become your dessert after every one of your meals,” Miguel suggested with a smirk, “but only if you’re good, then maybe you can have the privilege of being our little cumdump.” 

“Is that what you want?” Andy uttered huskily, his fevered efforts stealing some of his breath, “you wanna be Kappa Alpha Nu’s official little toy? Just be all fucking adorable and help us get off?”

But then Bucky let out a low chuckle as he shifted your feet to rest up upon his broad shoulders, “you’re saying that like she isn’t already…” he grinned proudly before sinking down closer and folding your body in half.

Your free hand clawed at his bicep as both of them flexed to keep him from crushing you as he tilted down to kiss you ravenously. His rhythm picked up till it reached a desperate pace, pumping his fat cock into you as he groaned against your lips. Though even after you felt his big dick twitch inside of you and pump your pussy full of his cum, his efforts didn’t cease, only degraded slightly as he shivered above you, stubbornly fucking you till you unravelled as well. 

With a ragged moan, he finally withdrew from your haven and reached down to messily rub his touch against your poor pussy, all swollen and puffy as it squirted once again for him, your juices weakly gushing all over the bed as his load too trickled out.

It was all a blur after that. 

At first, as you still laid there, panting and twitching at Bucky’s overstimulating touch that he hadn’t yet freed you from, the three frat guys who were looming right beside you, Thor, Curtis and Andy, decorated your heaving tits and stomach with their hot cum. 

After that, one by one, Miguel, Billy, Frank, Ransom, Lloyd and Ari stepped up and came wherever their heart desired. Some chose your exhausted face, all cute and breathless, blinking up at them, while others elected to finish on the soft peaks of your boobs, making you flash them your soft tongue, or even just paint your puffy pussy white and add to the mess already sticky and sore between your limp thighs. 

And lastly, having clearly edged in order to grant himself the honour, your stepbrother let go of your shaky hand and slotted himself in between your legs. Wasting no time teasing you, he plugged the very tip of him into your wrecked hole, making your whole frame briefly jump and quiver on the mattress before your soreness clenched around him and milked him dry as he swiftly emptied his balls inside of you. 

“Well, I think it’s official,” Steve exhaled when he finally pulled his dick back out to admire his cum slowly leaking out of you, “she is finally ready and broken in enough for us to start having some real fun…” his eyes then briefly flickered around to his friends beside him as he uttered, “gentlemen?” before his gaze once again returned to you, “let’s begin.”

© 2025 thyme-in-a-bubble 

[jaeyuniversal]

nonsense - s.jy

pairing: loser shy tutor!sim jaeyun x outgoing tutee fem!reader

synopsis: you're loud, confident, and a little too good at making shy boys squirm. your only issue is you’ve always hated physics—until you meet your painfully shy tutor, jake sim. he’s awkward, brilliant, and blushes every time you call him cute. so naturally, you flirt. hard. at first, he stammers and short-circuits, but as study sessions stack up, jake starts to change. maybe it’s the way you lean a little too close or how he starts to flirt back (badly, but adorably).

featuring: jake sim of enhypen n maki from &team!!

genre: college au fluff!!!

warnings: jake has his first kiss, making-out?? kind of. a bit of jealousy, jake is just a super cute loser. lowercase intended ◡̈

playlist: nonsense by sabrina carpenter & soft spot by keshi

wc: 2.411k

a/n: i fear i will ride the loser jake wave forever! i love nerdy men <3 btw this is not proofread...

you’ve always hated physics.

not because you didn’t get it — okay, maybe a little because of that — but mostly because it was boring. theories and forces and laws. rinse and repeat. you weren’t failing physics. not exactly.

you were, however, spending an uncomfortable amount of time squinting at your textbook wondering how the hell you’d gone from memorizing song lyrics in under a minute to barely remembering newton’s third law. you told yourself it wasn’t that bad. then your lab partner dropped out, and your professor kindly suggested that you “seek out support.”

support came in the form of jake sim.

quiet. polite. a little too handsome for his own good. glasses-wearing, formula-spouting jake, with a habit of ducking his head when people talked too loudly. you’d seen him around campus before — usually alone, sometimes reading while walking (impressive), always in a hoodie two sizes too big, and baggy jeans that he almost steps on. 

you’d think he was popular, but those thick framed glasses always resting on his perfect nose made you think otherwise. 

your meet-cute wasn’t the typical coffee-spill-and-eye-contact thing. it happened last semester, during an elective you were both in: intro to astronomy. you’d been running late one day, flustered and frantic, only one seat left in the lecture hall. next to him. you took it.

he didn’t even glance up.

not until halfway through the class, when you leaned over and whispered, “sorry if i’m invading your orbit.”

he looked at you like he didn’t get the joke. (he didn’t.)

but later that day, you got an anonymous compliment on the university confessions page. “to the girl who sat next to me in astronomy and said something about orbits… you kind of wrecked mine.”

you knew it was him. and you never forgot.

───

“you don’t have to hover,” jake mumbled, eyes focused on the problem set in front of him.

“i’m not hovering. i’m observing… like a particle. you know, in motion.”

“that’s not… how particles work.”

you smiled to yourself. “i was hoping you'd say that.”

he flushed immediately. jake didn’t handle flirting well. hell, he had never even felt the touch of a woman, nevertheless flirted with one. 

you’d learned this by session two. if you got too close, he got tongue tied. if you complimented him, he’d practically glitch. it was fascinating. like a physics experiment, but cuter.

“what happens when you apply an external force to a closed system?” you asked, tapping your pencil.

he looked up slowly, suspicious. “depends on the force.”

you leaned in, gaze playful. “what if it’s me?”

he froze.

“y/n,” he said quietly, “you’re not even trying to learn right now.”

“that’s where you’re wrong, mr. sim.” you leaned back in your chair, spinning your pencil between your fingers. “i’ve been learning a lot.”

he narrowed his eyes, skeptical but intrigued. “like what?”

you met his gaze, serious now. “like how you pretend you didn’t notice me in astronomy last semester. even though you did.”

jake stiffened. his pen slipped from his fingers and rolled across the table.

“i—i didn’t—how did you—”

“i recognized your handwriting,” you said softly. “from the confession post.”

his face went scarlet.

you tilted your head, a smile tugging at your lips. “you called me orbit girl.”

jake looked like he wanted to disappear into the earth’s mantle. “i didn’t think you saw that.”

“i did. i screenshotted it.” you shrugged casually, then added, “still have it.”

he looked like you’d just told him you’d been keeping a shrine in your closet. but beneath the panic, something else flickered — hope, maybe?

“…why didn’t you say anything?” he asked, voice barely above a whisper.

and there it was. the plot twist.

you dropped your eyes to your notebook, fingers idly brushing a corner.

“i was going to,” you said. “but you never talked to me again. i figured you weren’t interested.”

jake looked stunned. like he’d just missed the punchline to his own joke.

“no! i mean– um…i wasn’t not interested,” he said quickly. “i just didn’t think someone like you would ever…”

“what?” you said, raising a brow. “flirt with their physics tutor?”

jake swallowed hard. “like me back.”

there was a beat of silence. you reached across the table, nudging his pen back toward him.

“you’re cute when you’re nervous, jake” he blushed and wrapped up the tutoring session, brain too flustered to continue talking about his second favorite subject (you’re his favorite). 

───

you asked around for jake’s number which proved to be very difficult. 

no one had it.

so, you did the only thing you could think of. you went to every cafe within a 15 mile radius of your campus, hoping to find the shy boy.

your mission to find him ended up taking longer than anticipated, misjudging how many cafe’s surrounded decelis. you’ve been to 23 and counting, not once finding the fluffy haired boy with glasses way too big for his adorable face. 

as you walk into the twenty-fourth cafe, you think you see him. striped shirt, slightly messy brown hair, around 5’9ish. you walk up to him, tapping on his shoulder when someone behind you calls your name.

“y/n?”

you whip your head around to be met with those big, dark hazel eyes you adored so much.

his plump, heart-shaped lips were wrapped around the straw of his green grape ade, softly biting the plastic. his head was strewn to the side, resembling a golden retriever. 

“i found you!” you happily cheered as you made your way to the little table he was at. 

“f-found me? were you… looking? for me?” he stuttered which made you giggle. 

you fondly smiled at him, “yeah. i was.”

after you ordered an iced mocha, you guys sat in a comfortable silence until you spoke. 

“so,” you said, stirring whipped cream into your drink, “what’s a physics genius like you doing tutoring me when you could be dating someone who understands quantum mechanics?”

jake almost spat out his coffee.

you smiled sweetly. “kidding. kind of.”

“i—i don’t think I’m a genius,” he mumbled. “and I’m not — uh — dating anyone.”

“oh, i know,” you said casually, resting your chin on your hand. “campus gossip moves fast.”

jake’s eyes widened. “wait — what do you mean? what gossip? about me?”

you laughed. “relax, jake. you’re just a bit of a mystery. tall, soft spoken, brainy, never goes to parties. people notice.”

he stared at you like you’d told him he was famous.

you sipped your drink and shrugged. “i noticed.”

the cup trembled in his hand.

“…thanks?” he said, though it sounded more like a question than a statement.

you leaned forward. “you say that like you don’t believe me.”

jake’s mouth opened, then closed again.

he was still trying to respond when the barista called out your name, signaling your pastries were ready. you winked at him on the way up and when you turned back, he was still watching you, straw halfway to his mouth, like he couldn’t believe any of this was real. 

───

you had your feet up on the seat across from you, swinging gently as you skimmed your notes. jake sat across from you, hoodie sleeves shoved up to his elbows, manspreading with his textbook open on his lap.

you knew what you were doing when you stretched, your shirt riding up slightly as you leaned across the table to reach a pencil. you knew jake saw. his eyes darted down and back up so fast it was like a reflex.

“everything okay?” you asked sweetly.

“fine!” he said, voice three octaves too high. “great. normal. yup.”

you laughed, tossing your pen down. “you know, if we were measuring awkward tension in this room, we’d have to switch to the richter scale.”

jake groaned and dropped his head into his hands. “why are you like this?”

“because it’s fun watching you short-circuit.”

he peeked at you through his fingers, a lopsided grin starting to form. “you’re evil.”

“i prefer charming.’”

there was a beat of silence. then, softly—

“you are.”

your smile faltered. just for a second. “what?”

jake met your eyes, cheeks still flushed but voice steady. “charming.”

you blinked. it was the first time he’d said something like that without tripping over his own tongue.

“…jake sim,” you said, narrowing your eyes. “are you flirting with me?”

he shrugged — shrugged — with fake nonchalance. “maybe.”

you stared at him.

he stared back.

and then — his pencil rolled off the table and he smacked his head on the edge trying to catch it.

“still me,” he groaned, face down on the table. “still a loser.”

you couldn’t help it. you laughed so hard you nearly fell out of your chair. he was cute and adorably clumsy. exactly. your type. 

───

the next session, you came in with your usual confidence. playful comments. flirty glances.

but jake didn’t fold this time. (immediately).

in fact, when you were about to lean over to grab his calculator, he reached past you and did it first. smooth. like he was testing you.

“looking for this?” he asked, eyebrows raised.

your eyes narrowed suspiciously. “who are you and what have you done with jake?”

he smiled — cocky, but still nervous. “maybe i’m learning.”

you tilted your head. “is this some physics thing? like, building resistance?”

“more like acceleration,” he said softly. “you keep pushing. i’m picking up speed.”

you stared at him.

he immediately panicked. “i mean — not in a creepy way — i just meant—”

you cut him off with a smirk. “careful, jake. you flirt like you solve equations — painfully accurate.”

he blushed again, but this time, he didn’t back away. instead, he looked at you for a long moment, then leaned in a little, just enough to make your breath catch.

“you said once that you noticed me before,” he murmured.

“yeah,” you said slowly.

he smiled, shy and genuine. “i think i’ve been noticing you for a lot longer.”

you forgot how to breathe for a second.

and then he bumped your knee under the table, awkward as ever. “anyway, we should… probably go over magnetic fields now.”

you grinned, heart racing. “god, you’re such a loser.”

“your loser,” he said quietly.

and somehow, that was the smoothest line of all.

───

the tutoring session was going fine.

that is, until maki showed up.

you were in the library lounge, halfway through a problem on thermodynamics, when a voice interrupted.

“y/n?”

you looked up. riki maus (known as maki). same year, tall, charming, objectively hot in that annoying way that made girls forgive him for talking through labs.

“hey,” you said, blinking. “didn’t know you were on this floor.”

jake went completely still next to you, pen frozen mid-equation.

maki barely glanced at him. “i was just heading out, but i had to say hi. you doing okay with physics? i tutor sometimes too, you know.”

jake’s grip on his pen tightened.

“oh?” you asked, amused. “you tutor now?”

maki shrugged. “not officially. but i could make time. for you.”

you opened your mouth, ready to tease him back, but jake’s voice cut in first.

“she already has a tutor.”

maki blinked, like he’d just noticed him. “right. sim, yeah? you’re in physics lab.”

“yeah,” jake said, still quiet, but there was an edge now. “i’ve got it covered.”

you turned to jake, brows lifting slightly. was he… tense?

maki grinned. “no offense, man, but i’ve heard tutoring y/n is more like surviving her. you sure you can handle it?”

jake stood.

you blinked. jake stood.

he was taller than you remembered. towering over maki, still in his soft hoodie and baggy jeans, but standing like something had clicked. like a switch had flipped.

“i can handle her,” he said, voice even. “better than anyone else.”

maki raised his hands. “okay. chill, bro.”

he gave you one last glance and walked off.

you looked up at jake. he was still standing, chest rising and falling like he was trying to keep it together.

“jake?”

his eyes met yours. there was something in them you hadn’t seen before. something fierce.

“do you like him?” he asked.

you frowned. “maki? god, no.”

he exhaled like he’d been holding his breath. stepped closer.

“because i don’t like seeing guys like that flirt with you.”

you tilted your head, heart starting to pick up. “jealousy doesn’t suit you, sim.”

“i know,” he said quietly. “but you do.”

and then he kissed you.

you didn’t expect it. not from him. not like this.

not with his hand cradling your cheek so gently it made your heart ache, not with the way his lips pressed to yours like he’d been waiting for this moment for weeks — months — forever.

your breath caught. he was warm. steady. his lips moved with surprising confidence, slow at first, then deeper, more certain as you kissed him back.

his other hand found your waist, pulled you in, grounded you. like he was afraid you might disappear if he let go.

your fingers curled in his hoodie, body leaning into his. he tilted his head just slightly and kissed you like a man who had solved the formula for gravity and decided to fall anyway.

wanting to deepen the kiss, you moved your thumb to his jaw, signaling him to open his mouth wider.

he (hopefully) got the hint and slowly but surely slotted his tongue right against yours. he wanted to memorize every part of you and figured he should start with your mouth.

it was as if your lips and tongues moved in perfect synchronization. like puzzle pieces.

when he finally pulled back, it was only enough to rest his forehead against yours.

you both stood there, catching your breath.

“…wow” you said, dazed. “what the hell, sim.”

he stared at you. blinked. once. twice. “w-was it okay? did i — do it wrong?”

silence. 

he spoke again, “that was kinda.. my first — um — my first kiss…” 

you let out a disbelieving laugh. “what do you mean that was your first kiss??? you kissed me like you’ve been rehearsing it in your dreams.”

he looked away. shy. “…maybe i have.”

you narrowed your eyes. “wait. have you?”

he winced. “that was a joke.”

it was silent for a hot minute.

“…mostly. i—i never really get close to pretty girls because i don’t— well i don’t go out. so. um. yeah…” 

you grabbed his hoodie and pulled him closer until your lips were right in front of his plush ones. “stop speaking nonsense and kiss me again, sim.” 

he didn’t hesitate. just smiled at you and slammed your lips on his. he kissed you like he was finally where he belonged.

and maybe he was.

because nerdy physics tutors?

yeah. they might know the laws of motion — but now he knew what it felt like to crash into you.

please reblog if you enjoyed this cute lil fic ! it helps a lot <3

[ @jaeyuniversal ] prod. 250508

[floweredhalo]

.

[nemisuki]

𐔌 ✧.* ᴛᴡᴏ ʟᴀɴᴇꜱ .ᐟ ֹ ₊ ꒱

ꜱʏɴᴏᴘꜱɪꜱ || He knows the infamous sidewalk rule and acts on it!  

᧔o᧓ || katsuki bakugo x f!reader, she/her pronouns, pure fluff, no smut or angst, talkative reader, protective bkg, dating au, drabble, short oneshot, he’s just a lil guy, 477 word count

"-i think I could get some sort of shock absorption imbedded in my torso area to lessen the blow ya know?"

The blonde grunts in acknowledgment as they walk around the corner — it was always like this — often the listener in the relationship, despite his loud personality.

Not that he minded, if anything it gave his vocal chords the chance to rest after all his yelling at school.

She's always left shocked he doesn't have a sore throat more often.

His eyes narrow at their new positions — her figure walking closest to the side of the road — the sight immediately making him feel uneasy.

Perhaps it was the hero instincts in him... or maybe the boyfriend ones.

"maybe I should get some gloves too-"

"y/n."

At the sound of her name exiting his mouth, she pauses her chatter, looking at his direction — noticeably giving her full attention to him — with a soft smile on her face.

"yes 'suki?"

"c'mere, switch with me."

He reaches out before she can say anything, wrapping a hand around her waist to maneuver across — swapping positions with her — and putting himself closer to the busy street of cars.

The considerate action has her flustered in a mere matter of seconds.

"always walk closest to the buildings when your alone, it's dangerous."

"oh- okay..."

His eyes lock onto hers — unlike her, completely unaffected by his own actions — as if the thoughtful gesture was nothing more then common sense.

"it's okay to space out with me though, as if i'd let anything happen to you... idiot."

He squeezes his hold on her when he directs his gaze forward, moving her closer whenever a slim chance of the girl bumping into a passerby is evident.

Ready to spout out curses if someone we're to shove past them without warning.

Best believe he'll immediately ask 'did that asshole hurt you?'

You would never say yes — for the sake of sparring the person from a pissed off Katsuki — but on the odd chance you did, you knew he would give them a piece of his mind.

She's unable to even think anymore, his hand lingering on her waist — the hot touch, extra warm due to his quirk — seeping through her clothes, turning her into a pile of mush.

He grumbles, attempting to steer back to their previous conversation — suddenly remembering she was in the middle of rambling when he interrupted — another testimony to his attentive nature.

"so why gloves, hm?"

"w-well you see..."

It's unfair how casual he is, while she's lessened to a flustered and stuttering mess. His brows furrow with confusion as he looks back to her.

"the hell's wrong with you?"

"n-nothing!"

Her boyfriend is a silent lover yet Katsuki Bakugo, himself, does not fall under the category of quiet.

Sometimes the highest form of love is spoken through gestures instead of words.

✦ ⎯⎯⋆ ˚｡⋆ ୨ masterlist || taglist || intro || socials ୧⋆ ˚｡⋆⎯⎯ ✦

ᴀ/ɴ ||| maybe i'm too much of a yapper but i struggle writing anything less then 700 words... so i'm shocked i actually managed to write this short drabble! i find this canon in my little heart hehe ɴᴇxᴛ ꜰɪᴄ ||| katsuki bakugo x f!reader (fluff) ᴛᴀɢꜱ ||| @leleyro @zaiban2989 @qyuin ໒꒰ྀི ´๑  ̫๑`  ꒱ྀིა

[thehoneybeestings]

𝐚𝐫𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐞 𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐨𝐫 𝐚𝐮 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐧

𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐨𝐫!𝐬𝐞𝐯𝐢𝐤𝐚 𝐱 𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐨𝐫!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

Word Count: 2k Content/Warnings: sfw, arcane au in which they're all actors starring in the show, softttt sevika, loser!sevika if you squint, actress!reader, reader is fem/referred to with fem terms and pronouns A/N: i am sure i'm not the only one who likes to imagine that every character in arcane is simply an actor, and they were simply acting; not actually experiencing the tragedy they cannot seem to catch a damn break from... so, without further ado, here is this first installment of this series! as per the poll i posted, sevika will be first, and vi is up next!

𝐋𝐨𝐯𝐞, 𝐁𝐞𝐞 ୨ৎ

──˚₊୨ৎ‧₊˚──

𝐍𝐢𝐧𝐚 𝐒𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐡 𝐚𝐬 𝐒𝐞𝐯𝐢𝐤𝐚

୨ৎ You’re an up-and-coming actress, with Arcane being your debut television series

୨ৎ The audition process was no easy feat; after its first two seasons’ massive success, it was clear that Arcane’s casting directors were looking for the best of the best, and you were up against some intense competition

୨ৎ Some of which were were a-listers, so naturally, you had your moments of doubt, assuming that there was no way you were beating any of them out

୨ৎ You persevered anyhow, due mostly to the genuine love you had found for the character you were auditioning for: Evette, a prodigy mechanical engineer from Zaun who lands herself an internship with Hextech Labs. 

୨ৎ Her story consists of the tragic loss of her parents at the hands of enforcers, unyielding ambition driven by the desire to honor her late parents, and of course, one of the yummiest sapphic slow burns on television to date

୨ৎ You’re sure this slow burn is the main reason why so many actresses scrambled to land this role, and you couldn’t really blame them

୨ৎ Nina Singh was irrevocably and undeniably one the hottest people in existence, playing Sevika, one of the hottest characters in existence

୨ৎ This made for some very awkward chemistry tests between Nina and a few potential Evettes; actresses focusing so much on trying to seduce Sevika that at times, Nina felt like she was shooting the intro to some shitty porno

୨ৎ Then came you: one of the finalists for the role of Evette, unbeknownst to you 

୨ৎ You’re a nervous wreck in front of Nina- she’s an a-lister herself- and even still, your ability to embody Evette and bring the depths and nuances of her relationship with Sevika to life leaves the room taken aback

୨ৎ You’ll never forget the day of your chemistry test; you’re exchanging the final lines of the short scene you’re given to perform with Nina, heart pounding in  your chest

୨ৎ “Not getting any younger,” Nina gruffs in character, nodding towards your tedious work tightening the loose bolt on her arm, “and I’d rather not spend more time with a Piltie than I have to.”

୨ৎ Nina’s got a prosthetic arm in real life, so there’s actually a little bolt she lets you toy with for the scene

୨ৎ “If you want to leave with your arm short-circuting, be my guest,” you sigh, “but I don’t do sloppy work.” Your eyes flit up to hers for a moment- just until she catches you staring- before you continue tinkering with her arm. “And for the record,” you say, finally leaning back to admire your handiwork, “I’m not from Piltover.”

୨ৎ Nina’s brows furrow in confusion for a split second before she conceals her interest with Sevika’s typical scowl. “You didn’t tell me that.”

୨ৎ You smirk, looking up at her through your eyelashes. “You didn’t ask.” 

୨ৎ “Jesus,” the director calls out, “You two… I mean, the chemistry is palpable. Exactly what I'd envisioned. What do you think, Nina?”

୨ৎ You feel shy under her knowing smirk

୨ৎ “I think we’ve got our Evette.”

୨ৎ “Yeah?” The director responds with a smile, “What do you think, Y/n? How would you like to join us for season three of Arcane?”

୨ৎ Frankly, you almost shit yourself in front of the entire room

୨ৎ Thankfully, you’re able to keep it together and accept the role like a normal person; and now, here you are, three years later, and Arcane fans are obsessed with you

୨ৎ Even more than they’re obsessed with you, they’re obsessed with you and Nina 

୨ৎ Your character is a catalyst for the well-deserved, long overdue exploration of Sevika’s character and her vulnerabilities, and you and Nina are so invested in your characters that the bond you develop while filming inevitably goes beyond screen

୨ৎ At first, you’re wildly intimidated by her; she’s a renowned actress who’d been in the industry for a while, most known for roles similar to Sevika: guarded, icy, domineering

୨ৎ You’re quite tickled (and pleasantly surprised) to learn that Nina is the exact opposite

୨ৎ As soon as cut is called, she’s breaking into a smile, cracking a joke, or praising you for your performance

୨ৎ After particularly heavy or intense scenes, though, her expression tends to remain serious, and her focus isn’t on anyone but you until she knows you're all good

୨ৎ There’s one scene in particular- one where Sevika’s ripping into Evette- that Nina still feels bad about

୨ৎ It’s the first scene she thinks of when a journalist asks which scene from season three was the hardest to film

୨ৎ “I hate having to yell at her,” she says. “I can’t stand it; and you saw her bring on the tears- man, it broke my freakin’ heart!” 

୨ৎ You reach over to rub circles in between her shoulder blades, playfully rolling your eyes

୨ৎ “Poor baby,” you say, sticking your bottom lip out in a mocking pout

୨ৎ “So I take it Sevika’s disposition is much different than Nina’s?” The journalist inquires

୨ৎ “Oh, 100%,” you nod, “Apart from the RBF, Nina is a softie. I’ve never seen her angry.”

୨ৎ “I’m not a softie,” she mutters, resting her chin in her hand, “and what is RBF?”

୨ৎ “Resting Bitch Face,” you say in tandem with the journalist

୨ৎ She lets out a loud laugh, doubling over in her seat

୨ৎ It’s after this interview that fans begin to pick up on some… not-so-platonic energy between you and Nina

୨ৎ Nina is very sweet, yes, but she’s also very shy

୨ৎ But it seems that whenever she’s around you, she’s much more comfortable, coming out of her shell more than ever

୨ৎ Thus prompts the compilations 

୨ৎ “Nina Singh and Y/n Y/l/n being in love for 12 minutes and 54 seconds”

୨ৎ “Every time Nina manages to make the conversation about Y/n compilation”

୨ৎ “Take a shot every time Y/n makes Nina blush challenge: extreme”

୨ৎ But there are three moments in particular that fans can’t get enough of:

୨ৎ 1. The forever immortalized moment where you made Nina blush during a red carpet event

୨ৎ It wasn’t abnormal for the two of you to be paired for most press appearances, considering that your characters were a package deal in season 3, so you’re not surprised when you’re being photographed on the red carpet at the season premier and the photographers want a shot of you two together

୨ৎ “Let’s get some of the two of you, yeah?” the line of photographers begin to call out

୨ৎ Your hand reaches out for Nina- who’s a few feet away, getting her own photos taken- and she quickly slots next to you, arm wrapping around to hold your waist

୨ৎ Her fingers comb through her hair; once, twice, a third time

୨ৎ “My hair won’t stay out of my damn face,” she grumbles

୨ৎ Suddenly, you’re turning to her, reaching up to tuck the stray tendril of raven hair behind her ear and brushing back any other stray pieces

୨ৎ “Better?” You ask, turning back to the cameras like nothing had happened

୨ৎ You don’t notice that she’s acting like a total loser now; all fidgety and shy and awkward

୨ৎ In fact, she gets so bashful that her hand comes up to hide her face

୨ৎ And, of course, who wouldn’t photograph a moment so adorable?

୨ৎ She’s forever haunted by the circulation of her photographed schoolgirl crush freak out

୨ৎ 2. The one and only time she’s ever gone Sevika on someone in real life; and it was to defend you 

୨ৎ You’re sitting on your very first panel at a popular convention, as star-struck by the sea of fans in front of you as they are by the actors and actresses in front of them

୨ৎ This was the most pressure you’d felt during the press tour yet; being interviewed in real time in front of the show’s biggest supporters, answering questions from the show’s biggest supporters

୨ৎ Luckily, the crowd had been great so far

୨ৎ (You’re also sat in between Nina, who always eases your nerves, and Ekko’s actor, who you definitely shouldn’t have been seated next to because all you two do is cut up smh)

୨ৎ Until, a perturbed fan has a question for Nina

୨ৎ “I heard that Natalia Richmond was in the running for the role of Evette; I’m a big fan of both of your work, and I was honestly a little bummed to hear that she wouldn’t be starring alongside you. Not that Y/n didn’t do a good job, but do you wonder what Evette’s character could have looked like if someone else had gotten to take a stab at the character?”

୨ৎ The room falls silent

୨ৎ Your ears burn with embarrassment, and on instinct, you look over to Nina, whose jaw is set

୨ৎ She lowers her mic, turning her head to you with a scoff

୨ৎ “Are you fucking kidding me?”

୨ৎ The crowd lets out an awkward laugh; her mic had picked up her grievance 

୨ৎ Not that she gave a fuck

୨ৎ “Well,” she exhales, bringing the mic back up to her mouth, “truthfully, I don’t think Y/n did a good job. I think she did an incredible job.”

୨ৎ Your breath hitches in your throat

୨ৎ Her voice is stern, assertive; and for the first time since you’ve known her, Nina Singh is pissed

୨ৎ “I wouldn’t have been able to deliver the performance I wanted to this season without her. Sevika’s character arc would not have been executed as well as it was if i’d worked alongside anyone but the woman to my right; so no, I do not wonder what Evette’s character would have looked like if she weren’t played by Y/n, and I haven’t wondered since the day we had our chemistry test.”

୨ৎ With that, she sets the mic down, leaning back and crossing her arms in front of her with a scowl still on her face

୨ৎ The crowd gives her an applause- thankfully, the majority of Arcane’s fans adored you and could not have pictured the Arcane universe without you- and you lean over, giving Nina a “Thank you” and a squeeze on her arm

୨ৎ “Don’t mention it,” she shrugs; and at the sight of the warm smile on your face, she’s a giant teddy bear again

୨ৎ 3. The time you and Nina casually dropped that you’re basically U-Haul Lesbians

୨ৎ You two are setting up for an interview, and the camera is already rolling as your makeup artists powder your faces and your mics are adjusted

୨ৎ The footage starts in the middle of an idle conversation with the journalist

୨ৎ “So you hadn’t heard of RBF until then?” she asks

୨ৎ “I must be getting old,” she shrugs. She gives the makeup artist a soft “Thanks” as they walk away before she continues. “I hadn’t heard that phrase a day in my life; although I had heard that I’m a little unapproachable.”

୨ৎ You chuckle to yourself, thinking of the first time you met Nina; she does tend to sport a furrowed brow, but as soon as she speaks, she’s as kind as can be

୨ৎ “I didn’t think you liked me when we first met,” you muse 

୨ৎ “Oh, well you were right that time. I don’t like you.” 

୨ৎ You all burst out into a fit of laughter 

୨ৎ Anyone who knew of Nina knew of her affection for you

୨ৎ “Right, that’s why we're roomates; because you hate me so much,” you chuckle.

୨ৎ “Exactly- ‘s why we took in a stray cat, too, because who does that with someone they like?"

୨ৎ The journalist is now looking at both of you, gobsmacked

୨ৎ “You mean to tell me you two are living together and took in a stray cat together?”

୨ৎ Cluelessly, you both look to each other, then back to the journalist

୨ৎ “Yeah,” you smile, nodding innocently

୨ৎ “So you two are basically married…” 

୨ৎ Nina snorts, and you giggle, and you both agree

୨ৎ And that night, when you’re both back at home, Nina finally asks:

୨ৎ “Well, since we’re basically married, are you gonna let me take you out to dinner?”

୨ৎ Bonus: 

୨ৎ Yes, there was a sex scene

୨ৎ No, the two of you did not hear the director say cut

୨ৎ Tweets below… enjoy.

──˚₊ 𝐄𝐍𝐃 ‧₊˚──

[idkanymark]

[I just want you to know who I am]

soulmates au | Mark lee x f!reader

INTRO: " and I give up forever to touch you" Is all I need to explain this short story

NOTE: This imagine is inspired by the song "Iris" by The Goo Goo Dolls.

—————

Soulmates.

In this world, everything revolves around soulmates.

On your 18th birthday, a small tattoo appears on your wrist — a clue to guide you to your other half.

If you can't find them within five years, the universe steps in, etching their full name into your skin, giving a final chance.

But fate isn’t always kind.

If you still can’t find them, or if they’re no longer alive, your heart protects itself the only way it can. It strips you of every emotion, leaving you numb to the world.

—————

It was a normal Tuesday.

The café buzzed with quiet conversations, the low hum of life moving on without you. The cold coffee in front of you sat untouched, the bitter liquid half-empty, half-full — a perfect reflection of how you felt. Or maybe, how you didn’t feel at all.

You lifted your gaze, watching the world through tired eyes. Couples lingered at tables, fingers intertwined, matching tattoos peeking out from beneath sleeves like little promises from the universe. Soulmates. Everywhere you looked, love clung to people like second skin, a reminder of what you never had.

It had been almost eight years. Eight years of searching, hoping, breaking. And still, you were alone.

The universe, it seemed, had a cruel sense of humor. You traced your fingers over the faded star on your left wrist, the skin warm beneath your touch. Below it, a name curved along your bone in delicate ink: Mark Lee.

The name appeared three years ago, a lifeline you clung to with trembling hands. You tried. For two relentless years, you chased every lead, whispered his name like a prayer, hoping fate would answer. But fate stayed silent. And eventually, you stopped asking.

Now, the countdown pressed against your chest like a weight. In a few months, your time would run out, and whatever fragile piece of you still clung to hope would shatter. You’d wake up, and everything would be gone. No more sadness, no more longing. No more anything.

Maybe that wasn’t so bad.

Life had already unraveled beneath your feet. You lost your job. Friends faded away like ghosts. Each day bled into the next, an endless loop of empty routines. Maybe losing your emotions was just the final step — maybe the universe was doing you a kindness.

You let out a shaky breath, fingers curling around the coffee cup just to feel something, anything. The porcelain burned against your skin, but the ache was muted, distant. Like it didn’t really belong to you anymore.

Maybe it never did.

You looked at the watch on your right wrist, it was time to go back home. You stood up and after a few seconds you were already out.

The door swung shut behind you with a hollow thud, sealing in the hum of conversation and the clink of cups. Outside, the world was gray. The sky hung low, bloated with heavy clouds, and the air smelled like rain — sharp, metallic, inevitable.

You stepped onto the sidewalk just as the first drop hit your cheek, a cold kiss from the sky. Then another. And another. Within moments, the heavens split open, and the rain poured down in relentless sheets, drenching you in seconds.

You didn’t run. Didn’t flinch.

You just stood there, letting the water seep into your clothes, cling to your skin, blur the world around you. People rushed past, huddled under umbrellas, ducking into doorways, laughter and shouts echoing through the downpour. But no one noticed you.

Of course they didn’t.

You tilted your head back, eyes fluttering shut as raindrops slid down your face like mock tears. It had been so long since you’d cried, you almost forgot what it felt like. Maybe this was the closest you’d get.

The weight in your chest throbbed, an ache so familiar it almost felt like comfort. You pressed your hand against your wrist, fingers brushing over the inked name — Mark Lee — the letters raised like a scar.

Somewhere out there, he existed. Or maybe he didn’t. Maybe he was already gone, and you were mourning a ghost you never got to meet.

Maybe that was why the universe made you wait so long. To break you slowly, piece by piece, until you didn’t care anymore.

Until losing your emotions felt like mercy.

The rain clung to your lashes, blurred the streetlights into smudges of gold. You couldn’t tell if your chest felt heavy or hollow, only that something inside you was slipping, dissolving like sugar in water.

And still, you didn’t move.

Because standing there, soaked and shivering, with the name of a stranger etched into your skin, felt more real than anything had in years.

—————

You decided you were going to appreciate the world one last time before it faded away. Before the colors dulled, and the weight of existence slipped from your grasp. A few more days, and everything you’d ever felt — every scrap of joy, pain, and longing — would be gone.

And now, you were finally in Paris.

You wore a black dress, something delicate and simple, but you’d taken the time to fix your hair, to put on makeup. If this was your last chance to feel, to see beauty, you wanted to face it with grace.

The Musée d'Orsay hummed with quiet life, footsteps echoing against marble floors as visitors admired the art. You stood in front of Van Gogh’s Starry Night Over the Rhône, the deep blues and swirling stars pulling you in.

You traced the brushstrokes with your eyes, imagining his hands painting each one — the desperation, the need to pour his heart onto the canvas. Did he feel like this, too? Like his soul was slipping away?

The painting was beautiful, painfully so. It made your chest ache.

"It’s a pretty painting, isn’t it?"

The voice behind you was warm, low, and gentle enough to make your breath catch.

You turned slowly, and your heart nearly stopped.

He was the most beautiful man you’d ever seen. Dark hair clung to his forehead, and his eyes — soft, dark, and deep enough to drown in — studied you with quiet curiosity.

"Indeed” you whispered, your eyes tracing the swirling night sky. "But… sad."

"Sad?" he echoed, stepping closer.

You swallowed, your fingers twitching at your side. "The stars are so bright, but they feel… unreachable. Like they’re shining for a world they can never touch." You exhaled shakily. "It’s lonely."

He was quiet for a moment, studying the painting like he was trying to see it through your eyes.

"I think the stars are hopeful” he said softly, his voice like a steadying hand. "They can’t touch the world, but they still light it up. Even if no one notices, they just… keep shining."

Your throat tightened. "Even if it doesn’t change anything?"

He nodded. "Even then."

You blinked back tears, staring at the painting until your vision blurred.

"I wish I could be like that” you whispered.

His voice dropped, gentle and almost unbearably kind.

"Maybe you already are."

He smiled, the kind of smile that felt like it could thaw something frozen inside you.

"You’re not from here, are you?" he asked, tilting his head slightly.

You shook your head, words sticking to your throat.

"I’m Mark. Nice to meet you."

The world tilted.

Mark.

The name echoed through your skull like a thunderclap. Your pulse roared in your ears, your fingers curling into your dress as panic and hope collided so violently you thought you might shatter.

"I…" Your voice trembled. "I’m sorry if this sounds insane, but… can I ask your last name?"

His brows furrowed, confusion flickering across his face.

"It’s Lee” he said slowly. "Why?"

The room blurred. The painting, the people, Paris itself — it all disappeared.

Mark Lee.

Mark Lee.

The name carved into your wrist like a cruel joke. The name you’d chased for years, across cities and continents, only to end up here, on the other side of the world, face to face with the stranger the universe had promised you.

Your chest caved, and tears welled in your eyes before you could stop them.

"Hi, Mark” you breathed, voice breaking. "I’m Y/N”

His entire body stiffened. His eyes, those gentle eyes, went wide with shock as his lips parted, struggling to form words.

"It’s you?" he whispered, barely believing it himself.

You nodded, the weight of years crashing down on you all at once. The failed searches, the hopeless nights, the slow descent into numbness. All of it had led here.

And he was real.

Mark exhaled sharply, like he’d been holding his breath for years. Without thinking, he reached for your wrist, his fingers brushing over the faded star tattoo. His touch was so careful, so reverent, like he thought you might disappear.

"I looked for you” he said, voice rough. "I thought I’d lost you."

Your heart shattered.

"I thought I’d never find you” you whispered, tears slipping down your cheeks. "I thought I’d wake up and never feel anything again."

Mark let out a shaky laugh, swiping at his own damp face as he stared at you, overwhelmed.

"You found me” he whispered, like he was convincing himself. "We made it."

He pulled you into his arms, holding you as tightly as he could, and for the first time in years, you felt something other than despair.

You felt whole.

[shetheabsolute]

— Fruit for thought

(Sinners, 2000s era au)

Stack × Original character (Imaan Irie Miller)

Pilot, "Flashback to us" (next)

Seven Years Ago

Imaan’s living room glowed warm like late afternoon honey. A floor lamp draped in orange scarf fabric cast little swirls of color onto the walls. The whole place smelled like patchouli and something sweet simmering from the kitchen. The stereo in the corner hummed low with a scratched-up Lauryn Hill CD, track five: "I Used to Love Him."

Stack was posted up on her couch, one arm lazily draped across the back, legs stretched out like he paid rent there. He didn’t. But he looked too at home. That was his thing—always lookin’ like he belonged even where he didn’t.

Imaan sat near him, cross-legged on the floor, braiding her hair in the mirror propped on the coffee table and laughing at something he said—real soft, one of those breathy, mmm-you-a-fool laughs. She was only one braid in, an oversized tee with the collar slipping off her shoulder, and her shorts had hiked up way past her thighs, not that she cared. Her house, her heat, her rules. Stack? He was watching her with everything she did it.

“Mani,” he lingered, voice just above the music, “if I knew you had all this peace out here, I woulda stopped messin’ with them city girls a long time ago.”

She paused to glance over at him. “I don't like my peace being followed by chaos, Stack.”

"Oh, word? Okay then. Be liked that," He smiled, eyes lazy with that flirtation he always carried like a second skin. “You ever think ‘bout movin’ back to Jamaica?”

“Mm, I dunno,” she mused, fingers twisting. “Only when Mississippi start feeling like it don’ want me here.”

“..I want you here,” he almost cooed the words out. Made Imaan’s insides churn just the way she loved.

She turned away to hide her grin. “You want everything that got a heartbeat.”

“Damn that was cold,” he said, pressing his hand to chest dramatically. “And, that ain’t true.”

“Oh it ain't?” she teased, standing now, walking over slow with the braid half-done, end flying out wild. “You mean tell me you don’ still got Mary tucked way in your back pocket?”

Stack leaned forward, grinning. “Why you steady bringin’ up old stuff?”

“Boy, you know damn well that ain’t old,” she said, slipping between his legs to stand over him, “especially if it’s still in rotation.”

He looked up at her, that dimple pressing deep into his cheek. “You jealous?”

“No,” she said, matter-of-fact. “I’m territorial with my peace, not my options.”

He laughed, his head shaking. “Why you always gotta have a mouth?”

“Cause you always come through my house playing.”

The song switched to “Ex-Factor.” Her hips circle a little with the intro. Slow and teasing without her meaning to do it. That bass always did something to her. Maybe he noticed. Probably did becasue before she knew it his hands ghosted up to her waist, fingers curling against her skin. And she didn’t stop him.

“Imaan,” he called, voice dipped in something sticky. Like he didn’t already have her attention.

She looked down at him, face unreadable. He slowly moved to pull her in closer—like he didn’t want to scare the feeling away if it was real this time. His breath brushed against her mouth and her lips parted, just slightly. One more inch and he woulda tasted h—

A hand raises, single finger pressed to his lips, stopping him right there in his tracks.

“You still messin’ with that white girl?”

Stack blinked, caught off guard. “You know, she not really whi—”

“Whatever she is,” Imaan interrupted, tilting her head down, eyes locked onto his, “if she still on your hip...”

She leaned in, lips so close he could taste the candy on her breath.

“…then you ain’t gettin’ none…”

Her finger slid from his lips down to the underside of his chin, shifting his head up. Then she paused, mouth resting over his, breath warm against him.

“…of this.”

And just like that, she pulled away, smooth and sure, shifting to sit back down on the floor like she didn’t just leave him breathless.

“You messed up for that,” Stack groaned and fell back onto the cushions, dragging a hand down his face.

She smirked over her shoulder. “Told you ion do second.”

【Present Day】

Folks call her Bag Lady.

Not outta spite or mockery—no. It was just how things worked round here. If you lived far off the gravel roads and came to town dressed like Erykah Badu meets thrifted Dior, carrying a red fishnet bag stuffed with poem books, personal grown fruit, and a single carved wooden pipe? You got a name. Became a story.

But Imaan never minded.

The south had a lot brewing in it. It had home written in its air, soul, people–new and old, it had culture. It is the culture. It might not have looked like much to outsiders, especially in the new millennium. Just a stretch of open sky, faded paint on wood porches, and dust that clung to shoes like secrets. But to Imaan, Mississippi had become her quiet place. Her new beginning. Even if it never stopped whispering about her.

She moved to the States from Mandeville, Jamaica when she was eighteen—alone, carrying little but a suitcase, her mother’s anklet, and a purse slung low over her shoulder. That was when people around town started calling her bag lady, half-joking, half-afraid. She didn’t bother correcting them either. She liked to let people talk.

Imaan lived by herself on the countryside. A pretty but worn two-story, off-white house with metal gates surrounding the border and a funny sign on the entrance that let people know she wasn’t someone to be scare of. Wild grass wrapped around the porch, and wind chimes she made from colored glass bottles and metal spoons danced on her window ledge. Imaan kept to herself. Smoked her weed in the morning with tea, read romance paperbacks with dog-eared pages, and grew fruit to sale. Her eyes were soft brown, framed by lashes too perfect to fake, and her skin glowed with the kind of care that comes from loving yourself in private.

Back in the day, there use to be Stack.

They talked sometimes. Not often, but enough to linger in each other’s memory. She liked that he didn't always try to impress her. Sometimes he’d catch her outside while she was watering her herbs or walking back from Bo Chow’s store with her fishnet bag heavy with meat or soap.

He’d lean up on her porch rail, shirt clinging to his sweat, and say something like, "You always smell like sumn sweet, Mani." Or "let me buy you a drink tonight." He was slick that way.

She never let him touch her for too long, though. They may have had their silences, their glances, but she wouldn’t cross that line—not when she knew he had Mary, even if no one else knew for sure. Imaan wasn’t about to play second fiddle to nobody.

So when the twins dipped for Chicago, she knew he wasn’t gonna say goodbye. No letter. No call. Just gone. But still Imaan stood on her porch for a while the next morning, watching the empty road like it owed her something.

Then seven years passed.

People forgot how close Imaan and Stack might’ve been. Or maybe they just didn’t care. Imaan stayed quiet, laid back, kept to her routines like clockwork. But some day's, when she was alone, she still thought about him. Wondered if he was okay. If he still thought about her the way she did him.

She hated that she cared so much. Cared about everything with her heart, not her head. It was cruel when she felt that way about the man who had left her high and dry. Life was fucking cruel.

But that was just how things went. Win some, lose some.

masterlist

[rafessecret]

⋆˚࿔ strawberry¡ reader && older¡rafe cameron

NOTICE ME, MR CAMERON.

Rafe met your father first. He was already successful, powerful, and respected—and you were just his business partner’s sweet little daughter. At first, he only caught glimpses of you—a tiny thing clinging to your daddy’s hand at company parties, too young to even notice the way powerful men watched you. But Rafe noticed. He always noticed. Years passed, and you grew. Blossomed. Long legs, soft curves, and sweet, unguarded smiles. Still so innocent it made him ache. Other men started noticing too, and that’s when the jealousy twisted sharp in his chest. That’s when the possessiveness started to eat at him.

Your father trusted him blindly. Let Rafe drive you home after events, let him keep an eye on you at parties, and let him hover close, too close. You were supposed to be off-limits. Untouchable. But that only made it worse. You’d beam up at him, bright and wide-eyed, calling him ❝Mr Cameron❞ at first, then just ❝Rafe❞, like you didn’t know what it did to him. Like you didn’t notice the way he stared.

The first time you wore a dress too short—a soft little thing that barely skimmed your thighs—Rafe nearly lost his mind. You sat all pretty, legs crossed, playing with the hem, lip caught between your teeth. He had to excuse himself and had to lock himself in the bathroom and grip the counter so hard his knuckles turned white. Had to stare at his reflection and breathe through the savage need.

The flirting came next—playful, innocent, but never really innocent. You’d giggle, call him bad when he teased you, and push at his chest with small, soft hands when he leaned in too close. But you never told him to stop. You loved it. Craved it. You wanted his attention. Wanted to feel special. Grown-up. And Rafe fed that hunger, made you feel like the most precious thing in the world.

He never touched you. Not at first. But he thought about it. Constantly. Pictured you curled up in your bedroom, fingertips brushing your thighs, whispering his name. He’d get himself off to the thought of it, groaning into his hand, hips jerking, mind full of you. Full of ruining you. Making you his. And then, finally, one night, everything changed.

You were legal now—barely—but still so sweet it hurt to look at you. You wore another one of those soft little dresses, meant to be sweet, but it made Rafe want to tear it off you. Your father was downstairs at the party, laughing with clients, too distracted to notice when Rafe slipped away. Followed you up the stairs. You gasped when you turned and found him in your doorway, blue eyes dark and hungry. ❝Rafe,❞ you whispered, but it wasn’t a protest. He stepped inside. Closed the door. Locked it.

His hands found your waist, big and sure, thumbs stroking slow over the delicate fabric of your dress. ❝You know how long I’ve been waiting for this?❞ he rasped against your ear. ❝You drive me fucking crazy, strawberry. Do you even realise that?❞ You did. You had it for a long time.

But hearing it and feeling it made your knees go weak. He pulled you closer, chest to chest, heat sinking through the thin fabric. ❝Tell me to stop,❞ he whispered against your lips, breath warm, scent dizzying. But you didn’t. You couldn’t.

You let him kiss you—deep, dirty, desperate. Let him guide you back onto the bed, his weight pinning you down, his hands everywhere, hungry and shaking with restraint. You let him touch you in ways no one else ever had, letting him spread you open and make you whimper for him. And when he finally pushed inside you—slow, stretching, claiming—you knew there was no going back. You’d always been his. Tonight just made it real.

── ⋆ 𝐲𝐚𝐩 : hey angels . . . i guess this is the intro post for this au !! i made it a long time ago and now it feels kinda cringe but whatever

── ⋆ 𝒕𝒂𝒈𝒔 : @scne-vampire @browniepop62 @urcoolgf

©RAFESSECRET ⋆˚࿔ est. 2025

[oohhohhvv]

Forsaken: Redo Repent Repeat AU

Summary:

After countless rounds of death by the hands of the killers of Forsaken, Shedletsky alongside Guest 1337 and Chance ask Two time lend them the ability to ‘respawn’ again to get a better hand in the rounds.

Notes:

This is my first time writing a Forsaken oneshot so bear with me with the slight offness with personalities since I’m not familiar with most of them (Two time especially). Anyways please do enjoy my Intro drabble for my au

Shedletsky found Two Time where he usually did—hanging at the edge of the group, just outside the cabin, like a shadow that hadn’t fully committed to fading away.

They always kept a little distance, even after all these rounds, never quite blending in with the rest of them.

Guest 1337 and Chance were by the patio, talking in low voices.

Guest had that serious, calculating look as he cleaned his gloves, while Chance casually flipped his coin, flicking them between his fingers like he had all the time in the world.

The conversation died down as soon as they noticed Shedletsky moving.

"Alright, what's this about?" Chance asked, raising a brow as Shedletsky walked past them.

Shedletsky didn’t answer, stepping up beside Two Time instead.

They didn't react at first, just kept staring out into the darkness, hands wrapped together.

If they were surprised, they didn’t show it.

“You’ve been quiet tonight,” Shedletsky said.

Two Time huffed out a short laugh. “When am I not? It’s always a quiet night here isn’t it?”

Fair point.

But that wasn’t why Shedletsky was here.

“We need to talk about your ability.”

He got straight to it.

The sudden topic soon got the other two’s attention.

Two Time’s shoulders stiffened slightly, their fingers

twitching in their pockets before they curled into fists.

Chance whistled low. “Ohh, that talk…”

Guest leaned forward, resting his elbows on the reailing. “Figured it’d come up sooner or later.”

Two Time sighed, already looking like they wanted to walk away.

“What about it?”

Shedletsky didn’t bother sugarcoating his words when he replied.

“We need it.”

Two Time blinked once, then turned to actually look at him, their usual unreadable expression slipping into something almost skeptical.

“You need it,” they repeated, like they weren’t sure they heard him right.

Shedletsky nodded. “We’ve all seen it. You don’t stay dead.

”

Chance smirked, flipping his coin and landing a heads.

“Yeah, and not to sound ungrateful or anything, but that’s kinda unfair, y’know? While we’re out here playing for keeps, you’ve got a second chance card no one else does.”

Two Time’s lips pressed into a thin line. “It’s not like that.”

Shedletsky tilted his head. “Then what is it like?”

Two Time shifted uncomfortably, like their scarf was suddenly too tight.

They opened their mouth, then closed it again, searching for the right words.

“I… I can’t really explain it.”

Shedletsky watched them carefully, noticing the slight change of tone.

“Then don’t explain. Just tell us how to get it.”

There it was again - that hesitation.

A flicker of something in their eyes, the kind of look people got when they were about to say something they knew they shouldn’t.

For a second, just a second, it looked like they might actually say it.

But then, just as quickly, their face hardened.

“No,” Two Time said, finality in their voice.

Chance groaned, throwing his hands up. “Oh, come on—”

Shedletsky didn’t react as dramatically, but there was clear frustration behind his stare. “Why not?”

Two Time clenched their jaw, gaze flickering to the moon.

“Because it’s sacred.” Their voice was quieter now. “It’s not something you can just… have.”

Shedletsky crossed his arms, watching them carefully. “But you hesitated.”

Two Time inhaled sharply through their nose. “Because it’s dangerous.”

Guest 1337 exchanged a glance with Chance and Shedletsky before looking back at them.

“So is dying.”

The words hung in the air between them, heavy and unavoidable.

Two Time swallowed. They could still see Azure’s face, clear as day.

The price of Second Life.

Shedletsky took a step closer. “You can’t… or you won’t?”

Two Time’s hands tightened as it clasped together.

Their expression was unreadable, but their silence said everything.

Shedletsky waited.

And then, very quietly, Two Time exhaled.

“I won’t…”

But They thought about it.

“For now, at least. “

— ——

The round had been brutal.

Shedletsky exhaled sharply as he sat by staircase of the patio, stretching his arms with a grimace.

It still felt like the pain of his last death clung to him, a phantom ache in his ribs.

Chance was muttering curses under his breath, inspecting his gun with an irritated flick of his fingers, while Guest 1337 fixed his vest with slow and trained movements—his usual way of venting frustration.

Two Time was where they always were.

Just outside the light, arms crossed, gaze distant. Untouched. Again.

Shedletsky pushed himself up and walked over. Guest and Chance followed without a word.

Two Time sighed as soon as they got close. “You’re really doing this again?”

Shedletsky didn’t bother with a greeting. “We got wiped out.”

Two Time scoffed, kicking at the ground. “Yeah. I noticed.”

Chance flicked a poker chip at them. “And yet, you walked outlived us forawhile. Like always.”

Two Time caught the chip without thinking, then frowned, flipping it between their fingers.

“Don’t start with that.”

Guest stepped in before Chance could snap.

“We’re not blaming you,” he said, tone calm but firm. “But you see what’s happening, right? We can’t keep this up forever. We don’t come back to front line for the team.”

Shedletsky nodded. “We always lose.” He gestured to the open door of the cabin where other survivors were relishing the free time before another round starts.

“We can’t just rely on luck or skill. We need an edge. We need to work together.” His voice dropped slightly.

“And you’re holding something back.”

Two Time flinched, barely noticeable, but it was there. They looked down at the poker chip in their hands, running a thumb over the edges.

Chance sighed, rubbing his temples.

“Look, I get it. Big mysterious power, scary consequences, yada yada. But let’s be real—what’s worse? Sharing this ability, or watching us get torn apart over and over while you’re left standing there alone?”

That hit harder than Two Time wanted to admit.

Shedletsky watched them carefully.

“We need this, Two Time.”

For a long moment, Two Time didn’t answer.

The chip in their gleamed slightly under the small light nearby. They stared at the ground, at the cabin, at anywhere but them.

Then, with a slow, reluctant sigh, they muttered, “It’s not painless.”

Guest straightened slightly. “What?”

Two Time closed their eyes. “It’s not painless.” Their voice was heavier now, less guarded.

“And it’s not something you can take back.”

Shedletsky’s expression didn’t waver. “We can handle it.”

Two Time hesitated again, but something in their posture shifted.

They looked at each of them—at Chance’s frustration, at Guest’s steady resolve, at Shedletsky’s unwavering stare.

Then, so quietly it was almost lost in the crackle of the fire, they muttered, “May Spawn guide me through this.”

And just like that, they folded.

The lantern light was buzzing, casting long, shifting shadows across the ground as Two Time worked.

The clearing was quiet, save for the occasional crackle of leaves and the soft, deliberate movements of their hands.

Shedletsky, Chance, and Guest stood a few steps back, watching.

None of them spoke.

Two Time broke the silence first. “The others know about this?” They didn’t look up as they spoke, focused on the careful placement of objects in the dirt.

Symbols. Markings. Whatever this was, it wasn’t random.

Shedletsky crossed his arms. “Yeah. I informed Builderman.”

Two Time’s hands stilled for half a second. “Just him?”

“...Yeah.”

Chance let out a breathy laugh, shaking his head. “Figures.”

Guest didn’t react much, only tilting his head slightly. “I’m assuming he told the others to, correct?”

Shedletsky smirked. “I told him to do it, so I trust that he did.”

Two Time muttered something under their breath—too quiet to hear.

They didn’t seem surprised. If anything, they looked relieved. At least if something wrong happens, then that means they’ll have someone to notice something.

For a while, they kept working, adjusting details only they understood.

The others didn’t know what to make of it. There was an odd rhythm to the way Two Time moved, like they had done this before. like

Chance finally spoke up again, nodding toward the symbol of this so called ‘Spawn’

“So, uh… is this just for the aesthetic, or does this actually do something?”

Two Time gave him a look. “If it was for ‘the aesthetic,’ I’d be using better materials..”

Shedletsky glanced at the setup. “So what does it do?”

Two Time didn’t answer immediately.

They drew the last detail, then finally stood, brushing dirt from their hands. “It makes sure this doesn’t go wrong.”

Guest 1337 narrowed his eyes slightly. “Meaning it can go wrong.”

Two Time turned to face them fully now, expression unreadable. “I already told you—it’s not painless.” Their gaze flickered between them, scanning their faces.

“You still sure about this?”

Shedletsky’s smirk didn’t waver. “We wouldn’t be here if we weren’t.”

Chance sighed dramatically. “I guess I’d rather go through this than keep getting my spine snapped like a twig every round.”

Guest simply nodded. “We’re sure.”

Two Time exhaled through their nose, expression unreadable. Then, quietly, they muttered, “Alright.”

The air felt heavier somehow.

Shedletsky, Chance, and Guest 1337 stood ready. They had no idea what was coming next, but at this point, there was no turning back.

There was a moment of silence from Two Time. Their eyes closed as they thought hard and reluctantly.

“The price for Second Life… is another person’s life.”

The words dropped like a stone in water, sending ripples of unease through the group.

Chance's smirk faltered. “Wait, what..?”

Guest’s grip on his weapon tightened. Even Shedletsky, who had remained confident this entire time, narrowed his eyes slightly.

Two Time straightened, brushing their hands against their hoodie.

“That’s how it works. One life to gain another. Equivalent exchange.” They looked at Shedletsky. “You didn’t think it came for free, did you?”

The silence stretched.

Chance let out a slow breath, running a hand through his hair. “Okay. Wow. You really saved that part for the last minute, huh?”

Guest glanced at the ritual markings. “And you’re sure about this?”

“No.” Two Time admitted bluntly. “But I’ve thought it through.” They looked at Shedletsky now.

“You’ve been asking for this for a while. I figured you wouldn’t let it go. So I made a plan.”

Shedletsky tilted his head. “And?”

Two Time exhaled. “And… I don’t know if it’ll work exactly the way we want it to. But I trust almighty Spawn to handle the rest.”

Guest frowned slightly. “So this is still a gamble.”

Chance huffed a small laugh at Guest. “Fitting.”

Two Time ignored the comment and motioned toward the center of the markings. “All three of you. Get in the point.”

Despite their hesitation, they stepped forward, moving into the marked area together.

The air inside felt heavier—like something unseen was pressing down on them.

Two Time crouched down, pulling something from their pocket.

“Weapons.” They tossed Shedletsky’s sword toward Guest 1337. He caught it easily, though his grip wasn’t as natural with a blade.

Chance blinked. “oh.. Uh, here.”

Two Time ignored their slight hesitation and tossed Chance’s gun to Shedletsky.

That left Chance empty-handed.

There was a beat of silence before Chance let out a dry chuckle. “Oh, I definitely got the worst hand here.”

Guest frowned, shifting the weight of the sword in his grip. “How exactly is he supposed to do anything?”

Two Time raised an eyebrow. “Chance knows the basics of snapping someone’s neck, right?”

Chance blinked. “...I mean, yeah, but— But isn’t Guest a seasoned war veteran? I’m not snapping shit.”

Two Time sighed, tossing a dagger to them. It wasn’t their personal one anyways.

“Aim for the head and make this quick.”

Chance looked a little baffled at the casual direction, though they toughened up, regaining the confident look.

.

Death wasn’t new.

Two Time had seen it happen countless times before, so many times of it that the weight of it should’ve dulled by now.

But this time was different.

They stood at the edge of the ritual, their breath slow, steady.

The air was thick with something heavy, something old. It crawled beneath their skin, wrapped itself around their ribs, sat at the back of their throat like a warning.

It was too late for warnings now.

Their fingers twitched at their sides.

A habit.

An instinct that had never quite faded.

Across from them, Shedletsky, Chance, and Guest stood in the circle, their weapons in hand—though not their own. That was intentional. That was by design.

Two Time had known Shedletsky wouldn’t let this go. They had known he’d keep pushing, keep asking.

So they planned ahead for such scenario.

They told themselves it wasn’t selfishness.

That it wasn’t desperation. That they weren’t just repeating the same mistakes they had already made once before.

But as they stood there, watching the three of them shift—bodies tensing, grips tightening—another face crept into the edges of their mind.

Azure.

Their friend. Their old friend.

‘oh.. Azure..’ Two time thought.

A name that used to mean something warm.

A name that used to come with laughter, with whispered plans, with the kind of trust that couldn’t be shaken.

Now, it was a weight. A wound.

Azure was here, too. Not as a friend, not as an ally. As a Killer.

And they hated Two Time.

Two Time had seen it, felt it in the way Azure’s attacks came sharper, more precise whenever directed at them.

There was no hesitation. No mercy.

And they didn’t blame them.

They never had.

Because in the end, Azure had every right to hate them.

Two Time had begged Almighty Spawn for mercy before. Once. Just once.

But mercy never came.

But then again, Maybe that was the punishment…

Maybe their selfishness had sealed that fate long ago. Maybe Spawn had looked down at them, at the choices they made, and decided there was nothing left to save.

And now, here they were again.

Different people. Different lives. But the same cycle.

The silence broke.

A shift in movement. The first step. The first strike.

It happened fast. And Two time was thankful that it did.

SNAP*

It was sharp and sickening, final.

STAB*

quick, clean, cutting through the tension like a blade through flesh.

BANG*

loud, ringing through the air, echoing long after the trigger had been pulled.

Then, silence again.

Two Time inhaled slowly. Exhaled even slower.

They winced. Just a little. But at the sight of their bodies they didn’t flinch.

Not this time.

They had already seen each other die before.

But this time, it wasn’t just another round.

This time, it had to mean something, Didn’t it?

[thyme-in-a-bubble]

locked out

a/n: we finally getting some dick :) i'm impatient and wanna get to the other super nasty ideas for this au, okay? i'm a whore, we already know this

summary: “you know,” Steve took a step, closing the gap between you just a tad further, “I think maybe you’re ready.”

warnings: frat!bucky barnes x innocent!reader x stepbro!steve rogers, smut, dark content, college au, polyamory, being locked out of your dorm room, only one bed, kissing, virgin!reader, loss of virginity, corruption kink, dirty talk, size kink, belly bulge, manhandling, pussy inspection, pussyjob, overstimulation, multiple orgasms, squirting, fingering, impact play, pain kink, spit kink, oral, penetrative sex, unprotected sex, creampie

word count: 4186

∼ 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 

Hey, I’m locked out of my room. Can I come sleep at yours just for tonight?

Your eyes repeatedly drifted over the text you’d sent to your stepbrother twenty minutes ago, as well as darting down to the cruelly short answer he’d replied with, only bothering to send a swift ok, a word so simple that it caused you to spiral into unnecessary doubt with every step that brought you closer to the fraternity. 

You’d come back to your dorm after a long night at the library, having your nose too buried in textbooks to keep track of the time, only to discover that you’d forgotten your key when you left that morning. Your roommate, Kate, also couldn’t be of help as she was spending the night over at her girlfriend’s, and you’d swiftly come to learn, in the short time you’d been living together, how hard it was to reach her when those two were spending quality time together, so that option wasn’t one you even bothered to explore, leaving you with only one lifeline left, one you begrudgingly tugged on. 

“My, my, my,” a voice found your ears once you’d quietly clicked the front door to the frat house shut behind you, “well, would you look who’s back!”

Twisting your neck, you caught sight of the few still down in the living room that sprouted off to the side of the entryway, “Ransom, hi,” you stepped up to lean against the archway and greeted the first of the guys inside who had perked up at your arrival, before your glance then flickered to the rest of them, “Miguel, Frank, Billy, you’re up late.” 

Slumping further back into the couch, Miguel chuckled, “what are you, our mama?”

“What are you doing here?” Billy asked, gazing at you like a cat who’d just spotted a toy to bat around. 

“I got locked out of my room,” you sighed shortly, “so, Steve’s throwing me a bone, letting me crash here,” your fingers drifted up to tug on the straps of your backpack, “you wouldn’t happen to know where he is, would you?” 

“He and Curtis just got back from the gym,” Frank informed, “so he’s probably still up in the shower.” 

“Oh,” your brows floated up slightly, “does Curtis box too?” you asked, as you’d only met the gruff individual a handful of times. 

“Yeah, he does,” Miguel nodded, “he’s the one that worsened your stepbrother’s little addiction to it back when they first met. Got him going on a level that he hadn’t tried before.” 

“You’re saying that like he’s about to drop out of school to pursue it full time,” you half laughed, “I thought it was just a hobby for him to blow off steam.”

Squinting his eyes, Ransom glanced to the other guys, “does it still count as a hobby if you’re doing underground fights and stuff?” 

“He’s doing what?” you swiftly exclaimed. 

Meeting your wide eyes, Billy rushed to try and calm your nerves, “oh, it’s not–, he’s fine. He’s good.”

“Good as in, he gets beaten to a pulp on a regular basis?” you pushed. 

“No, good as in, his right hook is mean enough that he’s still undefeated,” Frank bowed his head. 

Letting out a low sigh, you let your gaze drift down to the floor. 

“So, anyhow,” Ransom exhaled in an effort to clear the air, “as fun as it is for you to stay here for a little sleepover,” his stare on you dipped a moment as he spoke, “please just promise that you won’t go wandering, okay?”

“Yeah, especially not down into the basement,” Miguel cut in as he leaned forward to grasp his drink on the coffee table. 

“Why?” your eyebrows knit together, “what’s down there?”

“Oh,” Frank let out a long breath as his glance momentarily darted, “don’t you worry about that…” 

“Yeah,” Billy couldn’t help but chuckle, “if someone like you were to stumble down there, then you’d probably think we’re all sadists or something.” 

Letting out a scoff, Miguel took a swig of his beer and said, “speak for yourself.” 

“Okay,” Billy tilted his head before correcting, “she will think that the majority of us are sadists.” 

“Uh… what?” you failed to follow their words, instead attempting to joke, “are you guys like devil worshippers? Is this just a cult?” you gestured to the frat house around you. 

“Oh, that’s cute,” Ransom let out a laugh just as genuine as the ones that promptly rippled through the rest, “no, that’s–…” he managed to hold his tongue before uttering through his chuckle, “we’ll explain later.” 

Glancing over the lot of them as they struggled to contain their amusement, you breathed, “okay…” before footsteps began to approach from behind you and a palm swiftly found your shoulder.  

“Y/n,” Steve’s deep timbre tickled your ear before you twisted around to blink up at him, “hey.” 

His short sandy hair was a few shades darker from the shower he’d just stepped out of, water droplets still sparsely clinging to his skin above the towel his left grasp clutched around his hips. 

“Oh, h-hi,” you struggled to force your gaze away from his burly and bare chest directly before you.

“Come,” he simply nodded as his arm slipped down to the small of your back to scoop you with him. 

“Okay,” you half chuckled as he began to tug you along and you only narrowly managed to twist your head to yell, “goodnight guys!” before he dragged you up the stairs. 

“Sleep tight!” you just managed to hear one of them echo in return, “if you need tucking in, my room’s just down the hall!”

Shuffling up the stairs, the late hour became hard to ignore as each step grew slower than the last. 

And as you reached the top, a yawn rippled out of your lungs and caused your eyes to water slightly, “hey, where’s the bathroom?” 

“It’s that door, right there,” Steve pointed before he caught your backpack and slipped it from your shoulders before he disappeared down the corridor towards his own room. 

However, when you finished up, you nearly crashed into the figure that then stood waiting outside the door. 

“Jesus, fuck!” you instinctively reached out to stabilise yourself against his chest, “Bucky! Put a bell on or something!” 

Though he only chuckled in return, “I figured you might be needing this,” before holding up a spare toothbrush in the sliver of space between your frames, plastic packaging still encompassing it. 

Snatching it to you, a gasp of genuine surprise slipped from your lungs, “where did you find this?”

“Honey, you’re in a frat house,” he cocked his head, “I just went through our resident fuckboy’s stash. Billy has a whole fucking basket of shit like this, so he never notices when someone steals from it.”

And once your teeth were minty and clean, Bucky kept on shadowing you as you wandered down the hall and into your stepbrother’s room, closing the door behind you both before he flopped down on the bed as if it was his own. 

“So,” you shifted slightly as you cast a glance to Steve, “where will you be sleeping tonight?” 

“Same place as I always do,” he replied as if that was obvious.  

“What?” your eyes grew wide, “I thought you’d take the couch or something.” 

“Why would I do that?” his face screwed up, “you can’t seriously be blushing about innocently sleeping in the same bed as me, are you?”

“No!” you denied defensively, “I–…” before the misunderstanding was then dropped with a sigh. Eyes screwed shut in frustration, you uttered in a forced calm tone, “do you have a t-shirt or something I could borrow? I don’t wanna sleep this,” your gaze fluttered back open as you gestured to the jeans you were wearing. 

Opening up a drawer in the dresser by the door, Steve then tossed you a grey t-shirt. 

Fidgeting with it a moment, you waited expectingly for the duo on the other side of the room to at the very least turn around to grant you some privacy. But unfortunately to your mortification, their staring only intensified after you caught the shirt. 

“Would you guys mind–” 

But your attempt was swiftly squashed as Bucky then purred from the bed, “aw, like we haven’t already seen it all before.” 

Sucking in a breath, you cursed just beneath your breath before spinning around yourself and casting your glare firmly up towards the ceiling as you began to change as quickly as your fingers could manage.

“So…” Steve uttered when you tugged the t-shirt further down, stretching the cotton to try and cover up your panties, “how’s your training going?” 

“What, my studying?” you murmured over your shoulder as you folded your clothing neatly on the chair by his desk, “yeah, it’s good, I mean, classes are tough, but it’s really–”

“I wasn’t talking about fucking school,” he laughed before elaborating, “have you been using the little gift I gave you?” and your cheeks swiftly began to heat up, “other than the time two weeks ago when I talked you through it over the phone, that is.”

“Uhm… I–…” your brain short-circuited as he reminded you of the toys he’d bought you. Three dildos, all in various sizes, though none of them matched the memory of the few real-life examples you’d experienced so far. 

“Because if you haven’t, then I think that might result in some punishment,” he went on, pursing his lips lightly, “I mean, not that the lack of you actually doing it wouldn’t be punishment enough in the end, you know I only did it to be kind to you so that it wouldn’t hurt as much when I give you the real deal. But I mean if you’d rather relish in whatever amount of pain my cock will cause when it finally gets to stretch that little pussy out, then so be it, that’s your choice,” he shrugged smugly at the thought. 

“I–…” you averted your gaze before you heard yourself admit, “…whenever my roommate slept over at her girlfriend’s…” 

“So how often is that?” Bucky crawled off the bed.

“I don’t know…” you timidly whispered, “maybe a few times a week… though I haven’t done anything since this weekend because I kinda tried to go up a size, which was probably a mistake because then I was really sore for a whole day after…” 

“Oh no, that wasn’t a mistake,” Bucky chuckled, “that’s fucking adorable. That little thing could make your pretty little pussy sore?” he asked, clearly imagining what would happen when he finally managed to cram himself into you.  

“You know,” Steve took a step, closing the gap between you just a tad further, “I think maybe you’re ready.”

“Ready? Like ready, ready?” you blinked back at him with wide eyes before you began to shake your head, “no, I don’t think so, I–” 

“Well, we could take a little look,” Bucky walked closer as well, his gaze dipping down your frame, barely covered in the borrowed shirt, “do a little inspection of how well you’ve prepared yourself.” 

“Trust us,” a dark smirk tugged at your stepbrother’s lips, “we’re far better judges of such things than you are.” 

Your head slowly shifted as your eyes fluttered from one to the other, your chest rapidly rising and falling, just in your periphery, before the throbbing between your thighs convinced you to utter, “…alright.” 

Taking the lead, Bucky then hooked an inked arm around your waist before yanking you with him as he sat down on the edge of the bed. A shrill yelp escaped you as you tumbled over his lap with your bottom sticking up and slightly angled towards where Steve then planted himself, directly next to the other frat guy. 

Though you peeked over your shoulder, you still weren’t sure whose palm collided with your pantie-clad behind first, only that you’d lost count of the stinging taps by the time that your underwear was snatched down your legs. Each of them reached out with greedy hands to spread you open for them, though they did it in a manner so fevered that their grasp on your ass caused your glistening petals to part as well, prying you open so fiercely that your little hole winked faintly as it drooled up at them. 

Sloping down closer, Steve then pressed a soft peck to your folds before he ran his ravenous tongue through them, making you dig your nails into Bucky’s thick thigh as he made out with your cunt. Though when he tilted his head to capture your clit with your lips, playfully sucking down on it like it was a hard candy, Bucky’s fingers then crept down to just above where his friend’s mouth stayed locked. At first, his touch skimmed over your puckered rosebud before it came down to circle around your entrance, drooling against his touch and daring him to slip inside for a feel. 

He had to plant a forearm over the small of your back to keep you steady once he’d worked two of his fingers inside your pussy, pumping you till it sang in a sloshy song around his thick digits. 

“Oh yeah,” Bucky smirked when he finally withdrew his fingers, purposefully brushing up against your g-spot on his way out, “she’s definitely ready.”

“You sure?” you peeked back at them, still not convinced by their expertise, as Steve let go of your puffy pearl with a pop.

As he straightened back up, your stepbrother briefly sank two fingers inside of you as well, making you gasp sharply as he hummed, “yeah, I don’t think I can wait any longer.” 

The next thing you knew, you were flipped into a different position as Bucky whirled you back around and manhandled you with him as he sat further back on the bed, pressing your spine against his broad chest. However, just as you felt him press a kiss to your hot cheek, Steve rose up to his feet before he grabbed your legs and yanked you closer to where he stood tall and towering, till your ass was nearly hanging off the corner of the mattress. 

The jostled journey had pushed the borrowed t-shirt up your torso, though the man, whose lap your head was now resting on, didn’t let the fabric stay long like that, crumbled and gathered around your ribs, but instead reached down to tug it the rest of the way up to expose your soft tits.

As Bucky’s frame bent down to capture your lips in a kiss, you felt Steve fold your legs up on either side of your frame. 

Dropping the towel around his waist, Steve then let a dollop of saliva drop from his lips and land on your cunt before you tilted away from Bucky’s peck when you felt the weight of your stepbrother’s cock tap against your buzzing clit. 

“O-oh,” you whimpered as you peeked down at the way he nudged the bulbous tip of him against your puffy pearl, smearing his spit into your nectar that already shined across your glossy petals. 

The corners of his lips twisted up into a smirk as he peered down at your core and swept his girth through your folds, repeatedly parting them for him before he tilted down to brush against your weepy entrance. Though each time he cruelly flicked his tip against your innocent opening and you thought the moment had arrived, he instead strayed back up towards your clit and grinned down at the frustrated expression that seeped through your pleasure, as you weren’t sure if you were more relived or disappointed by the repeated delay, as the only true result his bullying had was to make you that much more nervous as his teasing wound you up even further till you felt as if you might explode. 

When he finally stopped psyching you out, Bucky’s hand swiftly snaked down to rub your clit as a pinching stretch rocked your body. Your chest rose and fell rapidly as a strangled cry rippled out of your lungs and mingled with the breathy moan that slipped from Steve as he gradually pressed the very tip inside.

“Fuck,” he nearly hissed, “you’re so tight,” as the way your poor pussy struggled to make room for his fat cock rendered his pace to become a lot slowly than he’d intended, even when he put all of his might into it, your body just wouldn’t let him move freely yet. 

And even though he was barely moving at all, as Bucky kept on rolling your puffy pearl beneath the rough pads of his fingers in an effort to get you to relax further, the staggering sensation became too much for you to bare as you swiftly came around the bulbous head of your stepbrother’s cock. 

And as your orgasm caused your velvety walls to cling around Steve that much further and nearly force him back out, a groan vibrated in his throat at the feeling as he then threw all caution to the wind and instead let himself sink in and bury his cock deeper. 

“Can you take it?” he grunted as he ignored your shrill whines in overstimulation, seizing the sensation for himself as he revelled in your high, sliding his cock in your pussy so slowly that you could feel every millimetre, every vein and every detail, split your sensitivity apart and make room for him. 

“I-I don’t know,” you panted as Bucky slid his slick fingers up to capture your nipples in a pinch. 

“You can take it,” he uttered with a nod before his palms then pressed down against the back of your bent legs, denting your thighs as he buried himself even deeper and squished you down further into the mattress, keeping your trembling legs apart and out of his way from his perfect view of how he gradually sank inside of you. As he continued to stare down at where your bodies fused, practically hypnotised, a hoarse and desperate growl then rippled from his lungs as a dark look glazed over his primal gaze, “fucking take it.”

Peeking down as his friend frantically worked on the home stretch, you heard Bucky click his tongue against his teeth, “damn… there goes my fifty bucks…” 

Only offering the other man a brief glance, Steve murmured, “wait, you got in on the bet?” 

“Well yeah,” Bucky shrugged in return, “and I bet on that she’d bleed, so that means I just lost fifty fucking dollars,” he let out a sigh before casting a dreamy gaze down towards your cunt, “would have been hot though…” 

Only a chuckle reverberated in Steve as a reaction before his primal grip on the back of your thighs flexed as he then snapped his hips and shoved the rest of his length into your warmth, effectively shoving all of the air from your lungs as he filled you up completely. 

“Fuck…” Steve moaned as he greedily rutted impossibly deep, the very tip of him kissing a part of you that you didn’t even know existed, “pick up her head, Buck. I want her to watch me fuck her,” he groaned before you felt your dizzy head get scooped up and tilted forward so that your hazy eyes could catch sight of the staggering feat as well, “look at that, baby,” you let out a strangled cry as you saw him withdraw till only the fat head remained, “watch that dick go into you,” he groaned as jammed his himself back inside and a desperate rhythm was swiftly sparked, “watch yourself take it,” you felt his heavy sack tap against your skin, slick from your cream that was leaking out of you as he continuously made you lose your breath from just how deep he repeatedly buried himself, “watch that little pussy finally get fucked…” 

You weren’t sure if his efforts truly were that harsh or if it was just your body that registered it as such, as it would probably still think it not gentle enough if he simply froze up entirely, as his mere girth, motionless and stretching you out, would also be too much for your inexperience to handle.  

“Oh, we should let the others come up and watch,” Bucky suggested as his hands then travelled down to grasp your hips, “just look at how well you’re doing,” his hold on you then began to push you back against Steve’s efforts, before your stepbrother’s body locked up and he let his friend fuck you back onto his cock, shoving your hips so harshly that you feared they might bruise, “being so fucking good for us.” 

The dull outline of Steve’s length bulged in your belly each time Bucky rammed you down against him, fucking you on his friend’s dick in a manner that you would when you one day finally learned to do it yourself and meet his thrusts halfway, though for now, all you could manage to do was lay there and take it, though even that turned out to be a much more daunting task than you’d imagined. 

And when Steve finally reached his peak and began to pump you full of his cum, so did your body unravel like a tightly stretched rubber band snapping back into place. Your pussy began to squirt as it strangled Steve’s cock so fiercely that the throbbing girth slipped out entirely, though one of Bucky’s hands swiftly soared down to messily rub against your cunt and make you keep gushing till all of your stepbrother’s load had leaked out as well. 

Weakly, your frame shook violently when Bucky finally ceased his touch with one final tap against your aching clit, expelling one last trickle before you felt him slip out from behind you. 

“No, wait,” you hazily managed to squeak as you watched him trade places with the other frat guy, swiftly freeing his own length before he caught one of your trembling legs to scoot you even closer, “I can’t–, I’m not ready for you yet, I could barely take Steve, it’s–, u-uh!” your plea swiftly crumbled and your face screwed up as Bucky then began to nudge his staggering size against your still achingly fluttering opening.  

You might have had better luck fitting your own small fist inside of you than already taking the monstrous cock that Bucky was cursed with. 

“Just relax–, fuck,” he grumbled as all of his attempts continuously failed, forcefully pressing the large tip against your entrance without as much as a centimetre sinking inside of your warmth, “goddamn it…” 

“She’ll get there one day, Buck,” Steve clapped his palm against his friend’s broad shoulder, “I’ll make sure of it,” he promised before suggesting through his still ragged intakes of air, “how about for now you just teach her how to take it down her throat?”

Meeting the other man’s eye, he then tilted his head and exhaled, “well, I guess that’s not the worst constellation prize…” before they flipped your exhausted frame around till your head was hanging off the edge of the bed and only supported by Bucky’s fingers, tangled in your hair.

Hazily, you blinked up at the thick girth bobbing just above your face, and you felt the mattress briefly dip as Steve crawled over you till his strong thighs stood rooted on either side of your hips. 

“Open up,” Bucky tapped the hefty weight of himself against your closed mouth. 

“What–,” you tried to ask before your voice was muffled as he seized the opportunity as soon as you parted your lips to feed you the fat tip of his cock. 

“There you go…” he exhaled as your lips stretched around the girth of him, the corners burning from just how thick he was, “watch those teeth, baby,” and your whimpers vibrated against his hardness as your silky tongue retroactively fluttered against him, “that’s it, just relax for me…”

You couldn’t think, scarcely even breathe, as he then began to fuck your face, gradually working himself deeper into your mouth till the tip of him was bruising your throat as you gurgled around him. 

With spit bubbling at the corners of your mouth as you gagged around his big dick, you felt one of Steve’s hands migrate away from the softness of your tits to instead brush a thumb against the imprint of his friend’s colossal size in your throat. 

And once Bucky had coaxed you into swallowing his load, gently caressing your cheek till you complied, he kneeled down and pressed his lips against your own, still messy and shiny from how he had made you drool. But when the kiss eventually ended and you lifted your spinning head slightly to blink over at Steve, still weighing your body down as he straddled your lap, a shaky whimper tumbled from your lips as your eyes swiftly fluttered down from his own and landed on his cock, once again throbbing and hard as a rock in his fist. 

© 2025 thyme-in-a-bubble 

[mylovesstuffs]

They Stayed — SEVENTEEN

we drew a circle with time, and in its center remain our smiles, our tears, and all that we couldn’t say: thank you, and I love you.

✦ 📼 › summary :: a three-part reflection through the eyes of a nameless narrator who once found a lifeline in thirteen boys on a screen. from birthday candles to exam scores to goodbye bus rides and late-night livestreams—this is a memory-laced thank you to a group that never knew your name, but still made you feel like you belonged.

✦ 📼 › genre :: idol au (?),  prose, reflective slice of life, soft hurt/comfort, character study-ish

✦ 📼 › pairings:: ot13 × reader

✦ 📼 › content :: growth & grief, leaving & longing, the ache of healing, music as memory, parasocial solace, found family [unspoken], one-sided devotion that doesn’t ask to be returned but is returned, comfort in chaos, healing through music, full-circle moment, real life is the slowest burn. not quite fiction, not quite journal, emotional time capsule, being seen without being known, fandom as sanctuary, home isn’t always a place

✦ 📼 › content warnings :: mentions of loneliness, parental tension, academic burnout, mental exhaustion, but nothing explicit; mild angst if you look at it sideways. lots of tears, 

✦ 📼 › a/n :: very different from how i usually write but ig you should know, this piece is stitched from the folds of my own past; the process of growing up, breaking down, and somehow still being here and surviving. low-key inspired by Encircle, high-key inspired by the way Going Seventeen episodes have healed more wounds than they’ll ever know. thank you to the past me who first watched exclusive fairytale and cause of old habits—decided to do some research on the leads [we see you, jun !! ] thank you to svt for staying, happy 10th year anniversary [and happy first svt anniversary to me]. p.s. written entirely during insomnia hours. forgive any typos; this one came from the heart.

✦ 📼 › word count :: 3123 words 

You're back home, but it's raining. A soft drizzle that smears the city lights into watercolor blurs on your window. For some reason you can’t quite name, but a strange wave of sadness rolls over you; oddly nostalgic, too. Life’s been moving, not good or bad, just… moving. You're surviving, drifting along the current. Nothing’s exactly wrong, but still, it all feels a little off. Work has been relentless in that it makes your limbs heavy and your mind on autopilot. You haven’t had the time or the energy to indulge in the things that made you feel alive. The books, the playlists, the variety shows, golden hours that used to belong to you alone, they've all gathered dust somewhere in the background.

You drag yourself into the kitchen, feet padding softly against the floor. You open the fridge, the cold light spilling out across your tired face, and reach in and pull out a nearly empty milk carton, flipping the cap off with a weary thumb. You bring it to your nose, inhale cautiously. You pause, and your fingers tighten around the carton, brows furrowed slightly. It smells… okay. Technically expired, maybe, but nothing alarming. Nothing sour or offensive, just passable — like everything else lately. You shrug to yourself and reach for the instant coffee.

The kettle hums in the background as you move through the motions: spooning in the powder, adding the water, stirring slowly. It’s the kind of routine you could do with your eyes closed. You haven't had time to go grocery shopping in days. Every evening after work, you came home and collapsed straight into bed, but not to sleep, just to lie there. Too tired to even scroll, you defaulted to YouTube shorts, letting the algorithm numb you while time slipped through your fingers. But today is at least a little different; it's May 26th.

The rain still taps softly against the windowpane, you sit curled on the floor, the edges of your half-empty coffee mug cooling beside you. From the corner, a Spotify playlist running on your phone. A familiar intro filters through the room. It’s a song you haven't heard in what feels like forever; not because you forgot it, but because life got in the way. The melody drifts toward you like an old friend, that once patched the broken seams of your heart without asking for anything in return. You close your eyes, and suddenly, you're with SEVENTEEN again.

Lost, tired, clinging to hope with both hands even when it felt like hope didn’t want to stay. Alone in your bedroom, staring up at the ceiling and imagining a life that didn’t ache so much. Back then, you didn’t have the words to describe it. You couldn’t explain why some days felt impossibly heavy, or why it seemed like the world had been built for everyone else but you. But out there, somewhere, in a language you barely understood, a constellation of thirteen voices reached you. They didn’t know your name or anything, but they made space for you anyway. They wrapped their songs around your weary soul like a soft blanket and told you without ever saying, it is okay to simply exist.

You draw your knees in closer to your chest and smile. Funny, isn’t it? How music, how people, can find you even when you’re convinced you’re invisible.

You smile softly, but it doesn’t quite reach your eyes, and draw in a breath. With one hand, you reach down to the floor beside your bed, fingers brushing the edge of the bedsheet that drapes loosely over the side. You gather the fabric, lifting and folding it back over the mattress in one fluid motion. Then, leaning forward, you shift your weight onto one arm, shoulder dipping low as you reach under the bed, fingers sweeping through dust and forgotten corners until they close around a small box.

You pull it out carefully and settle back, legs crossed beneath you, the box resting in your lap. It's old — edges softened and corners dulled by time. The lid sticks for a moment, then gives way with a soft creak. You open it slowly; reminisce and look back.

On top lies a battered diary, its pages filled with half-scrawled thoughts, song lyrics, small promises you made to yourself in your darker days. Beneath it, a photo which seems to be slightly crinkled, the ink starting to fade; a printed photo from a concert livestream. You remember it instantly: your bedroom was dark except for the blue-white glow of the screen, the warmth you felt despite being physically alone, your heart seemingly beating in sync with the cheering crowd you could only hear through your speakers.

You laugh a bit, remembering how you scrambled across Twitter that night, switching from one link to another each time one got taken down. Desperate, determined — as if that concert, streamed illegally from thousands of miles away, was the only thing tethering you to sanity… which it was.

It's their tenth anniversary today. Ten whole years.

You weren’t there from the beginning, not when they first debuted or when the world barely knew their name, but they were always there for you when you wanted; from the very start of your story. Through sleepless nights, forgotten birthdays, and the crushing loneliness of growing up; they were there. In your ears, in your heart, in the margins of your school notebooks and the playlists that carried you home.

Life pulled you away, as it always does — busier and lonelier. You haven’t been able to keep up like you used to. The new songs, the live streams, the celebrations, passed in a blur. For more than a year now, you’ve watched from a distance, always meaning to catch up, always too tired to try, but they… never truly left you. Even when your hands were too full to reach back, they stayed in the corners of your heart.

You run your thumb across the old photo, a small laugh slipping from your throat. You’ll celebrate with them tonight. For the music that once held your shaking hands, for the voices that wrapped around your silence, for the comfort that arrived through glowing screens from a world away. You close your eyes, and for a second, you’re that younger version of yourself again; heart full, hands empty, but never alone. And when you open them, the feeling remains. Happy anniversary, you think. Thank you for finding me.

Snapshot One: First Winter

You were sixteen, standing at the edge of yet another argument at home, feeling so small it hurt to breathe. You hovered by the living room doorway, arms folded across your chest, eyes burning not from tears, but from exhaustion. 

“Why can’t you be more like your cousins?” your mother snapped, slamming a stack of papers onto the table. “They know what they’re doing. They don’t sit around wasting time with K-pop boys and drawing and all these… distractions!”

“I’m not them,” you muttered, your voice shaking.

“Exactly!” your father’s voice cut in. “You’re not them. You don’t even try to be better. You’re always hiding in your room, listening to that nonsense, wasting your time online. What will that get you?”

You stared at the floor. You didn’t want to shout, but if you spoke louder, you were afraid your voice would crack, so instead, you clenched your fists behind your back. “I’m doing my best.”

“Your best?” your mother scoffed with an eye roll. “Your best isn’t enough. You don’t study like you should. You’re not focused. Every time we ask you to do something, you act like we’re attacking you. We’re trying to help, and all you do is shut down!”

“I’m tired,” escaped your mouth. “You never listen when I say I’m tired.”

“Tired of what?” your father barked. “You don’t even have responsibilities yet. What do you know about being tired?”

Something in you snapped then, but it was like a crack running through glass. “I’m tired of never being enough for you.”

The silence that followed was sharp and awkward. Your mother’s mouth opened, then closed. Your father turned away, muttering something under his breath, maybe about respect, maybe about how you were being irrelevant again.

You didn’t wait for more though. You turned on your heel and walked to your room, closing the door behind you with trembling hands. The moment the latch clicked, you sank to the floor, pulling your knees to your chest. Shoving your earbuds in, you scrolled desperately through your playlist, looking for anything that could drown it all out. The opening notes played, familiar and comforting. No need to rush, you're doing fine. Just stay as you are.

You didn’t understand the whole lyric back then. Korean wasn’t your first language, and you hadn’t looked up the full translation. But somehow, those words felt like enough. Like a hand reaching out in the dark. You clutched the buds tighter, turned the volume up higher, and let the voices blur into warmth. You believed them, because you had to.

Snapshot Two: A Lonely Birthday

You hadn’t planned to cry on your seventeenth birthday.

You woke up to silence. No messages or knocks on your door were in sight. Just the soft ping of your phone as Google Calendar politely reminded you: It's your birthday today – 17 years. You stared at the screen for a moment, then turned it face down on your pillow. It wasn’t that you expected anything grand, but maybe a text. A voice from the other side of your bedroom door hurried “oh, right—it’s today?” from someone in the kitchen, but there was nothing. Just the faint hum of the ceiling fan and the clink of dishes being washed downstairs. You were being paranoid again.

So you went through the motions. You brushed your hair, tied it into a low ponytail, threw on your hoodie, which still smelled faintly like fabric softener. You grabbed your wallet and slipped out quietly, telling yourself you just needed fresh air.

At the convenience store, you stood in front of the dessert fridge longer than necessary. Rows of cakes stared back at you with too-bright frosting and cheerful little decorations. You chose the smallest slice—chocolate with a thin curl of cream on top, and added a single candle from the counter display. The cashier didn’t say anything, just rang it up and handed it over with a practiced smile.

By the time you climbed to the rooftop of your building, the sky had already begun to dim. The city below pulsed with life, but up here, it was quiet and empty.  You sat cross-legged near the edge, placing the slice of cake on the concrete beside you. It wobbled a little in its plastic container. You lit the candle with a matchstick, shielding the tiny flame with your hand from the cool breeze. And then, as the sun dipped further, you pressed play on your phone.

The opening chords drifted into your ears, the familiar harmony of thirteen voices. Singing about dreams, about holding on, about the promise to stay together even when everything changes. You looked at the candle. No party hats, no wrapped presents, no one saying your name out loud; still, you blew it out.

You sat there for a long while after that, watching the smoke curl into the air. Picking at the cake with a plastic spoon, eating small bites between the ache in your throat and the music in your ears. And for a moment, it didn’t feel so heavy, because even though you didn’t have anyone sitting in front of you, even though the world seemed to forget you for a day, you weren’t really alone.  You closed your eyes.

The city was still buzzing below, but here, in your ears, they were singing only to you. 'Cause I'm your home, home, home, home. A place you can come to, a place you can come to. And that was enough for now.

Snapshot Three: Leaving Home

Your suitcase was too small to fit everything. Not just your clothes and books, but the things that weighed heavier: your past, your fears, your entire heart. You tried, though. Folded the memories into corners, zipped up regrets between sweaters, tucked silent hopes beneath a faded hoodie that still smelled like home. But the suitcase clicked shut anyway, bulging slightly at the sides.

The bus station was a place that hummed with goodbyes and beginnings. You found your seat by the window and sank into it slowly, your backpack in your lap. The driver announced something over the intercom, but you barely heard it, and the city began to move.

It slid past in streaks of color, neon signs flashing in the rain, buildings reduced to shadows, everything growing softer the further you went. You leaned your forehead against the cool window, watching as the places you once knew blurred into the distance. You told yourself not to cry, but a song started in your headphones, and as if on cue, that one line whispered through: Whenever and wherever we are; even if we are not together, just like always; our smile flowers will bloom. That was it. The tears came faster than expected, slipping down your cheeks and pooling beneath your chin. You pressed harder into the glass, as if you could anchor yourself to something that was already gone. Behind you was everything you’d known. Every mistake, and every version of you that had tried and failed and tried again. Every reason you once thought you should give up, but here you were; moving forward.

Because somewhere, through voices that never saw your face, in lyrics sung across languages and oceans, someone made you believe you could. And so, you did.

-

Your laptop rests on your thighs, the weight of it barely noticeable. You're half-sitting, half-slouched on your worn-out mattress, legs stretched out and crossed at the ankles, a thin blanket bunched around your waist. The screen glows softly in the dim room, lighting up your face with shifting colors as the 10th anniversary weverse live plays. Their voices rise and fall with familiar laughter, yelling, sudden quiet. You don’t catch most of what they’re saying. You don't have a subscription to keep up properly anyway, with how things are right now. Bills first, always. Still, you watch even though you aren't understanding. You can always watch the subtitled version on YouTube.

Seventeen has always been a beautiful contradiction. A band of fools who never cared about the rules of being ‘idols.’ They’d bicker on camera like siblings at war, then turn around and say something that leaves your heart cracked open. There was no pretense, no illusion, just thirteen people being utterly, stupidly, heartbreakingly themselves. It always made you laugh, and… known.

You lift the cup of buldak ramen to your lips, careful not to spill. It's too spicy, your eyes water a little. You slurp another mouthful, noodles slipping from your chopsticks, your fingers, clumsy and red from the heat. The spice lingers on your tongue, and you wipe your nose with the back of your hand, sniffling without any grace.

On the screen, they suddenly break into chaos—Mingyu falls off his chair, Dokyeom screams laughing. You snort, typical. You laugh, mouth full, and then, just like that, you remember memories.

The flood of years behind you. Crying into your pillow over failed exams, walking home in the rain after another silent dinner full of tension, arguing with your parents and hearing your voice echo back at you, friends who stopped calling, plans that never came to be. All the tiny moments that once broke your heart. But through it all, they were there. Not physically, not even knowingly, but they were there. And when your world felt like it was closing in, their world opened up to you; welcoming, chaotic, oddly healing.

Time passed, and you grew up. You started calling yourself things like “adult” and “tired.” The little joys you once clung to became luxuries. The friends who once promised ‘forever’ faded into profiles you rarely tapped on anymore. Dreams turned into ‘practical decisions.’ And yet, Seventeen’s comfort never left. You think of the nights when Going Seventeen played, your laughter echoing into your quiet room. You think of their dumb jokes, their games, their little skits that made you forget the weight pressing on your chest. You remember feeling okay; maybe even happy.

The numbers on the calendar flew by, the seasons changed, and so did you. But the warmth Seventeen gave you, the tiny circle they once carefully drew around your heart with their fingers, stayed.

You take another bite of ramen, swallow it slowly. No matter how much changed, that gratitude never did, and neither did they.

Now, when life grows heavy and unbearable, when your chest feels hollow and your room echoes too loudly with absence, you find yourself reaching back, but with your heart instead of your hands, remembering those moments, those melodies, those words, those silly goofy antics that once held you together when no one else knew how. The world had been too sharp then. People passed you by like shadows, and your voice felt too small to be heard, but their voices—thirteen of them, laughing and stumbling and singing; wrapped around you like warmth on a cold winter night. You didn’t understand how or why it worked; only that it did. That when you thought you’d break, they held you in the space between verses and refrains.

You press play on ‘Encircle’ again. The first note hits, and it’s like unlocking a door you didn’t realize was still closed. Suddenly, you’re there back in the past again—shoulders shaking while the glow from your laptop screen shone, tears slipping down your cheeks, heart aching but beating. You remember the laughter that pulled you back from the edge. The tears that became a little lighter because of a lyric. The nights you didn’t think you’d make it through… but did, because somehow, without ever realizing it, they stayed.

A thought bubbles up: I never got to tell them thank you properly... but I hope somehow, they know. Because it was never about being noticed by them, but being held. Being seen in the invisibility. It was love, that was gentle, selfless, one-sided but whole. It’s a love that asked for nothing in return; a full-circle healing between you, between Carats like you, and the boys who never even knew your name, yet saved you anyway.

-

> Some memories never fade, even when you leave. Some songs keep you going, even when you forget how to speak. To thirteen boys who once reminded us how to stay.

You drag yourself into the kitchen, feet padding softly against the floor. You open the fridge, the cold light spilling out across your tired face, and reach in and pull out a nearly empty milk carton, flipping the cap off with a weary thumb. You bring it to your nose, inhale cautiously. You pause, and your fingers tighten around the carton, brows furrowed slightly. It smells… okay. Technically expired, maybe, but nothing alarming. Nothing sour or offensive, just passable — like everything else lately. You shrug to yourself and reach for the instant coffee.

The kettle hums in the background as you move through the motions: spooning in the powder, adding the water, stirring slowly. It’s the kind of routine you could do with your eyes closed. You haven't had time to go grocery shopping in days. Every evening after work, you came home and collapsed straight into bed, but not to sleep, just to lie there. Too tired to even scroll, you defaulted to YouTube shorts, letting the algorithm numb you while time slipped through your fingers. But today is at least a little different; it's May 26th.

The rain still taps softly against the windowpane, you sit curled on the floor, the edges of your half-empty coffee mug cooling beside you. From the corner, a Spotify playlist running on your phone. A familiar intro filters through the room. It’s a song you haven't heard in what feels like forever; not because you forgot it, but because life got in the way. The melody drifts toward you like an old friend, that once patched the broken seams of your heart without asking for anything in return. You close your eyes, and suddenly, you're with SEVENTEEN again.

Lost, tired, clinging to hope with both hands even when it felt like hope didn’t want to stay. Alone in your bedroom, staring up at the ceiling and imagining a life that didn’t ache so much. Back then, you didn’t have the words to describe it. You couldn’t explain why some days felt impossibly heavy, or why it seemed like the world had been built for everyone else but you. But out there, somewhere, in a language you barely understood, a constellation of thirteen voices reached you. They didn’t know your name or anything, but they made space for you anyway. They wrapped their songs around your weary soul like a soft blanket and told you without ever saying, it is okay to simply exist.

You draw your knees in closer to your chest and smile. Funny, isn’t it? How music, how people, can find you even when you’re convinced you’re invisible.

You smile softly, but it doesn’t quite reach your eyes, and draw in a breath. With one hand, you reach down to the floor beside your bed, fingers brushing the edge of the bedsheet that drapes loosely over the side. You gather the fabric, lifting and folding it back over the mattress in one fluid motion. Then, leaning forward, you shift your weight onto one arm, shoulder dipping low as you reach under the bed, fingers sweeping through dust and forgotten corners until they close around a small box.

You pull it out carefully and settle back, legs crossed beneath you, the box resting in your lap. It's old — edges softened and corners dulled by time. The lid sticks for a moment, then gives way with a soft creak. You open it slowly; reminisce and look back.

On top lies a battered diary, its pages filled with half-scrawled thoughts, song lyrics, small promises you made to yourself in your darker days. Beneath it, a photo which seems to be slightly crinkled, the ink starting to fade; a printed photo from a concert livestream. You remember it instantly: your bedroom was dark except for the blue-white glow of the screen, the warmth you felt despite being physically alone, your heart seemingly beating in sync with the cheering crowd you could only hear through your speakers.

You laugh a bit, remembering how you scrambled across Twitter that night, switching from one link to another each time one got taken down. Desperate, determined — as if that concert, streamed illegally from thousands of miles away, was the only thing tethering you to sanity… which it was.

It's their tenth anniversary today. Ten whole years.

You weren’t there from the beginning, not when they first debuted or when the world barely knew their name, but they were always there for you when you wanted; from the very start of your story. Through sleepless nights, forgotten birthdays, and the crushing loneliness of growing up; they were there. In your ears, in your heart, in the margins of your school notebooks and the playlists that carried you home.

Life pulled you away, as it always does — busier and lonelier. You haven’t been able to keep up like you used to. The new songs, the live streams, the celebrations, passed in a blur. For more than a year now, you’ve watched from a distance, always meaning to catch up, always too tired to try, but they… never truly left you. Even when your hands were too full to reach back, they stayed in the corners of your heart.

You run your thumb across the old photo, a small laugh slipping from your throat. You’ll celebrate with them tonight. For the music that once held your shaking hands, for the voices that wrapped around your silence, for the comfort that arrived through glowing screens from a world away. You close your eyes, and for a second, you’re that younger version of yourself again; heart full, hands empty, but never alone. And when you open them, the feeling remains. Happy anniversary, you think. Thank you for finding me.

Snapshot One: First Winter

You were sixteen, standing at the edge of yet another argument at home, feeling so small it hurt to breathe. You hovered by the living room doorway, arms folded across your chest, eyes burning not from tears, but from exhaustion. 

“Why can’t you be more like your cousins?” your mother snapped, slamming a stack of papers onto the table. “They know what they’re doing. They don’t sit around wasting time with K-pop boys and drawing and all these… distractions!”

“I’m not them,” you muttered, your voice shaking.

“Exactly!” your father’s voice cut in. “You’re not them. You don’t even try to be better. You’re always hiding in your room, listening to that nonsense, wasting your time online. What will that get you?”

You stared at the floor. You didn’t want to shout, but if you spoke louder, you were afraid your voice would crack, so instead, you clenched your fists behind your back. “I’m doing my best.”

“Your best?” your mother scoffed with an eye roll. “Your best isn’t enough. You don’t study like you should. You’re not focused. Every time we ask you to do something, you act like we’re attacking you. We’re trying to help, and all you do is shut down!”

“I’m tired,” escaped your mouth. “You never listen when I say I’m tired.”

“Tired of what?” your father barked. “You don’t even have responsibilities yet. What do you know about being tired?”

Something in you snapped then, but it was like a crack running through glass. “I’m tired of never being enough for you.”

The silence that followed was sharp and awkward. Your mother’s mouth opened, then closed. Your father turned away, muttering something under his breath, maybe about respect, maybe about how you were being irrelevant again.

You didn’t wait for more though. You turned on your heel and walked to your room, closing the door behind you with trembling hands. The moment the latch clicked, you sank to the floor, pulling your knees to your chest. Shoving your earbuds in, you scrolled desperately through your playlist, looking for anything that could drown it all out. The opening notes played, familiar and comforting. No need to rush, you're doing fine. Just stay as you are.

You didn’t understand the whole lyric back then. Korean wasn’t your first language, and you hadn’t looked up the full translation. But somehow, those words felt like enough. Like a hand reaching out in the dark. You clutched the buds tighter, turned the volume up higher, and let the voices blur into warmth. You believed them, because you had to.

Snapshot Two: A Lonely Birthday

You hadn’t planned to cry on your seventeenth birthday.

You woke up to silence. No messages or knocks on your door were in sight. Just the soft ping of your phone as Google Calendar politely reminded you: It's your birthday today – 17 years. You stared at the screen for a moment, then turned it face down on your pillow. It wasn’t that you expected anything grand, but maybe a text. A voice from the other side of your bedroom door hurried “oh, right—it’s today?” from someone in the kitchen, but there was nothing. Just the faint hum of the ceiling fan and the clink of dishes being washed downstairs. You were being paranoid again.

So you went through the motions. You brushed your hair, tied it into a low ponytail, threw on your hoodie, which still smelled faintly like fabric softener. You grabbed your wallet and slipped out quietly, telling yourself you just needed fresh air.

At the convenience store, you stood in front of the dessert fridge longer than necessary. Rows of cakes stared back at you with too-bright frosting and cheerful little decorations. You chose the smallest slice—chocolate with a thin curl of cream on top, and added a single candle from the counter display. The cashier didn’t say anything, just rang it up and handed it over with a practiced smile.

By the time you climbed to the rooftop of your building, the sky had already begun to dim. The city below pulsed with life, but up here, it was quiet and empty.  You sat cross-legged near the edge, placing the slice of cake on the concrete beside you. It wobbled a little in its plastic container. You lit the candle with a matchstick, shielding the tiny flame with your hand from the cool breeze. And then, as the sun dipped further, you pressed play on your phone.

The opening chords drifted into your ears, the familiar harmony of thirteen voices. Singing about dreams, about holding on, about the promise to stay together even when everything changes. You looked at the candle. No party hats, no wrapped presents, no one saying your name out loud; still, you blew it out.

You sat there for a long while after that, watching the smoke curl into the air. Picking at the cake with a plastic spoon, eating small bites between the ache in your throat and the music in your ears. And for a moment, it didn’t feel so heavy, because even though you didn’t have anyone sitting in front of you, even though the world seemed to forget you for a day, you weren’t really alone.  You closed your eyes.

The city was still buzzing below, but here, in your ears, they were singing only to you. 'Cause I'm your home, home, home, home. A place you can come to, a place you can come to. And that was enough for now.

Snapshot Three: Leaving Home

Your suitcase was too small to fit everything. Not just your clothes and books, but the things that weighed heavier: your past, your fears, your entire heart. You tried, though. Folded the memories into corners, zipped up regrets between sweaters, tucked silent hopes beneath a faded hoodie that still smelled like home. But the suitcase clicked shut anyway, bulging slightly at the sides.

The bus station was a place that hummed with goodbyes and beginnings. You found your seat by the window and sank into it slowly, your backpack in your lap. The driver announced something over the intercom, but you barely heard it, and the city began to move.

It slid past in streaks of color, neon signs flashing in the rain, buildings reduced to shadows, everything growing softer the further you went. You leaned your forehead against the cool window, watching as the places you once knew blurred into the distance. You told yourself not to cry, but a song started in your headphones, and as if on cue, that one line whispered through: Whenever and wherever we are; even if we are not together, just like always; our smile flowers will bloom. That was it. The tears came faster than expected, slipping down your cheeks and pooling beneath your chin. You pressed harder into the glass, as if you could anchor yourself to something that was already gone. Behind you was everything you’d known. Every mistake, and every version of you that had tried and failed and tried again. Every reason you once thought you should give up, but here you were; moving forward.

Because somewhere, through voices that never saw your face, in lyrics sung across languages and oceans, someone made you believe you could. And so, you did.

-

Your laptop rests on your thighs, the weight of it barely noticeable. You're half-sitting, half-slouched on your worn-out mattress, legs stretched out and crossed at the ankles, a thin blanket bunched around your waist. The screen glows softly in the dim room, lighting up your face with shifting colors as the 10th anniversary weverse live plays. Their voices rise and fall with familiar laughter, yelling, sudden quiet. You don’t catch most of what they’re saying. You don't have a subscription to keep up properly anyway, with how things are right now. Bills first, always. Still, you watch even though you aren't understanding. You can always watch the subtitled version on YouTube.

Seventeen has always been a beautiful contradiction. A band of fools who never cared about the rules of being ‘idols.’ They’d bicker on camera like siblings at war, then turn around and say something that leaves your heart cracked open. There was no pretense, no illusion, just thirteen people being utterly, stupidly, heartbreakingly themselves. It always made you laugh, and… known.

You lift the cup of buldak ramen to your lips, careful not to spill. It's too spicy, your eyes water a little. You slurp another mouthful, noodles slipping from your chopsticks, your fingers, clumsy and red from the heat. The spice lingers on your tongue, and you wipe your nose with the back of your hand, sniffling without any grace.

On the screen, they suddenly break into chaos—Mingyu falls off his chair, Dokyeom screams laughing. You snort, typical. You laugh, mouth full, and then, just like that, you remember memories.

The flood of years behind you. Crying into your pillow over failed exams, walking home in the rain after another silent dinner full of tension, arguing with your parents and hearing your voice echo back at you, friends who stopped calling, plans that never came to be. All the tiny moments that once broke your heart. But through it all, they were there. Not physically, not even knowingly, but they were there. And when your world felt like it was closing in, their world opened up to you; welcoming, chaotic, oddly healing.

Time passed, and you grew up. You started calling yourself things like “adult” and “tired.” The little joys you once clung to became luxuries. The friends who once promised ‘forever’ faded into profiles you rarely tapped on anymore. Dreams turned into ‘practical decisions.’ And yet, Seventeen’s comfort never left. You think of the nights when Going Seventeen played, your laughter echoing into your quiet room. You think of their dumb jokes, their games, their little skits that made you forget the weight pressing on your chest. You remember feeling okay; maybe even happy.

The numbers on the calendar flew by, the seasons changed, and so did you. But the warmth Seventeen gave you, the tiny circle they once carefully drew around your heart with their fingers, stayed.

You take another bite of ramen, swallow it slowly. No matter how much changed, that gratitude never did, and neither did they.

Now, when life grows heavy and unbearable, when your chest feels hollow and your room echoes too loudly with absence, you find yourself reaching back, but with your heart instead of your hands, remembering those moments, those melodies, those words, those silly goofy antics that once held you together when no one else knew how. The world had been too sharp then. People passed you by like shadows, and your voice felt too small to be heard, but their voices—thirteen of them, laughing and stumbling and singing; wrapped around you like warmth on a cold winter night. You didn’t understand how or why it worked; only that it did. That when you thought you’d break, they held you in the space between verses and refrains.

You press play on ‘Encircle’ again. The first note hits, and it’s like unlocking a door you didn’t realize was still closed. Suddenly, you’re there back in the past again—shoulders shaking while the glow from your laptop screen shone, tears slipping down your cheeks, heart aching but beating. You remember the laughter that pulled you back from the edge. The tears that became a little lighter because of a lyric. The nights you didn’t think you’d make it through… but did, because somehow, without ever realizing it, they stayed.

A thought bubbles up: I never got to tell them thank you properly... but I hope somehow, they know. Because it was never about being noticed by them, but being held. Being seen in the invisibility. It was love, that was gentle, selfless, one-sided but whole. It’s a love that asked for nothing in return; a full-circle healing between you, between Carats like you, and the boys who never even knew your name, yet saved you anyway.

some memories never fade, even when you leave. some songs keep you going, even when you forget how to speak. to thirteen boys who once reminded us how to stay.

⌦ 🩷🩵 © mylovesstuffs | est. 2025. thank you for reading—your reblog means everything. until we meet again, may the voices that held you once hold you always! ◜ᴗ◝

[arbitrarykiwi]

Third Times a Charm: Oral Fixation 2/3

Nam-Gyu (Player 124) x AFAB reader smut series

Summary: you ran into him three separate times. First was at a party, second time was at a club. And like his favorite drugs, he was addicted. The third time? Well he wasn’t going to let you get away so easy. Third times a charm and he was going to get his fix. ((Non-squid games au))

Warnings: Smut (18+), LONG (y'all.. I went over board: 6.4k words), id say this is significantly more debauched than the first chapter, alcohol use, drug use, substance mixing, stalker! Nam-Gyu themes (he finds your info online), porn with plot (long intro, there is a divider added for convenience if you wish to skip to the fuckin') , oral (m receiving), choking, dirty talk, name calling ((this chap. is significantly more gendered than the first one)) (pretty girl, good girl, whore and slut used once), face fucking, sugar daddy! Nam-Gyu themes, spitting, cum play, breath play, he’s nasty- got a filthy mouth on him, brief mention of death threats (he threatens somebody for interrupting y'all), proof read but I am dyslexic, there's prolly more- read at your own risk

Previous chapter: Taste Test 1/3

Next chapter: Bodytalk 3/3

AN: gonnna be so real yall, music inspo for this fic is São Paulo ft. Anitta by The Weekend…if you wanna read it with the fic be my guest 😋 (best time to start it is when yall meet again in da club)

The second time you ran into him was at a club.

It has been about two weeks since your interaction with him. Nam-Gyu. To say that he was all you thought about would be putting it lightly. The thought, the feel, the scent of him, was all you could think about.

Figuring with just a name to go off of and the drugged out crowd you often hung around, your luck of finding him was slim to none. You tried to search him up, nothing. All searches took you to was links about a ‘Club Pentagon’.

You tried to go out with some men, often finding yourself repulsed anytime they put your hands on you. Pushing them away and calling a cab to just go back home and get yourself off. None of those guys seemed worth your time- you’d just be thinking about him anyway.

His hands felt better. His lips felt better. He felt better.

You found yourself in your room, with a half smoked blunt hanging between your fingers as you scrolled through social media aimlessly. While scrolling you watched as a notification popped up at the top of your screen, your phone resonating a ‘ping’- a text from your friend asking you to go out to, none other than, Club Pentagon. You clicked the notification with a speed you didn’t know you had.

A reply is sent quick, agreeing to meet her at the club in a few hours. You stood up off your bed, taking a drag of the blunt you rolled- getting ready or not, you can’t waste it!

In the span of a couple hours you got ready, dolling yourself up in the best outfit you could think of. One of your favorite dresses, the one that was just a little too short but fit oh so perfect. You hope by some grace of the universe- he’s there. And with the chance that he may be there…you wanted to take a little extra time with your makeup.

After finishing off your blunt, taking more than a couple shots, and a excecuting perfect face of makeup- you’re calling a taxi with a nice buzz and making your way to Club Pentagon.

The night is cool when you step out the taxi. You pay and thank the cab driver, turning to find your friends in the long line of people. It doesn’t take long, they find you. They yell your name from the crowd, excitedly pulling you into the line. “God damn!! You look good!” One of your friends cheers, you laugh and give a little twirl. The group you find yourself in catches up, chatting, while walking slowly with the line of people waiting in queue for the club.

Soon you make it to the entrance, a large bouncer stands near a velvet rope that block the front door of the club. The large neon sign sporting the words ‘Club Pentagon’ flash a vibrant pint that illuminated the area outside the club.

Your group begins filling into a small cluster behind the velvet rope, waiting by the entrance for the rest of the group before heading into the club. Your friend in front of you passed the bouncer, adjusting her pink wristband sporting ‘21+’. It was the usual band bars around here used to signify the person wearing it was of age to drink.

You hand your ID to the bouncer patiently waiting to be let into the club. The bouncer looks to you then to your ID, he seems to re-read it then looks back up to you. “Wait here.” He tells you, stepping away. You look to your friend with a quirked eyebrow, wondering what the hold up is.

Your friend laughs, cupping her hands around her mouth and calling out to the bouncer. “She’s of age officer I swear!!” You reach over to swat her arm to get her to stop. “Bitch c’mon! For one, he’s not an officer. Two, that’s literally what someone with a fake ID would say.” You laugh, already tipsy from the pregame.

The bouncer returns with a chuckle at your friend’s antics. “Not worried ‘bout that girls.” He says to you and your friend with a jovial laugh. “Your name was familiar, saw it on the VIP list.” The bouncer says, to only you this time, placing a lime green wristband on your wrist, on it the acronym ‘VIP’ is printed around the entirety of the paper bracelet.

“Huh?” You say incredulously, you haven’t even been to this club before and you sure wouldn’t pay for a VIP band yourself. You look to your friend group, wondering if they had something to do with it. Their faces mimicked yours, confused, so they obviously had nothing to do with this.

“This must be a mistake- I didn’t pay for this.” You say not wanting to get overcharged. “No mistake Ma’am. One of our club promoters put you on the list personally.” He says opening the red suede rope to let you into the building.

You’re confused, you don’t know any club promoters. But you nod, in thanks to the bouncer as you join your friends. You are still wildly perplexed but not complaining- it’s a free all you can drink ticket! Your friends ‘ooo’ and ‘ahhh’ at you as you walk in with them.

“Which club promoter’s dick did ya suck to get that~” Your friend teases leaning into you, you laugh and shake your head. “Genuinely…no one’s. I have never been here before….the covers always been too high.” You say, your eyes scanning the grand entrance of the club- chandeliers covered the ceilings, various colored lasers reflecting off of the diamonds and dispersing into colored rays that flood the floor.

“Ohhh??? A secret admirer??!!” Your friends giggle as you make your way to the bar. You laugh her off, shaking your leaning on the bar. “For real I can’t imagine who would put me on the list…” You shrug as you all order your first round of drinks.

In your head you’re trying to find any possible reasoning. It’s couldn’t be him, could it?

Anytime you looked up his name, and you typed out those six letters more times than you could count over the weeks, he never came up….but this club that you find yourself at - Club Pentagon- did. Was he a club promoter here? Was he the club promoter that put you on the expensive VIP list?! Even if he was…you didn’t give him your name the last time you saw him. You were pulled away from him before you could even thank him for the mindblowing orgasm he gave you, let alone give him your name.

Your eyes darted around the place, examining the club that you never bothered to come to. Sure the cover was expensive but as you see the extravagant decoration, multiple stages lit up with flashing, multi-colored panels, and intricate carved marble columns throughout the place- the price seemed worth it.

You make good use of the VIP wristband, ordering rounds of shots that were covered by the lime green piece of paper that’s on your wrist. But you still can’t stop thinking of who would have put you on the list.

With the free VIP bracelet came an exclusive area within the club, a small lounge area that was one of many within the establishment. Each VIP with a bracelet and their group got one.

So there you found yourself, getting ready to head to the dance floor after spending some time on the plush leather couch of the sectioned off area.

You can’t count how many shots you’ve taken at the VIP table but you were feeling great. Your friends excitedly stood up, hearing one of their favorite songs come on. You laughed, standing with them to begin to head to the dance floor.

Your friends practically ran to the dance floor, leaving you there laughing at just how fast they made it- drunk and in heels nonetheless. Just when you’re about to leave your table you hear someone clear their throat.

You turn immediately to the person, your eyes widening. “Nam-gyu!” You say with a smile, walking over to him. He’s dressed to the nines, a black suit, a red undershirt that’s unbuttoned revealing his collarbones. He’s leaning against one of the columns that had intricate carvings on it.

He smiles, taking a drag from a blunt that he had. “Well, seems like you finally took advantage of your VIP privileges I gave you.” He says with a wicked grin. Under the flashing lights he looks like a snake ready to strike, it’s alluring in ways you can’t even put into words.

You gravitate towards him, your eyebrows raising as you realize he was the one to give you this VIP pass. “You’re the mysterious club promotor who gave me the VIP?” You question as you walk to him. You come close to him, standing in front of him- looking up at him.

He nods, looking you over like he’s a predator ready to catch his prey. His hand reaches out and dances along your arm in a light motion. You watch as his eyes take all of you in, his teeth catch the corner of his bottom lip. His chest heaves as he takes in a deep breath. You don’t know it but all he can think of is the way your cunt felt around his fingers and the way your cum tasted on his tongue. “Put your name on the list personally.” He responds.

“How’d you-“ You begin to say. He cuts you off, pulling you closer into him by the small of your back. “Find your name?” He says, almost mocking the way you’re sure you would have asked it. It’s a demeaning, taunting tone that does nothing to help the growing warmth in your lower stomach. You nod in response, swallowing thickly as his hand runs down the curve of your ass to grip at flesh.

He laughs, guiding you into the rhythm of the music. The hand that wasn’t gripping your ass held a lit blunt. He brought it up to his mouth and took a long drag. As he does, he doesn’t look away from you. His dark eyes are lit up in an orange hue as the cherry of the blunt rages when he draws in a hit. He drops his hand to his side again.

Smoke rolls out of his mouth in smooth streams as he looks down at you and grins. “Sweetheart, s’not that hard….” He drawls on, leaning down closer to you. A devious smirk spreads across his lips. “I didn’t just get your name, I found your phone number and address too.” He rasps, pulling back after his words to look at you.

He has a mischievous, almost wicked glint in his eyes that has you spinning. You should be freaked out, fighting against him for being some sort of crazed stalker- but you don’t. You keep grinding against him, your hands finding purchase around his neck.

Your eyes scan his, wide and trying to figure out what to do. ‘Cute’ he thinks. It was like your common sense was fighting your desire for him, and it was a battle he loved to watch. “You knew where I lived and had my number…why didn’t you-“

He cuts you off with a squeeze of your ass, once again, his ringed fingers gripping into the flesh as if you’d run away. He brings his hand up in between you two, holding the blunt so that it faces you. You can taste the wrap on your lips.

You look up at him through your lashes in a way that makes him want to forget pleasantries and fuck you here and now. But he restrains himself- nodding his head towards the blunt, his eyes never leaving yours.

When your lips wrap around the blunt and suck in the smoke, you can hear him hiss. He speaks through gritted teeth. “There you go….” He rasps. “Good fuckin’ girl.” He says, it’s a tone that makes you melt, you can hear the hunger in his voice, speaking through gritted teeth as if he was fighting himself from ruining you on the spot.

When you release the blunt and let the smoke billow out of your lips he speaks again, “You’re right,” he says, finally beginning to answer your question, grinning down at you. “I could have texted or showed up to your apartment…” He says as he spins you around against him, pressing your back into his toned chest.

“But I’m not some stalker..” He hums into your ear, hand hands all over you. “..so I just put you, my pretty little thing, on the VIP list. Hoping that you and your group of friends would show up here.” He hums in a low timbre that sends goosebumps up your skin.

You can’t help the smile that spreads across your face as you look back over your shoulder to at him.

“How could you have been so sure I would have came here?” You say your hand reaching back around him to entangle your fingers in his hair. You find yourself inhaling his cologne, even with significantly less drugs in your system than when you first met him- the scent is just as intoxicating.

“I wasn’t sure. In all honesty if I had to wait any longer I would have showed up on your door step.” He says, the tone in his voice tells you he’s not lying.

And it just makes you hotter.

“But there’s no need to think about that..you’re here now.” He breathes into your ear, his free hand that wasn’t holding the blunt, moving inwards from your waist, traveling down your stomach to grip at the inside of your thighs.

Wherever his hands go, they leave a trail of white hot fire, the only solace is the small cool sensation from the metal rings adorning his fingers. You arch into him, a small gasp coming out of your mouth at his fingers digging into your thighs, just centimeters away from where you needed them most.

“I was thinking about you…” You squeak out in a weak attempt to respond to him. “Tried to look you up.” You say, your breath hitching, breaking up your words into pathetic syllables as you feel him drag your ass against his growing hard on.

Maybe it was the way you were more coherent, less drugs in your system this time meeting him- or maybe it was the thin fabric of your dress leaving nothing to the imagination as he pressed against you- or maybe it was the way his fingers left you a shaking mess during your last meeting so you couldn’t pay attention - but you swore you could feel his erection against your back better than the last time you had an encounter with him.

And he was thick.

He laughs, the vibration tickling at the skin of your neck. “I’m not one to run around with the best crowd, sweetheart. Don’t need people findin’ me so easy.”

He puts the blunt out in a swift motion on an ashtray nearby. His one hand remains on your hip, the one now free from the blunt runs up your back.

He pushes, causing you to bend over in front of him. It’s raunchy, it’s debauched but you let it happen. His hand continues its path up your back to grip the hair at the base of your neck. The way your hips move in tandem is sinful. Your dress has long since bunched up above your ass, allowing his cock that strains against his pants to rub against your clothed cunt in the most delicious way possible.

You’re bent over in front of him, one of his hands tangled in your hair while the other continues the rhythmic sway of your ass against his erection.

“But I had no worry, I’d knew you’d find me eventually…huh, pretty girl?” He has with a scoff in his voice. “Like you said, been thinking about me….” He growls, his hand that’s in your hair pulls you back against him in a rough movement. You can feel the way his clothed cock is spreading your pussy, allowing the tent in his pants grind up against your clit.

A whine is pulled out of your throat as you press yourself back against him even more. Your head nodding in reply to his words. A low groan resides him his throat has he throws his head back, basking in the feeling of how warm his dick feels pressed against your clothed pussy. The slow grind of your body against his is in time with the music. The loud thrum of the bass only serving to make every moment of this even better.

He pulls you back up by your hair, the arm on your hip wrapping around your torso and caging you into him. “Y’know…I played your little game last time, fair and square. I’d say I impressed you at that little party, wouldn’t you?” He says into your ear as he shifts his hips upwards, deliberately dragging his clothed cock up into you, the only thing keeping him from sinking into your velvety walls was your underwear and his pants.

You let out a choked gasp, feeling yourself clench around nothing. It was embarrassing, yet again, how quick he could get you to come undone. Your lip catches on your bottom lip as you try to grind down into his motions.

His hand releases from your hair and comes up to grip your jaw. “Answer me. Use your words.” He says, his breath ticking your ear. The low growl of his voice is smooth but devilish, a warning. You can feel the way his chest heaves with heavy breaths against your back. A sing that you had just as much of an effect on him that he had on you.

“Y-you did. You impressed me.” You say desperately your words slurred by his hand that grips your jaw. His grip loosens, his head dropping to your neck. His lips dance along your pulse point, tongue leaving a warm, wet trail along the column of your throat to under your ear.

“So then you should agree that I should get a nice little reward, for being so gracious, even after you cheated at your own little game?” He says, his lips tickling your ear. You nod frantically, reaching behind you to palm his erection over his slacks to prove a point of how desperately you needed him.

He growls into your ear, spinning you around to face him before smashing his lips on yours. You whine against him, reciprocating the kiss with equal desperation.

You don’t even realize when he leads you down a hall in a feverish mess of kissing. Your back is pressed against a closed door before he hastily fumbles with the knob.

You both stumble into office in the back of the Club Pentagon- being one of its top promoters had its perks of a private office and Nam-Gyu was going to use it.

It’s a fast paced mess of tongue and teeth. You find yourself turned pressed up against the door, closing it with a soft thud. His hands remove themselves from your waist, coming up to cradle your face, his thumbs rest on your cheeks while his pinky’s are nestled right under your ears. He pulls you to him, as is he’s trying to merge you into him.

His tongue explores your mouth in a skilled way that has your mind melting. You whine against him as he bites your bottom lip. Your hands work in clumsy, jittery movements to unbuckle his belt. He chuckles against you, finding your feeble attempt to rid him of his pants endearing.

He breaks this kiss, his forehead pressed to yours as his hands trail up your sides to your chest, stopping to grope at your breasts. “Eager are we?” He chuckles against your lips.

You kiss him again, the taste of his lips addictive. Pulling away to pout, looking up at him as your hands dance along the buckle of his belt. “Yes. And so what if I am?”

He grins, laughing at your words, his hands that massage your breasts slow their ministrations. His thumbs being to work against your nipples under your shirt. He brushes his thumbs over them in feather light touches, relishing in the feeling of your nipples beginning to harden under his touch. When your breath catches in your chest and you arch into him, he scoffs. “Pretty and sensitive…I’m going to have fun with you.” He says in a degrading tone, enjoying the small hint of an attitude you had being subbed out so quickly by him playing with your nipples.

He kisses you again fervently, hands removing themselves from under your bra to push you backwards by your hips. Your knees buckle when you hit a piece of furniture.

You fall to a sitting position onto a small couch in the room, whining when your lips part from his. He comes close to you, standing between your legs and looking down at you.

His eyes are dark. His hair was tousled, some strands still pushed back with whatever product he used to style it while others fall over his face. He smiles down at you, his hands running over your shoulders, along the sides of your neck to cradle your head.

His hands move up into your hair, tangling into the strands and cranking your neck back to look up at him. He moves even closer. Your chin is touching his lower stomach, forcing you to hold his gaze as he grinds his erection that is painfully hard against in his pants against your neck.

He looks down at you as if you’re a goddess in a renaissance painting. “Aren’t you just a sight…” he muses. His hands leg go of your hair, his warning gaze is enough to keep you in place. One of his hands comes up, his thumb tracing over your bottom lip.

You do it almost instinctively, wrapping your lips around his thumb. Eyes never leaving his as your tongue swirls around the pad of his finger.

His eyebrows raise, the breath he sucks in has your pussy clenching around nothing. “Oh…” He drawls on in a low amused hum. His eyes don’t leave your lips, it’s like he’s transfixed on where his thumb disappears into your warm mouth. “You’re fucking dangerous…” He muses in a low rumble. You can feel the way he grinds his erection into you throat as his thumb massages your tongue.

“C’mon then, I need to be inside your fucking mouth.” He growls, removing his finger from your mouth and quickly getting rid of pants and boxers. He doesn’t even have the patience to rid himself of his clothes, simply pushing them down to his knees.

His cock falls free from its confines and lands heavily in front of you, the tip smacking against your lips with a hearty sound.

Taken aback, you grip the base of his dick with one of your hands pulling your head back to look at it. It’s thick, long, the tip an angry red. The dark hairs at the base trail up his stomach in the most tantalizing line.

He hisses at the contact, you can feel it twitch in your hand. “Please, sweetheart…I’m dying…” He says, an upward cadence to his voice but his words are muffled. You look up from his cock, confused and when your eyes trail up his toned stomach to his face, your mouth is dry.

It’s a beautiful view. He has his red dress shirt is pulled up and out of the way by his teeth. His hair is disheveled, falling around his face and framing it in small shadows. His eyebrows are upturned, watching you- more specifically your mouth in a frenzied look, pleading for you to continue. His sleeves are rolled up revealing tattoos on his forearms that decorate his skin in intricate lines of black and grey.

How could you say no to him?!

Your mouth parts in a slow movement, your tongue lolling out of your mouth. You place his cock on your tongue, smacking the angry tip against your tongue a couple times. Each time, you see his stomach clench as the warm wet feeling of your tongue met his dick.

He watches as you lick him from base to tip, stoping to wrap your plush lips on his the tip of cock. It’s a tease for the feeling of heaven that is your mouth because soon you release him, running your tongue along the underside of dick. The sounds he’s making are sinful, low moans and groans of your name that has your thighs pressing together to ease the ache in your cunt.

He groans, taking his shirt out of his mouth and holing it in one of his hands. His other one makes its way to the back of your head, fisting your hair and yanking your head back.

“Enough of this teasing, sweet thing. You’re still the same slut that let me finger her on the dance floor weeks ago…so you’re gonna act like it, yeah?” He says looking down at you as he begins to jerk his cock over your face.

You smile, it’s a sight that has him gripping his dick tighter. Your mouth drops open, you nod. “That’s right…” he coos, shaking your head by the grip in your hair. “Stick your tongue out.” He demands, punctuating his words by tightening his grip on your hair.

You obey, lolling your tongue out, never breaking eye contact. He leans over you, making you watch as he sucks and then spits into your mouth. You moan out when you feel the taste of his saliva hit your tongue, your eyes rolling to the back of your head in ecstasy. “Swallow.” He demands again. “And fucking look at me when you do it.” He says through gritted teeth.

You open your eyes again, watching him continue to pump his thick cock over your face. You obey, closing your mouth and swallowing his saliva. Your gaze locked to his and its filthy. He stands over you, one hand on the back of your head, the other twisting around his length as he watches you swallow.

“Ohhh….” He coos, his eyebrows knitted together in an upturned expression as he watches you. “That’s it….” He says, taking a step closer to rub the tip of his dick over your plush lips. He grins down at you, his dark eyes trained on you as you stick your tongue back out, running it on the underside of his thick length.

“I don’t even have to ask? Y’know just what to do, huh? How fucking filthy you are…” He mocks in a condescending tone. His hips thrust forward just the tiniest bit, pushing the angry tip of his cock between your lips before pulling out. His eyes trained on the way your lips move around the ridge of his cock-head.

He hisses out a shuddering breath, biting his lip before speaking again, this time his tone drastically different- it’s softer. “You look so pretty like this..” He says in a soft hum, his hand brushing your hair back out of your face in a strangely comforting manner.

He surges his hips forward more, sinking his cock into your mouth. The sound he lets out is sinful. You look up, his head is thrown back, his hand clenching his shirt in a white-knuckled grip. “O-oh fuck…” He hisses.

You begin to bob your head in a steady rhythm, your tongue beginning to memorize every vein along his length. He isn’t quiet, he’s obscene. Every time you move your head up and down his cock he’s chanting praises followed by moans that fuel the wetness that pools in your underwear. You’re sure by this point it’s staining the fabric of the couch you sit on.

His head saga to the side, his eyes back on you. “You can do b-better than that. I know you can.” He says, panting between word, a degrading tone lacing his voice.

He moans as he feels you begin to work harder, your hand coming up to stroke at the length that you didn’t have in your mouth. His hand that’s at the back of your head moves to the side, the hand that’s holds his shirt drops the fabric to mirror his other hand.

Both hands on either side of your skull, he smirks down at you, panting. “You can take it.” He says with a chuckle, it wasn’t a suggestion.

You moan around him at his words, only spurring him on to press you down his length. As your lips inch down his cock he groans, indulging him self in the warm, wet, solace that was your mouth.

He keeps his eyes trained on you, watching as spit begins to spill at the corners of your mouth, creating a ring around his cock every time he pulled your head back and forth. He was simply addicted.

“This….” He’s cut off as you straighten your tongue out, allowing him to begin to sink in the tightness of your throat. “O-oh f-fuck….” He shudders out through clenched teeth, the words aggressive. “T-this is so much better than any fucking drug I’ve done.” He huffs out.

His hands continue to press down. His head falling backwards once more as he uses your mouth. When the head of his cock finally slips past the tight ring of your throat he lets out a moan that is so wicked it has you echoing him. You let out a sound that is between a gag and a moan, it’s debauched. Porn worthy.

His head snaps back forward watching you with a dark look. When he sees that you don’t pull away, and instead look up at him- taking more of him in your throat without the push of his hands- he laughs. It’s a soft sound, one of awe, shock and pride.

“Takin’ me so well…so fuckin’ well.” He says, punctuating his words by returning his hands to the back of your head forcing you all the way down. With your nose pressed into the coarse hairs of his pubic bone your eyes roll back into your skull as you gag and choke around him.

One of the hands on your head drops to your throat, cradling it- feeling where his cock was nestled. Your nails dig into the flesh of his thighs, the restriction of air leaving your pussy practically weeping onto the couch.

He pulls back, his cock pulling out of your throat in a messy string of saliva and his pre-cum. You gasp and cough, looking up at him with watery eyes. “Y-you’re so big…” you choke out in a raspy whine. He looks down at you with a pout, rubbing his hand over your lips, smearing your spit on your face.

“I know, pretty. But you can take it, yeah?” He says, his hand stopping at your cheek, his thumb rubbing a comforting circle. “Mhm.” You say with a nod leaning into his hand.

He smiles down at you, his hands returning to their position to cradle your head. “Gonna let me cum down your throat like my good whore, huh?” He says, the words down right depraved but he has such a soft and sweet tone it has your brain spinning.

You nod, mouth opening again, tongue stuck out- waiting so patiently for him.

The rapid pace is set instantly. His cock enters your mouth, instantly sliding to the back of your mouth. His cock bullies its way down your throat relentlessly. You swear your throat is going to be permanently molded to the shape of his dick. Your tongue flattens more, licking against his balls every time he sinks you to the base of his cock.

“F-fuck, your fucking throat is so tight.” He almost chokes out, his hands working your face against his cock at a meteoric speed. Any time he felt you gag, it just made him fuck your face harder- and you loved it.

He looks down at you, his head lolled to the size, his gaze hazy. “I needa cum in y-your throat so bad..” he says in almost a pleading whine. The desperate hitch to his voice has your eyebrows turning up and eyes rolling back. You moan and gag around him, an attempt to spur him on.

“S’gonna feel so good, balls deep in your fucking throat.” He rambles, his breathing becoming heavier and his thrusts sloppier. “And you’re gonna swallow it all.” He mumbles, more to himself than you but you moan in agreement. A few more thrusts is all he needed before he’s nearing his limit

“I’m going to fucking c-cum…” he chokes out, in a growl, his hands twisting into your hair, forcing your all the way down his cock- holding you at the base, tongue lapping desperately at his balls. He hunches over you, pressing you deeper into him in ways you didn’t think was possible.

You feel it in an instant, the warm spurts of cum that flow out of him, his hips thrusting in shallow movements as he milks his cock in your throat. Despite gagging and choking around him, you swallow, greedily, trying your best not to waste any last drop.

He pulls you off of him, a filthy web of your saliva and his cum connecting his dick to your lips. You choke and gasp, catching your breath. When you find it, you look to him. He’s smiling wide.

“Damn….” He says, his hand that’s not on your head swipes between you two, collecting some of the fluids that string the two of you together. “Messy lil thing aren’t ya?” He hums, bringing his fingers up to his lips to suck the mixture of your saliva and his cum off his fingers.

You giggle, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand. “Not my fault you cum so much.” You tease back. He laughs again hands coming to hold your face, “Uh actually yeah it is…you I think you sucked the soul outta me…” he says, leaning down to kiss you.

It’s messy, but he takes his time, his lips moving in a soft rhythm against yours- almost as if it’s a thanks for the orgasm you gave him.

He pulls back, his hands working to readjust your dress and smooth out your hair. His thumb even swipes under your eyes- a feeble attempt to fix your makeup- but an attempt nonetheless.

You jump when you hear a loud knock on the door, you gasp- knocking the door was unlocked. Nam-Gyu moves himself completely in front of you- shielding you from the door if whoever was knocking happened to barge in. “S’okay.” He soothes, looking back to you. “Locked or not these fucking dumbasses know not to enter in here without me telling them to.” He says with a grin. You giggle, your fingernails still lightly raking against his thighs.

“Hey!” Someone shouts, then another round of knocks. “We got an issue that requires your help out here, boss.” The individual calls. Nam-Gyu groans. “Can it fucking wait?” He calls over his shoulder, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“No can do! People out back are trying to lowball us for this batch.” The man calls back. Nam-Gyu looks to the door then back to you. “‘m sorry, princess. Gonna have to take a rain check…” He says, a genuine look of upset in his eyes as he realizes he’s going to have to depart from you.

He reaches down to pull you to stand, kissing you once more. This time it’s slow and deliberate, like he’s trying to memorize the feeling of your lips. You sigh into the kiss, the feeling of his lips on yours makes your body light up in ways you’ve never felt.

He pulls away, working to pull up his pants and boxers, tucking his semi-hard cock into his pants. You look at his cock, pouting, pressing your thighs together. He looks up to you, then down to your thighs. “‘M sorry sweetness, next time it’s all about you. Consider it the last of your payback for leaving me hanging the first time we met.” He says, taking a step back towards you, his hand coming to the back of your neck, pulling you to him and placing a kiss on your forehead.

“You coming boss??” The voice calls impatiently from behind the door. “For fucks sake!! Yes. Give me a damn minute.” He yells over his shoulder.

“Wait I don’t have your number. I’m not going to find you again” You say, eyebrows knitted in a worried expression- you lost him once and with dick this good- you couldn’t lose him again.

He finishes up buckling his belt, looking to the wall and into the cracked and dirty mirror that hung there to straighten up his hair. Another loud knock comes at the door. “I’ll be there in a fucking second!” He seethes at the door. “Knock again and I’ll blow your fucking brains out.” He yells in an enraged voice. His face twisted in an annoyed and enraged scowl- a genuine hatred in his eyes that has you scared. The way he was saying it showed that if another knock came, there would be someone’s blood painting the wall.

However, when he turns around to you his face immediately softens. He hurries over to you, his hands cupping your face and shaking his head. “Not gonna have to worry about that, sweet thing.” He coos, brushing your hair, helping to smooth out the evidence of how much he just wrecked you. “I have your number, remember. Promise I’ll text you.” He says with a grin, kissing you once more.

He pulls away, reaching into his pocket and pulling out a wad of cash. He hands you a couple 20’s. “You get home safe. Cabs on me.” He says looking at the bills in your hand before shrugging, placing even more 20’s down into the pile- way more than what you needed for cab fair. “And tomorrow get yourself a gift- on me as well.” He says winking.

Before you can respond he’s walking over to the door of his office and whipping the door open, yelling at the person who was knocking for not having any patience. He pushes the individual who was knocking back from the door way immediately so they wouldn’t see you in your less than appropriate form.

You stand there, heart thudding in your chest as you can’t help the smile that spreads across your lips. You open your phone to many missed messages and calls from your friends. Gathering your things, you call them as you walk out to hail a cab- ready to relay all the details about who exactly gave you the VIP wristband.

Tag List: @heyitsayjayy , @chxrrybomb22 , @ziallgff , @ametheslime , @hornyfordaryldixon (( let me know if you would like to be added to the tag list for the last part <3 ))

[unluckilylvcky]

TMNTherapy Group: Welcome Leonardo!

From ancient books of ninjitsu to comic books tucked neatly in the shelves, who better to confide in than the Leonardos? After all, the greatest honor a ninja could ever have is a nice cup of tea! Leonardo made sure that his comrades would feel right at home!

What is TMNTherapy Group about?

Teenage Mutant Ninja Therapy Group, or simply abbreviated to TMNTherapy Group or TMNT Group, is a fun little comic featuring your favorite turtles from all current running cartoon iterations joining together to, well... Get therapy! Or at least, that's what the turtles from the 1987 universe say. In OOC terms, yes, this is basically a crossover au.

Currently, the AU has 5 introduction comics (including this one), 1 filler comic and many more fun and angsty comics to come! Join the '87 verse turtles as they try their best to unite these 3 VERY different turtle iterations with each other! It's gonna be an... Interesting ride, to say the least. Stay tuned!

DO NOTE THAT :

This AU is strictly for fun and is only meant to explore the dynamic of each turtle iterations with each other! Nothing more, nothing less, just all 4 generations of turtles either venting to each other or having fun. None of this is meant to be reflective of real life scenarios, anything of the latter is completely unintentional.

You're gonna notice a watermark on most of these panels, and I can assure you that that is me; my old user! I unfortunately do not have the original files to these, nor do I have the time to redraw these to my current style. I'm pretty sure I stopped watermarking it with my old user after the Raph group intro :]

This was posted on Instagram during October 15th of last year!

Thought I should mention: The lineart quality for this AU is LARGELY inconsistent. I really just wanna have fun with this au so sometimes you're gonna see some clean and cool lineart, but mostly you're gonna have to deal with my sketchy lineart like in this comic haha

Seeing as Instagram is my main platform, you'll have to keep in mind that this format was made with the square format in mind. Stick with me here hehe :^))

Gonna start introducing Bonus Comics! These are just short disconnected comics that I usually include out of a whim. Just click on Keep Reading and you should see it! This will be the only time I'll mention these on the notes section.

<<< Previous: Teenage Mutant Ninja... Therapy Group?!

Next Up: TMNTherapy Group: Welcome Raphael! >>>

Bonus Comic:

[nemisuki]

𐔌 ✧.* ᴛʀᴜᴇ ɴᴀᴍᴇ .ᐟ ֹ ₊ ꒱

ꜱʏɴᴏᴘꜱɪꜱ || A compilation of her favorite nicknames that he rarely uses! 

᧔o᧓ || katsuki bakugo x f!reader, she/her pronouns, pure fluff, no smut or angst, short oneshot, dating au, soft bkg, words of affirmation, praise galore, 375 word count

It's the terms of endearment that make her feel like a flustered school girl on a random tuesday.

An accidental slip of his tongue when he spontaneously mumbles rare forms of praises — it doesn't happen often — but when it does... oh she goes crazy all right.

Like whenever their training and she finally manages to land a solid hit on him?

He grins, completely unbothered that you made his nose bleed.

"There she is... 'atta fucking girl."

Or whenever you solve a math problem correctly?

His crimson eyes scan the worksheet — zeroing in on the unnecessary long equation — giving it a quick once over before handing it back with an invisible smile.

Rubbing your head gently as his fingers caress every spot.

"Finally did it on yur' own hah? Good job baby."

And what about when you show him the little doodles you did in your notebook?

His focus seems to be all over the paper, admiring every little pencil marking and detail he could find.

"Didn't know ya' could draw, looks just like the real thing hun."

Oh! How could she forget his looks of admiration whenever she gave him an outfit of the day?

Giving him a small twirl to show off her new dress — one that he got from his dad's fashion line — only to get five more of the same style a few days later, but in different colors.

It happened so often, she had no choice but to confront him for overfilling her closet, yet his response always stayed the same.

"Hah? Not my fault everything looks great on you, princess."

But her favorite moments?

It's the ones where he speaks of her, when he thinks she's not there.

She didn't mean to eavesdrop — she truly didn't — but when one of their classmates brings up her name, asking him — in a joking manner — why he's always so calm with her, she silently listens behind the wall.

His voice remains unsteady and surprisingly tender.

"Because she's my girlfriend."

Nothing else had to be said.

Those three words could be considered nothing special for anybody else, but to her it held meaning, spoken as if her being his meant just that.

That her being his girlfriend was enough reason to be gentle.

✦ ⎯⎯⋆ ˚｡⋆ ୨ masterlist || taglist || intro || socials ୧⋆ ˚｡⋆⎯⎯ ✦

ᴀ/ɴ ||| omg srry for the late post, I totally forgot but here is a short drabble! I just finished the first draft of the bkg fic for his birthday and it’s over 2k words so be prepared for major fluff! (੭˃ᴗ˂)੭ ɴᴇxᴛ ꜰɪᴄ ||| katsuki bakugo x f!reader (fluff) ᴛᴀɢꜱ ||| @leleyro @zaiban2989 @qyuin @sunnyalmighty — ໒꒰ྀི ´๑  ̫๑`  ꒱ྀིა