#yin is out of shift

[yin-of-many-kins]

Kin memories from a DSMP noncanon who never watched DSMP in this life (exactly two animatics and one unrelated video have informed this post)

I remember spawning into the server when it was bright and new, going through all the little day-to-day Minecraft processes, like chopping logs and mining stone. Building houses next to my friends, being warm in the sun, feeling light with the fullness of a new world.

I remember seeing the birth of a nation. I thought it was such a cute, silly little thing at the time. I egged Wilbur on, I think, always checking in to see how things were going in the first days of its creation. To be honest, I didn't take it seriously until Jschlatt (whom I called Jay, or The Ram) came to power and things really went to shit. It was only then that I realized it was a big thing that a lot of people cared about, and I felt bad about letting things go that far.

I remember being a wanderer; I was friends with just about everybody (tough as people started drawing lines in the sand) and spent days with one person before drifting off to attach to another. I was often with Technoblade, sometimes Bad, sometimes Tommy; Dream, when he wasn't fucking up life for the rest of my friends.

Mostly I remember the little moments of bonding. Hanging out with Dream in this base underground, sharing meaningless secrets, like that his favorite color was not green but purple and that his childhood pet was a dog named Rover. Technoblade, training in the forest (I could never fight, but I knew how to run) and looking after Carl together. Ranboo showed me how to press flowers to turn them into bookmarks. Quackity and I sat on the L'Manberg wall at night and talked about life.

Around when Pandora’s Vault was created was when everything kind of devolved. I stopped talking to people; most of my days were spent biting my nails anxiously at those looming obsidian walls. Were my friends safe in there? Was there anything I could do to help them escape? After Pandora’s: chaos. This is where my (already sparse) knowledge of the canon runs out. But there was chaos, and death. My friends made attempts on each others’ lives over and over—sometimes successful. I don’t remember a time after Pandora’s Vault that I wasn’t scared for the life of one friend or another.

I don’t remember exactly how, but the end was a wasteland. In terms of people, at least, if not the physical ground. There were only a handful of people alive, all of us deeply traumatized and mourning our lost friends. Ultimately, I made the decision that the life we had wasn’t making anyone happy; I rewound time to the beginning of the server, and hoped I could make things better this time.

Past life to parallel life.

[jojea]

when you finish reading what is quite possibly the best and longest fic of your life and you just sit there like

[theonewiththefanfics]

An Itch You Can't Scratch (one-shot)

Synopsis: After taking a bad fall, Y/N gets rushed to the ED of Pittsburg Trauma Medical Hospital only to come face to face with a man she had a one-night stand with, and who ghosted her that same morning without a word - Dr. Michael "Robby" Robinavitch. As if her bad day couldn't get any worse than it was...

Pairing: Dr. Michael "Robby" Robinavitch x fem!Reader (age-gap relationship (Reader is 26, Robby is implied 46-48))

Genre: angst, fluff, SMUT

Warnings: descriptions of wounds (open breaks), puke, swearing, etc., SMUT

Word count: 13,319 (yeah, this sort of started out like a cute little chaotic story and became... this. I might make more parts to these two, people like it enough, because I already have some ideas, and ideas for other stories too also, let's please pretend like Robby didn't have the worst shift of his life and everyone is happy and alive :) )

Please don't copy my work or repost it onto other platforms. all of the characters belong to HBO Max.

Catch Pt 2 here :)

In all honesty, Y/N thought Sara was overreacting. There was no need to be hauled to the ER on a Monday morning, at seven AM. So, what if she’d slipped in the shower? So, what if she’d hit her head against the towel rack? So, what if she’d sprained her ankle? Y/N could just pop a couple of Tylenol and be on her merry way, but no.

            When Sara had heard the thud and the subsequent crash of shampoo and conditioner bottles, she’d rushed inside the bathroom only to find Y/N sprawled out in all her naked glory. She cursed the stupid bathroom latch their landlord refused to change.

After Sara had had her fill of laughter, she helped Y/N stand, get somewhat dressed (a loose cotton shirt and some shorts), and helped her hobble down the stairs of their apartment, her leg in a make-shift splint of dishtowels and left-over wood paneling from an IKEA dresser.

            A groan of protest escaped her as Sara parked in the hospital parking lot and rushed to the passenger door, opening it for Y/N and helping her get out.

            “You are worse than my mother,” she huffed as she leaned her weight onto her good leg. “I am completely fine.”

            Sara sighed, and Y/N rolled her eyes, knowing what was coming. “My love,” she said. “My other half. The Yin to my Yang, the milk to my matcha. My partner in crime for whom I would kill and/or dispose of a body. I can quite literally see the fucking bone sticking out of your lower leg.”

            “It’s a sprain,” Y/N gritted through clenched teeth.

            “It’s an open fucking break and the fact that you refused to have an ambulance called, boggles my fucking mind, yet here we are.”

            To that, Y/N had nothing to say, but still, she thought Sara was being way too overdramatic. And honestly, if she kept mentioning the real situation of her sprain, making her remember the sound of the snap, how it had been the worst sound she’d ever heard, and Y/N had spent more than twenty years listening to her brother singing in the shower, before she moved to Pittsburg for her job, she would put Sara in a hospital bed herself. And then they could be the ED besties.

            But the worst was the pain that came when Sara reminded Y/N of why she had to go to the hospital.

            It had been a miracle no neighbor had called the cops or the EMTs themselves, though it didn’t necessarily comfort Y/N either. If she could scream bloody murder like that and nobody batted an eye, it didn’t say anything good about the complex they lived in.

            One look down had confirmed Y/N’s worst fears – she had, in fact, broken her leg. Not only that, it was an open break where part of her bone was sticking right out of the meat of her calf. For the first few moments, she’d been in such a shock, that the only thought running through her head was – I look like a poor man’s version of a Disney turkey leg. Then she’d started screaming. And that had made her puke.

            Right then and there, still lying half out of the shower, half on the floor, she’d emptied her stomach. There hadn’t been much in it, just the cup of water she’d drank when she’d awoken, but still. At least Y/N had been in the bathroom when it had happened. Tiles were easier to clean up than carpet, and she already felt bad enough Sara would have to wash the floor.

            But now, as some form of punishment, no doubt, Sara was helping Y/N hobble towards the emergency department of Pittsburg Trauma Medical Hospital, when a sad-looking man noticed them and rushed inside, grabbing a wheelchair, and getting by Y/N’s side in a matter of a second.

            “Here, sit down.” The man, Dennis Whitaker he introduced himself, took hold of her other bicep and moved the wheelchair behind her.

            “I’m fine,” she groaned. “I’m not an invalid. I can make it inside on my own. Besides, that wheelchair could be used for someone that actually needs it.”

            “You actually need it.” Sara levelled a gaze at her. “And I will make you a fucking invalid because I will clock you so hard in the head, you will have a concussion, if you don’t have one from the fall.”

             For a tense second, Y/N stood (or wobbled) her ground, Y/E/C eyes locked onto Sara’s hazel ones which were slowly narrowing with each passing moment until she cursed and said, “Alright fine.” Together Whitaker and Sara lowered the injured woman into the wheelchair. “God, I hate your mom-stares.”

            “It’s the only way to get you to do anything in terms of taking care of yourself.”

            “It’s not!” Y/N protested. “I’ll have you know, I made myself an omelet yesterday for breakfast. Veggies and all.”

            “Yeah, after I berated you that a stale Coke from three days ago, isn’t actual breakfast.” Sara walked side by side as Whitaker pushed the wheelchair into the madhouse that was the emergency department.

            It was fascinating to observe the situation as an outsider – nurses and doctors were like level-headed owls, their heads swiveling this way and that way, as they assessed the patients and their statuses, while the residents and patients themselves, not all, but quite a bunch, were like headless chickens, rushing around and trying to prioritize afflictions or become a priority to the doctors.

            Codes were called left and right, people moved from one side to the other, snapping on gloves and donning protective gear, and in the center of it all, was the command post – the nurse’s station which Whitaker had wheeled her to.

            “Dana, is there a room available?” he addressed a slim, blonde woman, probably the one in charge.

            “Room six is available, what’s the, oh,” she stopped mid-sentence as she noticed Y/N and the bone sticking out of her leg.

            “I don’t mind waiting,” she gave her a sheepish smile. “There’s probably loads of people before me. Besides, it’s just a sprain.”

            “Well, that’s probably one of the worst sprains I’ve ever seen,” Dana deadpanned as she motioned with her head towards someone behind them.

            Y/N shrugged. “Well, I am just special like that.”

            “Yeah, maybe in the head,” Sara grumbled as she gave the charge nurse all the necessary info for the moment. “Speaking of which – she also hit her head when she went down with her… sprain.”

            Dana’s lips quirked up as she hummed and tapped something on her iPad, weaving around the table, leaving Whitaker to follow her like a lost puppy as they moved to the room Y/N was now assigned to. “We’ll schedule you a CT ASAP.”

            Y/N turned her head to look at her best friend. “Given how this little trip was your idea, you’re paying off my medical debt.”

            “Just let these nice doctors and nurses take care of you.” Sara pinched the bridge of her nose. “Because quite honestly, I’m not too into the idea of searching for a new roommate. Do you know how many creeps I’d have to go through? And what if the one normal one I find has a fatal flaw?”

            “Such as?”

            “I dunno. What if they hate musicals?”

            “Oh, the tragedy.” Y/N pressed a hand against her chest as they wheeled her inside the room.

            There was another presence there, a young doctor, probably late twenties or early thirties. A cute little dimple on his chin, dark hair, and blue eyes. Reminded her a bit of the guy from Air Bud, if she squinted a bit.

            “My name’s Dr. Langdon,” he introduced himself, giving Y/N a reassuring smile. “And this is Dennis Whitaker, our fourth-year medical student. Would it be alright, if he and another one of our residents observed the situation today? This is a teaching hospital, but it is well within your rights to refuse.”

            She shook her head. “Observe away. Not much I can hide.”

            “Alright, thank you.” He ventured out for a quick second only to come back with a young woman who introduced herself as Dr. Mel King, a second-year resident. “Okay,” Dr. Langdon said. “Let’s get you onto the bed and see what we’re working with.”

            The three medical professionals surrounded her and helped Y/N move from the wheelchair on the paper-covered bed, without jostling her leg too much, but it was enough.

            So far, she’d been able to take her mind off the pain by distracting herself – she bickered with Sara, recited the script of The Hunger Games movie in her head while fantasising about a blond Josh Hutcherson, because Peeta was just elite like that. She’d even gone so far as to go over the division table, but now, as more attention was being placed on the broken leg, it started to hurt more and more. It was like Y/N mind-over-mattered an itching spot left by a mosquito by chanting “It’s not itchy” over and over in her head, but the second she stopped, the itching came back in full force.

            “So,” Dr. Dimple, she nicknamed him in her head, started. “What happened?”

            Y/N sighed, looking at the ceiling. “Can I just give you the not-humiliating version and say I’m a klutz?”

            He gave her a charming smile as a nurse prepped an IV line. “Unfortunately, we need to know beyond “clumsy”. The environment where this accident happened is important.”

"It could introduce pathogens into the wound," Mel, as Dr. King had requested to be called, said.

            Y/N chewed on her bottom lip before muttering, “I slipped in the shower and sprained my leg. And then got assaulted by some shampoo and conditioner bottles… and then I threw up.”

            “And don’t forget the head!” Sara said from the door where she still stood, observing the work happening.

            Y/N threw her a knowing smirk. “Never do. And I haven’t had any complaints yet.”

            “The throwing up could indicate a concussion,” Whitaker said. “Dana’s already scheduled a CT. And in terms of the leg, you actually have an open fra-,”

            Y/N took hold of Whitaker’s bicep like he’d done so for her when he’d helped wheel her inside the emergency department. “Please listen to me when I say this – unless you want me to hurl all over you, and trust me, I can aim, the only thing I have, is a sprain. Got it?”

            He gulped and nodded, stepping away from Y/N like a man who’d gotten sprayed by too many fluids in one day and didn’t want to be anywhere near the danger zone. “Loud and clear Miss Sprained-Ankle-Woman.”

            “Good.” The nausea that’d started creeping up her belly subsided. “Because I can deal with you people having to do things, but if I have to actually listen to any of it, or think about it, I will be sick.”

            “We can give you some anti-nausea medication for that,” Dr. Dimple soothed. “But first, we’ll get you a CT, and then we’ll have a surgery room prepped for you because you need to get this reset as quickly as possible. You will probably have some metal plates and screws to hold the uh… sprain together, and then a cast for about six to eight weeks.”

            “Great,” Y/N grumbled. “This is just fucking great. This is exactly how I wanted to spend my vacation, before, oh… oh, absolutely not.” Y/N’s eyes widened to a comically large size as she looked past her room and into the waiting area. “Sara, you need to get me out of here right the fuck now.”

            “Hey, woah, what is going on?” Dr. Langdon rushed to where Y/N was trying to get the IV line out. “Please don't do that, you'll only hurt yourself more.”

            “Y/N, what’s going on?” Sara’s brows were pulled tight in a frown, as she tried to help Dr. King get the oxygen monitor back onto her finger. “You need surgery, for fuck’s sake.”

            “It’s him,” she hissed, not taking her gaze away from where it’d locked on. “And I don’t want to spend a second anywhere near the dick.”

            “Who?” Sara swiveled her head to look beyond the glass separating them from the chaos beyond. “Who’s the dick?”

            “Him.”

            And then four pairs of eyes locked onto the man standing and talking with the charge nurse at The Hub, Y/N was glaring at.

            “Do – do you two know each other?” Dr. Dimple asked.  “Do you feel unsafe with him around?”

            “Yeah, you could say we know one another,” she scowled and crossed her arms as Mel managed to finally reattach the oxygen monitor, all of their attention onto her. “That’s the dude I hooked up with two weeks ago, and completely ghosted me that same morning.”

            Every single head snapped to look back at Dr. Michael “Robby” Robinavitch, who’d also finally noticed Y/N was at his workplace, as a patient no less. His eyebrows were right up to his hairline, brown eyes wide with disbelief and mouth agape as she glowered at the older man.

            It was quite a surreal moment – all of these capable doctors and residents and nurses, stunned by the information so bad, that they almost seemed to forget Y/N was there. She wondered what was going through their heads, as this seemed like it wasn’t a regular occurrence. Which stung even more – if Michael had been a fuckboy, she could take it, but it didn’t seem so. So, what was wrong with Y/N that had made him run away after the night they’d spent together?

            When they’d met at the bar, he had told her he was an emergency department attending. The big boss of his little duckling residents, dutifully running the hospital department with the help of the nurses.

Why, when Sara had finally managed to get Y/N inside the car, it hadn’t occurred to her, he would work in this particular hospital. Just why?

Y/N couldn’t say. Maybe she’d hoped he worked the night shifts. Maybe she’d hoped, he worked somewhere else, or even out of town, but, of course, for whatever sins she’d committed, karma couldn’t do her a solid one.

            Sara gasped, rushing by her side as Y/N watched Michael flounder and try and decide what to do – whether to interfere and face the music or run away from the hospital. He apparently chose the latter as he twisted on his heel and high-tailed it to the other end of the department, leaving a cackling Dana behind.

            “That’s him?” Sara strained her neck. “That’s the hot doctor?”

            Y/N scoffed. “The one and only. Couldn’t even leave a fucking note or something. Like I can take a hint a one-night-stand is a one-night-stand, alright? But don’t just fucking bolt out of the door like your ass is on fire before the other party wakes up. Fucking dickhead.”

            “Well, maybe it wasn’t as fun of a night for him, as you thought, and he didn’t want to hurt your feelings.” Sara raised a brow.

            “Oh, trust me,” Y/N smirked. “It was a very fun night for him. I would know. I was there, and you can’t fake the kind of shaking. Four hours will do that to a guy,” she winked and touched the tips of her pointer finger and thumb in an A-Okay sign.

            “Yeah,” it was Dr. Dimple smiling at her, the grin on his face almost wolfish in nature. “Yeah, you are absolutely my new favorite person in the world.”

            However, whatever he wanted to say or ask, was cut short when Dana returned to inform that her CT slot was coming up, and so Y/N was wheeled away, not daring to look at Michael as they passed one another in the hallway.

            As the results came back for a minor concussion, the anesthesiologist informed, that they recommended a spinal for the surgery, while the team prepper, but Y/N shot it down immediately.

            “Absolutely not. Look, I know it’s not safe to go to sleep after a concussion, but I will not be listening to the sounds of some bone-carpenter crunching on my leg. Put me under,” she gave him her most pathetic look. “Please.”

            The specialist still tried to argue, but he couldn’t do it much longer, as Y/N needed surgery as soon as possible, so after five minutes of strongly recommending the spinal, he relented and in half an hour, Y/N had managed to get hers – she was out like a light, without a sound in her ears.

            It was the best sleep she’d ever had in her life. Like floating on a cloud, surrounded by doves and angels singing her lullabies. She never wanted to wake up, but something was rousing her out of the blissful state.

            A large warm hand around her palm, thumb rubbing the top of it, was soothing her senses. It was like hot chocolate after being out in the sow. Or sitting by a fireplace with a blanket wrapped around your shoulders.

            “Good afternoon, Miss Sprained-Ankle,” a low, rumbly voice greeted Y/N as she floated back into consciousness. Her eyes locked onto two gentle, brown ones, and despite the medication, she knew she wasn’t hallucinating him.

            Michael’s face was beard-covered like it had been when they’d met. He still had the same worry lines on his forehead and the crow’s feet around his eyes. Y/N had said she liked those the best.

            “It shows you’ve smiled and laughed despite everything else,” she’d informed him over the rim of her Pornstar Martini.

            She couldn’t truly imagine just how draining his line of work was, both physically and mentally, but the laugh lines she could see hiding under the beard, harmonizing with those around his eyes, was a feature Y/N had noticed first.

            “So,” she slurred her tongue a swollen mass of sandpaper in her mouth, and Michael noticed that, holding a cup of water against her lips until she’d had her fill. “Do I have to keep breaking bones to wake up with you next to me?”

            “I hope not.” With gentleness Y/N knew he possessed, yet didn’t expect, he brushed away a droplet that’d slipped past her mouth, and onto her cheek. “I hope this is the only time I ever have to see you in such a state.”

            “Can’t promise that,” she shook her head. “I do have a reputation to uphold.”

            “Yeah?” amusement was evident on his weary face. “And what kind of reputation is that?”

            “When I was in first grade, on the first day of school, I broke my arm. And then like a few months later, I smashed my face against a radiator and split my lip open. Still have a scar,” she pointed right below her right nostril where a sliver of lighter skin was. “And then, but that was like third grade or something, I smashed my head against a metal railing and split my head open. I could even push my fingers inside and scrape my -,”

            “Okay, I understand,” Michael interrupted her and pulled the hand that was tapping against the hairline on her forehead. “You are an ED connoisseur, but please, don’t make this a habit.”

            “Damn, straight I am.” Y/N gave a confident nod, but before Michael could ask anything else, she said, “You know what I don’t get? Like why did my leg bone hurt while sticking out of my body, but my teeth that are sticking out right now, don’t?” She clacked them for emphasis. “They’re outside bones.”

            A soft smile bloomed on Michael’s face as he brushed a strand of hair away from her forehead. She could feel someone had put her hair in a protective style and had to wonder if it had been the man beside her. But that wouldn’t make any sense. Why would he care like that for her?

            “For one,” he muttered. “You broke your fibula – the smaller bone in your lower leg, and in doing so, hurt the surrounding things like muscles and skin. That is one reason why you felt such pain. And two – if you broke a tooth, it would hurt too. Your cavities hurt, don’t they?”

            “Mmm,” a self-satisfied smile bloomed on Y/N’s face. “I wouldn’t know. I’ve never had a cavity.”

            “That’s good. Dentists aren’t cheap.” As a response she just clacked her teeth again, making Michael laugh. “How are you feeling? Any pain? Nausea?”

            “Nope, I am A-Okay. Honestly, that was like the best sleep of my life. Well…” Y/N pouted, taking her gaze away from Michael’s. “That night when I fell asleep with you is also up in the Top 5, but then I woke up and… you know… you weren’t there.”

            She was obviously delirious from the medication being pumped through her veins, but much like when Y/N was drunk, she was a throw-up-remember-everything kind of a girl, instead of a black-out-drunk. Besides, it wasn’t like she could run anywhere. Quite literally.

            Michael sighed, dragging a hand down his face, visibly cringing at her words. “About that… I – yeah, I think the only thing I can say is I’m sorry. For, you know, ghosting, as you youngsters say.”

            “ ‘S alright.” Y/N shrugged, trying to act nonchalant, as if the second she’d seen him, she hadn’t been ready to bolt. “I’m over it.”

            “No, no it’s not okay. I shouldn’t have done that. Because that night was… great. It was amazing, actually. And everything leading up to the uh, you… you know, the...” he cleared his throat, and a smirk pulled up on Y/N’s lips.

            “The sex? Come on, you can say it in your big old man age. It’s just three letters.”

            “Jesus Christ.” Michael rubbed his neck as a slight pink shade crawled up his neck, which made Y/N let out a chuckle at how uncomfortable he looked talking about this. Maybe it was time to let this go, for his sake and her own sanity.

        ��   “Look, if it makes you feel any better,” Y/N shifted to the edge of the mattress and patted the side of her bed, so he could sit down. After asking if she was sure, he did take the offered space. “I – I’ve been treating you a bit unfairly with this. I think my ego was a bit crushed after waking up and not having you there, but, umm… you’re off the hook. Besides, I think I’m in your debt with all of this. Your team is amazing.”

            “They’re pretty great, aren’t they?” he mumbled, one of his hands having moved to toy with the wristband the hospital had assigned to Y/N. “But still, how I reacted then, and even earlier in the morning… it wasn’t right. I mean, I’m pushing fifty for fuck’s sake. That’s not what someone my age does.”

            “So what?” she raised a brow. “The issue is you think you’re a cradle-robber? Because you’re no more that than I am a grave robber. I’m twenty-six, Michael,” she turned her palm up hoping he’d accept it and slide his hand in hers. After a moment of hesitancy, he did, and Y/N squeezed it in reassurance. “I mean, if you think you’re doing something bad, by having slept with someone two decades younger than you, I’ll have you know, according to regency times, as a woman who’ll be turning twenty-seven this year, I’m pretty much a decrepit old spinster.”

            Michael let out a soft laugh as his fingers trailed the lines on Y/N’s palm. “You have your whole life ahead of you. Me? I’m your probably dad’s age.”

            “And looking hotter than ever, if you ask me.”

            “Yeah? You think so?” He asked as Y/N hummed in affirmation. “Well then, for a decrepit old spinster, you are beautiful. And acting with much more grace than I deserved or deserve.”

            Something in the way he said those last few words made her heart squeeze. “Michael… of course you deserve grace.”

            “You’re being far too good to me… you’re far too good for me…”

            Y/N’s brows furrowed at that. Slowly, she attempted to rise in a sitting position, but she didn’t get far before Michael had his arms around her waist, like they’d been two weeks ago, pushing a pillow to stabilize the small of her back. Once he was sure she was comfortable, he opened an apple juice box and handed it to her.

            “To get your sugar up.”

            But she just stared at him, only reaching for the little carton after he’d resumed his previous sitting position. “Is that what this is about?” she asked. “Some insecurity you think I deserve better than you? Because I can decide those things for myself. I am an adult. With a fully-developed frontal lobe, mind you.”

            He took in a deep breath, held it for a second, then released it, and Y/N watched that whatever kind of decision he’d come to, had released a certain tension that’d been accumulating in his body. “Kind of, I guess. But mostly…” he swallowed, then nodded to himself, eyes trained on her wristband. “Mostly I got scared.”

            “Of what?” Y/N tilted her head. “I mean, I know my morning breath probably isn’t that attractive, and the smeared makeup made me look like a coked-out raccoon, but -,”

            “No,” Michael shook his head, chuckling. His cheeks were reddish at her words, but as he lifted his eyes to hers, there was a grateful look to them. Like he was thankful she wasn’t making fun of him even in his ripe old age. “You,” he stumbled over his words a bit, “when I saw you there, sleeping by my side like you belonged… I don’t think I’ve ever seen anything more beautiful than that. And that’s when I thought to myself – if I worked up the courage, could there be more mornings like that? Could I make you breakfast and coffee one day? Maybe I’d get the privilege of falling asleep next to you as we watch movies at night. And that scared me.”

            “The possible future?”

            “Wanting that possible future, because that feeling, the one that started to grow right here,” he tapped the center of his chest. “I couldn’t think straight. So, I had to go.”

            “I mean,” Y/N swallowed hard. “That is a lot to imagine after only a few hours together.”

            “Does that… creep you out? ‘Cause it’s totally understandable if it does. I mean Jesus, I’m old… and you’re so young.”

            “No, it doesn’t.” And she meant it when she said it. “I find it actually quite endearing, but you can stop being so hung-up on the age difference. If you think there might be some daddy issues on my side, I can assure you – there’s none. I quite like my dad, and I definitely don’t see you as such a figure. Not after the things you did to me. ‘Cause, quite honestly, sex with you was probably the best dicking-down I’ve had in a year.”

            If Michael had been drinking anything, Y/N was sure he would have choked with how he sputtered at her words. “Well, uh, yeah, I uh… I’m glad you… enjoyed it.”

            “I did. And I know you enjoyed it too,” her smile was nothing short of wicked.

            “Yeah, and apparently now the rest of the residents and nurses and doctors know it too?” Michael raised his brows at her.

            It took Y/N a while to realize he was talking about when she’d gotten admitted and spilt the beans on their night together, implying their copious amount of copulation. “Hey, don’t shoot the messenger, but I’d like to think your reputation has now gone sky-high between the female nurses and doctors. Maybe the guys and theys as well. But I do apologize for talking about your private life while at your work. In my defense, until that very moment, I didn’t know you worked here. And well, I was pissed.”

            “You and your mouth will get you in trouble one day,” Michael pointed at her.

            “Yeah? Would you like to put something in it, to shut me up? Last time, you really liked it when I -,”

            “Okay, trouble, that’s enough.” Even though his words had a finality to them, humor glowed on his features. He seemed relaxed. Content even, as he took the now empty apple juice box Y/N had been sipping on this whole time.

            “You on a break?” She started scooting down the bed once more, and Michael instantly helped her get situated.

            “Want to get rid of me so quickly?”

            “No. It’s just you’re spending an awfully long time with me. Don’t you have other patients to check in on? I don’t want you to waste your time if you need to get to someone else. Or maybe grab a bite to eat? I’m fairly sure doctors don’t know how to have a good work-life balance, despite continuously recommending it to us, mere mortals.”

            “Time with you isn’t a waste.”

            Oh.

            Oh, how badly did Y/N want to rip off the little wires connecting her to the heart monitor, because had Michael not turned the sound off, she was sure the whole hospital would be hearing it go nuts at his words, the squiggling beat of it a treat for only Michael this time, because when he noticed it, a smirk bloomed on his mouth. He didn’t say anything, but he didn’t need to, not when he murmured, twining their fingers together, “I want to kiss you so bad.”

            “I definitely won’t be opposed to that.” Y/N’s answer might have come way too quickly, but she was beyond feeling embarrassed about wanting him. “You have permission to kiss away. For as long as possible. All day, every day, whenever you want to.”

            “Well, thank you for that,” Michael chuckled, cupping her cheek, and she leaned into the touch. “But… not right now. Let me take you out on a proper date. Let me do this right.”

            “Oh my God, seriously?” Y/N whined throwing her head back. “You’re gonna make me wait? Especially after that whole speech and whatnot? You are a cruel, cruel man Dr. Michael Robinavitch.”

            Slowly, without breaking eye contact, he leaned to hover over Y/N, a golden necklace slipping from the inside of his shirt and dangling before her. She wanted to pull it between her teeth like she’d done so during their one night together. It took every dwindling ounce of willpower not to.

            “Maybe, I just want you aching. And yearning. You were the one who said men don’t yearn enough nowadays. But I have. For you, for two whole god-damned weeks. Now it’s your turn.”

            It was pathetic how Y/N wanted to cry and whimper. “But I didn’t even do anything! You were the one that ran out! Why am I being punished for your actions?”

            “Do you – do you not want to go on a date with me?”

            “I do, but I’d rather you rail me as soon as possible.”

            “Well, for one,” Michael tried to continue on as if Y/N’s words hadn’t made heat creep up his face, but he could only do so much. He was a human, after all. “You’re not allowed any strenuous activities until you’ve got a clean bill of health. And two, all teasing aside, I want to do this properly. I want to do right by you this time.”

            “Why would you?” she exasperated. “I wasn’t complaining when you didn’t do it right by me, and I’m certainly not going to if you suddenly decide to stop being chivalrous. Maybe even right here. We could recreate some scene from Grey’s Anatomy?” Y/N wiggled her brows at him, eliciting a deep rumble of a chuckle.

            “Grey’s is just a malpractice lawsuit after a malpractice lawsuit, and I, unlike the characters there, don’t want my medical license to be revoked. Until you get discharged, I’m one of your doctors.”

            “My hot doctor, you mean.”

            The sigh that left Michael was not weary or a worn-out kind of noise. Rather it was a resigned I-guess-this-is-my-life-now kind of a sigh, especially combined with the endearing look on his face, it made Y/N feel warm all over.

            Slowly, as they talked a bit more, her eyes began to droop, exhaustion from the morning, from the surgery and the subsequent consequences settling in once more. “Will you stay?” she asked as Michael brushed a knuckle along her jaw. “Just until I fall asleep?”

            “Of course,” Michael took her hand in his, sitting down by her side again, as he pressed a kiss to her wrist. “And I… I wish I could promise I’ll be here when you wake up, but I, -”

            “I know,” Y/N interrupted him with a soft and understating smile. “By that point, you’ll probably be off saving lives. It’s why I’m not asking you to.”

            “I’ll try though.” He promised.

            “Okay.”

            And with her hand still in Michael’s, Y/N drifted off once again without even realizing it was pitch-black outside, and Michael hadn’t been wearing his shift scrubs. He should have long been home resting, and yet, he hadn’t been able to leave her. Not like he did before.

            By the time she awoke early the next morning, Y/N was clearheaded, and yet all her thoughts mulled over the conversation she’d had with Michael the previous night. Would he go back on his word? Had he only talked with her like that because she was high on pain meds, and maybe thought she wouldn’t remember their discussions?

            She knew he hadn’t promised to be there when she awoke, so Y/N didn’t hold it against him, but she couldn’t deny the sting. But that was immediately soothed by the hoodie that’d been laid over the back of a chair.

            His hoodie.

            A promise he would at least have a reason to come back and check in on her. It was Dana, the charge nurse, peeking her head inside that pulled Y/N back into the present. “How are we feeling today? Ready to be discharged? Dr. Langdon will be with you shortly for a follow-up.”

            The woman in the hospital bed groaned. “Can’t I just stay here? Like you people – you are normal. Sara will be a mother hen on crack. I am willing to brave hospital food, as long as I don’t have to go home to all that fussing. She’s probably already bullied our landlord into installing a lift or something.”

            “She cares for you,” it was Dr. Langdon piping in, as he entered her room, pulling on a pair of gloves and nodding to Dana in thanks. “You’re pretty lucky to have a friend like her.”

            “Yeah, I know,” Y/N sighed as Dr. Langdon looked over her leg, asked some questions about pain levels and talked her through the post-op care. “But in my defense, she has a tendency to overreact.”

            “I’d say you have a tendency to underreact, but that’s just my professional opinion.”

            She rolled her eyes as Dr. Langdon finished his assessment and handed off her chart to Dana, so they could start the discharge process. “God forbid a girl has hobbies.”

            “In any case, I do think the whole ED is in debt to Sara.”

            To that she raised a brow.

            “Well, had she not made you come in, I don’t know if Dr. Robby would have had a chance of seeing you again. Because, if I have to be honest, we’ve all been scratching our heads the past couple of weeks trying to figure out why he’s been in such a mood. Now we know why.”

            “You two shit-talking me?” Michael’s soft tone interrupted the conversation, as he crossed his arms and leaned against the entryway. “How are you feeling?”

            She tried and failed to hide the heat creeping up her veins. Even if Y/N had succeeded, that damned monitor, the sound no doubt having been turned back on by Michael before he left, to make sure if anything went awry at night, someone was there for her, betrayed her anyway. God, she wanted to punch the smile off both the men's faces.

            “Fine.” She turned her head to look at the wall, as a nurse stepped in and removed the IV catheter and wrapped her hand in gauze. “Not looking forward to the itching that will appear, in what? Three days?”

            “No scratching,” Dr. Dimple pointed at her with a pen. “You could injure yourself and cause a serious infection. No rulers, no knitting needles, no crochet needles, no twigs or branches, no nothing.”

            “But what about -,”

            “No nothing,” he emphasized. “Or I will have to recommend Dr. Robby make a house call on you. Though that isn’t much of a threat for you two, is it?”

            “Okay, Frank? Scram. Now. There’re patients that need checking on. I can take care of Y/N.”

            “Yeah, I bet you can,” Dr. Langdon let out a laugh but was out of the room before either she or Michael could say anything.

            The only thing Y/N was happy about, was that the comment had made not only her flustered, but Michael as well, as he shifted on his feet and rubbed the back of his neck in a nervous tick. In the end, he gave her a smile that said “Sorry about him” and padded over to where he’d left his hoodie.

            And that only made her even more flustered, because seeing a man like him, so level-headed and sure, get visibly nervous over her, did things to Y/N. Which made her want to do things to Michael, but then Dana returned, two crutches in hand, Whitaker wheeling a wheelchair once more, and all passion slipped away.

            “Right, thanks.” She eyed the crutches like they were cow-eating pythons. “I fucking hate my life.”

            Low, warm laughter filtered through the room as Dana helped Y/N get redressed and situated her in the wheelchair, crutches placed over her knees as she was rolled to the nurse’s station.

            “I uh, took the liberty of calling Sara for you,” Michael said as he leaned against the table. When Y/N raised a brow in question, he elaborated, “She’s in your emergency contacts. Should be here in fifteen or so.”

            “Thank you. You didn’t have to do that, you know.”

            “I know,” he smiled. “But I wanted to.”

            And there it was again, that warmth that blossomed in her chest, only this time she let it spread, let it wrap around her heart and wash away that bitterness, that’d been there since the morning Y/N had woken up cold and alone.

            It hadn’t been just the sex, though that night Michael had given her some of the most earth-shattering orgasms she’d ever had (thankfully, Sara had been away with her girlfriend, so she didn’t have to suffer through the teasing).

            It was the conversations leading up to it, the sense of ease Y/N felt around Michael. He was witty and sarcastic, his humor dry, but not at the expense of others while being engaging and thought-provoking at the same time. What had sealed the deal for her though was when he actually engaged in the debate, she presented him – if he had to kiss a fish-spider hybrid, what would he choose – fish head, spider body or fish body, spider head?

            He’d made her laugh so hard she cried, and when Y/N had deemed it was time to call an Uber and go home, she’d taken the risk and asked if he wanted to come to her place. And after a few moments where she wanted the earth to open and swallow her whole, he’d nodded.

            Together they waited for the cab, standing side by side, yet not touching. He’d opened the car door for her, before slipping in himself.

            The tension could be cut with a knife, and afterwards, Y/N had given the driver five stars for enduring it, while the whole way, one of Michael’s palms had slowly moved to rest against her thigh, and she’d had to clench them together because if she didn’t, there would be a noticeable wet spot underneath.

            After an agonizing half an hour's drive, they finally got to her place. Michael held the door open for her, and insisted on paying for the Uber, no matter how much Y/N protested.

            Every step towards the apartment she was renting on the fourth floor of the complex, was agony. As she fumbled for her keys, Michael’s fingers were slowly skimming the side of her dress where the zipper rested.

            Y/N’s whole body was a live-wire, and she wondered how in the world had the lock not melted from the heat, as it slid in place and she unlocked the door, the motion now forever having a sexual connotation, for in that moment Michael was the key that would unlock her desires.

            Together, they stepped beyond the threshold, and yet still, he never once removed his touch from her body. From that damned little black number. She’d only worn it because she’d been set up on a blind date. They were supposed to meet up at the bar for a drink before going to a play, but as it turns out, even guys who like theatre can ghost.

            When Y/N realized the situation, she wanted to go home, as her date was the one who had the tickets, pull this thing off and drink the already opened bottle of wine that was in the fridge, but she could have at least one good cocktail before that.

            That’s when Dr. Robby, or as he’d asked her to call him by his first name, Michael, slid into the seat next to her. They didn’t talk for the first five minutes, not until she’d been scrolling through Instagram and some post had caught her eye. Something about green tea enemas and glowing skin, and the man beside had released a heavy-duty sigh, accompanied by “fucking Dr. Google.”

            It’s when slowly but surely, they’d struck up a conversation, which had now resulted in Y/N having Michael towering over her, his beard scratching against the crook of her neck where he’d placed his chin.

            When his hands wove and settled against her stomach, any sort of resolve she’d had, snapped. Instantly, she turned, weaving her arms around his neck and pulling his mouth to hers in a bruising kind of kiss. The kind that left you breathless and dizzy and wanting more.

            She felt an insatiable thrill rush down her spine as Michael responded with just as much vigor, the pads of his fingers digging deep into her hips and pulling her to be flush against his chest, so much so, that Y/N could feel his own desire growing in his groin.

            “I’ve never hated clothes more than I do right now,” she giggled as Michael grappled with the door handle and pushed it close without disconnecting from one another.

            “Then let’s get them off, shall we?”

            The way he dragged the side zipper open, was almost reverent, worshipping even. Like he wanted to prolong the build-up between them, and Y/N couldn’t lie – she was loving it, even if she was losing her mind. So many times, when she’d had hook-ups, guys tended to just get her naked as fast as possible, which was fine. She was down for it, but there was something indescribable about how Michael reveled in feeling her slowly start to tremble, in how he kissed up and down her neck, while his fingers took their sweet time. It drove her insane with want, in an amount she’d never felt before.

            His pointer finger dragged its way up Y/N’s bicep, making goosebumps erupt all over before he slowly slid a strap down. Then the other, until the dress was pooling around her waist, and still, where usually she’d be helping the guy shimmy herself out of the dress, Michael didn’t rush. He simply allowed his hands to explore her body, skimming along her ribs and up to the black lacy number she’d worn, then right back down.

            “You counting if I have all my ribs in place, Dr. Robby?” Y/N let out a shaky breath, trying to alleviate the gathered tension, for she was just about to combust, but all she got was a soft smile as he leaned down and pressed a kiss to her neck where her pulse was visibly thrumming.

            “I don’t have much time in my day to stop and admire art. So please, indulge me. And art, which I’m allowed to touch, should be revered even more so.”

            Her eyes may or may not have rolled to the back of her head at his words, and he hadn’t even gotten his head between her legs yet. Yeah, Dr. Michael “Robby” Robinavitch, the attending of a trauma centre, would be the death of her.

Name of the deceased - Y/N Y/L/N. Date of death - 4th of April, 2025. Cause of death – self-combustion. Reason for self-combustion – a sexy as fuck doctor.

            Quite honestly, if that was how she was going to go, so be it.

            Finally, though, after what felt like ages, her dress was shed, leaving her only in her underwear and strappy high-heels she’d worn.

            “If there is one thing I hate, it’s not having a photographic memory,” Michael grumbled as his hands skimmed along the waistband of her panties. “But trust me when I say this, I will be picturing this moment for decades to come.”

            “You are more than welcome to have a look at what’s hiding underneath,” Y/N said. Or that is what she would have said, had she not simply whimpered in response. Not very sexy of her, but the feeling of his chest rumbling with a laugh, totally made up for it.

            She gathered enough of her bearings to step out of the fabric around her feet and move them along to her room. Never did his eyes leave her, never did his gaze waver or wander as they faced one another, her queen-sized bed behind her.

            “You are awfully overdressed,” Y/N mumbled, allowing herself the luxury of running her palms along the still-covered planed of his chest. His breathing was steady, but to feel the erratic thumping of his heart excited her beyond measure. It meant all that composure was just an act, and she was thrilled she’d be the one to crack it.

            She was just about to move her fingers to the buttons of his shirt when Michael slid down to his knees. If his hands hadn’t been resting against her thighs, she was sure she would’ve buckled and crashed. And Michael, damn the man to hell and back, knew it, if only by the smirk that stretched his face as he unlaced the strappy heels she had on and helped her stand on her feet.

            Y/N covered her face and groaned, throwing her head back. “You’re enjoying this, aren’t you? Torturing me?”

            “Torturing you?” A kiss against her navel. “The only person being tortured tonight has been me. At the bar. In the car. Even now, you’re driving me crazy. So, if this is torture, simply consider it payback.”

            With the gentlest of touches, only a doctor could manage, Michael skimmed over Y/N’s stretchmarks, scars and blemishes – pieces of herself she didn’t particularly like, but the way he touched her… it was like he was mapping out the carve-marks of a Michelangelo statue. She was Venus and those – the history of her life.

            By the time he got back up to her mouth, she was a trembling mess, her nails digging into the muscles of his back, as finally, to her relief, he allowed her to rid him of the shirt.

            Much like he’d done to her, Y/N allowed herself the pleasure of exploring his body, mapping out the ridges and slopes of his chest and abdomen, before moving around to his back, and once they made their way to the small of it, she dug her nails against the skin there. The groan she was rewarded with, was sweeter than the cocktail he’d bought her.

            “Is it okay, if I touch you here?” Michael’s fingers slipped along the tops of her breasts before they moved to her back where they toyed with the clasp of the garment.

            “More than,” Y/N’s words were a breathless whisper by that point, and her inhale stuttered in her chest as she deftly snapped it open.

            It was clear he had experience, and not just because he was two decades her senior, but probably also because he’d done so in the trauma center, he worked at. For a brief, stupid second, she wondered how he could still find such acts pleasurable when he’d no doubt had to have done it during horrendous emergencies, yet all that was wiped away when Michael lowered his head and his teeth grazed a nipple.

            Her sharp gasp echoed around them, and Y/N weaved her fingers through his hair, pushing his face closer, as he lavished at her chest. The next day, she was sure, there would be bruises and love bites blooming like flowers across her chest and sternum, not to mention the delicious beard burn.

            Y/N moaned as he pulled the peak into his mouth, but when an uninhibited thought entered, it made her throw it back in a deep groan.

            “That feel good?”

            “So fucking good, but also, so yeah, I,” she stammered trying to get her brain to cooperate and create a coherent sentence. “Okay, so I just imagined you in glasses, and this got like ten times hotter.”

            “Glasses?” Michael chuckled, pulling slightly back and looking up at her. “That’s what does it for you?”

            “Correction – you in glasses. Though you right now are so doing it for me too. But that image just… yeah… kinda glad you don’t have any on. I’d probably be a pile of ash by this point.”

            “Now that would be a shame, wouldn’t it?” He said, slowly moving to her other breast, but not neglecting the one he’d already loved on, by cupping it in his large palm. “I mean, I’m just getting started.”

            Yeah, Y/N was dead and done for.

            As he continued licking at her chest, the hand that’d been fondling one of them, slid down her front and tentatively brushed against her clothed core. It was a single knuckle right against where her clit was, but it was enough for her to jolt in his grasp. Michael just steadied her and held tighter around her waist.  

            Once he deemed Y/N’s breasts worshipped enough, he trailed back up between them and covered her mouth with his, yet the knuckle, that damned fucking knuckle, still slid against her pussy. He could no doubt feel how wet she was, the material, though there wasn’t much of it anyway, soaked through so bad, her thighs were already sticky.

            “Michael please,” Y/N was now openly begging. She was way beyond feeling embarrassed for such a move when in the span of half an hour, he’d reduced her to liquid fire. No one had ever made her feel this wanted. This needed. And she desperately wanted and needed him too.

            “Tell me what you want,” he murmured, as he pushed his thumbs beyond the waistband of her panties and started to lower them down. The cool air hit her exposed core, and Y/N released a breathless moan. “You gotta tell me what you want and don’t want. I’m not gonna go any further until you do.”

            “I want you to touch me.”

            “I am touching you.”

            She could feel him smirk as his hands took hold of the globes of her ass and squeezed.

            “No, I want you to touch me there,” Y/N whined and tried to chase his mouth with hers, but Michael pulled back, shaking his head.

            “Gotta be more specific than that, sweetheart.”

            She debated on pulling away completely, on not giving him what he wanted either, but she was pathetic for this man. So, instead, she took one of his hands and guided it from where it rested against her ass, towards the front, sighing in relief as he let her do so. With her fingers guiding his, they slid to rest between her legs as Michael slowly, ever so exploratory, found her clit. She pressed her hand harder against his, so he could match the pressure on her core, and when he did so, overwhelming pleasure flooded her veins.

            “There,” Y/N breathed. “I want you to touch me there. And then,” she moved his hand deeper, by the wrist, until she could feel the pads of his fingers nudging against her entrance. “I want you to put three of your fingers inside me, while you suck on my clit, until I’m a crying mess.”

            As Y/N lifted her head back to look at him, there was absolutely no sign of the warm brown irises that’d looked at her so gently at the bar. Sure, it was dark in the apartment, yet even in bright daylight, she’d bet all her student loans, only two black abysses would be staring back at her, especially with how fast his chest was rising and falling.

            “And then?”

            God, had his voice dropped even lower? How did he manage to make it so gravelly, yet smooth as the darkest, most succulent chocolate?

            “And then…” Her fingers trembled as she moved her hands to the front of his pants, undoing the buckle and flipping open the button, lowering the zipper as she went. All the while, Michael applied steady pressure on her clit, circling the bundle of nerves just enough to drive her towards the edge, but not enough for release to come. “And uhm, then…” She pushed his pants down as far as they would go, letting them bunch around his knees.

            It took barely a moment for him to step out of them completely, kicking them to some forgotten corner of her room, leaving him in only his boxers. Somewhere along the way he’d lost the shoes and socks, but Y/N wasn’t about to go and hunt for them. Not with how he still circled her clit with those experienced appendages.

            “Yes?” He raised a brow and pressed harder against her clit, making her pull in a sharp breath.

            “And then,” Y/N trailed a teasing finger along the band of his boxers, for once delighting in how his abdomen muscles went taut, and his obviously hard dick twitched inside the confines. “And then I want you to fuck me. However, you want to. As long as by the end of it, neither of us know up from down and left from right.”

            When she cupped him over the clothes he still had left on, it seemed like it snapped something in Michael, some taut, already fragile wire, that’d begun fraying ever since she’d invited him back to her place. Because this time when he kissed Y/N, it was a hungry kiss. A man starved being served the most lavish meal of all.

            She was on the mattress in a matter of seconds, body covered by his towering frame. They molded perfectly together, Y/N thought. When she rolled her hips up to get at least some form of friction, he responded in kind, clearly searching to satiate his own desire.

            Michael’s hands slid from her shoulders down the length of her arms before intertwining their fingers and bringing them up and over Y/N’s head, not once disconnecting from the kiss.

            “You keep them there,” he instructed, breathing the words into her mouth. “And when I’m done with my appetizer, we’ll move on to the first of the main courses.”

            “Appetizer?” Y/N squeaked out. A good hook-up in her books was at least two orgasms, usually only having one. But calling eating her out an appetizer, and then having a numbered list of courses, was something else completely.

            Michael’s only response was that same damned smirk she’d learned could only mean torture, as he made his way between her legs, and without wasting another second, diving in between them.

            The first lick of his tongue was a broad, all-encompassing one. And Y/N could only hope her neighbors had some good noise-cancelling headphones at the ready.

            His forearms had settled against her hips and palms splayed themselves over her stomach to push her down against the bed, as she tried to chase his mouth.

            And what a mouth it was.

            Who knew the soft-spoken trauma doctor she’d met on a random Friday night at a bar while waiting for a date that never came, would be the creation of the Devil himself?

            But when he pushed two thick fingers inside, shortly followed by a third, just like Y/N had asked, all thoughts flew out of the window. The way he curled them in an attempt at finding that spot that made her gasp and choke on air, the way he scissored them, stretching her, preparing her for the first course he had in mind, was diabolical.

            Her first orgasm came unexpectedly. She could feel it like a wave – pushing and pulling – but she hadn’t expected the moment it crested and shattered against the rocks, swift and sharp, coming without a warning, all due to the teasing that’d happened before, no doubt.

            Michael rode it out with Y/N, until her hips stopped grinding against his mouth, and he could gently remove his fingers from her pussy.

            He placed a soft kiss against the inside of her thigh, the skin raw and tender from his beard, that now glistened with her juices.

            “ ‘M sorry,” Y/N mumbled, an arm thrown over her eyes as she came down from her high and tears streamed down to her temples, just like she’d requested.

            “Whatever for?”

            “Didn’t warn you I was coming.”

            As the aftershocks receded, and she removed her arm, she found Michael looking up at her completely puzzled. “And why would I need a warning? I could tell, you know.” He rose to hover over her. “The way you were clenching. Fucking proud of it too.”

            “No, I mean,” she huffed, trailing a hand down his chest. “Sometimes guys don’t want to… you know… have that in their mouth. They’d rather finish a girl off with their fingers and not have to… taste it.”

            Now that was one way to kill a mood, but Y/N had already opened her big mouth and the words were out.

            “And why wouldn’t I want to taste it, hmm?” Michael tilted his head at her, as his hands drifted up and down her sides, over her breasts and clavicles, to skim along her neck and finally settle on the pillow beside her head. “Why wouldn’t I want that, when it’s the end goal? You got your tears,” he kissed the corners of her eyes where the salt still lingered. “And I got my wine.”

            Her gaze drifted to the beard, the one she would be feeling for days to come, as she went about her life. The one that was glistening with the remnants of her orgasm even in the dark, and Y/N wondered, what it would be like to sit atop it. To have him pull her down by the waist as she claimed his mouth for her throne. They were such salacious thoughts, for a moment, embarrassment flushed through her, but come on! After such an eating out, Y/N was allowed to fantasize.

            “And by the end of this, if you let me,” Michael mumbled, a golden chain dangling in between them. Quickly she snatched it between her teeth and pulled, making him come closer. “I’d like to do so at least once more.”

            “You are absolutely welcome to it. Morning, noon and night.”

            But at that moment, Y/N had no intentions of allowing him to go for another round, as when he leaned down for a kiss, she lifted a leg over his hip and twisted, throwing Michael off his balance and onto his back, with her now on top.

            “But right now… you had your starter.” She gave him a wicked grin. “And I’ve yet to still have mine.”

            “Fuck me,” was all he managed to groan out as he threaded a hand through his hair, head pressed tight against her silk-covered pillows while Y/N rid him of his boxers.

            His length sprang free, thick and aching. It slapped against his abdomen and her hand curled around it immediately to give him some sort of relief, precum dripping from the tip. Or maybe, she intended to do quite the opposite.

            He’d taken his sweet fucking time riling her up. She could take hers. But it was the way he let out the smallest of “please”, the way his eyes locked onto hers, practically begging to put him out of his misery, that did her in. She’d tease him come morning. For now, she was way too aroused herself to deprive her body of his any longer.

            Y/N gathered a bit of saliva in her mouth and let it drip down onto his length, before dragging her tongue along the vein at the base of it, her lips wrapping around the tip as she made her way up and giving it a gentle, yet firm, suck.

            Michael’s hips jolted, and a hand grasped onto her head. He didn’t push it down or pull her hair in any way, more so it seemed he needed something solid to hold onto as she pulled his length into her mouth, until it hit the back of her throat, making both of them choke.

            “You don’t need to do that,” Michael started, ready to pull Y/N away if it became too much for her, but she stayed there, relaxing her muscles bit by bit, until he was so deep down her throat, her nose brushed against the hairs of his pelvis.

            “Fucking. Hell.” Those were the only two words he managed to express before Y/N trailed her mouth up and started to really suck him off. After that, it was just grunts and groans, his hand tightening and then unclenching in her hair, but never pressing, never pushing her to take more than she wanted to. Michael was completely immersed with her pace, and ready to take whatever she gave him.

            That sort of power could make anyone lightheaded, and when Y/N started to feel him twitch in her mouth, she pulled completely off.

            Instantly, his eyes snapped open, head rising to look at how she climbed his body and settled her knees around his hips, pressing her core down against his length. She was just about ready to let it slide inside when Michael’s hands closed around her waist and stopped her.

            “Condom,” he breathed out, chest rising and falling rapidly, probably the only word he could manage, which was great, because at least one of them still had some thinking skills left.

            “Shit. Fuck. Right, yeah.”

            Leaning over to her nightstand, Y/N half-fell over the bed to open the lowest drawer. In between her panties and vibrator, was a little foil packet which she fished out. She was glad of Michael’s unwavering hold, because the way she was precariously dangling over the edge, could end badly and with a stupidly gotten concussion.

            When she was back to straddling him, opening the packet and rolling the condom on his length, their eyes met.

            Michael rubbed his thumb in a circle on her hip. “We can always stop if you don’t want to go any further.”

            “I’m not a quitter,” Y/N scoffed, yet it didn’t elicit the smile she was aiming for, as he rose into a sitting position, wrapping his arms around her, hers resting onto his shoulders.

            “And this isn’t some race or competition. You can revoke consent anytime you want. And so can I.”

            “I know that,” Y/N nodded, her gaze softening at his words. He could easily create a power imbalance between them. With double the decades of age and experience on her, Michael could be pushing at her limits, trying to twist things into teaching her how to properly please a guy and so on, yet throughout all of it, his focus had been zeroed in on her wants and needs. She shifted a bit in her lap at the thought that she hadn’t checked in with him. “Do you want to stop?”

            “No.” His voice was soft but sure, and then, after a moment of him searching her eyes, the smile she’d hoped for, formed on his face. “But uh, and that is obviously if you are alright with it, I wouldn’t be opposed to adding your… friend… to our activities sometime later.”

            “My friend?” Y/N tilted her head in confusion. “Oh…” A furious heat exploded through her body, and not because of the fact Michael’s cock was slowly rubbing against her clit, the head nudging just right for pleasure to zing through her.

            He’d obviously noticed her vibrator, though the bright purple shade would be hard to miss. “You’re not turned off by it?”

            “Why would I be? You’re a woman who has needs. And if that’s how you take care of them, it’s completely fine. I mean, as long as you’re being hygienic and safe about it. Besides,” Michael breathed against her neck, as his hand slid between their bodies and he grasped himself, lining the tip up with Y/N’s entrance. “Real men see them as tools to use to their advantage, not competition. And well, not to stroke my own ego,” he smirked, “but I don’t think I have any competition here.”

            Y/N wanted to call him out for that statement, but he wasn’t lying. Not with the way his length stretched her out as he pushed inside. The fingering beforehand was incomparable to the feel of Michael sliding inside at a slow and agonizing pace, but one she desperately needed and welcomed.

            He was thick and veiny, all ridges and girth, and so, so perfect for her.

            It took a minute for him to be fully sheathed, and a minute more for Y/N to adjust, her forehead pressed against his, while he rubbed his hands up and down her back while she settled.

            This wasn’t fucking. This was sex. This was intimate, and it was something she hadn’t known she’d wanted from a partner. Usually, it was fast and hard, leaving both her and the guy she was with, panting against the sheets. Satisfied in the sense that both (hopefully) had had orgasms, but something was always missing. Now, Y/N knew it was this – time.

            Time spent exploring one another, time spent learning and teaching, and time spent simply enjoying each other’s bodies.

            “You good?” Michael muttered, shifting ever so slightly and making the tip catch a spot inside of her, Y/N had only reached with her purple “friend”.

            “Yeah,” she nodded. “You?”

            “Yeah.” Michael kissed her. Whether as an affirmation of his words or simply because he could, she didn’t know. But neither did she care. He was the best kisser she’d had the opportunity to enjoy, so she’d take it.

            While they kissed, Michael started moving. At first, it was slow rolls of hips, figuring out what movements made both of their breaths hitch and hearts pound, but it wasn’t long before Michael was on his back, knees bent as Y/N bounced up and down, his thumb pressed against her clit the whole time.

            Her second orgasm of the night was a more controlled approach. She could feel the coil tightening in her abdomen, and when Michael started lifting his hips up to meet hers, Y/N listed forward, balancing herself against his chest.

            “You gonna come?” he breathed against her ear as she pressed her chest against his, Michael’s hands wrapping along the small of her back and holding onto it, so he could fuck up into her pussy. “I can feel you clenching around me. Fuck, you feel good.”

            “Michael,” Y/N moaned his name. Not Dr. Robby or Robby how he’d explained the people in his life called him, but the name he’d asked her to call him. His real name.

            One snap, two, three. That was all it took for heat to explode. The only grounding thing in the world was his scent – some form of cheap cologne, antiseptic and sweat, but she knew she still had a long way before she came down, with how he was drilling up inside of her, chasing his own release.

            It elicited another, albeit smaller orgasm, but the most pleasure she got was when she realized he’d come with her as his palms grabbed onto her ass and pulled her sharply down, her name a sweet grunt on his lips against her ear.

            Yeah. Y/N needed to go out with more doctors. At least they knew where to find the clit and not neglect it once they had.

            He brought a hand up to her face and pulled her by the cheek to meet his mouth, a satisfied sigh leaving her as he did so.          

            “That was the best one yet,” Y/N mumbled against his lips.

            “And the night’s still young.”

            They went three more rounds after that (because she only had three more condoms, and she’d rather use them on one man who knew how to make her come three more times, than three men, who would have trouble getting one out of her).

            Michael was also a man of his word, as he had her vibrator join in on the fun. Y/N had her ass up in the air while he railed her from behind, an arm wrapped around her middle, pressing the toy to her clit, the vibrations sending pleasure unlike any other through her.

            His front was flush to her back, beard having left delicious burns down her spine, as he’d kissed her there, before eating her out once more in between the rounds and pushing his again-hard cock inside.

            That was the final orgasm she could manage, and it seemed Michael knew it. It was the kind that not only made her legs, but her whole body shake, leaving Y/N a trembling mess against the sheets, while he soothed her through the aftershocks.

            “You with me, sweetheart?” he mumbled against her temple as he gathered her in his arms and laid them side by side.

            “Jus’ give me a momen’,” Y/N slurred while Michael brushed a finger from her cheek to her jaw and back. “I think I’m a medical fucking miracle with how you just fucked my brains out, and yet, I can still function. Barely though.”

            Michael’s chuckle reverberated through her body, as after she’d recovered slightly, he gathered her up and moved them to where she instructed the bathroom was, to make sure she peed and didn’t get a UTI. If these had been normal circumstances, she would have never let a guy see her peeing, but quite honestly, Y/N wasn’t sure she’d be able to get back from the toilet seat on her own.

            “You’re more than welcome to have a shower if you want. Of course, only if you’re down with smelling like peaches or passion fruit.” Y/N nudged her chin towards the shower gels lining the floor, one hers, the other Sara’s.

            “I wouldn’t be opposed to, but only if you join me.”

            She hissed, biting her lip. “I don’t have any condoms left. Besides, from what I’ve heard and read, shower sex can be quite precarious. I’m surprised that you as a trauma doctor would risk such a thing.”

            “I’m not asking to have sex,” Michale laughed and helped her stand on her still wobbly legs after she flushed. “I’m asking for you to shower with me. Nothing more, nothing less.”

            And that’s what they actually did. They simply had a shower. Michael washed her back and she washed his, along with his hair. When she did so, the blissful look on his face, the way he allowed himself to melt against her touch, sent a new kind of thrill through her. But it also made her wonder – when was the last time he allowed someone to take care of him?

            By the time they got out from under the water, it was close to four in the morning, so they dried themselves down and went to bed. Y/N’s down duvet was a warm and fluffy cloud around them. Sure, she could have asked him to leave, but why would she, when he seemed so content to be there? Whether anything came from it once they awoke, didn’t matter. If he didn’t want to leave at that moment, Y/N would be the last person to push him to.

            She drifted off almost instantly, warm and safe in Michael’s hold, but when the real morning came and she rubbed the sleep from her eyes, body sore and satiated, she was met with a cold spot next to her.

            There was no fucking sign on Michael, and judging by how she’d been tucked in, he’d left a while back.

            Her dress and underwear had been neatly laid out on the chair in her room, heels tucked beneath it. As she ventured into the apartment, there were absolutely no signs of him, except for a cup of tea on the kitchenette. She knew it’d been made for her – it was filled to the brim, but much like the sheets, it was also already cold.

            Sourness settled in her mouth as she poured the liquid down the drain. Not even a single fucking note. It was like they’d never even met.

            Y/N hadn’t expected him to leave his phone number, God forbid, his address, what with how he’d laughed when she’d told him she was twenty-six, and he’d responded that he could be her father with that age gap. She knew she was some kind of spur-of-the-moment mistake he’d made. A weakness in his judgement, but fucking hell, she at least deserved an “it was great meeting you, wish you all the best,” note. Especially because he knew the only reason she’d gone to the bar was because she’d been ghosted by a date.

            And now – now Michael was also a ghost, an unscratchable, unreachable itch under her skin she couldn’t get to.

            That was the real reason Y/N’d felt so bitter for the past two weeks. If he’d been a bad lay, or maybe she’d been the bad party, she would understand the one-and-done-dump, but something about falling asleep while being wrapped up in one another, and then just leaving without so much as a goodbye, was crueler than if he’d left while she was still coming down from her release.

            Now though, as she watched him while they waited at the nurse’s station, she noted how his fingers twitched by his side. She wondered whether he wanted to touch her as badly as she wanted to touch him, but then horrible reality kicked in – there wouldn’t be any sort of touching for a while.

            She was stuck with her leg in a cast, and a scheduled check-up with Dr. Langdon in a week to take it off and remove the stitches, before it would get swaddled again for a month or more.

            Y/N cursed the day she’d met Dr. Michael Robinavitch, for he’d released a monster of carnal urges, she didn’t even really know resided in her. And he was the only one who knew how to properly tame it because even in his scrubs and hoodie, surrounded by the smell of antiseptic and all sorts of bodily fluids she didn’t want to think about, all she wanted to do was grab him by the neck and get him to some supply closet to have her way with him like they were actually in Grey’s Anatomy.

            “Michael, I,” Y/N started but got cut off by Sara waltzing into the emergency department.

            “How’s my pirate doing?” She threw her arms around her shoulders and squeezed. “They assign you a parrot yet?”

             “I don’t have a fucking peg-leg.” Y/N rolled her eyes as she signed a final form. With that, Sara took the wheelchair handles, gave Dana a salute and wheeled her out of the hospital, making Y/N crane her neck back and shout a final thank you to the nurse.

            She was just about to ask Sara to slow down as she needed to talk to Michael, when she felt his presence moving with them, silent, steady and strong, his hands taking hold of the crutches as the automatic doors opened.

            He followed them out and once they got to Sara’s car, helped Y/N settle in the front seat.

            “You good?” He tucked a strand behind her ear.

            “Yeah.” She gave him a genuine smile, and her heart pounded in her chest as his eyes trailed to trace her lips. “I am. Thank you. For taking care of me in there.”

            “Honestly, I can’t believe I’m saying this, but the only time I’d like to see you back here is for your check-ups.”

            Y/N nodded, suppressing a smile. “Duly noted. No shower karaoke for me.”

            “I’m serious. You have an appointment with Frank in a week, but other than that, please take care of yourself, alright?”

            “You don’t have to worry about that.” She nudged her head towards Sara who was wrangling the crutches inside the boot of the car. “Mother hen is on the job.”

            “Good.” Michael nodded and before Y/N could properly prepare herself, he’d leaned down, cupping her jaw in his hands and kissed her.

            Her brain short-circuited at that, but when his tongue probed against the seal of her lips, she had to start wondering if she’d actually died when she’d hit her head in the shower. It didn’t take more than that though for her to open up, for her arms to brush against his scrubs and weave into the salt-and-pepper hair.

            By the time Michael pulled back, both their lips were kiss-swollen.

            “Let me take you out on a date.”

            Y/N let out a breathless laugh, scratching the back of his neck. ��What happened to the doctor-patient thing?”

            Michael only smirked. “You’ve been discharged. You’re no longer a patient of mine.”

            “Okay, but even so – what would we do? My leg’s in a cast, and I can barely hobble around with the crutches.”

            “I can carry you. I don’t mind.”

            “And throw out your back, old man?”

            “Hey, I’m not that old!” Michael protested, and when he noted the smile on her mouth, he pressed his against it once more.

            “How about this,” Y/N proposed, “when you’re done with your shift, you could come over to my place, and -,”

            “Our place,” Sara butted in, sliding into the driver’s seat. “So, whatever you have in mind – no hanky-panky with me next door.”

            If Y/N rolled her eyes any harder they would get stuck in the back of her head, but she returned her attention to the awaiting attendant. “And we order some take-out. We watch a movie and then just… go to sleep?”

            “It might be very late by the time I’m off.”

            When she raised her hand and cupped his rugged cheek, it took him no time at all to lean into her touch. “I can wait.” She pecked his lips. “I’m in no rush.” She could only hope he understood the double meaning behind what she meant with it.

            Later that night as Y/N sat by the TV, the glow of the screen illuminating her face, she fell asleep with her head against Michael’s chest.

            And when she awoke, her sheets were warm with the remnants of his body, even if he wasn't there anymore.

            She was alone, yes, but atop the pillow rested a note:

            Shift started at 8. Sorry, I can’t be there to wake up with you.             I’ll be home by 9.

            It was almost impossible to wipe the smile off her face for the rest of the day.

Even as the itching under the cast started.

-----

Tags: are open :) if you wish to be tagged in further fics, please drop a comment under the fic or message me or leave me an ask :)

A/N: I have arisen

if you wish to know how this man makes me feel, please listen to Slutty by The Scarlet Opera.

I am FERAL.

P.S. I hope you enjoyed it :) feedback/constructive criticism is always appreciated :)

[taeghi]

best friends don’t kiss on birthdays

it’s your birthday! and jake’s gift might be more than just a cake.

PAIRING : bff baker!jake x birthday girl!y/n

GENRE : SMUT = MDNI, bffs 2 lovers, food (cake) play, lots of choking, dirty talk, brief spanking, cum play?? lmao. unprotected sex (pls wear a condom)

WC : 6.5k

authors note : it's my birthday!! (happy bday to me) so i wanted to post a bday fic :D ily all, i hope u enjoy!!!! 🎂🎈

you and jake have been friends for as long as you can remember. you wouldn’t call each other each others soulmates, but you both assume it’s something similar. 

since you were ten, jake has made a cake for you every single year for your birthday. every year it was either a different flavour of cake, different icing style or different shapes. but, every year, like clockwork, jake was at your door with a cake in his hand and a cheesy smile on his face. 

you were both in your final year of university (jake had followed you to university even though he despised the city it was in), and this year so far, has been a bit different between you and jake. both of you had split into different friend groups over the years. you were more of an inner, close social circle type, and jake was, well, the complete opposite. he liked going out every weekend, getting wasted until he was falling off his ass. everytime you hung out with him in public, someone would come up to greet him. 

despite the social shift, you and jake were still close as always. jake was still the same jake you had always known. he lives in the moment, makes quick decisions on the spot without thinking of any consequences, he loves to take risks, even if they put you on edge. but that’s how you and jake balanced each other out. like some chaotic yin and yang in perfect human form. 

the past month, jake had been hanging out with chisa. she’s the lead singer of the rock band at your school, the one that performs at every school event and every party. you’ve only briefly met her, like at her birthday party about a month ago that jake had forced you to go to. but, you could tell that she was almost exactly like jake. she radiates this energy, effortless and infectious, always up for anything, her unpredictability drawing in everyone around her.

jake’s never been serious with anyone—just a few hookups, then he moves on. but with chisa? it was different. he was attached to her in a way you’d never seen before, and you hated that it bugged you, even though you told yourself it didn’t. you had started getting used to smelling chisa’s perfume on jake when he comes over to your apartment, having just left hers. you had gotten used to him smiling at his phone when he hung out with you and it was because of something chisa had texted, not a dumb meme sunghoon had sent him. 

what you couldn’t get used to was jake making sure everyone came to chisa’s birthday, only for a month later to completely forget yours. this was the first year, after fourteen years, that jake didn’t remember your birthday. no text, no barging into your apartment at 8 am with that obnoxious grin of his, dragging you to some arcade or random party to celebrate. nothing.

and now, here it was—10 pm, and not a sign of your best friend.

you sigh and throw yourself into bed, desperately wishing this god awful birthday would just end already. if jake dares to text you tomorrow, you’ll scream at him for hours—unless you’re still caught up in this sinking feeling in your stomach. a brief thought crosses your mind: is jake replacing me? 

you scoff and roll over onto your side, how could jake replace you with chisa if you and chisa had completely different relationships with jake. you told yourself that you’ve just always been the only girl jake hangs out with, that now that there’s another one that he consistently hangs out with it’s fucking with you. because jake is your best friend, or at least you thought he was. do best friends forget each other's birthdays? their traditions? 

you pretend it doesn’t matter, trying to get your mind to shut off so you can sleep. you tell yourself that it’s just another birthday, same as all the others you've lived through and all the ones you’ll live through in the future. but it’s not.jake should’ve been here, whether you wanted to strangle him or not, you just wanted him here.

a single tear falls down your cheek, landing on your pillow that soaks it up.  

more tears are willing to escape, but a knock on the door stops them. 

the clock says 10:32pm on your nightstand, you wonder who the hell is here this late. but in your chest you hope it’s jake. you can’t help but speed walk to the front door. you don’t look through the peephole before you swing it open. 

and sure enough, there’s jake, a cake in his hand with a guilty look on his face, instead of the usual annoying smirk. 

“happy birthday?” jake says unsurely, his face contorted in unease. 

you scoff, “wow, you remembered.” 

jake gasps, “i didn’t miss your birthday, yn!” he pulls out his phone to look at the time, “there’s still an hour and a half of it left!” you don’t answer, just stare at him expressionless, trying to mask your hurt. jake shoves the cake out in front of you, “well are you gonna let me in so we can share this cake? i made it red velvet flavoured this year!” 

you glance down at the cake, it looks perfect. it’s deep red layers covered with cream cheese, white frosting. silver frosting was on the top in jake’s cursive hand writing happy birthday y/n! it looked annoyingly good. 

you sigh and step to the side, letting jake into your apartment so late at night on your birthday. 

“see, you can never say no to my baking!” jake chuckles out, he beelines straight for your kitchen like he never stopped practically living here up until a month ago. he finds two spoons in your cluttered drawers quickly. 

“yeah, well, at least your teachers didn’t waste their money teaching you,” you lean on the other side of the island from him, face to face. 

jake tsks, “okay well, it wasn’t a waste of money then for me to have followed you out here.” jake sticks out a spoon for you to take, “now taste it and tell me how good your best friend in the entire world can bake!” 

you dig your spoon into the cake, it glides so smoothly through it, just like everything else jake bakes. when the red velvet meets your mouth, you can’t help but moan around it. damn jake and his culinary arts degree. 

across the island from you, jake’s mouth is turned into a shit-eating grin, knowing that all your anger towards him has melted away just like the cake has melted in your mouth. 

“good?” jake asks with a tilt of his head, like he doesn’t already know the answer.

“shut up.” 

he laughs—loud, familiar. the sound of it makes your stomach flip in a way you wish it wouldn’t. for a second, it’s like nothing happened. like he didn’t almost forget your birthday.

“sorry there’s no candles this year,” jake mumbles out, placing a bite of cake into his own mouth. 

you shrug, going for a second bite, “it’s okay.” 

“if there was one, what would you wish for?” 

your spoon hovers mid-air. you’re suddenly hyper aware of the way jake is watching you, the way he’s close but not too close, his knee knocking against the cabinet when he shifts. you think for a second, strangely struggling to make eye contact with your best friend. your best friend that you had just cried about 10 minutes before this. 

“hm?” jake pushes you, impatient as always.

“i can’t tell you, or else it won’t come true.” you smirk at him, trying to ignore whatever this weird tension is between you. 

jake scoffs, “you have literally told me every birthday wish you have ever wished for since we were ten, why can’t you tell me now?” 

you shrug, “secret.” placing another piece of cake in your mouth. you notice jake still in front of you, his body rigid. his hands pressing flat against the counter like he’s holding himself back. “what?” 

jake gently puts his spoon down on the marble island, you can feel his sudden unease from across said island.he doesn’t answer. instead, he steps around the island, closing the space between you in two slow strides., “you uh, have icing on your face.”

 before you can reach to wipe it off, jake beats you to it. his large, warm hand meets your cheek, his thumb brushes once against your skin, gathering the icing on his digit. without a second thought (usual jake nature) he slides his thumb into your ajar mouth. your lips circle around his thumb, sucking the frosting of his mouth. jake bites his lower lip in between his teeth as he watches you, feels your tongue circle this thumb before you pull your mouth off it. 

“jake,” your voice whispers to him— he’s so close to you. your apartment suddenly feels one thousand times smaller than it usually does. 

“did your birthday wish include me, y/n?” jake asks, almost desperate, “tell me it did.” you only slightly nod in response, unsure of where this was going, aching for more. in a second, jake’s hand is cupping your jaw. “what was it, y/n? tell me.” 

your voice is quiet when you reveal your wish, “i wished for you to kiss me.” 

before you could process what you had just said to your best friend, he’s leaning over, his lips meeting yours. they’re gentle at first, testing to see if you’re okay. when you don’t push him away or reject the kiss gets hungrier. your lips mesh together in a hurried, desperate mess. like both of you needed this now or else you’d never get it again. 

jake’s hands grip your waist, pulling you into him. it’s the warmth of his body on yours (the one that you’ve always craved) that makes you gasp, pushing him away. 

“what? want to stop?” jake concerns, his eyes flashing over your body quickly, making sure you’re okay. 

“just— what about chisa?” her name sounds foreign coming from your mouth now.  jake chuckles quickly, and then laughs loudly like he suddenly can’t control it. “jake? what?” 

“it’s just,” jake laughs, his on your island to keep him up, “what about chisa? she’s not my girlfriend or anything. don’t you know me, y/n?” 

you pucker your lips, not impressed by his response, it makes you feel dumb. “shut up, jake.” 

when jake sees that you’re being serious, his laugh fades into only a smile, his hands grip your waist again, “chisa is nothing to me, y/n. just a friend.” 

“if she’s just a friend then what am i?” 

his grip falters slightly. you both know jake sucks at talking about his feelings—he’ll show them, sure, but words? not his thing. too bad that’s exactly what you need right now. both of you are unsure if he can give you that. it’s a perfect example of how different you two are from each other. 

“you’re my best friend and i love you.” he speaks, your face is unimpressed and you try to step back from him, but he holds you close, his words rush like you’re gonna disappear, “but i love you more than just as a best friend.” 

you stay in your place, wanting jake to continue, his hands relax on your body again. “then why were you so late to my birthday, jake? i thought you had forgotten about it… about me.” 

“i could never forget about you,” jake leans down to look directly into your eyes as he speaks, wanting you to know that he’s genuine. he swallows harshly before he continues, wanting to do this right, knowing that he’s not good at this type of shit. "i was just—going over everything in my head. all day. i didn’t know if i should go all out or keep it casual. if you’d pick up on my feelings or not. if i’d ruin everything." his hands tremble slightly on your waist. "i didn’t want to lose you."

your heart pounds so loud you’re sure he can hear it. suddenly, all the frustration from earlier doesn’t matter anymore.

you don’t answer—not with words, at least. instead, you pull him back in, pressing your lips to his. jake stiffens for half a second before melting into you, hands slipping around your back, holding you close like he never wants to let go ever again.

jake walks you so your back is against the kitchen island. he pulls away from you and you can see that his eyes are full with lust. you figure yours must look the same. jake swoops down and presses a deep kiss into your neck, inhaling your perfume. he can faintly smell the icing from the cake on you. over your shoulder, jake looks at the bitten-into cake. 

jake’s hands pull off your night shirt, the one you always wear no matter how stretched and oil-stained it’s gotten throughout the years. you gasp at the cold air against your skin, your chest on full display for jake so suddenly. his eyes look like they’re about to devour you. he licks his lips as he look at  your hardened nipples. 

without a second thought, jake swirls some icing from the cake behind you and swipes it onto your breast. 

“jake—!” you gasp out. before you could finish your sentence, jake’s lips are circled around your pink nipples covered in icing, sucking on it and gently pulling it. he moans against your skin. your jaw drops open at the feeling of it. his fingers tweak your other nipples, causing your back to fully arch into him already. 

jake swirls his finger into the cake again, this time slowly, gently, tracing it against your collarbone. 

“what are you doing, jake?” your voice is already breathless as you let your best friend touch you. 

“i wanna see if you, or the icing is sweeter.” he casually shrugs, leaning down and placing his tongue flat against your collarbone, licking up the icing trail in one slow lick. the feeling of his warm, wet tongue on your collarbone has you spiraling too fast for your liking. 

jake’s hands rest on your tits, massaging them and tweaking your nipples as he licks and kisses your collarbone and neck. you can feel your core getting soaked. you can’t believe you and jake are doing this. 

jake dips his finger into the icing again, this time putting his finger right in the valley of your breasts before he slowly drags it down your stomach, stopping at the top of your belly button. 

jake is on his knees in an instant, licking up your stomach the trail of icing. he pops one of your nipples into his mouth again, sucking and pulling on it just enough to get you whining above him. 

jake’s hands push down your night shorts and panties in one go, letting them pool at your feet for you to step out of. it leaves you completely bare in front of fully dressed jake. your body is on full display for him, letting him do whatever he wants to you. 

both of jake’s hands cusp your jaw, his forehead leaning on yours as he looks into your eyes, “you’re so fucking beautiful, y/n.” since he’s holding your jaw you can’t look away from him, you feel your cheeks heat at the compliment. sure, jake has called you beautiful or pretty before, but he’s never done it when you’re completely naked and exposed. “will you let me taste you, baby?” 

you nod in response, making jake smash his lips against yours again, this time softer and gentle, like he’s telling you to trust him. you could taste the icing on his lips. 

jake swipes his index and middle  fingers into the icing again. this time he pushes them in between your lips, getting you to suck on them. “that’s right, baby, get my fingers soaked so they can slide right in you.” his words make you whimper around his fingers, swallowing the sweet icing. your tongue sucks on his fingers, wanting to do as he says. jake’s eyes are glazed over as he watches you, feeling your mouth sucking against his digits. 

with a pop, he pulls them out, now shining with your saliva. he doesn’t hesitate to spread your legs, teasing your already soaked hole with his saliva-covered fingers. he pushes them in slowly, but easy from all the lubricant. both of you moan as his fingers reach as far as they can inside of you. your pussy is so warm around his fingers, he can feel your walls already clenching around them and he hasn’t even moved them yet. 

jake kneels on the ground again, his fingers starting to push out and then back in again. he’s stretching you, preparing you for his cock later on. his fingers adventure and experiment with touching all over your walls. he’s determined to find the spot that makes you cry out. he’s determined to make this the best birthday you’ve ever had. 

your hands grip the kitchen island behind you, trying to stable yourself as jake starts to finger fuck you. his fingers are curling at just the right spots. your bottom lip is glued between your teeth as you watch your best friend stare so intently at where his fingers disappear into your pussy. your folds continue to suck his fingers in everytime he tries to pull them out. your juices and saliva are mixing around his slender fingers, dripping down the sides of them already. 

you throw your head back over your shoulder, the pleasure making your muscles contract and relax over and over again as jake builds your orgasm. you see the red velvet cake that he had made you, keeping your fourteen year tradition alive. you don’t stop yourself from reaching over and swiping the icing off the cake and onto your fingers. jake watches you as you bring your fingers to your folds, smearing the icing around the skin between your legs, right where you want jake’s mouth to be. 

“you want my tongue, baby?” jake smirks up at you from between your legs, his fingers still fucking into you. 

“please, i wanna cum so bad.” 

jake mumbles something about how hot you are before he delves into your folds with his mouth. his eyes closing as he starts to make out with your pussy. he keeps his fingers pushing in and out of you at a steady pace. his tongue starts to circle and tease your clit as his lips suck the skin around it. 

“oh god,” you cry out, your eyebrows bunching together as jake brings you closer to the edge. 

jake’s saliva mixes with your juices as he licks up the icing between your legs. he runs his tongue up and down your slit. your body starts to convulse at the feeling of being so close to the edge. he switches back to giving your clit pressured  sucks, flicking his tongue back and forth your clit quickly. 

your eyes stay focused on jake working your core. his eyes meet yours and a grin spreads across his face as his tongue still circles your clit, adding pressure to it. it makes you cry out, gripping the kitchen island behind you even tighter. your knees start buckling on either side of jake’s head as he kneels on your kitchen floor. 

“fuck, i’m gonna cum, jake!” you warn him, your chest starting to move sporadically as you reach the very edge of your climax. 

“do it, cum all over my face right now— cum all over your best friend's face.” jake grunts out, mumbling against your pussy as he speeds up how fast his tongue circles, how fast his fingers fuck into you. 

your high hits you so satisfyingly. all of your pent up emotions towards jake finally release as you cum onto his mouth and fingers. your body feels like it’s laced with ecstasy as your body shakes with tremors. jake’s free hand helps you stay steady against his mouth as he sucks on your pussy until you’re pushing him away because of the overstimulation. he only laughs at your whining as he pulls his fingers out of you. 

jake stands up, his lips swollen and wet from eating you out. “you really are sweeter than the icing,” jake smiles at your post-nut expression, his mouth still full of your taste. “here— try for yourself.” you let jake slip his finger sinto your mouth for the third time of the night. this time however, it’s not cream cheese icing that has you moaning around his digits, it's your own juices. 

and jake is right, it is sweeter than the icing. 

jake’s fingers slip from your lips. you wrap your arms around jake’s neck, pulling him closer to you again. his hands find their spot on your waist. you both find this position so easily, as if it wasn’t the first time in the past 14 years that you’ve done this. it feels natural, it feels right. 

jake and you are kissing again. it’s slow but passionate and needy. both of you know that the night isn’t over. especially when you feel his hard cock rub on your abdomen through his jeans. you pull away form him, looking down at where your waists are. his bulge is huge in his pants, it makes your mouth and pussy water some more. 

“let’s go to your bedroom,” jake says, his voice husky. 

“please,” 

jake’s quick to pick you up, wrapping your legs around his waist as he carries you through your apartment and to your bedroom. you’re both laughing as he does so. you press soft kisses into his scalp as he carries you. 

jake places you down onto your bed. this isn’t the first time jake and you have been in a bed together. though, it is the first time you’ve been in this position. your legs wrapped around his waist as he hovers over you, your pussy and his lips both swollen. 

you continue to make out until either of you can take it anymore. your lips wet and plump from sucking and pulling on each others. you’re both moaning into each other's mouths. jake slowly grinded his jean covered bulge into your bare pussy, teasing the both of you. the moment feels intimate, like the both of you needed this so desperately. 

jake pulls away from you, stopping the heavy makeout sesh. his chest is panting against yours as he lays on top of you. 

“you sure you wanna do this?” 

“yes, please, jake— i need this so bad— please, it’s my birthday,” 

jake laughs, “okay okay, anything for the birthday girl.” 

jake pushes himself off the bed, standing up to take off his clothes. he discards them lazily on your bedroom floor. his lean muscles flex as he crawls back onto the bed, resuming his position of being between your legs. 

jake grabs the flesh of your thighs, holding your legs open and wide for him to be able to press his cock against your pussy. 

“spit on it,” he demands of you. 

you lean over your body, spitting down onto where his cock rests on top of your pussy. both of you can feel your clit throbbing against his cock, wanting and needing more already. 

“good girl.” 

jake grabs his dick, lining it up with your pussy before he pushes all the way in with one singular thrust. both of you let out pornographic moans, your eyes rolling to the back of your head and the feeling of finally being stretched out by your best friend's cock. 

jake curses under his breath, his hair falling into his face as the feeling of you being so tight around him affects him, too. it already feels so wet and warm— jake can feel himself becoming addicted to this feeling. something that he knew would happen if he ever got you in a position like this. which is why he had tried so hard to ignore his feelings for you in the past, not wanting to ruin the friendship. 

but that’s all gone out the window now that he knows what you taste like. 

“move, please, move.” you beg of him, and who is he to deny the birthday girl?

jake leans over top of you, placing both of his hands on the mattress beside your body. your knees are bent around his waist as he starts to move his cock in and out of you, slowly at first, wanting to warm you up to the stretch of his large cock. his lips meet your own again, like they can’t be off each other long without feeling withdrawal symptoms. 

jake has to force himself to stop kissing you and he pushes himself back up, crouching himself over your body with his cock still lodged deep inside of your pussy. his feet are on the outer side of both of your hips, your knees bent and your thighs pressed against your chest in a mating press. 

jake starts to pound his cock into you at a slow but hard pace. the tip of his cock hitting your cervix every time he pushes back into you. 

“oh fuck!” you exclaim. you had imagined that sex with jake would feel good, but not this good. 

jake chuckles breathlessly as his one hand crawls to your neck, wrapping itself around it, adding pressure ever so slightly. jake’s breathless gasps and grunts mix with your whines as he fucks into you, setting a starting pace. everytime he slams himself into you, your bedframe hits the wall behind you. thankfully your bed is pushed up against the window that faces the street and not your next door neighbours. 

jake falls back onto his knees from his feet, keeping your legs placed on his broad shoulders as he continues to fuck into you at a steady pace. he aims for the spot he found earlier that he knows drives you to the edge. you keep your hands on your thighs, your eyes not leaving his face as he fucks you. 

jake’s gold chain hits his chest everytime he pulls out of you, just to drill back into you. 

“fuck i love your cock, it feels so good.” you confess, knowing already that no one would ever be able to make you feel as good as jake does. his cock seems to perfectly fit inside of you. every vein brushes against your pussy walls in the perfect way. his tip hits your g spot every single time. his hand pulses pressure around your neck, blocking complete oxygen from reaching your brain and lungs. 

jake drops your legs from his shoulders, wrapping them around his waist as he leans to hover on top of you, placing his elbows on either side of you. his cock doesn’t stop fucking into you. 

“fuck,” jake groans out, “your pussy keep sucking me back in, baby. doesn’t want my cock to leave.” 

“mhm,” you nod back to him, looking into your eyes as pleasure builds inside both of you. 

“would you like that, y/n?” jake teases you, “would you like having my cock inside of you all day?” 

his words make your walls pulse around his cock, something both of you feel, “oh god, yes. i want it in me all the time, forever.” 

jake dryly chuckles, leaning down to press a deep kiss onto your lips. you can feel his balls hitting your ass every time his hips meet your own. his pelvic bone rubs against your clit as he hovers over top of you. 

when the kiss stops, jake presses his hand over your mouth, cutting off your oxygen again, letting you moan and breathe heavily against his warm palm. jake keeps his body pressed on top of you, only his hips move as he fucks his cock in and out of you. 

at this point, both of you have sweat dripping off your bodies, your skin looks flushed. 

jake is intermittently switching between sloppily making out with you, to covering your mouth or wrapping his hand around your neck. 

“you like when i choke you, baby? like how i control when you breathe?” jake grunts out to you. 

even though you and jake had never done anything sexual up to this point, you both knew each other’s kinks and turn ons. that’s something best friends just talk about, right? 

like you know how much he loves to see girls choke on his dick. how much he loves seeing a girls ass turn red from him spanking her over and over again. just like he knows that you love being choked, love being degraded and teased as a man pounds into you. 

“i fucking love it,” you gasp out, loving how out of breath you were. 

jake smirks at your answer before he sits up on his knees again, your legs still wrapped around his waist. both of his hands land on your neck, adding enough pressure for you to lose some oxygen. jake starts using his grip on your neck to pound into your harder from a different angle. his cock hitting directly inside of you now, your cores hitting each other perfectly. 

your entire body is being pushed up and down off your mattress as jake using your body to be able to fuck into you harder and harder. 

“fuck,” jake grunts out, his teeth greeted as his pace picks up speed. your eyes are rolling to the back of your head, unable to do anything besides letting jake fuck you. your body numb to anything but the pleasure his cock was giving you. “you take my cock like such a good girl, such a nasty, good girl.” 

jake pulls his hands off your neck, and without warning, he roughly flips you over so you’re on your stomach, your plump ass up in the air for him. jake drags your hips towards him, sliding his cock back into you before he pushes your face down into the mattress. your sheets muffle your moans as he starts to fuck into you. 

jake has one hand on the back of your head, keeping it in your bed, and the other hand grips your waist. he keeps your body still, with just his hips moving as he balances himself on his knees. at this point, it feels like jake knows every square inch of your body. he knows every spot that makes you scream out his name. it’s almost ridiculous. 

“that feel good, baby?” jake asks from behind you, his hips not stopping. 

“god, fuck,” you answer, muffled by the mattress. “harder, please fuck me harder.” 

jake does as you say, letting go of the back of your head to grip your waist with both of his hands. his hips start to pound against your ass. your bedroom full of the sound of skin slapping against each other. and since you know your best friend so well, you aren’t shocked when he starts slapping your ass. a cry escapes your mouth everytime his hand meets your ass. 

“you want it hard, y/n?” jake chuckles out from behind you, “i don’t know if you can take it, baby. you already seem so close to cumming.” 

“no, no!” you try to shake your head no, “i can take it, please, please, harder.” your voice doesn’t even sound like yourself. it’s full of need and desperation. and luckily, since it’s your birthday, jake is willing to provide you with everything you want. 

his cock is still filling you up as far as it can go inside of you. it stretches you in a way you didn’t know you could be stretched. you feel so fucking full that it’s intoxicating. you think your pussy is going to be stretched out in the shape of jake’s cock. and then jake will be the only one to fuck you. 

jake’s hands reach under your core, lifting you up so your back is against his chest. his cock doesn’t stop working in and out of you, his pace never letting up. you didn’t know his stamina was this good. but who are you to complain?

jake keeps your body upwards with one hand wrapped around your waist, the other has snaked its way to your clit. all three of his fingers lay flat on your clit as he rubs them in a circle, adding intense pressure on the sensitive bundle of nerves as his cock seems to start perfectly hitting your g spot. 

your hands wrap onto his thighs that are on either side of your body. 

“holy shit!” you shout, “i’m going to fucking cum if you keep doing that.” 

if it wasn’t for jake’s hands keeping you upwards, you’d be bent over limp. the pleasure was building and building and building inside of you. your muscles working overtime by contracting and relaxing repeatedly. your tits were still covered in a mix of icing and jake’s saliva. your hairline was sweaty, you could barely keep your eyes open at this point. 

“yeah? you gonna fucking cum on my cock, princess?” jake grunts in your ear from behind you. “do it. fucking do it. i wanna feel your pussy clench around my cock so bad.” 

you whimper out at his words, they only make you tighten more around his cock. your juices dripping out of your pussy and all over his cock— all over your sheets. a wet stain was starting to form on your sheets directly below you.  

“fuck, fuck, i’m gonna cum on your cock.” you helplessly nod, focusing on the pleasure building in your abdomen. “just like that, like that!” 

you can’t help the scream that escapes your lips next as you come undone on jake’s cock. he’s quick to cover your mouth with his hand— silencing your loud scream so the neighbours don’t call the police. your head falls back onto his shoulder, unable to do anything but let jake fuck you through your orgasm. 

“that’s it,” jake grunts out, the feeling of your walls sporadically squeezing his cock over and over again, makes his brain fog over. “that’s a good girl, fucking wet my cock with your cum.” 

when your body finally stops shaking, jake helps you lay back onto your back, your head on your pillow. your eyes are glazed over, your body feels like it’s on high alert and just so, so sensitive. 

still, jake’s dick is rock hard, oozing pre cum, soaked in your juices. 

“i’m so close, baby.” jake’s voice is needy but gentle, “please let me fuck your pussy until i cum, please. i need it around me cock so bad.” 

you nod lazily at him, “please, please.” your hand reaches out to grab his thigh, wanting his cock back inside of you already, “need your cock in me. need to fill your cum fill me up.” 

jake can’t help but moan at your words, it makes his cock twitch at the fact that he’ll get to cum in your pussy. fill you up with his hot, warm sperm. his heart picks up pace when he visualizes what your pussy would look like as it dribbles out his cum back out and onto your sheets. 

“yeah? you wanna be my cum slut?” jake’s voice is teasing as he leans back over you, his cock already lining up with your weeping, swollen hole. “you wanna be filled with your best friend’s cum on your birthday?” 

“yes, fuck, i want that so bad, jake, please!” 

jake’s hand cups your jaw, forcing you to look at him as he laughs at your desperation. “relax, baby— you’ll get what you want.” 

jake pushes his cock back inside of you with one thrust, making both of you sigh out in satisfaction. he had only been out of your pussy for one minute but both of you were aching for him to be inside of you again already. 

jake could feel that his own orgasm wouldn’t be much longer. his cock was feeling so sensitive. everytime your soaking walls clenched somehow even tighter around him than before he could feel the pit in his stomach grow and grow. your whiny moans of his name, telling him to not stop edged him closer and closer to his orgasm. 

his hands gripped your waist roughly, focusing on trying to cum just for you. 

“oh god, jake— your cock fills me so good, i wanna feel your cum fill me, too, please.” you beg him, your sensitive walls milking his cock further and further. begging him to paint the inside of your pussy white with his cum. 

jake grunts out, his voice becoming deeper with every second, “yeah? tell me you want my cum, y/n. tell me you deserve my cum.” 

“i want your cum inside of me so bad, jake. please give it to me. i deserve to be filled with your cum, don’t i?” you beg him, your eyebrows furrowed together as you look up at him. his eyes switching between your face and your pussy. “aren’t i your good girl, jake?” 

jake lets out a deep grunt at your words, “fuck yeah, you’re my good girl. such a good girl.” jake’s cock is fucking in and out of you so quickly, you don’t even feel it leaving your pussy. “you’re my good girl so you’re gonna take my cum, right?” 

“yes! please, please! i can take it!” 

“fuck, fuck!” jake yells out, his grip on your waist surely leaving bruises now. “i’m fucking cumming.” 

when jake finally cums, it’s messy. 

his cum spurts out inside of you in thick, hot strands. both of you groaning at the feeling of him finally filling you up. jake doesn’t stop thrusting into you until his orgasm dissipates.  his brain becoming a little less foggy as he feels his cock plunged deep inside of your pussy with his sperm. 

jake gently pulls out of you and you sit up on your elbows, legs still spread wide open to watch jake’s cum start to drip out of your red, swollen hole. when it finally does, both of you moan. it’s warm as it drips down your folds, mixing with so many other substances you can’t count. 

jake is quick to reach down and gather some of his cum on his finger. your mouth is already open for it before he even asks you to. he slips his finger into your mouth. you moan at the taste, swallowing it with no hesitation. he pops his finger out of your mouth again. 

“tastes sweeter than the icing.” you tiredly smile up at him, teasing him. 

jake doesn’t laugh though, he only swoops down and presses his plump lips onto yours. the kiss is sweet and gentle, almost innocent if it didn’t just follow the multiple sinful acts you had just committed. 

the second you pull away from each other, reality takes over. your heart is still hammering from the orgasms, your lips are swollen and tingling from kissing jake so much.  your birthday is ending very differently from how it started. you’re now not only best friends with jake, but something more as well. 

jake’s still close to you, smiling at you that makes your stomach have annoying butterflies. he knows exactly what he’s doing to you. his smile is contagious and suddenly you're mimicking his expression. 

“best birthday ever,” 

“yeah?” jake’s smile is boyish and smug. 

“yeah,” you shrug, “definitely better than last year’s gift.” 

“hey! socks are practical! why wouldn't you want socks?” 

“shut up, jake.” 

jake huffs out a laugh before shoving you back onto the bed, he lays down beside you. your bodies still warm and sweaty against each other’s. 

“i can’t wait until my birthday.” jake says, elbowing you suggestively. 

“bold of you to assume i’ll still be into you by then.” 

jake is unaffected, only scoffing as he sits up on his elbows to look down at you, “you’re literally obsessed with me, i have no worries.” 

“okay? and you’re obsessed with me.” 

“yeah,” jake shrugs, “but at least i can admit it.” 

jake laughs when you kick him, laying back down beside you, head right next to yours on your pillow. your bedroom goes quiet. both of you take turns looking at each other when the other isn’t. both of you are still trying to process what just happened in the past hour. 

but, you don’t need to ponder for long. you and jake are still best friends. you’re still complete opposites. still yin and yang. still a complete mess. so, in your usual chaotic way, you’ll figure out your relationship together. 

“wanna shower and then eat the rest of the cake?” jake murmurs to you. 

“hell yeah.” 

best. birthday. ever. 

@ taeghi, 2024. do not repost or reuse in anyway.

PLEASE REBLOG IF YOU ENJOY, AS LIKES MAKE IT HARD FOR WORK TO BE SPREAD AND ENJOYED BY OTHERS :)

stay safe everyone :)

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[manariee]

DIDNT MEAN TO

热爱 ★ said i would never fall, unless it you i fall into

니시무라 리키 & fem!reader wc: 2451 ◜ᯅ◝ high school AU slow burn-ish emotional tension miscommunication stubborn idiot riki (kind o a jerk) mention of academic stress some light angst

REBLOG4AKISS

MANA: pls unflop me guys i beg oh and thank you @ykitslu for requesting this ^^ AND THANK YOU YIN FOR PROOF READING MWAH

Riki was never the type to fall fast.

And that was no lie.

The whole school knew that, girls would try - putting small notes in his locker, confessions at the school gym. He'd just brush them off with a polite nod or a quiet ''sorry''. So they eventually started giving up with grand gestures and just admired from afar.

But it wasn’t because he was cold-hearted.

No - it was because Riki found no point in love.

''It's stupid,'' he once told Jungwon with a scoff during lunch. ''How do you even know someone’s being real? Like, you look at someone and just know they’re the one? That doesn’t even make sense.''

''You're just scared,'' Jungwon had joked, nudging him with an elbow.

But Riki had gone quiet. Not defensive. Just, firm. He wasn’t scared. He was just done believing in something so fragile - so easily faked.

After that, he never thought about the idea again. No crushes. No lingering stares. No butterflies. Nothing.

Well… That was until high school.

Because high school brought you.

And you didn’t even try.

At first it was nothing, you were just a new face, one of Sunoo's old friends.

But then you started showing up everywhere.

You were in most of his classes, his neighborhood, and his mind, at all times.

Weird, not like he liked you or anything.

Then it happened at lunch, when you smiled a bit too hard at one of the jokes someone made at your guys' table.

He stopped midway a bit of his sandwich, his stomach twisted in a way that had nothing to do with cafeteria food.

But who was he to listen to his heart?

He decided to stick to his moms food instead.

Just as if the universe knew, Riki got paired up with you on a stupid school project. Of all people. You. On a subject he hated, too.

History.

He'd rather stand on one leg the whole day than to write some ten page essay about a person that doesn't even exist anymore.

You tapped your pencil against your notebook. ''We could do it on the French Revolution. That one's at pretty dramatic.''

He stared at you a second longer than necessary. ''Sure the Eiffel towers pretty cool.''

You blinked, then shook your head. ''That happened after the revolution, in 1887.''

And he grinned. Actually grinned. Like a real one - not his usual smirk or polite curve of the lips. ''Okay nerd.''

But he quickly snapped out of it, what the heck?

As time passed on, he didn't know what was more disturbing: the fact you made him laugh, twice.. Or that he wanted to make you laugh again like you did at Sunoo's jokek the other day. Desperately. Like some dog trying to earn a treat from it's owner.

Every time you smiled at him, it felt like something heavy shifted in his chest. Every time you leaned over to show him your notes, he had to remind himself to breathe like a normal human being.

Why was he sitting up straighter? Why was he nodding like he was actually interested in The Reign of Terror? Why was he googling “how to write a bibliography” at 1AM when he literally never did homework on time?

Oh no. Oh no no no.

Riki Nishimura was trying. For a group project. For you. This was bad.

But the worst part? He didn’t even mind.

Riki knew he was in real trouble when your face would show up on his ceiling.

He was being so embarrasing it even made him cringe.

Like for instance when he tried to offer his umbrella on a rainy day to you, but when you said that he would get soaked, he quickly cut you off with a 'I don't care.''

But what was worse than public humiliation to Nishimura Riki?

His ego betraying him.

Because he was starting to look for you everytime you weren't with the group.

In the hallways. At your locker. On lunch breaks. Sometimes near your house or the convenience store.

And it pissed him off. Because since when did he care about someone liking him back?

He wasn’t supposed to. He’d sworn off that whole mess. Feelings? Affection? Vulnerability?

Absolutely not.

But now?

He reread you texts, pacing in his room, wondering if your ''lmao'' meant if you really were laughing based on what he said and your humor level. He was bringing extra pens in case you forgot yours again, which you always did. Riki never brought pens, ever. He was staying up late to work on the project so ''you wouldn't worry about your grade.''

He was.. Caring?

And you didn't even know.

You didn’t know that when you bumped shoulders with him and laughed like it was nothing, he had to physically stop himself from reacting like a middle schooler with a crush. You didn’t know that you were slowly, steadily, completely destroying him.

Bit by bit. Smile by smile.

It was stupid, so stupid.

You were laughing with some guy from the basketball team outside the cafeteria, and Riki told himself it didn’t matter.

He told himself you were just talking. That you were allowed to smile like that. That you smiled like that at everyone.

But then the guy touched your arm. Lightly. Casually. Familiar.

And that was it.

Something inside Riki just snapped.

It wasn't jealousy. No - jealousy was messy, childish. This was worse. This was panic. This was every wall he’d built crumbling under one tiny, innocent moment. This was every feeling he’d buried just to drag himself to this.

He didn't think, he just walked.

You turned when you spotted him from the corner of your eye. But you were completely caught off guard when he gently grabbed your arms. ''Riki?''

''Can we talk?'' he said, eyes narrowed and tone so sharp it almost made you fear of what he would say next.

The guy looked between you two awkwardly and just left as Riki pulled you to the side of the building, where it was a bit more quiet.

''Okay.. What's going on?..''

He didn't answer right away, his fingers were twitching at his sides, curled into fists as if it would ground him.

''I don't get it.'' he said after a beat.

You raised your brows, arms crossed. ''Get what?''

''You'' he blurted out, tone frustrated but not to you, more to himself. ''This. Whatever you've been doing to me.''

You blinked, confused of which turn this conversation was taking, you could feel your heartbeat increasing a bit too fast.

''I was fine before. Like, really fine. I didn't care about people, or love, or any of that corny stuff. But then you came along with your dumb flower doodles and your weird French Revolution facts and your - your laugh.''

You froze, almost choking on your own breath. ''M-my laugh? Riki what are you saying?!''

''Yes your laugh, it's fucking pissing me off so bad.''

Silence.

''I've been losing my sleep just because your face haunts my ceiling,'' he said, quite literally pouring everything out now. ''And it's not in a love-story kind of way it's more of a haunting-creepy way. I hate group projects and don't care of what others think of me, but suddenly i'm writing 5 extra pages just so you would be impressed. I keep showing up to class early just in case i bump into you. I carry extra pens so you won't have to ask anyone else and I gave you my umbrella when I hate the rain!''

You stood frozen, lips parted, and that was when he fully broke - his voice cracked just a little when he added:

''I don’t know what to do when you look at me.''

Your breath caught.

''I tried pretending it wasn't happening,'' he said. ''I tried staying cool, acting like I didn't feel anything. But I do. And I can’t not anymore.''

Silence again.

Then…

''I like you.''

He finally met your eyes.

''And it’s driving me crazy Y/N.''

You stood there, even a step feeling to heavy.

His chest was pounding so hard you swore even you could hear it.

You wanted to say something, heck - anything. But the words just wouldn't come.

Come on Y/N it can't be that hard can it?

Riki's hopeful eyes searched yours for any sign - any little spark - that you felt the same.

But the silence seemed to eat him up. It was heavier than any heartbeat between the two of you.

He sighed, turning.

''Forget it. Forget I said anything.''

But before he could walk away he turned his head over his shoulder, a small, forced smile on his face.

''Have a good evening Y/N.''

The next day, Riki wasn't at the quiet corner of the study café, the spot where you two could do anything without being interrupted.

But no, Riki was in the center of it. The place where it was way too crowded. A airpod in his ear, the missing one still in your purse, the one you were supposed to give back but he decided confess instead.

You quietly walked towards that spot, and even though he spotted you from the corner of his eye, he didn't look up, just continued typing away.

''Hey.'' you said softly, purse strap clutched in your hand.

He looked up, noticed how you semeed a bit dolled up considering the ocassion. ''You got a date or something after this?''

You blinked, looked around then shook your head. ''No?..''

He nodded, bringing his gaze back to the screen, tone cold and something else that made you feel regret? ''Due date's soon.''

You sighed, nodding as you pulled out the chair beside his. ''Right we should-''

You were cut off by the sight of his bag on the chair and sat on the one across instead.

The space between you felt enormous.

You remembered all the times he’d leaned over your shoulder, whispering jokes, nudging you playfully.

Now, his silence screamed louder than any words ever could.

You both got an A.

Top marks, praise from the teacher, Jealous stares from classmates who'd started with theirs last minute.

You thought it would feel good - something to celebrate.

But sitting there beside Riki, it just felt.. Empty.

He barely reacted. No smug grin. No playful ''We killed it'' shoulder nudge. Or that dinner he promised to take you out on if you two aced it.

''Guess we did alright,'' he said casually.

You nodded. ''Yeah.''

There was that awful silence again, it was so unbearable and full with tension. You just wished things were just like before, air filled with laughter and his dumb jokes.

He stood up, sliding his bag over his shoulder. ''Well.. Good job, Y/N.''

You panicked a little and quickly got up, before scrambling into your bag. ''Wait.''

He paused, hands casually in his pocket.

You held out his missing Airpod - the one he was supposed to smile at upon seeing.

He looked at it for a second, then gave a soft laugh.

That same laugh which made you stupidly smile.

''Guess this ends here?''

You froze, fingers still stretched toward him.

He took the AirPod gently, careful not to brush your hand. His voice was light, but his eyes didn’t match - too careful, too guarded. Like he'd already accepted your silence and was trying to make peace with it.

You wanted to yell.

You wanted to turn back time.

But right now? You could just watch him walk away.

The moment he stepped out of the classroom, something inside of you snapped, why was he acting like he was the only one hurt? You were hurt too. So that's why you were currently running across the street, rain pouring down in sheets, soaking your uniform, but you didn't care. You had to take out your anger on Nishimura Riki, once and for all.

When you turned a corner there you saw him. Umbrella in his hand, back towards you.

''Nishimura Riki.'' you called out, trying to catch your breath while trying not to look like a idiot at the same time.

He didn’t turn around.

You swallowed the lump in your throat, stepping closer. ''You didn’t even give me a chance. You just... walked away. Like I was some stranger huh?''

His silence was a punishment, heavier than any words he could say.

''I waited,'' you said, biting your lip to keep the tears from falling. ''You didn’t even give me a chance- You! You treated me like I ruined everything, like I was the one who messed it up. But maybe it’s you who’s scared!''

You took a shaky breath, fists clenched at your sides.

''And that’s not fair. You treated me like a jerk before even hearing me out. Like I wasn’t worth the time.''

The words spilled out, raw and desperate. ''You treated me like I ruined everything!''

The silence stretched between you, the rain soaking through your clothes, mixing with the tears you didn’t bother wiping away.

And then—

Without a word, Riki spun around, ran and pulled you into his arms, hand cradling your head.

You cried against his chest, your hands weakly punching his shirt. ''You're such a jerk,'' you said between those weak punches. ''A mean, jerk.''

His arms tightened around you, a quiet promise in the way he held you close.

''I'm sorry,'' he whispered against your hair, the heat of your bodies keeping each other warm despite the rain.

The rain has slowed down and you and Riki were drying up on the bench outside the convenience store. It had been a while someone had said something but the silence wasn't as bad as the ones before.

He glanced towards you, gulping before muttering. ''I'm sorry.''

You turned your head towards him, nodding since you didn't know what to say.

''I got scared. Thought I had ruined everything we had, but yes, it wasn't fair of me I know.''

You chuckled, nudging him. ''Nishimura Riki apologizing first?''

He smiled a bit, leaning closer. ''Forgive this jerk?''

You wanted to stay mad. Really. You should’ve. But the way he looked at you. God you couldn't.

You nodded, biting your lip.

''Don't make me regret it,'' you whispered.

His lips quirked in the smallest smile, and then - finally - he closed the distance.

The kiss was slow, his hand coming up to cradle your face, and lips moving against yours like he was earning the apology.

When you finally broke apart, foreheads resting together, he laughed quietly, breathless.

''You hit me pretty hard earlier,'' he teased.

You chuckled, cheeks flushed. ''You deserved it.''

''I probably still do.''

''I'd rather kiss you instead.''

lovliezᡣ𐭩: @chrrific @saemisic @heeaara @ltfirecracker @woniefication @lezleeferguson-120 @rikifever @chaeneu @jjennuine @callikari @yuuuraaa @wondoras @ykitslu @orimuraa

NETS: @k-films

[ruinix]

Can you write a story about Quinn Hughes asking yin to move in?

Hello, lovely. It has been long since you submitted this ask, hasn't it? I apologize. I am the slowest. But here it is! I hope it meets your expectations. 🙂‍↕️🙂‍↕️🙂‍↕️

Stay with me

TW/CW: 18+ MDNI, Fluff (kisses and everything), Just Quinn yearning

Count: 1296 words | Masterlist | Taglist

You’re late. Uncharacteristically late, but it’s not like Quinn has somewhere else to be. It’s his maintenance day after all. He shifts on his seat. He’s on a park bench, tugging his cap down to hide from the glare of the sun. The weather’s not at all hot, but he’s sweating bullets. His heart pounds in his chest. He’s nervous.

His pocket feels heavy. The key—which he clipped on a keyring with keychains of the Canucks’ logo, a hockey jersey with his number and his last name, and your favorite animal and flower—feels like a heavy piece of his soul. He slips his hand into his pocket and grips it tightly that his knuckles turn white. It’s the key to his apartment. He wants you to move in with him. He needs you too.

Every second that passes without you in his house feels like an eternity he dreads. Sure, you come over but it’s not enough. He doesn’t like how silent his house turns whenever you leave. He doesn’t like it when you insist on taking your laundry and do them to your place—he has his own washing and dryer machine. Why would you need to go to your place? But he always swallows down his protest because he knows how particular you are with your clothes.

Don’t you realize that he already got the model of your machines? What about the same brands of detergent and fabric softener in the cupboards? How his clothes now smell like yours?

Quinn doesn’t think you are picking that up, so he made bolder moves. Like making room for your clothes in the walk-in closet. Like the well-stocked cabinet in the restroom with your shampoo, conditioner, hair masks, skin care, and even feminine products. Like how you have your own tableware and fucking house slippers. Still, without fail, you pack up everything you bring, and you go back to your place.

It’s driving him insane.

However, it’s clear to him that he needs to directly ask youif he wants you to stay with him. Hence, the reason why he asked you out today. He asked you out for coffee. Fucking coffee. Quinn groans, palming his face at how silly that is.

His exact words were, through text, “I want to try a cappuccino. Come with me?”

He almost banged his head against the wall after he pressed send and reread his text. Why? Because you have been giving him cappuccino from time to time. You bring it—or any other beverage like tea or a different coffee—whenever you come over. So, it is fucking stupid to say he wanted to try one.

Like the angel you are, you replied, “I know a place! Meet you at the park, Q. 3pm!”

You didn’t even correct him, didn’t give him a slight chance to be more embarrassed by saying that he already drank cappuccino, didn’t even hesitate to send him loads of emoji blowing a kiss. You are so sweet. His need for you only grows from that.

He truly needs you to wake up next to him and not pack up.

He needs you to stay.

He needs all your belongings in his place. In the room he has been working on. There is plenty of space for every article of clothing, for every season, and so much more space to fill. He needs your makeup on the vanity he set up. He needs your work things in the office he prepared.

He needs you.

Your presence. Your laugh echoing on his walls. Your scent in his sheets, the sofa, the whole fucking air of his space. He needs your messes—the coffee mug that you leave for him to wash, the unfolded mess of a fleece blanket on the sofa, the stuffed toys you occasionally bring, the shuffling of his books in his shelves, and more. He needs these traces of your existence to stay and never disappear.

He needs you everywhere.

He doesn’t like it when you leave, because every time, you take away every sense of warmth in his place.

It’s not the same without you.

He hopes you accept this—

“Quinn!” Your voice makes him sit up, making his thoughts pause, his head immediately turning towards your fast approach.

You’re wearing comfortable clothes, a slightly oversized sweater and a skirt. Your lips are painted with your favorite shade of a lip gloss—is it lip gloss or stain, he’s not so sure—and it suits you so well. It makes your skin glow. Your hair flows and bounces. The sun shines so perfectly on you that you look like a fucking angel. So beautiful. His chest squeezes. You’re not coming as quickly as he needs you to, so he stands up and intercepts you with a hug.

Oh, the way you melt into his hug.

Your arms wrap over his shoulders, pressing his chest against his. He swears that he can feel your heart beating. It’s as fast as his. So strong in your chest. Can you feel his? He both hopes you do and don’t. He doesn’t want you to know he’s nervous. It will worry you.

He kisses you briefly, a shiver running down his back when you kiss him back. After a few moments, he reluctantly parts from you. You grin, taking his hand and basically dragging him to a café just a couple blocks away.

Everything feels like a blur.

From ordering the cappuccino to sitting down and listening to you ramble about how your day went.

Quinn can barely focus because for every passing minute, the key in his pocket grows heavier, heavier, and heavier. His chest starts to ache beyond his nervousness. He softly places a hand over yours. You instantly pause, waiting so patiently for him to speak. Your eyes are wide and bright. You even lean forward to emphasize your focus. That eases him. Slightly.

Taking out the key from his pocket, overturning your hand with his shaky ones, he places it on your palm. He clears he throat and says, “Will you move in with me?”

He doesn’t know what to expect. This can go whichever way. He’s scared, but the longer he stares at you, the more he realizes that he doesn’t have to be. Even if you say no, he can ask again in the future. He can wait for you to be comfortable and live with him. He can and will.

Then your other hand softly traces and inspects the key and the keychains. Quinn’s heart races harder when your smile grows brighter. His breath catches when you finally meet his eyes.

“Yes,” you softly say. “I’ll move in with you, Quinn.”

Quinn grips your hands tightly, a sigh of relief escaping him, then he kisses your knuckles. One by one. His eyes are tearing up, but he blinks them away.

“I’m so happy,” he explains as a tear still escapes him. Even more when you wipe them away with your thumbs. “Sorry—”

You’re instantly on him, sitting on his lap, kissing him to stop any more apologies. You’re so sweet. He’s so lucky to have you and now you’re moving in with him. Fuck, he can shout right now, scream his lungs out that his girl will be living with him, but he holds himself back.

He deepens the kiss instead, tongue sliding over the seam of your lips for permission which you grant immediately.

He loves you so much.

Now, he needs to help you pack. The faster you get your things loaded in a truck or his car, the faster he can get to keep you to himself.

But when you moan into his lips, Quinn decides that it can wait.

Just a bit.

[madamechrissy]

Two for One

ఌ Pairings ఌ Satoru Gojo x Fem Reader x Suguru Geto

ఌ Warnings ఌ MDNI- Cunnilingus, blow jobs, fingering, p in v sex, anal sex (fem receiving) creampie, double penetration etcc, SatoxSugu kiss bc of COURSE but mostly play with reader

ఌ Word Count ఌ 4.6k

ఌ Summary ఌ Your bosses, Satoru Gojo and Suguru Geto want to make sure you feel appreciated, so they decide to help you unwind with... well, their dicks

“I really hope I’m doing okay.” You murmur nervously, as Satoru Gojo leans over you to see the work you’ve done on the computer, you inhale his scent, so fresh and clean, yet masculine. His silvery white locks are falling just so over his forehead, the line of his jaw tensing just a bit, before turning to you, smiling.

Satoru’s smile was so fucking gorgeous, but his eyes… this endless pool of baby blue that sparkled like stars. It was physically painful to even look at them at times, you had been working closely with him for months now, but they always got you a bit, if you had to admit it.

“It’s perfect, of course. You worry too much.” He gently places a hand on your shoulder, and you exhale, smiling, crossing your legs in your business dress.

“Thank you, Mr. Gojo. That means so much.”

“You’re very welcome. Hey, Suguru, come look.” Suguru Geto comes then, handsome, tall and dark, the yin to Gojo’s yang surely. His long silky locks were half tied up, and his seductive chocolate eyes met yours, smiling just so.

“What am I looking at, besides this gorgeous girl.” You flush bright red, peering around, but everyone had left the office for the day at this point, the final people filing out of it.

“Well, duh, of course she’s gorgeous.” Satoru Gojo plays with your hair, until he unclasps the little clip. You inhale a bit at it, as his fingers brush through your hair, letting it fall loosely over your shoulders. “Even prettier now, hmm?”

“Even prettier.” Suguru Geto murmurs, and then the two men, your bosses, are surrounding you, Gojo leaned on your seat, Suguru sitting on your desk, he simply smiles at you as Satoru leans in closer.

“I am so happy to be here, really. It’s such a big opportunity.” You murmur, looking down at your lap, heat embarrassingly growing between your thighs as you shift in your chair. “I was worried that I wasn’t catching on quick enough.”

“Nonsense. You're doing great. Better than most." Gojo said, as he looked at Geto. "Don't you agree?"

Geto nodded. "Definitely. You have a good head on your shoulders, not just a pretty face.” He gently brushes his fingertips along your jaw line, and you gasp a bit at the situation, at the touch.

"How about we hang out a bit and relax before we go home? It will help you unwind a bit.” Gojo suggests, brushing your hair back behind an ear. His touch electrified you, and your thoughts went awry.

Geto nodded in agreement. "Yeah, you've been working hard, I think it’s time we treat you a bit."

They lead you to a part of the office you hadn't seen before, a little room directly behind Gojo’s he unlocks it with a key, so casually, as your heart races. It was dimly lit, with a plush velvet couch that looked like it belonged in a cozy living room, and the room was lit with red LEDs, casting a glow more like some strip club.

You took a seat, feeling the soft cushions give way beneath you, and Gojo sat to your left, and Geto to your right, their long legs touching you on either side. You flush as their thighs brush against yours, as they casually lean back, arms touching behind your head. It's a little overwhelming. They were both so confident and gorgeous, and such powerful men… you feel tiny.

“You know… we have been wanting to do something special for you." Gojo said, his voice low and seductive, hand gently brushing your thigh now. You tense a bit, breathless, looking at the long elegant fingers on your bare leg.

Geto leaned in closer now too. "We noticed how hard you've been working for us, love, and we thought you could use some... relief. What do you think?” His hand is on your other thigh, big hand with strong fingers, each man has huge hands, but they’re so different, Gojo’s soft and Geto’s were calloused. They brush up and down simultaneously.

Your heart began to race, pounding inside your chest, you didn't know what they had in mind, but the way they were looking and touching you made your cunt start to throb around nothing. You shift nervously, friction on the couch hitting your clit and making you bite your lip.

“You all don't have to do anything special, I'm just glad I'm here.” You say softly, feeling your pulse thrum in your throat, when Gojo tilts your chin up, looking down at you with those beautiful eyes, even in the red light they glowed insanely bright, his full lips parted.

“So me and Sugu really, really like you.” He murmurs, and you flush, he laughs a bit at you. “Aw, you’re shy, that’s cute!”

“I…” You falter, unable to speak, when Geto now takes your chin in his hand, strong and sure grip, his eyes hooded with desire.

“Don’t let Satoru scare you, he’s a little too much.”

“Hey!” Gojo yanks you against him, pouting.

You giggle, breathless, and Geto rubs a thumb across your lower lip, shooting pleasure through your body, hot and aching. “We’ll be honest with you, love, you’re exactly our type.”

“Your type?” You murmur, trembling when Gojo eases your blazer down your arms, leaving you in your dress now, feeling tight against your skin.

“Mmhmm, we like to share, and we are rather picky. And busy. So… we think maybe you might be perfect for us.” Gojo says, and now Suguru’s nuzzling your neck just slightly, inhaling.

“You also smell fucking delicious.” He whispers, you shiver at that, as he kisses softly, making your tummy clench with how badly you want more.

“Th-thank you… but you all are like beautiful?” They laugh, both deep voices vibrating now.

“You’re beautiful. If you like it, how about we make it a regular thing?” Gojo whispers.

“If I like…”

“Us pleasuring you, love.” Geto finishes that thought, you squeak a bit at that, and they laugh at you.

“Maybe I’m dreaming.” You mumble, and Gojo pinches your thigh, you yelp, and he grins, bright white against the red lights of the quiet room.

“You’re single, right?” Gojo asks, so casually, unsnapping some of the buttons of your dress top. You nod. “Perfect. Isn’t she, Suguru?”

“She is indeed.” At the praise you’re bright fucking red, overheating when they have your dress slid off you, leaving you in your bra and panties, which were black lace. Suguru moans softly. “This body…”

“Fucking gorgeous.” Gojo finishes his words, they seem to do that, as if they’re always in sync. You bite your lower lip, tentatively touching their thighs now, strong under your small hands.

“Thank you…” You whisper, they hum approvingly, and then you look to Satoru, into his pretty goddamn eyes, lit with desire and hunger. “Will it change anything?”

“It will just make our days much more fun.” He whispers, raising his brows, smiling deviously. “Now, who will you kiss first?”

Your head arches back as they both caress your body, leaning closer and closer, and you look between them. “I don’t know! You’re both really fucking hot. And you both smell really amazing.”

They laugh, Gojo throwing his head back, Geto more chuckling. “I knew we liked you, Princess.” Geto whispers, leaning close, and you exhale.

“Fuck it.” You lean forward, kissing him softly, you gasp at the sensation, the little shocks on your lips, as his tongue slid in, hot and wet against your lips. You moan softly, reaching for Satoru with your hand, turning to him.

“You picked him first, what a brat!” He pouts, and you laugh, breathless, pulling him to you softly, eyes locking to his lips.

“I couldn’t pick, he was just closer. You’re both too… yeah.” Gojo leans forward more, as Geto continues to rub your thigh, higher and higher, Satoru grabs your hair, smashing his lips against yours, so different than the ease that Geto had. He was sliding his tongue inside your mouth, possessing it, and you moaned into his lips, feeling heady.

“I’ve never…” You trail off, nervous as you pull back, exhaling. “Done something like this.”

“Don’t worry, baby girl, we got you.” Satoru says softly, and turns your face to Suguru now. “Kiss him again, would you?”

You need no urging, you kiss him again, his lips fucking sensual and tantalizing as they dance across yours. Gojo kisses down the side of your neck, biting it, making you hiss a bit at his sharp teeth. He moans, gripping you tight, and Geto eases back, his eyes drinking you in.

“Who’s the better kisser hmm?” Gojo demands, and you flush, shaking your head, crying out when Suguru’s hand cups your breast over the lace of your bra, making your nipple tighten and press into his palm.

“You’re different. But both really fucking good.” You murmur, and Geto smirks at that.

“Don’t lie, Princess, I’m way better.”

“Bull shit Sugu! I’m elite at the shit.”

You burst into laughter, and they glare at you. “Oh shit.”

“I think she needs to be taught a lesson, don’t you Sugu?”

“She sure does.”

“Fuck…” You moan when their kisses grow more insistent, as their lips start to trail across you, their hands up and down your body. Gojo’s lips found your neck, kissing and nipping at the sensitive skin again, making you arch your back.

Geto’s mouth moved to your breasts, taking one out of the cups of the lace, sucking a peak into his mouth and suckling gently as his hand played with the other, making you slick and wet, panties soaked. Gojo’s talented fingers find you over them, and he moans, blue eyes darting up to yours in stark want, you lose yourself in them, in the sensations.

“She’s soaked, Sugu. Feel her.” Satoru takes Suguru’s hand, putting it against the damp fabric, you cry out at the difference of Suguru’s big hand pressing against your clit.

“Ah! Ohmygod…” You whimper, and Suguru id now looking up at you, with that calm gaze, hidden with lust, his glossy lips parted, as he rubs little circles on your aching clit, pushing you over the edge.

“She’s drenched.” He whispers, then goes to slide his fingertip under your panties, finding your clit with his middle finger, swirling against it, making you scream out, arching your back up off the couch. “Let me taste you.”

He brings his finger to his mouth, sucking your wetness off, and your mouth drops open, the sexiest thing you’ve ever fucking seen. Satoru takes his fingers, rubbing them along your slit, slippery with want already, and you look to him, as he slides a finger inside you, filling you. You’re panting, your body aching for more, as he slides his finger in his mouth now.

“You taste so fucking good.” Gojo murmurs, kissing you again, and Suguru’s hand is back between your thighs, playing with your clit again, you press your cunt against his touch as your hands run through Gojo’s silky hair.

“I need more of you, Princess.” Comes Geto’s voice, and before you know it, he’s kneeling between your thighs, sliding your panties down.

“Oh! I… oh…” Your nerves hit hard, but Gojo kisses you again, peering down at Geto, who’s gripping your thighs now.

“Princess, you’re making a mess already.” Suguru says, yanking your hips toward him, Gojo laughs a bit, sliding off your bra now with ease as Geto strokes your cunt again.

“We’ve barely gotten started, baby girl. Can you handle us?” Gojo asks, you exhale, nodding. “What a good girl.”

Suguru’s head buries between your thighs, and your cunt gushes with just one flick of his tongue, so sensitive you can’t handle it, your hips buck up. Gojo laughs, softly, as Geto continues lavishing you with his tongue. Gojo takes your breast into his mouth, lavishing your nipples, each getting their own attention, while Suguru slides his tongue in you.

“Ah! Geto! Gojo!” They laugh at you, Suguru’s breath hot on your clit, looking up at you mischieviously as he slides a thick finger in you, long, filling you. You gasp, your cunt is already pulsing around it.

“Call us Satoru and Suguru.” Suguru whispers. “At least while we’re playing with your tight little cunt.” He tilts his finger up, and you’re blinded, seeing black spots and little sparkles.

“Suguru…” You whisper, he moans then, diving back in, face buried as he eats you up, licking all your wetness. Gojo’s yanked your hair, wrapping it around his fist, making you look into those eyes.

“I want to watch you cum, pretty girl. Keep your eyes open. Got it?” You nod, eagerly.

“Yes, Satoru. Ah! Fuck. Mnh…” Suguru is working his fingers and mouth on you now, and Gojo is watching your every expression like a hawk. One of your hands go to grip Suguru’s soft hair, as the other clutches Satoru’s chest, hips wriggling with Suguru begins to moan against you.

“That’s it, pretty, fall apart.” He whispers, full lips parted, watching every expression you had intently, just holding you there, flicking a fingertip on your nipple, as Suguru sucks on your little clit.

“Ah! Fuck, fuck… cumming…mnh!” You feel everything wash over you, as he hits that spot in you, as his tongue flicks faster, faster, you scream out your pleasure, cumming in hot spurts all over Geto’s pretty face.

“That’s it, pretty, good girl.” Gojo kisses you now, drinking in the last of your cries, you’re fucking twitching, and now Geto yanks your face to him, leaning over you, kissing you deeply. You moan into his mouth, clutching both of their jackets, as Gojo’s now rhythmically fingering you.

“Get on your hands and knees, Princess.” Suguru whispers, you eagerly comply, with shaky hands and legs, and they’re undressing, you salivate as you look at their bodies.

Suguru is tanned and muscular, tattoos running down his ribs, broad shouldered and chiseled. Gojo is a little slimmer, but every bit as cut if not more, pale skin glistening, and both of their… fuck. Their cocks are huge, bigger than anything you’ve seen, the same length, Suguru is just a little thicker. They’re both so gorgeous you feel your cunt pulsing again, and you whine.

“You look so beautiful like this.” Suguru murmurs, kneeling in front of you, as Gojo slides behind you.

“It’s my turn to eat you, baby girl.” Satoru murmurs, and you gasp when you feel his breath on your cunt, each hand gripping your ass cheek.

“Why don’t you tell me what you want, Princess?” Suguru murmurs, and you open your mouth.

“Your cock in my mouth. Mmn… Fuck, Satoru.” He’s humming on your clit, and you’re gushing. Suguru gently cups your face in his big hands, tilting your chin up.

“I’ll give you whatever you want, Princess.” He slides his cock into your open mouth, and you begin sucking on him, fitting your mouth around his thick length, as Gojo’s fucking you with his fingers, smacking your ass then.

“You’re so fucking wet.” Gojo whispers, arching those insane long fingers up, and Suguru gently pulls your hair, hips snapping into your mouth. “Do you want this cock inside you, baby?”

You moan, nodding on Suguru’s cock. He eases back, swiping a finger down your lips, coated in saliva and precum. “Yes, please, Satoru.” You peer back at him, and his eyes are so bright they’re hard to look at.

“Such a good girl for us, isn’t she Sugu?” He murmurs, and grabs your hips, sliding his cock against you, between your lips, against the puffy, overstimulated clit, making you cum again, shaking.

“She’s very good, Satoru.” He muses softly, opening your mouth back up, you lick the leaking tip of him, tasting him, salty but sweet. He groans, handsome face tense, as Satoru shoves his cock in you, deep.

You fucking scream.

“Ah! Fuck, fuck fuck.” Your hips buck, and Satoru pauses, rubbing his hands down your waist, down your hips, massaging you everywhere.

“You okay Princess?” Suguru asks softly, and Gojo reaches around, bending over you a bit, finding your clit.

“Ease up, baby girl. You’re too fucking tight.” He’s groaning, rubbing in little circles, making you wetter as he slides out and in.

“You don’t eat pussy as good as me, Satoru.” Suguru chides him, and you laugh, breathless, before moaning, soaking Gojo’s big cock, that’s stretching you beyond your fucking means.

“Yes I do, she's stupid tight. Focus on this clit, baby.” He murmurs, rubbing faster, and you exhale, loosening up as much as you can, as he’s pressed against your fucking cervix, something you’d not felt. It’s so intense you scream, around Suguru’s cock, sucking, crying as you do.

“You’re such a good little toy for us.” Suguru murmurs, lovingly almost, caressing your face now, your eyes lock onto his as you suck. “You’re doing so good.”

“Mmm…” You manage to moan, eyes shutting as Gojo hits so deep, fingering your clit, you start to feel yourself rise, higher and higher.

“That’s it, baby girl. Want us to fuck you like our doll?” Gojo murmurs, you helplessly nod, and then Gojo is fucking into you, as Suguru fucks your mouth, in some insanely perfect fucking rythm.

You’re cumming on Gojo’s cock, moaning around Suguru’s cock, Gojo’s hands have your hips, Suguru’s delicately hold your face, as they fuck you, in sync, and you’re trembling, gushing all over Satoru’s length. He groans, fucking slower now, pressing up just so, hitting your cervix in such a way you physically couldn’t handle, screaming as you are cumming again.

“You feel so fucking good, cumming around this cock, little doll.” Gojo murmurs, gripping you so tight as he presses fully in, too deep.

“I think it’s my turn, Princess.” Suguru says softly, easing his cock out, your suction makes a loud pop. You’re covered in your own drool, nodding mindlessly, as they switch.

Now Gojo’s long cock is in your mouth, you revel and how good it tastes, as he holds your hair tight, and Suguru is sliding into your wet, ready cunt. You feel so full, so stretched, so utterly consumed by it, he’s thicker in you, even harder to handle, but he takes his time, easing you into it.

“Fuck she does feel good.” Suguru moans, smacking your ass gently, and Gojo hisses as you wrap your tongue around him.

“And her mouth feels so good.” Gojo groans out, blue eyes boring into you, as you taste your cum on his cock. “Taste how good you are?”

“Mnh…” You moan around him, and Satoru holds your face now.

“Relax that tight throat.” He orders, you do as he bids, as Suguru slides back in you, hitting you so hard you’re about to cum again.

“Relax this little cunt too. Fuck, she’s too tight.” Suguru groans out, gripping your waist tight, fingers digging into your ribs. You’re trembling, overwhelmed by these two men, and you love it.

You love being their plaything, their toy to use. They’re starting to not be as gentle now, Suguru is fucking you harder, your tits are bouncing with each thrust, and Satoru is fucking your throat, until you’re crying. Both of their big hands are all over your body, gripping, pulling, pushing. You’re a ragdoll in their hands, and it’s the most alive you’ve ever felt.

“Cum around my cock, Princess. Let me feel you.” Suguru says from behind you, and is if on command, he presses in hard, bottoming out, and you’re screaming around Satoru’s cock as you’re cumming, pulsing around his thickness, filling you so deliciously you can’t imagine not feeling this. “Oh fuck…”

You manage to cry out as Satoru eases back for a moment, letting you breathe, then you’re flipped on your back, and they’re both on you, Satoru’s kissing you, then Suguru’s kissing you. Then, they’re kissing, making you even hotter, watching the two lazily kiss for just a damn moment.

“Oh that's hot…” You murmur, watching them two kiss over you, then you’re kissing both of them, all three of your tongues playing together, their hands on both of your breasts.

“Ride Satoru, love, would you?” Suguru asks softly, and Satoru grins, laying on his back eagerly. You nervously straddle him, moaning as he slides into you, as Suguru is holding onto your throat, choking you gently, pushing up.

“Fuck you’re so pretty.” Satoru murmurs at you, grabbing your breasts as they bounce, you’re fucking up and down him, while Suguru is sliding his hand down your spine, you feel an obscene amount of pleasure.

“Going to hell…” You murmur, incoherent, and they both laugh, Suguru as he slides a finger up your ass, and Satoru as he’s grabbing your waist, shoving into you harder now.

“We all will, Princess.” Suguru murmurs, continuing to choke you as you ride Satoru’s huge cock, slippery and wet along him, shoving his finger deep in your tight little ass hole now.

“Mnh, Sugu…” You whisper, the pain thrilling you. He owns you, as you’re riding Satoru, so fucking pretty under you, long cock hitting deep, every thrust making Suguru’s hand tighten on your throat, as his finger shoves deeper in you.

“Do you like that Princess?” He murmurs, and you nod, helpless.

“Haven’t… done… unh…” He exhales, and presses you forward, to where you’re laying on Satoru now, and clinging to him. He’s kissing you, deeply, and you feel Suguru’s breath behind you.

Satoru grabs your face, kissing you deeply, and next thing you know Suguru’s licking your little hole above where Satoru’s fucking you, swirling in little circles on your un played with anal hole. You shiver at the sensation, Satoru slows, spreading your ass cheeks for him, as if they knew everything each other did.

Satoru’s eyes lock into yours. “Only if you want this, baby girl. Sugu can make it feel really good.” He whispers, and you nod, tentatively, Satoru moans then, rubbing your clit with his thumb. “Just relax baby.”

“Relax, Princess, promise I’ll only do what you can take.” Suguru whispers, hot breath against you, and you moan in response, arching your ass up. He’s flicking his tongue against that spot endlessly, then he’s pressing against you.

“Fuck!” You cry out, as he presses in, and you hiss at the pain, they both hold you, their hands soothing your body, Suguru kisses your shoulders, your back, Satoru’s kissing your mouth.

“Ease up, baby girl.” Satoru whispers, and you exhale, tears falling as Suguru presses in more, stretching you in the newest sensation.

“Are you okay Princess?” Suguru whispers, shoved his head in now, stretching your tight hole, as Satoru’s stretching your cunt, and it’s so much you feel like you’re falling off the fucking planet.

“Ngh…” You cry out, and Suguru gently moves, not to hurt you, stretching you with his thick cock, and Satoru presses up, studying you with those blue eyes.

“You can do it, baby girl. You can take us.” He encourages you, and you rock back and forth, Satoru’s cock sliding out, Suguru in further, and you scream, voice hoarse. Satoru’s hands are on your breasts, mouth sucking, and Suguru’s holding you tight from behind.

“Princess… fuck…” He groans in your ear. “I’ve never felt anything better than being in you.”

“Fucking same… so good.” Satoru groans out, and then they’re moving, relentless but careful, filling both your holes over and over.

“That’s it, Princess.” Suguru encourages you, and you’re cumming now, slick against Satoru’s cock, your muscles relaxing to take more of Suguru’s massive cock now, losing control, losing yourself.

“Sofuckinggood unh…” Your words jumble together, and you moan your release into Gojo’s sweet lips, as he drinks in your cries. Suguru is leaning forward, biting your neck and shoving deep in your ass now. You struggle to grip onto Satoru, like he’s your tether, as they both fuck into you.

“I wanna fuck her ass, Sugu.” Satoru murmurs, and Suguru laughs, pulling your head back to look at him.

“Maybe next time.” He says softly, shoving in all the way, and you cry out, ass clenching tight around him, making you both moan with the intensity.

“Selfish brats.” Satoru grumbles, and you giggle a bit, before he plays your clit again, and you’re cumming, riding Satoru and Suguru’s cocks, as they begin to tense, their touches harsher, strokes deeper, so much to handle.

“Fuck that.” Satoru groans, then eases out of you, Suguru does too, scowling over at Gojo now, he flips you to where you’re on his stomach, on your back, and then he’s got his cock pressed on your ass. “Hold these pretty legs up, Sugu.”

“You’re so annoying, Satoru.” Suguru grins though, holding your legs up and spitting on your ass, spreading it as lube. You tremble, feeling helpless, as Gojo holds you from under you, arching up into your ass now. You scream.

“Oh fuck… so fucking tight… jesus fuck…” Gojo moans, as his long cock stretches your aching asshole, and Suguru leans on you then, shoving his thick cock back in your pussy, and they’re both stretching you.

“Oh my god! Ah… fuck…” You cry out, hoarse, as now Suguru’s fucking your cunt, and Satoru’s fucking your ass. Satoru pulls your head to the side, biting your neck, wrapping his big arms around you, and Suguru has your thighs high, slamming into you, chocolate eyes staring into yours.

“You’re so beautiful.” Suguru whispers, you grip him tightly, hanging on for dear life as they fuck both your holes, in rythm, you cum so hard you can’t function, and soon you’re limp as a ragdoll.

“Our doll is tired.” Satoru says under you, biting your neck as your head lolls to the side, and Suguru holds your face, kissing you deeply.

“Does our doll want us to fill her holes?” Suguru groans out, and you’re nodding, eagerly. “Breed her?”

“Yes… yes… please fucking fill me.” You whisper, and they grab you so hard, smushing you between them, you can’t fucking breathe, all it was… was pure fucking ecstacy, as they each thicken in your holes. Gojo is going easy, Suguru is fucking so deep, you feel them both start to pulse.

“Cum again Princess.” Suguru urges, and Satoru is pulling your hair, Suguru is kissing you, you’re cumming around his thick cock, screaming into his mouth, clenching Satoru’s cock.

“Fuck…” They both bite out, and then Suguru’s cumming, hot seed painting your insides in thick ropes, as he kisses you, so deep. Then Satoru’s cumming in your ass hole, filling it insanely deep, and he yanks your head, moaning his release in your mouth.

You’re spent, shaking, both of their cum leaking from your holes, as you’re still pulsing, body done, unable to function. Then they’re both on either side of you, hugging you, kissing you, so sweetly. You fall into their embraces, letting them wipe your tears of pleasure and overstimulation away.

“You were amazing, Princess.” Suguru murmurs, and you tremble in his touch, as he wipes your tears.

“So amazing baby girl.” Satoru whispers, cuddling you from behind, caressing your face so gently.

“Are you okay love?” Suguru asks, and you realize how much they care, how worried they are for you.

“It was fucking amazing.” They chuckle at that, their arms are joined over you, holding all of you tightly. “I just… new things?”

“We can practice plenty.” Satoru says, and you giggle.

“So this will happen again?” You ask, and they both grin, kissing all over your face now, gentle little pecks.

“We would love it to happen, frequently. Wouldn’t we Sugu?” Gojo kisses your shoulder gently, leaving goosebumps.

“We would, if you want that.” Suguru whispers, and you nod, sighing, resting against them both, in a tangle of limbs.

“Oh fuck yes, please. I will be like the best assistant ever?” They both laugh at that, and then you all talk, as you’re all naked, wrapped together, and their cum and your pleasure is sliding out of you.

You’ve never felt better.

You have the best fucking job ever.

[limerlove]

THE FIRST BITE!

pairing. rugby player!abby x fem!reader x rugby player!vi

the introduction. abby anderson, the co-captain of the legends. the thickest, strongest girl around and she sure does pull like it. then there’s vi, tragically pathetic unable to get a girlfriend vi, a co-captain with some of the past game in the pitch but can’t find any to save her life off the field. or will misfortune of missing keys bring the luck directly to her?

the two have done nothing but compete against each other from the day they were born. abby has been a big girl from a young age, taller than most, it didn’t take much for her to bulk up. her biceps bigger than the largest dumbells in the gym, thighs and legs strong enough to kill a man. it’s what made her a dominant force on the field. she’s a bull you’ll try like hell to doze over, but the task is nearly impossible.

then there’s violet.

she’s not as big or strong, but she’s quick. she relies on it for every match. gliding on the pitch like a leopard. it’s because of her sheer speed that the team has won so frequently. violet is also the painful thorn in abby’s side, why she isn’t the sole captain but co-captains. the best of the best coach sev says, the yin and yang of professional rugby.

abby isn’t too sure of it but she’s in it to win and for that it’s the only reason why a bond is forged between them. the hatred they have for each other becomes kinship, hours on the field bringing out the best in each other only makes them win and win, and fucking win. the surrounding districts wanting to know coach sev’s secret.

it’s friendship.

two weeks from the quarter finals, the pair decides to blow off steam and that’s when the real competition between them thrives. until recently, abby had been happily taken, violet didn’t have to compete with the beefcake. even if she’d never admit it, abby makes her feel insecure. she’s smart, kind, and seriously ripped.

the amount of girls she turns town in one night at the local bar, seraphites, makes her wanna shrivel into a ball until all she feels is the a black hole swallowing her essence whole.

but now abby is single and god, vi will cry into her pillow if another girl she thinks is pretty leaves home with abby.

“don’t feel so bad. most wouldn’t last this long with me around.”

“yeah, i feel so grateful to still be here.”

abby chuckles as she playfully punches at vi’s shoulder.

“i’ll throw you a solid tonight then, the after party after quarter finals, i won’t munch all night and you know how hard that is for me.” abby playfully pouts.

“oh, really? how pitiful. that’s actually worse than competing with you. a sympathy thrown one night stand.”

abby harmlessly puts her hands up, taking a sip from her chilled beer. immediately, the bartender starts chatting up with her and abby starts being abby. it infuriates her how little the broad blonde has to try. she slips into this girl every damn gay girl in town eats up like a midnight snack.

each time, she starts it off slow. easy. throwing a compliment your way, if that bite into the bait, they always touch her hand, her arm, or stroke the vein protruding from her bicep. abby shamelessly flirts until they’re giggling, nearly putty in her hands.

a couple hours later, the two of them are leaving but vi is walking home alone while abby is entering a cab with the breathtaking bartender who’s shift has just conveniently ended.

it’s the only night she’s thankful abby left. it’s then she realizes as she attempts to get in her shared apartment with blondie that she’s keyless and no way to get into her apartment. the office is closed and she is so severely fucked.

vi doesn’t realize that’s she just sitting there like an idiot staring until a stranger’s voice pulls her out of it.

“any luck with your mind warping powers or are you keyless?”

vi jumps at the voice, locking eyes with the most gorgeous person she’s ever seen in her life. it doesn’t help you are wearing the shortest skirt she’s ever seen, cleavage spilling out of your top and she admires the white sheer top you’re wearing.

she feels a tad breathless.

that has nothing to with you.

just her predicament.

totally.

“do you have a roommate to call?”

vi comes to it and she murmurs and soft yeah, trying to not make eye contact with the goddess she somehow has managed to embarrass herself over.

quickly, she dials abby’s number, waiting for her to pick up not, once, not twice, but three times. damn fucker is munching right now, vi swears to herself.

but she didn’t say it to herself, she said it out loud where the girl of dreams is giggling as she speed texts abby, trying to evoke a response from her.

“indisposed and munching?” you ask, you’re smirking and vi is blushing.

“yeah, her favorite extra curricular activity and she does it exceedingly fast.”

“is it yours too?”

shit.

oh my fucking shit.

are you hitting on her?

no. that’s not humanly possible for someone like you to be hitting on someone as tragic as her. vi’s convinced it’s just because abby isn’t here. that’s all. her cockblocking stunner of a best friend isn’t here to make her life sufferable but the way you’re eyeing her up like a hot piece of meat should make her feel slightly objectified if you she wasn’t doing the exact same thing.

“right girl, right munch.”

it’s the dumbest thing vi’s ever said but you laugh. offering her a spot on your couch and she’s eternally grateful for. you even have a pair of shorts and a spare t-shirt that she can sleep in. she’s eternally grateful she doesn’t have to sit outside her apartment alone for god knows how long waiting for abby to be done with her seven course meal.

violet planned to actually sleep but then you play a vinyl record on the turntable and it just so happens to be vi’s favorite and she can’t stop telling about every song on the record. she’s so animated as she talks, her powder hues vibrant as she goes into the lyrics she loves the most, what songs made her cry first listen and the songs that still make her cry to this day.

you’re looking at her the way vi’s always wanted to be look at. before either of you know it, four albums later, it’s nearly four in the morning and you’re leaning in close to her, so much so vi isn’t sure she can even breath. a vibrant pink strand gets twirled around your finger.

“know about all your favorite albums but not a name to the pretty face.”

“violet. or vi. whatever you prefer.” vi struggles to breathe even further as your lips ghost over hers.

“what do you prefer?”

“violet.”

you take a pause, licking your lips, slightly crazing violet’s lips. she looks a like a deer in headlight, terrified to make the first move but you like how shy she is, how she voices the thoughts she isn’t meant to. there’s a sweetness you want to sink your teeth into like cotton candy.

“violet it is then.”

putting her out of her own misery, your soft lips mold with hers and you’re dominant from the start. placing a delicate hand on her throat, claiming her with your tongue as you devour her whole. it’s hot and heavy. the clashing of teeth, the pulls at her pink hair, and violet can’t help but bring you closer to her.

still wearing this insufferably short skirt, vi smooths her touch over your soft thighs beneath the fabric. the two of you getting lost in each other until it’s all abruptly stops. she’s funneling her under the hem of your shirt, playing with the buttons until she absentmindedly plucks one open.

“fuck—” you curse, trying to maintain your compose but violet plucks another button and your perfect tits spill out of the material.

“yeah?” violet smirks, not being nearly as innocent as she appears.

“time to put that extra curricular to use then. let’s see how munch of a munch you can be.”

rayray’s nonsense. UM HI IDEK KNOW WHAT THE FUCK THIS IS. um. yeah. abby x vi are my favs and i'm forcing this on everyone but i also fuck with it??? idek. this is a crazy midnight kinda post, spur of the moment if you will. gonna try not to get tew in my head 'bout this. that's for future me to deal with BUT ALSO DO WE FUCK WITH IT???? only time will tell. ALRIGHT. let me work on this mega long vi fic i got going on .... byeeeeee ♡

[a-sky-full-of-ideas]

Why do you even ship them?

In the past couple of months I’ve seen a lot of people genuinely confused about one or the other ship existing, so I wanted to explain some common reasons characters might get shipped.

This is part 1 of my fandom netiquette posts here is part 2

But before we get into it: The point is usually just good, plain old fun! The entertainment of them being together !

And for entertainment and fun, it doesn’t matter whether they’ve even been in the same room or not! Hell, it doesn’t even matter if they’ve been in the same universe or not! Basically: It’s all not that serious and the ppl harassing creators/actors/fans about said ships are usually the minority and frowned upon!

First of all, there are different ways in which people enjoy that ship:

In canon, aka it either is canon or they want it to be canon

Half canon, this means either post canon or if a very specific thing would have happened differently within canon

Canon divergent, aka it’s only enjoyable in theory or alternative universes and they don’t actually want it to happen within canon

In other words, there are different ways in which people support this type of relationship

It is the perfect relationship and everyone should strive to find and be this kind of love

While they have their flaws, this is a realistic way a healthy(ish) relationship can come out on the other end of all the horrors tm

This is (somewhat) toxic but in the universe/story line it makes sense and is the best possible outcome for them

This is the truly worst thing that could come out of it for the both of them but that’s why it is so interesting

Usually it boils down to these emotions:

It would be funny if they go together.

It would shift the impact of all that angst and trauma

It would be super cute. Plain old romcom vibes. Specially if the of story is not that at all and you just want something good for them.

Some basic reasons, that are more about the concept of them than actually them: :

They are fan favourites

They are both hot

Everyone else in the group is coupled up

They fit a certain stereotype/common trope

They resemble another popular ship juuuuust enough

The actors have played a couple/ship in another show

Spite! To annoy the author/other fans

Some personal reasons of the individual fan:

Reminds fan of their own crush

Fan relates to some aspects of their story

Fan relates to some aspects of the characteristics

Character looks like them/ like their crush

Based on the characters/stories design

They claim to hate/dislike/annoy each other but are somehow always found in each others business (willingly or not)

Opposites attract: They have opposing color schemes, personalities and/or views. The more differences the better.

Parallels: They have the same color schemes, personalities and/or views. The more similarities the better.

Based on their relations

You just want something good for this character and they (other character(s)) ARE that something good.

You just want something annoying for this character and they (other character(s)) ARE that something annoying.

Them being together would annoy this other character to noooo end

Even tho they don’t interact on screen (often), there is evidence that they did so off screen: they keep up a certain level of relationship (good or bad) despite everything else going on

Purely about the characters

They don’t pay attention to anything or anyone else nearly as much as they do about each other, especially ppl they should objectively care more about.

They’re the only ones who survived/left to deal with the aftermath. Even if they didn’t talk much prior to this, this is something to bond over. To keep the memory alive.

The expectations set on them are/were the same. And despite the different support systems and coping mechanisms… the other is truly the only one who could even find a glimpse of understanding of what they’re going through.

Yin and yang: a perfect mixture of parallels and opposites: They’ve gone through the same thing but deal with it widely differently. OR They come from widely different backgrounds and reasoning but end up at the same conclusion.

BECAUSE they’re so codependent they just wouldn’t make sense with anyone else, regardless of wether they themselves make sense

BECAUSE it is unhealthy and toxic and it’s interesting to explore such a relationship

BECAUSE if they’d be in literally any other genre/time they’d be fine. Nothing this bad would’ve ever happened if they’d just lived in another universe.

Why not ? It’s fiction.

These are all the reasons I can come up with at the top of my head but feel free to add!

Alas I want to encourage everyone to be open minded! Either to genuinely try to understand why a ship exists or, if you don’t want to waste your time on sth. you’re sure you don’t like, just filter and block the ship and their fans!

None of us can afford to waste our very limited free time on arguing with and harassing others about something FICTIONAL …that we don’t even like. Instead, please focus on making and/or supporting art about YOUR ship! This is not only much nicer to the fans you don’t support but also to yourself! Positive interactions will result in more positive interactions after all! Mostly.

[jack-of-heartstrings]

With us getting such big gay wins recently, I wanna take a moment to appreciate how inherently queer Miraculous has always been, even when it was far more subtle. I don't know if it was corporate pressure, actual meddling and censorship, or simply the writers being afraid of such things and finally taking off the gloves now, but I do know you could always feel it, and I don't just mean the previously implied couples now made canon, though maybe more in them than most really appreciate too.

It's in Marc's whole everything, how he's a walking gay pride banner to a point his name is a pun on "arc en ciel" (rainbow), yet his episodes have always been about belonging and acceptance and his personality revolves mostly around his passion for writing (and occasionally sports!) rather than Liking Boys being his defining trait as many shows with such an obvious design would do.

It's in how WAY back in season 2 Rose straight up kissed Juleka on the mouth, just slightly off-screen, and under the Zombizou effect.

It's in Kitty Section's whole vibe, and multiple characters directly assigning Luka the David Bowie song Rebel Rebel. (The song starts "You got your mother in a whirl, cause she's not sure if you're a boy or a girl." Bowie was also openly bi.)

It's in the ways the Love Square plays with gender norms. In the way Chat Noir's aesthetic would be traditionally only be for Catwoman and (Spider-Man's) Black Cat types. The way Marinette is frequently portrayed as the Knight to Adrien's Princess, the way Adrien is allowed to be a "damsel" in a lot of ways and still worth of love and treasured just as he is with no need to "earn" that, in Adrien being the Yin and Marinette the Yang with their symbolism. The ways their presentation and energy varies between personas. Etc.

It's in Alec, and the fact that they were one of the first characters we ever met in the show, and maybe the writers hadn't planned anything with them yet but even if it was retroactive that's still cool. The fact that their change was so casual and just remains a thing now.

It's in the pregnant lesbian dressed as a French flag sans-culottes wielding a fucking guillotine as a weapon storming the Paris capitol a day or few before Bastille Day and yeah okay maybe the lesbian part is relatively small but come on that was just one of the sickest things ever lmao. But yeah Miss Bustier and her wife are nice to see, as are Majestia and Knightowl while we're talking about relatively minor but still present adult queer couples. (I hope we'll meet Kim's dads in the show this season, too!)

It's in the occasional crumbs of polyamory acknowledgement. When Andre says he could make a three-person ice cream, it just "might throw off the delicate balance" (which is more than the vast majority of everything would give us). When Marinette says Zoe's crush could like two people. When Marinette acknowledges her feelings for Luka and Adrien as valid at the same time even though she still pressured herself to choose and then to shift flavors with Luka. Nathalie's whole everything and arguably the implications she was in love with both Gabriel and Emilie.

It's in how Alix is only said to be aromantic via Twitter but she's clearly so happy in her solo time guardian role, just chilling with herself. And the ways her reactions to Marinette's issues occasionally vary from the rest of the cast, i.e. "Wouldn't it be more logical to buy her a smoothie and help her work out her love problems?", are so good.

It's in how they treat chosen names in the series. That one I feel is so easy to overlook or take for granted, but whatever someone identifies as right then is their objectively true and correct name (see: the Book of Truth identifying Pharaoh, not Jalil, in Reunion). Every time Gabriel changes his villain name everyone uses the new one immediately. It's just really nice.

Nearly all of these things individually are so small, but there are so so many of them and I'm probably forgetting more. The series has always had queer influence, and it's honestly not surprising that they went through the steps needed to use the Progress Pride flag in a commercial work, let alone that we're finally getting more loud and explicit rep this season after the bolder steps they took in s5. But I'm so glad for every bit of it, deeply glad that it's finally more front and center, and I hope we get more moving forward, too!

[yin-of-many-kins]

Took the AP Biology test this morning and was Shen Jiu for half of it. What is life

[holyblonded]

estrella takes on england | stargirl

pairings: alexia putellas x teen!reader, barcelona femeni x teen!reader

summary: you finesse you way onto a trip with jana and ona to visit bruna

notes: finally shortening the request list. but keep them coming!

“Estrellita, do you realize how much homework you have?” Alexia asked, raising a brow as she stared at you with a mix of disbelief and tired amusement. “Like, have you looked at your assignment list at all?”

You blinked at her innocently, then turned to Olga who sat beside her on the couch, heavily pregnant and already giggling at your expression. “Umm… no?” you offered, voice high and hopeful.

Alexia sighed dramatically and pinched the bridge of her nose. “If you had, you would’ve seen the eighteen missing assignments you currently have.”

You tilted your head thoughtfully and glanced up at the ceiling like the answers might be written in the plaster. “You know,” you said after a beat, “I’ve never really thought about it that way. That’s some great insight, Mami. Eye-opening, really.”

Alexia’s face flattened into a look of unimpressed exhaustion. “You are not going to England.”

And just like that, you dropped to your knees with a gasp. “No! Please! Please have mercy on a poor, overwhelmed soul! I haven’t seen my sister Bruna in—God knows—how many years—”

“It’s been eight months,” Alexia interrupted, arms crossed as she tried to hold her ground.

“My heart aches for her! My twin flame, my rock, my soulmate!” you cried, hands clasped dramatically in front of your chest. “She’s the yin to my yang, the ketchup to my fries, the—”

“Keep aching,” Alexia said, rising from her seat with a shake of her head. “Because you’re not going. End of discussion.”

She turned and walked away toward the kitchen, leaving you collapsed on the floor in despair, reaching after her like you were in the final scene of a tragic telenovela.

Your eyes shifted to Olga, who was clutching her bump and laughing so hard tears had begun to spill down her cheeks. “You couldn’t help me?” you said, utterly betrayed. “You knew I was getting cooked out there and you just let it happen?”

“I’m sorry,” she wheezed between giggles. “But I am so miserable these days. My feet hurt, my back hurts, I can’t even see my toes anymore, bebita. If I get a laugh, I take it. So, thank you.”

You huffed, defeated, and crawled over to rest your head against her legs. She immediately began running her fingers gently through your hair, soothing in that way only she knew how.

“So glad my suffering brings you joy, Mama,” you muttered, already feeling your pout soften at her touch.

“Oh, mi nena,” she said with a fond sigh, “she’ll come around. You know, something similar happened to me when I was your age and I just snuck out.”

Your head snapped up slowly, eyes widening with curiosity. “You what?”

Olga smiled a little too smugly and leaned back. “I was a teenager once too, you know. I wasn’t always a boring grown-up with swollen ankles. I snuck out, caught the train to Valencia. My mom didn’t even realize I was gone until the next morning.”

You sat there, gears turning wildly in your brain, eyes now sparkling with possibility.

Olga narrowed her gaze. “You are not seriously—”

“I didn’t say anything,” you said, all too quickly. “Just… absorbing your wisdom.”

“Uh-huh.”

“I’m just saying… if one day I did happen to be in England… it would be a beautiful full-circle moment. Me, Bruna, Ona, Jana—family reunion.”

“You’re going to get us both killed,” Olga mumbled through a smile, and yet she didn’t stop stroking your hair. “Just don’t forget to clear your browser history this time, genius.”

You grinned. “No promises.”

You stood on the doormat of Jana’s apartment, bouncing on your toes with barely restrained excitement. You knocked three times, fast and eager, and when the door finally opened, you were met with a very unimpressed Ona Batlle.

Her gaze dropped to your duffel bag and roller suitcase, then back up to your far-too-innocent smile. “No.”

Before she could shut the door, you wedged your foot in the gap. “Ona, come on! Don’t be like that.”

Ona groaned, dragging a hand down her face. “Why? Why? Why?” she muttered under her breath as you shoved your way inside.

“Such hostility,” you said with mock offense, hauling your bags behind you. “Where’s the love?”

Jana appeared from the kitchen, eyes narrowing the moment she spotted your luggage. “What are you doing?”

“Joining you!” you chirped.

Jana folded her arms. “Don’t you have homework?”

“…I mean yeah,” you admitted with a shrug. “But homework I can do on the flight?”

Her eyes widened in alarm. “Oh no. No, no. Alexia gave us very strict instructions—”

“Pleaseee!” You launched into a full dramatic performance, dropping your bags and flinging yourself toward her. “I haven’t seen Bruna in ages! You can’t leave me here! I’ll wither away!”

“She’s going to kill us,” Ona said, but it was half-hearted, her tone already slipping toward resignation.

“Please!” you begged, clinging to Jana’s arm. “Pleasepleaseplease! I’ll be so good. I won’t even talk the whole flight.”

“That’s a lie,” Ona muttered.

“I’ll try not to talk the whole flight,” you amended, batting your lashes.

Jana sighed. “This is a terrible idea.”

“But also… a little fun?” you grinned.

She looked at Ona, who gave her the same deadpan stare she always did when things were about to spiral. But then she broke.

“Fine,” Ona said with a dramatic roll of her eyes. “But hurry before we regret this.”

“Too late,” Jana muttered, watching you fist-pump the air.

You were a whirlwind the entire way to the airport— talking, laughing, bouncing in your seat. By the time you reached the boarding area, both Jana and Ona were on their phones, catching up on messages and barely keeping up with your commentary about airport snacks and airplane legroom.

Then you saw it. A little crepe stand tucked between two gates. Your eyes lit up.

You didn’t want to interrupt their texting, Ona was probably talking to Lucy, and Jana was probably updating Bruna, so you slipped off quietly. You’d only be a minute. Just enough to grab some crepes and surprise them. It took them a few minutes to notice.

Jana looked up first and immediately straightened. “Where is she?”

Ona looked up too, eyes scanning the row of chairs. “You’re joking.”

“She was right there!” Jana hissed.

“She has the worst sense of direction—why did we let her out of our sight?!”

“Because she was sitting! She was literally sitting right there!” Jana stood up, looking around in every direction.

“She probably walked straight into a wall thinking it was the bathroom,” Ona muttered, already panicking as they started scanning the terminal.

They wandered past shops, peeked into waiting areas, earned more than a few strange looks as they frantically muttered your name and tried to remain inconspicuous while definitely failing.

Then they turned a corner and saw you at the crepe stand, grinning like a child on Christmas morning, carefully balancing three crepes in your hands.

“I got us all Nutella with strawberries,” you beamed, holding one out proudly as you spotted them.

Jana groaned and sank onto the bench beside the stall. “You’re going to be the death of us.”

Ona took her crepe with a sigh, shaking her head. “Next time, we’re zip-tying you to the seat.”

You just giggled, already halfway through your first bite. “Worth it.”

The wheels touched down on the tarmac and before the seatbelt light even dinged off, you were halfway out of your seat, vibrating with excitement. You barely made it through customs before breaking into a full sprint through the arrivals area like a sugar-high toddler, nearly knocking over an elderly couple and someone’s luggage.

“Bruna!” you shouted at the top of your lungs, spotting her near the barrier with a coffee in hand, very much not expecting a hurricane to barrel straight at her.

Her eyes widened. “What the—”

And then you collided with her like a wrecking ball, arms wrapped around her waist, bouncing up and down like a kid on Christmas morning. “You didn’t think I was coming! Surprise! It’s me! Your favorite little chaos goblin!”

Bruna let out a startled laugh, stumbling back a step. “I thought you weren’t allowed to come!”

Jana, trailing behind with two rolling suitcases and a severely unimpressed expression, grunted. “We didn’t have a choice. She snuck into our Uber with a bag and a plane ticket like it was a prison break.”

“I told you!” you grinned, still clinging to Bruna like a koala. “I belong in England.”

“You haven’t even left the airport yet,” Ona muttered, hauling your duffel with the aura of a very tired single mother of three. “Can you just stand still for five seconds?”

“Nope!” you declared, spinning in a full circle and nearly tripping over someone’s rolling carry-on.

“Estrella!” Ona snapped. “I swear to God, if you don’t stop—”

“I’m gonna buy one of those kid leashes,” she said to Jana, exasperated, pointing at you like you were an unruly Pomeranian.

“She’ll chew through it,” Jana said flatly.

Bruna, clearly realizing your chaos energy wasn’t going to subside, grabbed your arm and refused to let go. “That’s it. You’re mine now. I’m holding you hostage.”

“You say that like it’s a punishment,” you grinned, letting her drag you all the way to baggage claim and then to the car. She didn’t release you even when she had to unlock the trunk, just maneuvered with one arm like a pro while you clung to her like a barnacle.

The moment you got into the car, you slid into the seat beside Bruna and immediately launched into a verbal monologue with no breathing breaks. “Oh my God, I missed you so much, like so much. Spain is weird without you and Alexia yells more now and Olga makes me eat vegetables. Also, I stubbed my toe yesterday and thought of you for some reason—OH and Soleil says hi, she was like, ‘Tell Bruna hi’ and I was like ‘I will if she answers my texts’—”

Bruna blinked. “I do answer your texts.”

“Three business days later!”

Meanwhile, Ona and Jana, trapped in the back seats, had both slumped against their respective windows. At some point, maybe around your detailed story about how you got into a heated debate with a pigeon outside your favorite café, they gave up entirely and fell asleep. You kept going.

“—and then I told Olga that I wanted to dye my hair like yours and she said no because ‘Bruna’s hair doesn’t count as a stable color reference’ which I think was super rude, honestly, because I think your hair is iconic—”

Bruna just looked at you, both baffled and amused. “You breathe through your ears or something?”

You grinned. “Only when I’m excited. Which I am. Because you’re here. And I’m here. And I missed you so much, like seriously. It’s not the same without you. You might act like you’re too cool for me, but you’re not. You’re my sister and I missed my sister.”

Bruna finally smiled, that warm, soft one she doesn’t give often. “I missed you too, little devil. Even if you drive me absolutely insane. You’re still my pain-in-the-ass baby sister at the end of the day.”

You beamed at her, totally unfazed by the insult wrapped in love.

When you finally got to the hotel, you didn’t even help unload the car. You burst into the living room like you were running a marathon, dropped your bag, and dramatically flopped onto the couch with a groan of fake exhaustion.

“I think I belong in England,” you declared, sprawled out like a dead fish.

Bruna rolled her eyes. “Hell no.”

The next morning, just as the sky began to lighten with a soft pink hue, you were already wide awake and brimming with energy. You threw the curtains open with dramatic flair, letting the sun pour into the hotel room.

“Get up, get up, get up!” you sang at the top of your lungs, bouncing between the beds like an overly caffeinated squirrel. “London isn’t going to explore itself!”

Ona groaned and pulled the pillow over her head. “It’s six in the morning.”

Jana blindly reached for your ankle from where she lay sprawled across the bed. “Estrella, I swear to God—”

“I made an itinerary!” you chirped, ducking away before Jana could grab you. “Big Ben, Tower Bridge, Abbey Road, and the Harry Potter platform thingy!”

“You didn’t even say the name right,” Ona muttered into her pillow, but you were already skipping to the bathroom, humming a song of your own invention.

Three hours later, after much groaning, dragging, and you bribing them with pastries, the four of you were finally out and about, navigating the busy streets of London. You were a blur of motion, bouncing between sights and posing in front of every single one like you were the star of your own travel documentary.

“Picture!” you shouted, grabbing Jana and Ona by the sleeves and dragging them in front of Buckingham Palace.

“Another one!” you yelled ten minutes later in front of Tower Bridge.

“You’re going to have 100 photos of the back of my head,” Jana grumbled, squinting at the glare of the sun.

“That’s okay,” you said, already framing a selfie. “Your hair looks great!”

Bruna had joined you mid-morning, stylishly dressed and sipping coffee like she wasn’t babysitting a human firecracker. She watched you literally walk straight into a pole while staring in awe at a double-decker bus.

“She’s gonna get herself killed,” she said flatly, taking another sip of her drink.

Ona and Jana didn’t even flinch. “Yep,” they said in perfect unison.

Later that afternoon, the four of you were huddled around a small stall at the farmers market, arguing over which jam sample tasted the best.

“The strawberry has personality,” you insisted, already elbow-deep in a second helping.

“The apricot is more refined,” Bruna replied, raising an eyebrow at you.

While they debated the intricacies of fruit preserves, your eyes caught something in the distance. A churro stand. Not just any churro stand— this one had the silkiest, most luxurious chocolate sauce you had ever seen. It shimmered like a dream under the sun. Your mouth watered. Your sweet tooth roared to life.

Without saying a word, you slipped away. Two minutes passed.

“Where’s Estrella?” Ona asked, looking around.

Jana squinted. “She was just here.”

Bruna, calm as ever, sighed and pulled out her phone. “It’s fine. I dropped an AirTag in her bag.”

They tracked your location and, sure enough, the blinking dot led them straight to—you guessed it—the churro stand.

They stood there, watching as you happily devoured a churro, chocolate smeared on your cheek like war paint.

“Really?” Jana said, deadpan.

“Are we even surprised at this point?” Ona added.

“I should’ve dropped two AirTags,” Bruna muttered.

Eventually, the four of you made your way to lunch at a cozy little café tucked down a quiet alleyway. You were munching happily on your second helping of fries when Bruna suddenly reached over and squeezed your hand gently.

“I missed you, Estrella,” she said, her voice soft now. “You’re all grown up. But next time, I will come to Spain. You in another country is too stressful.”

You beamed at her, chocolate still faintly visible at the corner of your mouth. “Deal.”

Then you leaned your head on her shoulder and immediately began pestering her to let you order dessert. Again.

[minhxiao]

just imagining hua cheng trying to hype himself up before meeting xie lian again on the ox cart. standing in front of a mirror in paradise manor, stressed out as fuck, and shape shifting into a million different forms like "does he prefer older? or younger? what about the form when i picked him up in the bridal sedan? shit, what if he hated that one.... no... i can't wear the eyepatch. that's unacceptable. what about this one? yin yu? yin yu! get over here. now. what do you think?" and yin yu is standing there with his eyelid twitching like 😐 "yes hua chengzhu. i think you look great" but hua cheng is dramatically wailing and tearing out his hair like "GREAT?! JUST GREAT?!? there's no point in seeing him if i look anything less than perfect!!"

[hoshifighting]

Okay... But what if Y/n tells his best friend, Wonwoo, since highschool that she wants to join as a stripper as a joke. But then Wonwoo asks her to do a sexy dance in front of him, and Y/n played along, dancing, stripping naked in front of him and rode his lap with him still wearing shorts, until Wonwoo couldn’t hold back and fucked her hard.

— Warnings: Smut, lap dance, reader jokes ab being a stripper (all respect to the profession), penetrative sex, unprotected sex, best friends, stripping. — WC: 2k

It was a typical Friday evening, and you found yourself lounging on the couch with your best friend, Wonwoo. The two of you had been inseparable since high school, forming an unlikely but unbreakable bond. Wonwoo, with his quiet demeanor, was the yin to your yang. While he navigated life with a calm and collected approach, you were the unabashed extrovert, always seeking excitement.

As the evening progressed, you couldn't resist the urge to stir the pot a bit. With a mischievous glint in your eye, you turned to Wonwoo and blurted out, "Hey, Wonwoo, you know what I've been thinking lately?"

"What's on your mind, Y/n?" Wonwoo replied, his eyes reflecting curiosity.

"I was thinking of becoming a stripper."

Wonwoo's face immediately furrowed in confusion, his eyebrows knitting together. He blinked a few times, processing the unexpected revelation. You could practically see the gears turning in his head as he struggled to comprehend your words.

"Wait, what? A stripper?" Wonwoo finally managed to articulate, his voice laced with bewilderment.

You chuckled at his reaction, fully aware of the stark contrast between your outgoing nature and Wonwoo's reserved personality. "Nah, Wonwoo, it's just a joke! Can you imagine me on a stage, dancing in front of strangers?"

His furrowed brow deepened as he tried to process the information. "You...want to be a stripper as a joke?"

"Yeah!"

Wonwoo let out a sigh of relief, his furrowed brow relaxing. "You scared me there for a moment. I couldn't picture you doing something like that."

The truth is, Wonwoo was a fucking liar.

However, deep down, Wonwoo couldn't deny the vivid image that flashed in his mind at your mention of becoming a stripper. The mental image of you dancing around a pole in skimpy clothing lingered, creating an unexpected tension in the room. He quickly brushed aside the intrusive thoughts, trying to focus on the conversation.

You noticed the subtle shift in his demeanor and couldn't help but tease him. "Oh, come on, Wonwoo. Are you sure you can't picture it? I bet I'd be the star of the show!"

Wonwoo's cheeks flushed slightly as he awkwardly coughed, attempting to dispel the lingering mental image. "No, Y/n. Let's not even entertain that idea. It's just not you."

With a sly grin, you turned to him and asked, "Wait, are you saying I'm not hot enough for that kind of job, Wonwoo?"

Wonwoo's eyes widened as he frantically shook his head. "No, no! That's not what I meant at all!"

But his reddening cheeks and ears told a different story. You couldn't help but revel in the mischief, adopting a mischievous expression. "Oh, I see. So, you do think I'm hot?"

Wonwoo stammered, trying to backtrack, "I-I didn't say that. I just meant, um, it's not something I could imagine you doing. Not because of how you look!" His eyes darted away, and he mumbled, "Well, I mean, you're... You're pretty, very pretty."

He couldn't help but attribute his discomfort to more than just the thought of you pole dancing—it was the unspoken crush he harbored on you. Each playful comment seemed to amplify his self-consciousness, making him acutely aware of the feelings he kept under wraps.

Attempting to steer the conversation away from the provocative topic, you chimed in, "You know, it's not like I genuinely want to be a stripper. But I've always thought it would be fun to dance for someone, you know? Just to let loose and have a good time."

Wonwoo's eyebrows shot up, and he couldn't help but feel a twinge of surprise at your revelation. The notion of you wanting to dance for someone, while not necessarily in a provocative way, fueled his imagination, igniting a subtle curiosity.

"Oh, really?" he responded, his voice betraying a hint of intrigue. "Dance for someone, like, just casually?"

You nodded, a playful glint in your eyes. "Yeah! I mean, not in a professional setting, but just dancing for someone special. It sounds like it could be a lot of fun, don't you think?"

Wonwoo's mind raced, grappling with the newfound information. His gaze focused on you, and with a hesitant smile. "Hey, Y/n," he began, his voice softer than usual, "you mentioned wanting to dance for someone. Would you... uh, would you mind dancing for me?"

He fidgeted with the edge of his sleeve, his cheeks tinged with a subtle blush.

Your eyebrows raised in surprise, and a playful grin formed on your lips. "Oh, really? Wonwoo, are you asking me for a dance?"

"Well, you know, you mentioned it, and I thought it might be... nice. I mean, if you're comfortable with it."

You couldn't help but find his shy request endearing. "Sure, Wonwoo. But you have to promise not to laugh at my moves. I can't promise they'll be any good."

Wonwoo chuckled nervously, "I'm sure you'll be great."

Your hands found the hem of your shirt, and with a playful grin, you tossed your clothing aside, letting it land somewhere in the living room. Wonwoo's eyes widened behind his glasses, focusing on your exposed tits, his usually composed demeanor giving way to a hint of surprise and curiosity.

His voice came out as a soft whisper, "Does this... does this make part of the dance too?"

You simply nodded, your own confidence shining through. "Of course!"

The room was filled with the sultry beat of the music as you continued to move, your hands gracefully making contact with your body. Wonwoo couldn't tear his eyes away, the subtle allure of the moment captivating his senses. The dancing became a mesmerizing display, the connection between you and Wonwoo growing hotter with each passing moment.

As the music's tempo intensified, you decided to take it a step further. With a bold move, you gracefully moved to sit on Wonwoo's lap, your dance becoming more provocative. His breath caught in his throat as your movements became a sensuous exploration, his heart pounding in his chest.

Your hips moved up and down, back and forth, and of course the bulge inside of his pants grew harder. Wonwoo, attempting to maintain a semblance of composure, let his hands find your hips. He tried to disguise the effect your movements were having on him, not wanting to make it obvious how affected he was. Your hips moved in a tantalizing rhythm against his, and Wonwoo felt a surge of lust that he struggled to conceal.

Unexpectedly, a low, sensual moan escaped your lips, hanging in the air like a shared secret. Wonwoo's ears caught the sound, and a jolt of awareness ran through him. Did he hear that right?

His hands instinctively pushed your hips down, a silent plea for you to continue. The dance resumed, and your hips moved deliciously against his. Wonwoo bit his lip, desperately trying to contain the desire that surged through him.

"Hm… Wonwoo…"

Wonwoo swallowed hard, his voice barely above a whisper, "Y/n."

In the blink of an eye, the delicate balance of composure that Wonwoo had been struggling to maintain shattered. His hand found its way to the nape of your neck, pulling you into a hungry, passionate kiss. The air crackled as your lips met, the tension between you finally finding release.

Wonwoo's free hand moved with a sense of urgency, grabbing your ass through the material of your shorts that still clung to your body. The touch was both possessive and hungry, his tongue fought yours, and your hips continued to grind on his dick.

Your hardened nipples were pressed on his chest, and he felt that, also, he felt your wetness soaking his pants through your shorts. His mouth found its way to your neck, leaving a trail of eager kisses. The soft touch of his lips sent shivers down your spine, and you couldn't help but let out a soft gasp as his kisses ventured down towards your bust. His hands, now firmly gripping your tits.

He slowly guided you to lie on the couch. The air was thick with anticipation as his hands skillfully worked on the buttons of your shorts, his touch sending a cascade of sensations through your body.

With a deliberate slowness, he slid the clothing down your legs along with your panties. In the charged atmosphere of the room, as Wonwoo lowered his head closer to your thighs, you felt a sudden surge of impatience and need. Your hands gently pressed against his shoulders, halting his descent, and you looked into his eyes with a sense of urgency.

"Please, Wonwoo," you pleaded, your voice a breathy whisper. "Hurry, I need you."

His dark eyes met yours, the intensity of the moment reflected in the depths of his gaze. Understanding the urgency in your plea, Wonwoo's movements became more purposeful. With a swift motion, he aligned himself with your pussy, his pants and underwear also thrown around. 

The hot head of his cock rubbed against your entrance. He entered slowly so he didn't hurt you, since you didn't even want to wait for him to prepare you.  "How did you get so wet?" he asked, his voice laced with a mixture of wonder and desire.

Rolling your eyes in response, you could only manage a breathless murmur, "You," the single word encapsulating the effect he had on you. 

His cock stretched your walls perfectly, loving the fullness of Wonwoo, the initial discomfort giving way to a wave of pleasure. As Wonwoo's breath danced across your skin, his nose taking in the scent of your skin, a shiver ran down your spine. 

The throbbing length of his cock being squeezed by your wet walls, until his pelvis hits yours, a relief moan leaves your lips, as Wonwoo kisses your cheeks, his hips slowly starting to thrust into you. 

Your skin slapped together as he thrusted into you harder, making your body squirm under him. Meanwhile, Wonwoo admired the scene. How can a simple dance take him to paradise? He felt like he was seeing a work of art that some divine being had forbidden him from for so long.

Your breasts bounced with each thrust, your pussy making him wetter by the second, and your moans were driving him to the brink of an orgasm. "F-fuck Wonwoo yes! Right here!"

The explicit encouragement fueled a surge of energy within him, and Wonwoo, driven crazy by you, found the strength to respond. His movements became more purposeful, with a renewed vigor, he shifted your legs, pushing your knees toward your chest, deepening his cock inside of your pussy abusing the g'spot.

As you drooled from the corners of your mouth, the sheer pleasure and desire took over. In a breathless symphony, you cried out his name, as the climax overtook you, you felt yourself clenching uncontrollably around his cock, making him moan the loudest. 

Leaving an indelible mark on the couch beneath you, his cock throbbed inside of your pussy, the white hot spurts, being spilled inside of you, while you could only mumble his name softly enough to make him melt over you.

The air hung with a sense of ease and contentment as you found yourself still catching your breath, your voice reduced to a soft murmur of his name. Wonwoo, lying atop you, he couldn't help but savor the tender sound.

"Mmm, Wonwoo," you whispered, the quiet intimacy in your voice reflecting the connection between you two.

He stayed nestled on top of you, his weight providing a comforting support as you both recovered. Wonwoo looked into your eyes, a gentleness in his expression that hadn't surfaced before. "You know," he started, a playful glint in his eyes, "I think I want you to dance for me more often."

A genuine laugh escaped your lips, pleasantly surprised by his unexpected comment. "Oh, really? You enjoyed the show that much, Wonwoo?"

He nodded, his cheeks sporting a subtle blush. "Yeah, it was...unexpected, but I liked it. A lot."

Unable to resist a bit of teasing, you reveled in the sight of a more playful and confident Wonwoo. "So, you're saying you want a private dance performance on demand?"

Wonwoo's shy demeanor returned, but this time, accompanied by a mischievous twinkle in his eyes. "Maybe...just a little. It was...nice."

[chrrific]

UNDERCOVER. ✶ BABY, YOU GOT LUCKY CAUSE YOU’RE ROCKIN’ WITH THE BEST.

précis your long time rival at decelis spy corporations, agent niki — or agent twilight — has been paired up with you for a mission, with one small requirement; you have to be each other’s date to a gala, where allegedly, a member of the mafia will be that night. all you have to do, is be his partner for the night, and suck your hate for him up. what could go wrong?

&& 엔하이픈西村力 mission partner!niki / rival!niki x 𝑓. spy!rea wc k ─── rivals to lovers (?) one sided hate relationship for the sake of the mission typa thing fluff l’avis skinship fake relationship slight tension

MiCK ✉️ this one is for @glittercrashhh / yin >< thanks for the request, it’s been a long time since ive gotten one and i needed the inspo ! lots of love, and happy reading ^o^ you can find the request here !!

enhypen shelf ✿ bonedo shelf 𔓘 daily click

you abhorred the fact that when niki told you that wearing four inch heels was not the best choice for tonight’s gala, he was right.

your feet were killing you, and it was only an hour into the night. picking up on your shifting feet and eyes scanning your face to find a slight frown, he smirked, taking a sip of his mocktail before speaking. “feet hurt already? i thought you were going to be alright,”

you cringed inwardly at his quoting of your earlier words, regretting saying them in the first place. “so what if they hurt? it’s not like you care, anyway.” you retorted, avoiding his piercing gaze and instead scanning the room for anyone who matched the description of the target assigned to you and him.

niki paused slightly, letting out a soft scoff. “i— well, not my fault that if we have to chase someone down tonight, you either have to run barefoot or stay behind.” you rolled your eyes at his words, bottom lip catching between your teeth as you felt a dull sting in your feet from the heels.

niki noticed, of course he did.

he felt a pang in his chest for some reason, as he thought of the fact that you were probably in pain. why was he even feeling that way — you were just a mission partner and his rival. nothing more, nothing less.

but why was it so, that his heart wanted, no, needed more?

he wasn’t stupid, he knew the telltale signs of a crush; nervousness around them, flutters in your heart, and the want to be around them and help them.

and unexplainably, he felt all of that for you. you, the number one on his most hated list for years on end: you, the one who stepped on his foot with your heels once, and sprained his toe: you, the one who made him feel like he was about to genuinely combust from how mind-bogglingly pretty you looked tonight.

he shook it off: you were his forever enemy, not a probable love interest. it would be foolish to even dream that you feel the same way for him, wouldnt it?

well, unbeknownst to niki, you did. your breath caught the second he pulled up in his car at your apartment, the dark suit and his neatly styled black hair with just the right amount of strands wisping out making you second guess your feelings. it was stupid that you felt that way, but you couldn’t control the way your heart stuttered with every glance you threw his way.

you tried your best to pretend to be annoyed — it was normal for you to be mad at him — but it was getting harder by the second. what made it ever harder was when he spoke up next.

“do you want to take off your shoes? i kept an extra pair of them in my car because i knew you might need them,” he said, voice nonchalant, although he was avoiding your gaze a little.

oh.

oh.

you turned to look at him with an expression of incredulity, eyebrows furrowed slightly in confusion. “what? don’t give me that look, it looks like i’ve told you the earth was flat and not that i have sneakers in my car.” he rolled his eyes slightly, but the smirk the tugged at his lips betrayed his attempts to stay nonchalant.

“oh, please, nishimura. when have you ever done anything nice for me before this?” you scoffed, though your stomach was flipping inside. “i wouldn’t be surprised if you were trying to poison me or something,” you muttered, crossing your arms over your chest.

“well, y/n, if you’re that scared, i’ll go and get them for you.” he suggested, watching you contemplate his offer. after a moment, you shrugged, then nodded once. he took that as a yes, and took off to the car park, saying he’ll be back soon.

watching his frame disappear from the room, you were unconsciously smiling, before you felt an appearance next to you.

it was a man, who seemed to be around fifty, holding out a glass of champagne for you to take. feeling slightly weirded out, you shook your head. “sorry, i don’t drink.”

“oh, you don’t? well then, how old are you, gorgeous?” gorgeous? okay, now you were really weirded out. “i-i’d prefer not to say, thanks.” you tried your best to sound unshaken, but your voice wavered a little as you spoke.

the man took a step closer, and you stepped back, only for your back to hit the cool wall; a stark contrast to the uncomfortable heat prickling your skin.

just as he was about to say something else, a gentle hand wrapped around your wrist. you looked up, confused at the sight; it was niki. and he did not look happy.

“listen up. she’s not comfortable with you being all up in her space like that, and you need to be able to figure that out. get away from her, and if i see you around her again, you don’t want to know what i’m going to do to you. am i understood?” his voice was surprisingly dark, low, and filled with a hint of annoyance, protectiveness, even.

the man, startled by niki’s sudden presence, nodded, and walked off with a half-hearted ‘sorry’.

you heaved a sigh of relief as you got your personal space back, leaning your head back on the wall. niki’s tone and expression both softened as he turned to look at you, concern etched into it as well.

“are you alright, y/n? i… he didn’t do anything except trouble you, did he?” you shook your head, suddenly hyper-aware of the lack of space between your lips and his.

“good. and by the way, i got the shoes.” those words made your eyes light up in happiness, the previous encounter long forgotten.

“oh my god, thank you so, so much. my feet feel like they’re dying,” you smiled a bit, before crouching to take the torture devices that we call heels, off and replace them with the shoes that were a little too big on you, but they were much more comfortable than the heels.

niki watched as you put them on, a smile tugging at his lips. how could you be so adorable about shoes, for gods sake?

you straightened back up, only for your phone to buzz in your purse. pulling it out, you read the text bubble popping up on your screen, only for your eyes to widen and your elbow to nudge niki’s arm to get his attention.

“the target’s here.”

“where?”

“rooftop of the left wing. let’s go,” you gestured for him to follow. “and discreetly, okay?”

he nodded at your addition, following you up to the left wing where the entire purpose of this mission was.

throwing a glance at your direction as you both stilled in front of the door to the roof, his eyes locked with yours, many emotions swirling through: determination, awareness and a little bit of love hidden deep down in the mix…

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[voyter]

MATCHPOINT ⋆ 01

pairing. jeon jungkook / fem!reader / kim mingyu genre. tennis au. college au. smut. love triangle.

while tennis was your priority, the two boys who couldn't stop competing both on and off the court somehow were too.

word count. 8k words warnings for this chapter. threesomes and tennis LMFAO. they are SIMPS. a bit of crack, i love writing funny moments. my attempt at describing a tennis match even though i know jackshit. SO MUCH FLIRTING. smut. three way makeout sesh yummy. fingering. male masturbation. BIG DICK KOOGYU. oc got that wap.

ana's notes. publishing this an entire day early bc i am impatient :p anyways, i know the smut wasnt much in this chapter but it gets more and more explicit within each part hehe. let me know what you think so far, your feedback is very important and keep your comments positive or say nothing at all xx

⌗ MATCHPOINT MASTERPOST !

Mingyu and Jungkook shared everything.

They shared a childhood, swapping toys and creating endless adventures out of thin air. During sleepovers, they were mature enough to share a bed without fuss, laughing at the idea of one taking the floor. On school days when one left their lunch sitting on the kitchen counter, the other would split theirs without hesitation. They borrowed each other’s clothes so often that no one could remember whose was whose. When it came time for college, they applied to the same universities, and when both were accepted to the same one, they became roommates, sharing a dorm like they had shared everything else in life.

They were inseparable, always found together — so much so that when one was absent, people immediately asked, "Where’s the other?" They were two birds of a feather, yin and yang, brothers in every sense but blood.

One of the many things they shared was a deep love for tennis. It became their outlet, a way to escape the pressures of life and channel their competitive spirits. The rush of adrenaline they felt during a match was unmatched, and while they had fun playing, they took the game seriously, analyzing every serve, every backhand, every forehand with laser focus. They’d sit side by side, watching matches with an almost religious reverence, eyes glued to the ball as it zipped across the court, mouths slightly open, bodies leaning forward as if they could will the players to win.

If there was anything they loved more than each other (and their families, of course), it was tennis.

And that intense, unwavering focus they had when watching a tennis match? It was the exact way they were both watching you.

A scarlet dress clung to your body, black stilettos elevating your stature. But of course, they were red bottoms. And to top it all off, you weren’t complete without the striking shade of red on your lips.

Mingyu had found out about your upcoming tournament from fellow students at the college, along with word that there was going to be a little party on the tennis courts in honor of it. That’s how the two boys ended up there tonight. Mingyu had his eye on you ever since he caught you practicing on the courts one day. There was something about the way you moved in red, a fiery aura that stuck in his mind like a persistent dream. He couldn’t stop thinking about you.

The upbeat rhythm of a Nelly Furtado track thumped through the air — an early 2000s throwback that had everyone nodding along. Jungkook knew the song too, but if you asked him, he wouldn’t be able to tell you what it was. The music had faded into the background, drowned out by the sight of you. Everyone else was a blur, just shifting figures in his peripheral vision. His eyes, however, were locked on you, following your every movement like the moon that seems to chase you no matter how far you drive, or like the gaze of a painting that never lets go, no matter where you stand. 

His focus was relentless. He just stood there, mesmerized, as if time had slowed just for him to take you in, every detail etched into his mind. He didn’t even blink — he wasn’t about to miss a second of you. His body was rooted to the spot, eyes tracing every flicker of movement you made. Even when Mingyu nudged him in the arm, he didn’t react, completely frozen in place. He’s got it bad.

“Dude!”

Jungkook blinked, snapping out of his trance. He looked at Mingyu beside him, startled, before immediately returning his gaze to you, as if afraid you’d disappear the moment he looked away.

“Sorry,” he mumbled, distracted. “You say something?”

Your hair bounces with every move, catching the low lights of the party as your hips sway in perfect rhythm with the beat. There are plenty of people dancing, but to Jungkook, you're the only one who matters. Every gesture you make, from running your fingers through your hair to the way your body moves effortlessly with the music, leaves him entranced. Your hair falls right back into place, teasing him with how flawless it looks despite your movements. He gulps hard, his throat dry even though his mouth waters at the sight of you.

“I was going to tell you she’s over there, but looks like you found her already,” Mingyu scoffs, a smirk tugging at his lips. “Told you she was hot.”

Jungkook shakes his head in disbelief, “No kidding.”

Mingyu leans in, his lips hovering close to Jungkook’s ear. “I’d let her fuck me with a racket.”

Jungkook lets out a low snicker, rolling his eyes. Crude words like that were normal from Mingyu, but even so, it never failed to make him laugh. He’d heard worse over the years.

From across the court, you’re blissfully unaware of the way the two boys are watching you — like lost puppies, completely captivated. To anyone else, they probably look ridiculous, just standing there with wide eyes. In fact, a group of girls lounging on the cushion chairs by the side of the court had already noticed their ridiculous fixation, shooting you dirty looks, their jealousy plain as day. They’d been hoping to catch the boys’ attention, maybe even snag their numbers, but their plan had backfired since you already caught their eye.

The song fades, and you're left breathless, cheeks flushed as you tell your friends you’re going to grab a drink. They nod, barely hearing you over the music.

Jungkook watches you cross the court, eyes following your every step as you approach the drink table. He feels the weight of the moment — this is his chance. He nudges Mingyu, almost nervously.

“Should we go talk to her?” he asks, his voice low as you pick up your drink, unaware of their plotting.

Mingyu doesn’t even respond to Jungkook’s question — he just heads straight toward you. Without thinking, Jungkook follows, legs moving before he can process it. Approaching girls has never been his strong suit, and a jittery feeling builds in his stomach as nerves rise. But there’s no way he’s going to let Mingyu have you all to himself.

“Hey,” Mingyu says confidently, and your eyes flicker to him. Jungkook steps up beside him almost instantly.

“Hi,” he blurts out awkwardly.

You pull your lips off the straw, leaving a red lipstick stain behind, and Jungkook cringes internally. He feels like an idiot, convinced you must think he and Mingyu are embarrassing themselves.

“Hello,” you greet, your tone light as you swirl the straw around in your drink.

“I’m Mingyu, and this is Jungkook. We just wanted to wish you good luck for tomorrow,” Mingyu says smoothly.

“Thanks,” you giggle, clearly amused. “You two gonna be there?”

Mingyu’s eyes glint mischievously. “If I say no, will you invite us yourself?”

You raise a brow, a smirk playing on your lips. “Depends. Are you coming to watch tennis or just to watch me?”

Before Mingyu can come up with something overly flirty and blow their chance, Jungkook jumps in, his voice steady despite his nerves. “Mingyu and I have been playing since we were kids. And from what I’ve heard, you’re pretty good. We’re coming to watch some good tennis.”

Your gaze shifts to Jungkook, studying him for a moment. Mingyu, feeling the shift in attention, begins to grow envious, trying to think of a way to steer it back toward himself.

“You being pretty is just a bonus,” Mingyu adds quickly, trying to regain control of the conversation. “That’s twice the enjoyment.”

You snicker, amused by the playful banter.

Before you can respond, a friend calls out your name from across the court. “Join us when you’re done. We’re going to take Polaroids!”

You give a quick nod. “Okay, I’ll be there in a second.”

As she walks off, you turn your attention back to the two boys. “Make sure you’re there before the game starts. I’ll see you both then.”

Mingyu’s lips curl into a grin. “You don’t wanna ditch your friends and have a drink with us by the beach instead?”

You let out a playful laugh, already walking away. “Come to my match first, then maybe ask me out on a date, Mingyu.” You glance over your shoulder, throwing a teasing wave. “Bye, Jungkook.” You punctuate it with a wink before turning away fully.

Jungkook raises his hand in a dazed wave, completely spellbound, still processing the fact that you winked at him. His eyes stay glued to you as you walk toward your friends, even when you’ve blended into the group, laughing and chatting.

“Fucking hell,” Mingyu mutters under his breath, still staring at you.

Jungkook finally snaps out of his trance and turns to Mingyu. “Let me have this one?”

Mingyu shoots him a look, his voice dripping with competitiveness. “In your fucking dreams.”

“If it isn’t Thing 1 and Thing 2,” you tease as you walk up to them, a playful smirk on your lips.

It was almost amusing how obedient they were, like two loyal dogs waiting eagerly for your next command. They’d arrived before your game, just as you’d requested — 15 minutes earlier than necessary, clearly hoping to steal some extra time with you before the match.

“Little red,” Mingyu greets with a playful smirk.

You smile, warmth flickering in your chest at the nickname. “Cute,” you respond, letting the moment settle in.

Before you can say more, Jungkook cuts in, his voice hurried and a little flustered. “Just came to wish you good luck before your game,” he says, his tone soft yet sincere, eyes full of warmth.

“No, no — he came to wish you good luck,” Mingyu teases, flashing you his trademark confident grin. “I came to see what you’re doing after this,” he adds, his words dripping with flirtation.

Turning to Jungkook, you raise a brow, amused. “Does he flirt with every girl like this?”

Jungkook chuckles, shaking his head. “Pretty much.”

Mingyu places a hand on his chest in mock offense, letting out an exaggerated scoff. “I’m offended.”

You laugh softly, eyes still sparkling with mischief. “I’m just messing with you. I wasn’t actually planning on doing anything after.”

Mingyu’s eyes light up, clapping his hands together. “Perfect! How about you come to our dorm later tonight? We’ve got beer.”

The offer still lingers as you mull it over, your expression thoughtful.

Jungkook glances at Mingyu, brows furrowed. It’s not that he didn’t want you there — he did, desperately — but he worried Mingyu might push too hard and ruin it for both of them.

“Hate to break it to you, Mingyu, but whether I come or not depends on my mood — and if I win or not.”

“Oh, so you’re coming tonight,” Mingyu grins.

“Confident in me, huh?” you ask, eyebrows raised.

“Been watching you play for a while now,” Mingyu replies smoothly. “Whoever you’re up against today is going home with tears and a broken racket.”

You smile, clearly flattered. “You sure you’re inviting me over just to drink beer, stalker?”

“Guess it’ll depend on your mood after the game,” Mingyu says, mirroring your playful tone.

You pause for a second, then ask, “What’s the room number?”

“97,” Mingyu says quickly, excitement flashing in his eyes. “Be there by 8?”

"I'll think about it," you reply with a smirk, locking eyes with Mingyu in a silent exchange of flirtation. The tension between you two is thick, like neither of you is holding back, completely ignoring the fact that Jungkook is still standing there, feeling more and more like a third wheel.

Jungkook shifts awkwardly, unsure what to say, as he watches you and Mingyu practically undress each other with your eyes.

Then, someone across the court calls your name, reminding you it’s time for warm-ups.

“Duty calls,” you say, giving them both a final look. “Lucky you two — front row seats. Be my little cheerleaders.”

As you walk off, Mingyu can't help but call after you, "Be there by 8!"

Jungkook, desperate to contribute something, shouts, "Break a leg!"

You blow a playful kiss toward Jungkook, and he swears his heart drops straight to his stomach, nearly falling out of his body altogether. Both boys watch as you walk away, eyes glued to your every step until you’re completely out of sight. Then, as if waking from a daze, Jungkook snaps out of it and smacks Mingyu on the arm.

“Ow!” Mingyu yelps, rubbing the spot where he was hit.

“Why would you do that?” Jungkook hisses, his face a mix of frustration and panic.

“Do what?” Mingyu asks, genuinely confused.

“You made it sound like we wanna fuck her in the dorm!” Jungkook blurts out, voice low but sharp.

Mingyu raises an eyebrow, his tone casual. “We do wanna fuck her in the dorm.”

Jungkook stammers, “Well yeah, but… I don’t want her to think we only want her for sex.”

Mingyu rolls his eyes, clearly unfazed by Jungkook's concern. “Dude, you’re overthinking. If she didn’t want it, she wouldn’t have entertained the idea.”

“She didn’t say yes,” Jungkook mutters, more to himself than to Mingyu.

“‘I’ll think about it’ is basically a yes,” Mingyu grins, clapping Jungkook on the back. “In my book, at least.”

Jungkook bites the inside of his cheek, unsure. Mingyu’s confidence might be contagious, but Jungkook wasn’t sure he liked the way things were being assumed. He wanted more with you — he just didn’t know if Mingyu understood that.

Just then, the bleachers start to fill, and the boys claim their front-row seats, buzzing with excitement. The crowd is a colorful mix — older spectators, middle-aged parents bringing along their younger children, and students around Mingyu and Jungkook’s age, all eager to catch the match.

Mingyu has watched you play many times, making frequent trips to the courts at the university ever since that first day he saw you. But for Jungkook, this is his first real glimpse of your talent.

“Is she actually good, or were you just saying that to get in her pants?” Jungkook asks, a teasing grin on his face.

Mingyu leans back, a smirk creeping onto his lips. “When I saw that backhand, I couldn’t leave the bleachers until my dick got soft again.”

Jungkook chuckles, shaking his head in disbelief. Just as he’s about to respond, the referee’s voice booms through the speakers, introducing you to the crowd.

That’s when you walk out onto the court. 

Everyone erupts into a fit of cheers, but not all of them are supportive. A group of boys a few seats away is particularly aggravating, barking and whistling in a blatant display of disrespect. Mingyu feels the urge to tell them to shut the hell up — not just for your sake but for the rest of the crowd, too — but he holds back, wanting to keep the focus on you.

Red skirt, red shoes — your signature look. Just like Jungkook loves to wear everything black, you embody confidence in your vibrant red ensemble.

As you step onto the court, you give the crowd a wave, and your eyes meet Jungkook’s. You shoot him a sly wink, and his stomach flutters with that familiar tingle, the same one from last night. He straightens his back, suddenly aware that he’s sitting there with his mouth agape like a total idiot. He quickly clears his throat, trying to regain some composure.

You head toward the chairs to set your duffle bag down, the wind catching your skirt and making it flutter. The crowd cheers again, particularly loud from that group of boys. Mingyu shoots them a dirty glare, wishing they’d show some respect.

Once you and your opponent, Camila Cane, take your positions, the energy shifts. Everyone knows Camila — she’s notorious for her brash attitude and over the top confidence, thanks to her wealth. And then there’s her infamous botched lip filler, which has become a running joke among the students.

If Jungkook wasn’t excited before, he certainly is now. Not only does he want to see if you’re as good as Mingyu claimed, but he’s also eager to witness Camila get humbled. He remembers the time he accidentally bumped into her, politely apologizing, only to be met with her disdainful scoff. To which she just scoffed in disgust and told him, ‘Watch where the fuck you’re going.’

Mingyu sits beside Jungkook, his eyes glinting with mischief as he watches his best friend shift anxiously, perched at the edge of his seat. He can’t help but snicker quietly to himself, eagerly anticipating Jungkook’s reaction as the match unfolds.

“First set, Cane to serve. Ready? Play.”

The ball moves fluidly from one end of the court to the other, back and forth in an exhilarating dance. You swing your racket with precision and grace, darting around the court, keeping track of the ball’s every movement. The crowd’s heads pan side to side, captivated by the game, but Jungkook’s gaze remains fixed solely on you.

It’s as if time has frozen, echoing the enchanting moment from last night when you danced, effortlessly catching his attention. He can’t look away. In a sea of spectators, it feels like it’s just you and him, and he’s watching you in your element. It’s the most beautiful sight he’s ever seen.

You play with everything — mind, body, soul. The intensity is palpable, almost intimate, and Jungkook can’t shake the feeling that he’s witnessing something deeply personal. It’s an erotic kind of magic that makes his heart race. He knows he should look away, that he shouldn’t be so mesmerized, but he’s too captivated by the way you move, the way you feel the game. There’s a strange pleasure in watching you find pleasure in your sport.

Just as Camila lunges to hit the ball, it bounces out of her reach and rolls lazily to the wall.

“Fifteen, love!” the referee calls out.

The crowd cheers.

As you quickly redeem yourself after losing the toss, Camila’s irritation grows palpable. Jungkook can’t stand sore losers; he appreciates a player who knows how to keep fighting instead of sulking about a loss. It adds to the thrill of the game, the excitement of watching someone pour their heart and soul into every point.

You’re fully concentrated now — eyebrows knitted in determination, your form impeccable as you prepare for the next serve. Jungkook can’t help but think how attractive you look at this moment. You’ve always been beautiful — your pretty face, that captivating smile, the way your laughter dances in the air. But watching you play tennis? That’s something else entirely.

The competitiveness radiates off you. It’s not just about the game; it’s about your fierce determination to win, that fiery desire to conquer whatever challenge lies ahead. The way you move, how you chase after each shot, it all sends his heart racing. There’s something undeniably magnetic about you in this element, a raw intensity that makes him feel alive.

As he watches you — focused, relentless, and unyielding — Jungkook realizes that he might just be falling in love.

You won.

Obviously.

Just as Mingyu predicted, Camila Cane left the court with a broken racket and a trail of code violations for her verbal tirades. The victory cheers echoed in your ears as you basked in the glow of your triumph, adrenaline still coursing through your veins. 

After the tournament, you were swarmed with congratulations and eager fans, so you didn’t get a chance to seek out Mingyu or Jungkook immediately. But Mingyu had every intention of congratulating you later that night. Jungkook, however, was skeptical, his mind racing with doubt over whether you’d actually show up at their door.

“Dude, she’s not coming,” Jungkook said, rubbing in his facial oil. He had already changed into his comfortable white t-shirt and blue plaid pajama bottoms, his hair pushed back with a headband, ready to call it a night.

While Jungkook settled into the routine of getting ready for bed, Mingyu remained fixed in front of the door, a cigarette hanging loosely from his lips. He was the picture of unwavering confidence, convinced you’d come to celebrate your victory with them.

“She won her fucking match,” Mingyu mumbled against the cigarette, exhaling a cloud of smoke as he stared at the door, a glimmer of hope in his eyes. “What better way to celebrate that than getting laid later in the night? Times two!”

Jungkook rolled his eyes, glancing over at Mingyu. “You’re really set on this, huh?”

“Hell yeah, I am. You saw the way she looked at us earlier. She’s interested.” Mingyu’s voice was full of conviction. “And besides, who wouldn’t want to celebrate with two guys like us?”

“And if she’s not that type of girl, what do you think is gonna happen if she chooses one?” Jungkook asked, leaning against the bathroom door frame, arms crossed. “She’s in here getting piped by one of us while the other sits on the other side of the door listening and waiting?”

“If it came down to that, then yeah,” Mingyu replied, his confidence unshaken. He took another drag from his cigarette, a mischievous glint in his eye.

Jungkook threw his head back, shutting his eyes in frustration. “She’s not fucking coming, Mingyu!”

Just then, a sound echoed through the apartment — knock, knock, knock.

The two boys exchanged wide-eyed glances, their earlier banter abruptly silenced.

A few seconds passed, the tension hanging thick in the air. 

Knock, knock, knock. 

“Shit!”

“Fuck!”

Mingyu scrambled to extinguish his cigarette, the last puff of smoke escaping his lips as he hurriedly tossed it into the nearby trash can. His eyes darted around the room, landing on the clothes he had carelessly thrown on the floor. In a flurry, he began scooping them up, trying to make the place look somewhat presentable.

Meanwhile, Jungkook ripped the headband from his hair, running his fingers through the mess to tame it. He hastily tidies up the bathroom counter, determined to avoid looking like a slob. Out of the two, Jungkook is the cleaner one; that’s why his side of the dorm is in decent shape.

On the other side of the door, you pressed your ear against the wood, curious about why they were taking so long. You could hear muffled voices and shuffling, the anticipation building within you. 

Abruptly, the door swung open, and there you were, face to face with the two boys. They wore wide, welcoming smiles, the kind that made your heart skip a beat.

“You came!” Jungkook exclaims, surprised because he honestly didn’t think you would.

“I did,” you reply, crossing your arms playfully. “Are we gonna chat out here or are you gonna let me in?”

“Right, sorry.” Mingyu mutters, stepping aside to open the door wider.

As soon as you step inside, the lingering scent of Mingyu’s cigarette greets you. Surprisingly, it doesn’t smell as bad as many other male dorms you’ve visited; seriously, are most guys in their early twenties this messy?

You take a moment to observe the room. On the left, everything is neat and organized — posters hung up in an orderly fashion, a bed perfectly made, and even the floor is spotless. The right side, however, is a different story. The bedspread is a mess, half the blanket hanging off, with clothes and random items clearly shoved under the bed in a poor attempt to hide the clutter. The wall is barren, almost as if its occupant couldn’t be bothered to put in any effort.

Once you finish your silent judgment of the chaotic side of the room, you turn your attention to the boys. They stand there, watching you with expressions that blend hope and anticipation, like patient little puppies waiting for their owner to issue commands. Jungkook leans casually against the doorframe, arms crossed, though there’s a flicker of nervousness in his eyes. Mingyu, on the other hand, bounces slightly on his heels, clearly eager for your approval — or maybe just hoping for a laugh at the mess he calls his side.

“Well,” you exhale, letting the tension dissipate with a playful grin, “this is definitely… a room.”

Jungkook snorts, while Mingyu lets out a relieved chuckle. “We honestly weren’t expecting you to show up,” Jungkook admits, his eyes scanning your face for a reaction.

You shrug nonchalantly, “I did say I’d come if I won. And I did whoop Camila Cane’s ass, didn’t I?”

They both chuckle, the tension breaking further as the playful banter kicks in.

“So…” you draw out, raising an eyebrow. “I was promised beer.”

After a brief back-and-forth over seating arrangements, you three finally settled on the floor. You’d quickly discovered that Mingyu’s bed was the one on the right side of the room — the less organized side, which explained the state of it. No way you were sitting there; you had no idea when those sheets had last seen a wash. Meanwhile, Jungkook’s bed on the left, neat and perfectly made, was off-limits because of his germaphobia to ‘outside clothes.’

To your mild surprise, the promise of beer wasn’t just an excuse. Mingyu reached into the mini-fridge and pulled out the last two bottles, cracking them open with ease.

Settling in with them was surprisingly easy. They couldn’t seem to stop talking — about everything and nothing at the same time — and for that, you were grateful. It was fascinating getting to know them better, simply by how they interacted.

“So,” you ask, accepting the cold bottle from Mingyu, “how did you guys meet?”

“Well, we were neighbors at first,” Mingyu replies, settling comfortably as he recalls their past. “We played outside almost every day, and we’ve been attached at the hip ever since.”

His casual tone holds a hint of nostalgia, but you're curious now, intrigued by their dynamic. “So, you two share everything?” you ask, raising an eyebrow and leaning in slightly. Your voice is teasing, but there's a playful challenge behind it.

Mingyu’s grin widens, a mischievous glint in his eyes. “Basically, yeah,” he answers without missing a beat.

You pause, letting your gaze flick between the two of them before the next question leaves your lips, a bit more daring this time. “Even the same girls?”

The atmosphere shifts instantly. The room, once filled with light banter, falls into a brief silence. Both boys glance at each other, then down at the floor. You notice the slight twitch in Jungkook’s jaw, the way Mingyu runs a hand through his hair, as if buying time to formulate an answer.

Jungkook clears his throat, looking slightly uncomfortable. “It… it actually doesn’t happen as often as you think,” he stammers, his voice quieter, almost hesitant.

You smirk, sensing the awkward tension. “Really?” you press, wanting to know more.

Mingyu steps in, his voice confident as ever, trying to regain the playful mood. “Jungkook and I don’t usually have the same type,” he says, his tone light but firm.

You can’t resist pushing further, the teasing smile still playing on your lips. “And me?”

Mingyu falls silent, his confident demeanor faltering for a moment. He looks at Jungkook, almost like he's seeking backup, his uncertainty clear in the shift of his posture.

“Well… aren’t you everyone’s type?” Jungkook finally blurts out, his voice soft but laced with hesitation, clearly hoping to diffuse the moment.

Mingyu smirks, a slow, knowing grin spreading across his face. Jungkook, on the other hand, offers something entirely different — his sultry smile, the kind that’s both charming and unsettling in its intensity. His gaze lingers on you, the way his doe eyes shimmer under the dim light making the room feel suddenly smaller and charged with tension.

You feel your cheeks flush, a smile blooming on your lips as you return his gaze, caught up in the moment.

“So, I assume you guys have never had a threesome,” you say, shifting your longing gaze to Mingyu, relishing the way their expressions shift.

The sight in front of you is downright amusing. They both look like deers caught in headlights, eyes wide and mouths slightly agape. You tilt your head, savoring the anticipation as you wait for a response.

“I- uh-” Mingyu stammers, clearly flustered. “It- it was never really something we thought about…”

You let the silence hang in the air for a moment, then ask, “So should I just go then?” You can’t help but tease them, enjoying the power you have in this playful game.

“No!” they shout in unison, their voices rising in a mix of panic and urgency.

You giggle softly, thoroughly entertained by how flustered they seem. Their awkward chuckles only add to your amusement as the energy in the room shifts. The quietness that the room falls into isn’t just a pause — it’s a promise of something about to unfold, and you can feel their nervous energy as they settle into the moment.

Without breaking eye contact, you tap the two spots next to you, silently beckoning them. The gesture is casual, but the meaning behind it carries weight. Your voice softens, yet commands attention as you murmur,

“Come.”

They exchange a quick glance, a silent message passing between them. Then, almost in unison, they move quickly, Jungkook taking the spot on your right, and Mingyu settling on your left.

Though their movements were swift, the atmosphere between you all slows as soon as they sit. Jungkook's leg gently grazes yours, a subtle touch that sends a ripple of awareness through you. Mingyu shifts closer, his presence more assertive, his body angled toward you. The warmth from both of them is impossible to ignore, their proximity pressing in, heavy and undeniable.

There was no denying that the two of them were incredibly attractive — after all, you wouldn’t be here hinting at a potential threesome if they weren’t. Jungkook, with his quiet, almost bashful demeanor, had a certain charm that pulled you in. His shyness only added to his appeal, making you want to peel back his layers and see the side he rarely showed to others. And, of course, there was the added bonus of his tattooed arm, ink swirling across his skin in intricate designs, and the lip piercings that gave him an edgy twist (though he always took them out before tennis matches). That mix of boyish charm and rebellious edge was impossible to resist.

Then there was Mingyu — tall, confident, and utterly captivating. He had the kind of self-assured presence that drew your attention immediately. His confidence wasn’t just attractive — it was the kind that made every girl weak in the knees, leaving them hanging on his every word. While Jungkook’s quiet intensity worked its way under your skin slowly, Mingyu’s bold, magnetic charm hit you all at once.

You glance over at Jungkook, noticing how his eyes are fixed on his lap, his fingers nervously fidgeting in his hands. His uncertainty is almost endearing. Then you shift your attention to Mingyu, who is the complete opposite — bold and unapologetic, staring directly at you, his face just inches away, body almost pressed into yours. He’s clearly used to getting what he wants, but you’ve never been drawn to arrogance. Mingyu would have to wait his turn.

You turn your focus back to Jungkook, your hand moving slowly under his chin, gently lifting his face until his eyes meet yours. His surprise is obvious, but he doesn’t pull away. His gaze drops to your lips for a brief moment before flicking back to your eyes, and just as he’s about to react, his eyes close instinctively at the feel of your lips softly pressing against his.

As Jungkook leans into the kiss, you feel him slowly relax, his body softening against yours. Your fingers tangle in his hair, gentle but firm, deepening the connection between you. His hand hesitates for only a moment before settling on your waist, the warmth of his touch sending a shiver down your spine.

On your left, Mingyu remains silent, his usual bravado replaced with something quieter, though not passive. His eyes flicker with jealousy, but there’s admiration there too, a sort of begrudging respect for the moment unfolding in front of him. It’s strange seeing him so quiet, especially after all the confidence he’d shown.

As you pull away from Jungkook, a soft, almost disappointed sound escapes his lips, and his pout deepens, the swell of his pink lips and furrowed brows betraying his desire for more. You can’t help but smile at his expression, brushing your thumb tenderly across his bottom lip as if to comfort him. His hand slides reluctantly off your waist, making way for Mingyu, who wastes no time in taking over.

Mingyu’s large hand rests confidently on your thigh, his touch firm and sure, a stark contrast to Jungkook's more tentative approach. The difference between them is palpable — Jungkook’s gentle uncertainty versus Mingyu’s bold, unspoken demand. It was a clear reflection of their personalities. You feel the heat from Mingyu’s palm spread across your skin, his presence suddenly more imposing.

Mingyu’s lips crash against yours with a fierce urgency, leaving no room for hesitation. His grip on your neck is firm, pulling you into him as if he can’t get close enough. His kiss is demanding, rougher than Jungkook’s soft, tentative approach, and it has a wetness starting to pool in your panties. You feel the intensity of his desire in every movement — the way his lips devour yours, his hand clutching at your neck like he’s afraid to let go.

There’s a stark difference in how Mingyu claims you, his kiss full of hunger, no patience, no softness. It’s intoxicating, a whirlwind compared to the gentle warmth of Jungkook's touch. Mingyu's presence dominates the space around you, making everything else fade as he pulls you deeper into his embrace.

You press your hand firmly against Mingyu's chest, pushing him back with just enough force to break the kiss. His grip loosens reluctantly, and though his dark eyes are still heavy with want, he lets go. You sit back, catching your breath, the room now filled with nothing but the sound of you and Mingyu trying to steady yourselves.

Jungkook shifts across from you, and you don’t miss the way his breath has quickened, his pants tightening as he grows more eager for another chance. His eyes flick between you and Mingyu, a mix of anticipation and impatience building up inside him.

“Take your pants off,” you command, unzipping your sweater. “Both of you.”

Mingyu falters, his usual confidence wavering as uncertainty crosses his face. For the first time, he's hesitant, not wanting to cross any lines with Jungkook, who’s been like a brother to him. But the moment Jungkook starts sliding his pajama pants off without a second thought, letting out a soft moan of relief, Mingyu relaxes a little. He watches Jungkook, and with that unspoken permission, he begins to unbutton his own jeans.

Jungkook's chest rises and falls rapidly as he palms himself through his boxers, his eyes fluttering shut as he lets out silent gasps. His brows furrow, and his parted lips move with barely audible moans. You notice, and with a playful smirk, you tilt your head toward him.

“Take those off, Koo,” you say, your voice teasing as you pull off your shorts. “Show me how you touch yourself.”

It’s surprising, especially from someone like Jungkook, but with little hesitation, he slips off his boxers and wraps his hand around himself, starting with slow, deliberate strokes. His tip, flushed a deep shade of pink, matches the color of his soft, pouty lips, and the sight of his length is impressive. There’s truth to the saying that the quiet ones pack the most. The way his hand moves, his chest rising and falling in sync, makes it impossible to look away.

Mingyu watches, a mix of shock and intrigue flickering across his face as Jungkook unfolds before him, completely at ease in this intimate moment. Sure, he’s seen Jungkook’s dick before — they’ve been best friends for years, comfortable enough to brush off the awkwardness of locker rooms or casual nudity. But this… this is different.

Mingyu has always been the one to take the lead in their more adventurous escapades, steering the dynamic with his bold confidence. But now, as he sees Jungkook so focused and vulnerable, he realizes… his best friend’s got it bad for you. 

Feeling a surge of confidence, Mingyu follows suit, sliding his jeans and boxers off in one smooth motion. He mirrors Jungkook’s actions, his own hand wrapping around his length, joining in the intimate display.

While Jungkook's cock stood impressive in length, Mingyu's wasn’t too far off, though thicker, more girth to it. His cock was a deeper brownish-pink compared to Jungkook's softer, lighter shade. The contrast between them was striking, each appealing in their own way, both undeniably captivating. Their eyes flickered between each other and back to you, tension building as they stroked themselves, the sight enough to make your pulse quicken.

Clad in nothing but a matching white lacy set, your bottom lip gets caught between your teeth as you take in the sight before you. Jungkook and Mingyu, completely entranced, their hands stroking their lengths as their gazes hungrily trace every curve of your body. The heat in their eyes ignites a rush of confidence through you, sending a wave of satisfaction at the way they're both coming undone with just the sight of you. You relish in the power you hold over them, knowing that your mere presence is enough to leave them breathless and wanting.

Moving closer on your knees, you snake each arm around the back of their necks, pulling them in. Their hands continue stroking themselves, but their eyes flicker with confusion, unsure of your next move. Then, without warning, you lean in and pull them both toward you, initiating a heated three-way kiss. Their lips crash into yours and each other's, hesitant at first, but soon they melt into the moment, the taste of you and the shared heat between the three of you intensifying everything.

The intensity between you all builds, the space around you shrinking as things get more heated. Jungkook seizes your lips, deepening the kiss, your tongues moving together in a heated rhythm. Mingyu, on the other hand, doesn't seem to mind. His focus shifts, and you feel his fingers fumbling with the latch of your bra, finally managing to unhook it. The fabric slides away, and in no time, his large hand cups your breast, squeezing the soft flesh as he picks up the pace, stroking himself faster, more eagerly now.

As your lips are locked in a heated kiss with Jungkook, you reach for Mingyu's hand on your chest, guiding him downward with a firm grip. He follows your lead, sliding his hand into your panties without hesitation. The moment his fingers brush against your sopping pussy, you can feel the shudder that runs through him. His breath hitches, and the words spill from him in a low, husky tone.

"Fuck, you're so wet," he groans, the arousal thick in his voice. “Feel her, Kook.”

Jungkook, eager to take control, pulls his lips away from you, his breath ragged as he swiftly replaces Mingyu's hand with his own. The instant he makes contact, he lets out an audible moan, the sound vibrating between you. His middle finger moves up and down your slit, exploring you with slow, deliberate strokes, as if savoring every moment.

But the teasing touch drives you wild — their fingers are too light, too gentle. A whimper escapes your lips, your body trembling with need. You're much too sensitive for this kind of play, desperate to be touched properly. Every slow pass of Jungkook's finger sends ripples of frustration through you, heightening your arousal yet leaving you wanting more.

"Do you usually get this wet?" he asks, his finger lazily teasing your entrance, the pressure maddeningly light.

"J- just touch me more, please," you whine, your body arching toward his hand, desperate for more.

"Answer me first," he demands, his voice low and commanding, leaving no room for negotiation.

Jungkook was much different in moments like these, a sharp contrast to his usual self. Outside the bedroom, he was shy, even gentle, but when it came to intimacy, he transformed — his assertiveness both thrilling and intimidating, making your pulse quicken under the weight of his dominance.

"Yes!" you exclaim, practically begging. "Yes, I do!"

Both guys chuckle at your outburst, their amusement adding a teasing edge to the already charged atmosphere. Jungkook finally relents, slipping two wet fingers inside your dripping pussy with a slow, deliberate thrust, making you gasp sharply. Your back arches, head thrown back in a mix of pleasure and relief, while your fist tightens around Mingyu's shirt — the one that frustratingly still clung to his body. Mingyu smirks as he pulls away the last barrier between you and them, tossing your soaked panties to the side, now completely ruined with your slick. 

Wanting to give you just as much pleasure as Jungkook was, Mingyu’s hand finds its way to your clit, his fingers rubbing slow, deliberate circles that send sparks of heat through your core. The dual sensations make your body tremble, your mind barely able to keep up with the overwhelming pleasure as both men touch you, their combined attention making you feel utterly claimed.

In perfect sync, not even a millisecond behind or ahead, both of them reach for your neck, their lips pressing gentle kisses against your skin. Jungkook's kisses quickly turn into soft, teasing bites, his teeth grazing your sensitive flesh as he leaves a trail of red marks that bloom beneath his touch. The slight sting only adds to the heat swirling inside you, each bite more possessive than the last. Meanwhile, Mingyu's kisses travel upward, brushing against your jaw before he finds your cheek, his lips warm and soft. He bites down lightly on your bottom lip, tugging it between his teeth with a playful edge, his breath mingling with yours as he watches your reaction, the two of them in perfect harmony, each claiming you in their own way.

You moan into Mingyu's mouth, your voice shaky as you whisper, "'M so close."

Mingyu only hums in response, his lips still pressed against yours, the vibration of his deep voice sending a shiver through you. His hand is busy, stroking his cock with a steady rhythm, each movement becoming more desperate as his own release builds. He's close too, his breath growing heavier, but his focus never strays from you. Jungkook, though just as turned on, remains focused on your pleasure. His fingers plunge in and out of you at a quicker pace now, curling inside you with precision, hitting that perfect spot with every thrust. Your moans grow louder, the room thick with the sounds of pleasure as both men work in sync, pushing you closer and closer to the edge.

A few more seconds, a few more kisses, and a few more strokes — then it happens. It’s like fireworks exploding all at once as the three of you reach your peaks in perfect unison. Your body seizes up, pleasure crashing through you like a tidal wave. Your moans, raw and uninhibited, sound almost pornographic, echoing through the room as you ride the high of your orgasm. Jungkook groans deeply, his voice rough and strained, the sound of his release vibrating in the air as he watches you fall apart beneath his touch. Mingyu, however, is quite literally growling as he cums, his body tensing beside you, chest heaving. The three of you, tangled together, create a symphony of raw pleasure, each sound feeding into the intensity of the moment as your bodies give in to the overwhelming ecstasy.

Completely spent, your body falls limp as you lean onto Mingyu, who instinctively wraps a strong arm around you, holding you close to his chest. The warmth of his skin against yours is comforting, grounding you in the aftermath of the intensity. Jungkook, equally exhausted, leans his head against your shoulder, his damp hair sticking slightly to your skin as beads of sweat drop from his brow. You don’t mind at all. Instead, you reach up and run your fingers through his raven hair, gently combing through the soft strands as the three of you bask in the quiet, intimate aftermath, your breathing slowly syncing as the room fades into a peaceful lull.

"Think you'll share the same girl again?" you tease, a playful smirk tugging at your lips.

For a moment, there's silence before all three of you erupt into a fit of snickers and chuckles, the tension melting away. Mingyu shakes his head, still catching his breath, while Jungkook leans in closer, a lazy grin spreading across his face. The laughter fills the room, light and carefree, as the intensity from moments before dissolves into something more familiar, more comfortable. The air is filled with an easy camaraderie, the teasing making it clear that despite the heat, there's still room for laughter.

Suddenly feeling as if the room has grown too intimate, you gently push Jungkook off you and rise from Mingyu’s side, creating a little distance. 

“Well, you two have a match tomorrow. Get some rest,” you say, glancing around until your eyes land on your soaked underwear. You pick them up and put them back on, the wet fabric uncomfortably clinging to your skin as you do.

“Where’re you going?” Mingyu asks, his eyes roaming your naked figure, a mix of admiration and longing on his face.

“To my dorm?” you laugh, as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world, trying to keep the mood light despite the heaviness of the moment.

“W- will we do this again?” Jungkook stutters, his voice a mix of hope and uncertainty.

You hook your bra behind your back, chuckling softly at his eagerness. “I don’t think I’ll be coming back here again.”

“Didn’t you have fun?” he asks again, his tone turning whiney, as if he’s desperately trying to hold onto the moment.

You exhale slowly, a hint of regret in your voice. “Yes, but I don’t do throuples.”

Jungkook sighs, his gaze dropping to the floor, disappointment washing over him. Meanwhile, Mingyu looks up at you with a spark of hope in his eyes, clearly not ready to give up just yet.

“Alright,” you finally concede, a playful grin creeping onto your face. “I will be watching your match tomorrow. Whoever wins… we can do it again. Alone.”

Mingyu’s face brightens instantly, a wide smile breaking through, but Jungkook just looks even more defeated, the weight of competition resting heavily on his shoulders.

“You can beat him, Jungkook. I know you’ve got it in you,” you encourage, trying to lift his spirits.

“Are you saying you want me to?” he asks, his voice laced with both challenge and eagerness.

“I’m saying you can beat him,” you reply, a teasing smile on your lips.

“But what do you want?” he presses, his gaze searching yours for the answer.

“I want to watch. Some good. Fucking. Tennis,” you say, emphasizing each word with a playful wink.

Gathering the last of your things, you leave the room with a smile, the laughter and teasing lingering in the air as you step back into the hallway, leaving behind a charged atmosphere filled with possibilities.

“Let me win?” Jungkook asks, turning to his friend with wide, pleading eyes that could melt anyone’s resolve.

“Don’t look at me like that when your dick is out, bro,” he replies, a look of disgust written all over his features, unable to suppress a smirk.

Jungkook rolls his eyes, kissing his teeth in annoyance. “Come on, you always win!”

Mingyu raises an eyebrow, considering it for a moment. “Fine, I’ll let you win if you let me shower first.”

“For real?” Jungkook’s face lights up, a grin stretching ear to ear as he processes Mingyu's words, excitement bubbling in his chest.

Mingyu nods, getting up and grabbing a towel, making his way toward the bathroom. Once the door is locked behind him, a playful grin spreads across his face as he calls out,

“I was fucking with you, stupid ass!”

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