#it has more than doubled notes overnight

[hewasmadeofthegalaxy]

AY YO??!????!

#i posted an analysis of keith from vld's cabin in 2017 #AND THE POST HAS MORE THAN DOUBLED IN NOTES OVERNIGHT?! #HOW DID Y'ALL EVEN FIND IT

[domjaehyun]

HUSH, HUSH.

༄ pairing » jeno, haechan, jaemin x fem!reader

༄ genre » smut

༄ word count » 19.5k

༄ smut warnings » foursome, praise kink, some degradation, mild dubcon (bc it’s me obviously), a good ol’ “just the tip” moment, some marking, spit play, cum eating, finger sucking, handjob, slightly sadistic dom!Jaemin and dom!Haechan, sweeter and softer dom!Jeno, slight dumbification, fingering, oral (receiving & giving), overstimulation, and more 💖

༄ notes » i hope you enjoy! please leave feedback if you liked it :)

“Mark, please tell me you’re joking.” You’re positive your frown can be heard in your voice as you whine into your phone.

“I really wish I was,” Mark groans, the now muffled words most likely meaning that Mark’s just clapped his hand over his face. “Coach says we’re gonna be stuck here until the mechanic from the next town over can get here to fix the bus.”

“Why would you guys go to an away game in a town so small it doesn’t even have emergency services?” You ask in disbelief.

Mark sighs. “I don’t know, but you know how this goes; Coach says ‘jump’ and the whole ice hockey team says ‘how high?’”

Huffing, you glower at your phone like he can see you. “Wimps, all of you.”

“Oh, yeah? Tell that to Chaewon.” He suggests, and you’re suddenly glad he can’t see your face fall.

“Oh, boy…how’s she holding up?” You ask hesitantly, and your question is answered when the tell-tale sound of a notorious Chaewon Tirade filters in from the background. You wince, feeling for the poor recipient getting chewed out by her, and realize that the sound of her ranting is getting louder.

“…I mean, honestly, Coach, what did you expect when you take a rickety old bus, drive it for miles without getting a check up before we left in the first place, like I suggested to you—hello?” Chaewon’s rampage comes to a screeching halt when she realizes it’s you on the other end of the phone. “I’m guessing you heard that…” Her pout is audible through the phone, your irate best friend now sounding more like an upset child.

“I sure did,” You snicker. “Cannot believe you regularly yell at Coach Park.”

“I think I’m the only person he lets yell at him.” She whispers back, and you laugh. “I made him book us hotel rooms so we can stay here overnight until the mechanic comes tomorrow and we can get the hell out of here, so we’ll be seeing a lot of each other and maybe he’ll finally get sick of me.”

“Just another day as the ice hockey team manager.” You joke, and Chaewon sighs deeply. “Is it still worth the credit?”

“It sure is! No homework, barely any actual work, and I get to yell at the teacher? So worth it.” She answers incredulously. She has a point, you realize, nodding in understanding to your audience of approximately no one. “Next year, you can be my assistant manager and get course credit, too!” 

“We’ll see,” You reply with a smile that fades with your next words. “I’m bummed you guys can’t come to our sleepover. It’s tradition!” You sigh, pacing around your living room double-checking to see if there’s anything left to tidy up that you might have missed. You fluff a couch pillow and prop it up, patting it for good measure before continuing, “I mean, first Renjun has an art project due Monday, then you and Mark were gonna get here later because of the away game, but now you’re not coming at all,” You frown, “So now it’s just me, Haechan, Jaemin, and Jeno.” 

“Well, that’s still fun! Chaotic, really, because Mark, Renjun and I regularly do damage control and run interference between you four, but definitely fun.” Chaewon’s attempts to console you end up helping more than her actual words, but you’re still downcast, picking invisible pieces of lint off of the other pillow on the opposite end of the couch.

“Are any of them there yet?” She asks, and you sigh.

“Nope,” You mutter. “Jaemin and Jeno have to finish some project they’re doing at the library, and who even knows where Haechan–” Your doorbell rings, and you flinch at the unexpected sound. “Hold on one second,” You murmur into the phone, making your way to the front door as Chaewon hums in acknowledgement. You look through the peephole and swing your door open. “It’s just you.” You sigh in relief as Haechan stands before you, duffel bag in hand. 

“I think I deserve a little more excitement than saying it’s ‘just’ me.” Haechan narrows his eyes at you, a playful glint to them, and breezes past you, kicking off his shoes in your hallway and dropping his duffel bag by the couch. Rolling your eyes, you shut and lock your front door, walking back to where Haechan sits on the couch, scrolling through his phone.

“Oh, my God!” You gasp in exaggerated excitement, bouncing up and down. “It’s Haechan,” You sigh dreamily into the phone, shooting Haechan a brow-raised look of “is that what you wanted?” and barely bite back a laugh at the retching noise Chaewon makes. Haechan lunges at you with one hand outstretched, ready to flick you on the forehead, and you yelp in alarm, darting around your couch so it’s separating the two of you.

“I’m gonna let you go before things get weird—or, should I say, weirder—and I have to bear witness to it.” She says with a shudder, but, if you’re being honest, you’re barely focusing on her words, your mind more preoccupied with dodging Haechan’s attempts to reach you. “Have fun tonight! Mark and I will see you tomorrow, hopefully.”

“Bye!” You say distractedly, thumb blindly tapping at the red call-ending button as you adjust your position for the third time, running around one side of the couch as Haechan chases you. “Haechan, it was a joke!”

“Too bad,” He replies easily, staring you down with a gaze so intent and determined it brings heat to your face. “This is what you get for being so bratty.”

“Aw, come on! That was barely bratty.” You defend yourself, huffing and crossing your arms. “You’ve seen me do worse.”

“So? That was then. This is now.”

“‘This is now,’” You mock his words in a high-pitched, nasal voice before you can stop yourself and swallow thickly when Haechan raises his brow in a challenge.

“Oh, yeah?”

“Haechan, it slipped out—” You start, but he’s not listening at all, his eyes darting around the living room and studying the layout as he undoubtedly brainstorms some sort of attack plan. He stops, finally, and looks directly at you with a sly smile that definitely doesn’t bode well for you before he darts forward. You shriek and make a run for it just as he’s about to vault over the couch to reach you, your legs autopiloting you into the kitchen.

Haechan’s hot on your heels, fingers still outstretched towards you. His fingertips graze the back of your shirt and you shriek, now startled enough for Haechan to surge forward and snag the fabric, curling his hand into a fist and yanking you back towards him. Your back collides with his chest none too gently, and you crane your head to look behind you at him with worry sitting in your throat like a lump.

“Hi,” You try, shooting him a sheepish smile over your shoulder. 

“Shut up,” He scoffs, whirling you around and flicking you directly on the forehead before you can defend yourself. “That’s for the sarcasm earlier.” He says with a huff as you hiss in pain. “And that–”

“Ouch, damn it–”

“–is for mocking me just now.” He smiles tauntingly at you, and you glower at him, rubbing your sore forehead, now doubly so because Haechan had the audacity to flick you twice in the exact same spot and you don’t think he held back very much, if at all.

“You know what? Sleepover canceled for you.” 

“What?!” He squawks indignantly, and you nod resolutely, pointing dramatically towards your front door.

“Yep, you’re uninvited! Get out of my apartment.” Jerking your chin towards the door, you wait not-so-patiently as Haechan complains loudly.

“Come on,” He groans, and you turn your nose up and away from him with a dramatic sniffle.

“That’s what you get for the cruel and unusual punishment you inflicted on me just now,” You decide, rubbing your forehead gingerly with a frown.

“It was two flicks to the forehead!” 

“It hurt, you ass!”

“God, okay, what…um…” He trails off, lost in thought before a slow, flirtatious grin tugs at the corners of his mouth. 

“Oh, boy.” You sigh loudly, closing your eyes and pinching the bridge of your nose to calm yourself. When you reopen them, you flinch at Haechan’s sudden proximity to you, and he chuckles as you glare at him.

“What if I offer to kiss it better?” He lilts, leaning closer to you with a wiggle of his brows.

“No.” Your flat reply doesn’t seem to discourage him, Haechan only stepping closer to you with a widening grin.

“Aw, come on,” He murmurs, his lips gradually making their way to your ear, “I bet you’d like it.”

“This is exactly why I need Mark around. Or Chaewon, or Renjun, or—really, anyone who’s not you.”

“Ouch.”

“Sorry,” You hum remorselessly. “But I’m right; this is why we shouldn’t be alone together—you just torment me.”

“You think we shouldn’t be alone together because I’m too attractive for your own good.” Haechan says smugly, and you snort derisively.

“I think we shouldn’t be alone together because you’re too sleazy for my own good, Haechan.” You counter smoothly, and you half-predicted Haechan’s offended gasp that rings out, but it still startles you all the same.

“I’m sleazy.” Haechan’s tone is flat and entirely disbelieving, staring you down. To his credit, the reality of the situation really is closer to his interpretation. 

There’s always been some sort of tension between you and Haechan—you’d be lying if you said you didn’t swoon a bit when he pulled you against his chest earlier and when he cornered you in the kitchen—that manifests from time to time as lingering glances and touches, flirtatious remarks that land a bit too seriously, and an underlying desire neither of you can seem to shake.

“Yep. Sleazy.” You say, lying through your teeth as you drag out the syllables of the insult. “It’s a miracle you pull at all.”

“My reputation precedes me,” He answers with a smug edge to his defensiveness. “When you’re as good as I am, people line up around the block for a chance with you.”

“Maybe they just wanna witness the trainwreck that you are in person,” You snicker mischievously. “Y’know—up close and personal.”

“I get the feeling you wanna experience it for yourself.” Haechan’s smug grin damn near knocks you off of your feet from how dazzling it is, and you can’t help but acknowledge internally that he kind of has a point; you do kinda want to see for yourself, but you’re not exactly keen on admitting that right now.

“Shut up, you’re so obnoxious.” You huff, pushing his chest to move him back and away from you. He barely moves, his smile widening as he takes a step forward instead.

“Wrong direction,” You gripe.

“No, I’m pretty sure this is where I want to be,” He breathes out, seemingly distracted as his gaze slowly drops to your lips. An alarmed squeak escapes you and he chuckles. “Matter of fact, I think you want me here, too.”

“What?!” You exclaim indignantly, and he brings one hand to your mouth and presses a finger to your lips to silence you.

“Anyone ever told you that you talk too much?” He rolls his eyes and presses forward until he’s got you pressed up against the cool metal of your fridge, dark brown eyes boring into your own.

“No,” You counter, narrowing your eyes at him. “But I’m sure you get that a lot.” You jerk your head forward in an attempt to snap at his finger, and Haechan pauses, letting out a hollow chuckle as he pokes his tongue to the inside of his cheek and stares you down and you hate to admit it, but that was one of the most attractive things he’s ever done.

“You know what?” Haechan doesn’t give you a chance to answer before his free hand is wrapping around the base of your throat and squeezing—not too tight as to alarm you or truly choke you, but tight enough to make his hand’s presence impossible to ignore. The gasp that slips from your lips brings a wicked little smile to his face and he leans in closer so his lips are pressed against the back of the finger he’s holding against your mouth, the slender digit the only thing separating your lips. “You’re gonna regret that.” His warm breath fans over your lips and you swallow thickly, widened eyes darting between his temptingly parted lips and his intent stare.

You watch in a frozen fascination as Haechan slowly removes his finger from between you two, his lips now but a breath away, and watches you in turn. His hand trails from your face down your front, just lightly skimming over your stomach to draw out a sudden exhale from you, and to the hem of the large oversized shirt you’ve been wearing around the apartment. He watches your face with a challenge twinkling in his eyes as he slips his hand under your shirt, almost daring you to stop him. When his hand slides up to cup your breast through your thin, lacy bra, you just barely manage to bite back a whine, and he traces small circles around your nipple, soon pinching it lightly between two fingers and tugging, a triumphant grin curling his lips when you hiss, the sound a combination of surprise and desire.

“You look so pretty with my hand wrapped around your throat,” Haechan coos fondly, voice dripping with condescension, and you whine softly in despair, wanting him to just do something. “So fuckin’ pretty,” He whispers, almost to himself as he studies your reaction while he toys with your stiffened peak.

His lips are getting closer by the second, his head tilting slightly to the side, but when you lean in to meet him, his hand on your throat pushes you back against the fridge, moving you away from his gradually approaching lips. He leans in close enough that you could count every one of his lashes, and wets his bottom lip, the tip of his tongue ever-so-slightly grazing your own lip, and you whimper in anticipation, trying to lean forward again. Haechan scoffs under his breath and remains unyielding, your head still pinned against the fridge as he brings himself right up against you—surely any closer and you’d be kissing—and just…stops.

“Maybe I shouldn’t kiss you right now,” He murmurs, and you’re surprised to realize that you genuinely don’t want him to stop.

“Why?” You ask breathlessly, and he looks upwards as if in thought, his hand under your shirt starting to caress your breast, the male seemingly oblivious to the way your back arches, pushing your chest into his hand for more. 

“Isn’t this kind of…y’know…sleazy of me?” He throws the word back in your face with such a smug tone, so unbearably cocky that your knees almost buckle. “I mean, I’ve got you pinned up against the fridge…my hand’s up your shirt and playing with your tits…and I’m about to kiss you. Sounds pretty sleazy to me,” He shrugs, actions both supporting and contradicting his words as he swirls his finger around your nipple again, flicking the bud. 

“Haechan, please–”

“Can I tell you something, though?” He brings his lips to your ear and you freeze in place, barely managing a stiff nod. His soft chuckle sends warmth fanning over your skin and you shudder before he continues on, “I think you like it.”

“Wh—um,” You stammer, and he pulls back to grin at you, eyes scanning your face. “Well, I mean—”

“Yeah, I think you do,” He marvels softly, fingers tightening around your neck. “Practically choked yourself on my hand trying to kiss me a moment ago,” Haechan points out and your face burns as you’re rendered speechless. “Bet if I put my hand between your legs–” He starts, and you whine loudly in embarrassment, Haechan continuing on louder, “you’d be nice and wet for me,” He finishes with a proud little smile, murmuring, “I thought so,” when you don’t respond, your gaze averted in shame.

“Haechan–” You start, and he shushes you, tongue peeking out to lick at your upper lip. 

“You like this? Hm? Like how it feels when your sleazy friend Haechan feels you up with one hand and chokes you with the other?”

“Yes,” You whimper, and he coos affectionately at your worked-up state.

“What if sleazy Haechannie slips his hand down here, hm?” He brings his hand out from under your shirt and toys with the waistband of your shorts. Thankfully, before you have to ask, he pushes into your pants, fingers deftly navigating down to your heated core and cupping it through your damp underwear, digging the heel of his palm into your clit and grinning as you writhe under his touch. “I think you like that, too.” The smugness in his voice is almost palpable but you don’t even have your wits about you enough to feel shame or indignance, lust clouding your mind and leaving you dizzy and desiring.

“Stop teasing,” You exhale, and he raises an eyebrow, leaning in so your lips are almost touching. At the same time, he tightens his grip around your neck slightly and pushes you against the fridge harder so you can’t move towards him, and you whine in desperation. “Please?” You try, and he flicks his gaze up to you, intrigue twinkling in his eyes.

“Please…what?” He asks tauntingly, head cocked to the side curiously. 

“Do something, fuck, please–” You don’t even get to finish your plea before he’s surging forward with a growl and connecting your lips. A drawn out whine escapes you as you all but melt into him, lips parting easily as his tongue nudges between them and sneaks into your mouth for a taste of you. 

“Such a little tease,” Haechan grunts against your lips, releasing your core and massaging your clit with two nimble fingers. “Always knew you wanted this.”

You can’t even form words in response, your head lolling back in ecstasy as you let out a mix between a moan and a gasp, but Haechan doesn’t seem to mind, lips attaching to your neck as he kisses, sucks, and bites marks into your neck. You can only manage to moan, “No marking,” as he sucks, and he pulls back, mouth detaching from your skin with a wet noise, and stares at you with an unimpressed expression.

“You’re already marked,” He points out, tracing what must be the beginnings of a love bite forming on your neck with a proud grin. “I might as well get to finish.”

“…Fine,” You give in, and he beams, leaning forward and kissing you again, lips slotting between yours easily as he nips at your lip. Groaning when you rock into his hand desperately, Haechan trails wet kisses down your neck and sucks hard at the base of your throat, a mark surely blooming from his efforts.

“Want them to wonder who did this to you,” Haechan grunts, and you can only keen weakly in response, fingernails scratching at his shirt in a feeble attempt to pull him closer to you. “Make them wish they’d gotten to you first.” His words sink in a moment later, a confused hum bubbling up and out from inside of you at the notion that Jeno and Jaemin have not-so-platonic feelings for you. Haechan doesn’t give you much time to process what he’s said, the male growing greedier for your reactions and pushing your underwear to the side, guiding two fingers into your clenching entrance. “Whole time, you and I know who did this to you; don’t we, pretty?”

“Y-Yeah,” You moan weakly, and Haechan chuckles, the sound’s darkened edge sending a chill of excitement down your spine. 

“Who did this to you?” Haechan nips at the mark on the base of your neck, and you cry out with a jolt.

“You did,” You answer breathlessly, your mind going fuzzy as Haechan’s fingers stroke along your inner walls, finding your most sensitive spot with ease and proceeding to send his fingers thrusting directly into it. 

“Mm-mm,” He hums, dissatisfied. “I wanna hear you say my name.”

“Haechan–” You give in immediately, your desperation building as his fingers bring you closer and closer to your climax.

“Again.”

“Haechan–” You can barely get the last syllable out before Haechan seals his mouth over yours with a barely restrained groan, his fingers diligently pumping in and out of you as he plays with your tongue. “Gonna cum,” You pant, voice higher-pitched and embarrassingly whiny, and he hums in acknowledgement.

“I should probably stop,” He pulls back to say, feigning a pout, and you glare at him in disbelief.

“Don’t you dare.”

“But look at us,” Haechan presses, and you whimper as your hips rock down onto his fingers. “Isn’t this sleazy of me?”

“Haechan, I’m sorry–”

“You’re sorry?” He asks slowly, smugness creeping into his voice. “So you don’t want me to stop?” He continues, and when you shake your head vehemently, he makes a noise of understanding. “You like that, don’t you? Sleazy Haechannie’s fingers feel so good stuffed deep in your tight little pussy, right?” He purrs, and you let out as quiet of a wail as you can manage.

“Yes, Haechan, please just let me cum–” You’re more than exasperated at this point and Haechan must notice, because he closes his mouth over yours in a passionate kiss, occasionally stopping to bite or suck at your bottom lip. 

“Cum for me, pretty. That’s it, fuck, just like that.” With his lips on yours muffling the moans you let out, Haechan urges you to the edge of your climax, eyes bright with an almost wild desire as he watches you tip over the brink. Your orgasm comes in a rush of ecstasy and electricity, adrenaline flooding through your veins as you cry Haechan’s name loudly and breathlessly whisper a string of swears, your nails digging into his shoulder in an attempt to ground yourself. 

“Oh, my God,” You exhale shakily as he slowly pulls his hand from your underwear, your flustered gaze immediately darting elsewhere when you get a glimpse of the clear strings of your arousal clinging to his fingers. You peek back at him only to catch his fingers moving towards his mouth, averting your gaze again with a scandalized yelp. No amount of looking away, however, stops Haechan from flattening his body against yours, pressing you between himself and the fridge.

“Watch me.” He orders quietly, and you begrudgingly drag your gaze back to his face, astonished eyes widening when he slips his fingers in his mouth to clean them off. “You taste good,” Haechan groans, releasing his grip on your throat and studying you with heavy-lidded eyes.

“Stop staring at me like that.” You huff, and he raises an eyebrow, warning you to tread with caution.

“You know, I’m holding back from fucking you over this kitchen counter like the cute little fuckdoll I know you are,” He retorts, moving to grab your hips with both hands and massaging little circles into the flesh as he watches you in fascination. “Watch your tone and don’t push your luck.”

“I’m not a fuckdoll,” You protest, and Haechan just scoffs, gripping your hips tighter and turning you around with no regard for the startled yelp you let out, positioning you so your back is to his chest and your front is pressed up against the counter just beside the fridge. “Hae–Haechan, what are you doing?” You ask in a sort of post-climax daze still tinged with alarm, but Haechan yanks your shorts down to your knees, startling you into silence.

“What do you think I’m doing?” Haechan huffs under his breath, knocking your legs as far apart as they’ll go. “‘M fucking you,” He coos teasingly in your ear before pushing between your shoulder blades to flatten your torso to the counter.

“I thought you were holding back—”

“I changed my mind.”

You don’t have it in you to respond, instead resting your cheek on the cool countertop in complacency, and Haechan chuckles.

“That’s it,” He coaxes, simultaneously guiding the head of his cock to nestle between your folds. He pushes in slowly, a relieved breath whooshing from you as his length gradually fills you up. Your relief turns to alarm when you realize you feel full and he’s not done, and you whimper, reaching back to press a hand to his stomach reflexively. “Move your hand.” He grunts, and you shake your head worriedly, whining in panic. “Why are you stopping me, hm?” He strokes your back soothingly and you relax slightly, craning your head to look back at him.

“It’s too much,” You manage to get out, and he snickers.

“Too much? Am I too big, pretty?” He coos, feigning sympathy as he cruelly pushes in more, and you gasp loudly, pushing harder against his stomach. “Move your hand.” 

“But–”

“Move it.” He says in a warning tone as if daring you to keep your hand there. After a moment of hesitation, you comply, moving your hand slowly. As soon as he sees an opportunity, he pushes into you fully, a low groan from him meeting your choked whimper. “Fuck, you feel so good.” Haechan hisses, and his fingers dig into your hips as he strains himself trying not to thrust into you.

“You can move, I think,” You murmur carefully, regretting it the second he does. Your hand flies back to stop him with a rushed, “Wait–”

He doesn’t give you a chance to make contact with his stomach, instead snatching your wrist and pressing it to your back.

“Relax,” Haechan purrs. “I’ll make it feel really good.” His promise does little to ease your worries, especially considering the way he’s digging his fingers into your hips as if restraining himself from moving inside of you.

“I–” You start, but he shushes you patronizingly as he pulls out slowly and pushes into you again. “Oh, fuck,” You whimper, your walls clenching around him as he moves inside of you.

“That’s it, take it like a good girl,” He mutters under his breath, and you cry out when he slides his hand up to grope your breast and tweak your nipple between his fingers. He pinches, twists, flicks, and tugs the erect bud with every thrust he makes until you’re a panting, teary-eyed mess under him, your jaw going slack from all the sensations.

You’re utterly trapped, stuck between Haechan’s body and the hard countertop, and the revelation comes with a wave of arousal when you realize you’re essentially at his mercy, your eyes glazing over as your body practically goes limp.

“Yeah, relax, pretty,” He coos, his hand abandoning your hip and finding itself between your legs to massage circles into your clit. “Take me nice and deep—feel so fucking good.” He grunts through gritted teeth. “So good at taking cock, aren’t you? Just a pretty little thing who needs her holes filled.”

“No—” You start to protest, but a well-placed thrust from Haechan has your mind scrambling, any and all words dying on your tongue.

“Mm, yes,” He hums, a grin audible in his voice. “Just a pretty little fuckdoll—my pretty fuckdoll—who loves getting fucked cock-dumb by her sleazy friend in her kitchen up against her fridge.” He stills his hips and you move to whip your head around to look at him, whining when he turns your head back to face forward.

“I said–fuck, Haechan–I said sorry,” You cry out, and he chuckles.

“Not forgiven yet.” He groans, and you can tell he wants to move just as badly as you want him to. You retaliate by clenching around him repeatedly, relishing the choked moan he lets out.

“What do I have to do?” You plead desperately, and he leans forward, lips by your ear.

“Cum all over my cock and I’ll consider forgiving you.” He purrs, resuming his thrusts to your relief. “So fucking tight, fuck—so good at taking cock—is that all you’re good for?”

“No,” You protest, but Haechan’s not having it.

“My cock feels so good with your pussy wrapped around it nice and tight.” He groans, biting down on your shoulder. “Gonna have to do a lot more convincing if you want me to think you’re good for anything else.”

“God, fuck you,” You huff through gritted teeth, not caring in the moment what might happen to you for snapping at him, but Haechan just chuckles.

“You already are.” His reply is smug and filled with challenge, daring you to reply, but you don’t take the bait, instead digging your nails into your palm to stop yourself from crying out again.

“Oh, shit, I’m so close–” You gasp, and Haechan massages circles into your clit, ushering in your climax as your mind goes blank and your eyes are forced shut from the pleasure. Your jaw going slack, you can only whimper Haechan’s name as pleasure courses through your body, and he moans, fucking you intently through your climax until you’ve ridden it for as far as it’ll go before speeding up.

“God, I never thought I’d hear you say my name like that,” He murmurs in awe. “That’s so fucking hot. And now? It’s my turn.” He grunts, a smile audible in his voice as his thrusts escalate to an almost brutal pace, each powerful stroke accompanied by a moan that fills your now blank mind with clouds of desire. “Gonna let me cum in you, pretty?”

“Yeah,” You exhale with a vigorous nod, and he hums appreciatively before bottoming out in you, hips stilling as he releases into you. You two remain like that for another moment before he pulls out of you, releasing his grip on you and rubbing your back gingerly.

“You good?” He asks breathlessly, and you nod again, looking over your shoulder and smiling at him. “Would help if you said something.” He jokes lightly, and you join in on his chuckle as you turn around, reaching down to pull your underwear and shorts back up.

“I’m great,” You assure him, and he visibly relaxes, a wide smile overtaking his features.

“Not so sleazy now, am I?” He teases, and you roll your eyes.

“Let it go!” You’re about to say more, but a random sniff of the air has you wrinkling up your nose in distaste. It smells like sweat and sex, and that’s gotta go if you plan to have more people over.

“Haechan, pass me that air freshener?” You ask, looking pointedly at the can on the counter nearest to him and he jerks his head back in confusion before obliging, tucking himself back into his pants. You promptly go berserk spraying everywhere and accidentally give Haechan a face full of air freshener, making him cough and splutter.

“What are you spraying, you crazy woman?” Haechan chokes out, and you turn to glower at him. 

“The smell of sex away!” 

“It does not smell like sex,” Haechan scoffs, rolling his eyes, and you glare at him, lifting your hand and spraying him directly in the chest. “Hey, you little brat!”

“If Jeno and Jaemin come in and figure out what we did here, things are gonna get super awkward.” You explain worriedly.

Haechan snorts. “You’re telling me.”

“…What?”

“…Nothing.”

“I don’t believe you.”

“Nothing.” He insists in a singsong voice, and you roll your eyes.

“Haechan, tell me!” You groan, and he shakes his head resolutely.

“You’ll find out soon enough,” He assures you cryptically, patting the top of your head patronizingly.

“What do you mean by that—oh, shit!” You cut yourself off with a yell of surprise when someone knocks loudly at your front door, and you shoot a panicked glance to a very unbothered Haechan. “Haechan, be a man and get the door.” You urge in a loud whisper, and Haechan stares blankly at you, unimpressed.

“It’s probably just Jeno and Jaemin,” He points out.

“Then you should have no problem getting it,” You counter with a furrowed brow, and he groans before turning on his heel and heading out of sight to your front door. The door opens and you can just make out Haechan’s voice greeting the mystery party, your grip on your air freshener loosening in relief. “Haechan, who is it?”

“Three large, burly criminals,” Haechan drawls in a bored tone. “They’ve got me at knifepoint.”

“Haechan, you’re not funny.” You call back, annoyed.

“Who’s being funny?” Haechan answers back defensively. “They told me they’re going to do…how did they put it? Oh, yeah—‘so much crime.’ They said they would do all of the crimes right now in your apartment.”

“You’re the worst.” You gripe as Haechan, Jeno, and Jaemin round the corner of your hallway, your mouth cracking into a relieved grin as you recognize your friends. “Hey, guys.”

“Hi, scaredy-cat,” Haechan teases, flinching away at your sharp glare.

“I wasn’t talking to you, you were here already.” You wave Haechan off with a scoff. “And you just flinched away from the scaredy-cat, so what does that make you–”

“Will you two quit bickering, please?” Jaemin sighs loudly, pinching the bridge of his nose and closing his eyes. “You really are skittish, though,” He mumbles under his breath, mildly amused, and you gasp in betrayal as Haechan exclaims victoriously.

“Get out of my apartment.” You huff, crossing your arms. 

“Be careful to close the door quietly though, so it doesn’t spook her.” Haechan snickers, and you whine loudly, slouching against the fridge. 

“Oh, shut up,” Jeno pipes up, glowering at Haechan and Jaemin as he makes his way over to you and drapes his arm around your shoulders. “I think it’s cute,” He assures you, and you let out a soft, petulant hmph, not wanting to admit that Jeno calling you cute stirred up feelings in you that you didn’t know you had.

“Thanks,” You grouch. “Mark and Chaewon can’t make it, by the way.”

“Really? What happened at their away game?” Haechan asks, baffled.

You shrug. “Their bus broke down and the closest mechanic’s in the next town over and can’t come until the morning, so they’re staying at a hotel; that’s what they told me.”

“That sucks,” Jeno winces. “For them. Not us.”

“Yeah, now we get you all to ourselves. Chaewon always hogs you.” Jaemin winks in your direction, and you blink impassively at him. He sighs. “You’re still annoyed about the skittish thing—”

“I’m still annoyed about the skittish thing, yes.” You say, crossing your arms and leaning closer into Jeno’s warm side hug. Always a fan of physical affection, Jeno squeezes you and accepts readily when you curl into his side and wrap your arms around his waist in a full hug. “Jeno’s the only person here who actually treats me right.” You huff, turning your nose up disdainfully.

“Clearly someone else was treating you right recently,” Jaemin mutters under his breath, and you poke your head up to glare at him.

“What was that?”

“If the mark on your neck is anything to go by,” Jaemin says, jerking his chin in your direction, “I’d say someone else was treating you right recently.” His words are slow, playfully condescending and accompanied with a suggestive wiggle of his brows, and you frown, turning further into Jeno’s embrace.

“Everyone but Jeno…get out!” You cry dramatically, and Haechan and Jaemin protest immediately, their voices overlapping, but you drown them out easily as you look up at Jeno and smile widely, continuing with, “I bought chocolate milk, by the way.”

“No way!” Jeno’s whole face lights up, and you nod, releasing him to turn and open your fridge to him. “You’re the best.” He gushes excitedly, unwinding his arms from around you to reach in and grab the gallon.

“Yeah, to you,” Haechan grouches as he watches Jeno pour himself a cup of chocolate milk. Jeno pays him no mind.

“She’s a little menace to non-Jeno people.” Jaemin continues, and you blink at them impassively.

“I’m sweet to Chaewon, Mark, and Renjun.” You point out. “It’s just you two.”

“Well, aren’t we special.” Jaemin drawls sarcastically, and you fake a sweet smile.

“Sure are. Now don’t break anything; I’m gonna take a shower.” You warn them, and Haechan raises an eyebrow at you, a secretive smile on his face out of sight of both Jeno and Jaemin.

“Oh, yeah? Why’s that?” He asks, staring you down, and you can’t help but squirm on the spot, his intense gaze reminding you of when he had his hands all over you just minutes before Jeno and Jaemin arrived.

“I feel like showering,” You say, guarded as you meet his gaze levelly.

“But why—”

“I can’t hear you! Gonna go shower!” You call out over your shoulder as you make your way to your room. Shutting the door behind you, you let out a loud breath of relief.

If Haechan insists on being difficult the whole weekend, you’re really going to have your work cut out for you.

“Jeno, you’re so clumsy,” You chuckle fondly, turning the male so his back’s against the sink counter and he’s facing you. You reach around him to wet the rag in your hand, moving to blot his shirt free of the stain. Somehow in his excited chocolate milk consumption, Jeno managed to spill a good portion of it onto his shirt, so you led him to your bathroom to help him get the stain out.

“Good thing I have you to help me,” He replies sweetly, his eyes crinkling as he smiles at you only to wince at the feeling of the cold, wet rag against his skin. 

“Sorry!” You apologize, and he shakes his head with a smile before gently moving your hands away from him. “What are you d–oh,” You ask, trailing off when Jeno reaches behind him, grasps the back of his shirt at the base of his neck, and pulls it over his head, leaving you to gawk at his shirtless, very toned form. 

“That way you can clean it without me squirming under the shirt,” He supplies helpfully, and you nod after a moment’s hesitation, hoping there’s no way for Jeno to detect just how dry your throat has become. You stare, frozen, at Jeno’s half-naked form before snapping out of it and quickly turning around to face the sink, blindly grabbing the shirt from his outstretched hand. You ignore the soft chuckle from Jeno with a furrow of your brows which only deepens when you see that Jeno’s watching your face intently in the mirror. 

“Stop staring at me,” You mumble nervously, and Jeno cocks his head to the side in intrigue, studying your flustered expression.

“But I like watching you.” He answers simply, and you just about choke on air, a pathetic squeak of surprise forcing its way out of you. “Plus,” Jeno adds, stepping closer to you, so close that you can feel the heat radiating off his body, “I wanna learn how to clean that stain out.”

“Then watch my hands,” You mutter, nibbling your bottom lip anxiously as you attempt to focus on what you’re doing. Jeno snickers and moves closer to you, his hands resting on either side of you on the sink, and you stiffen, freezing in place.

“But your face is so pretty,” Jeno says, voice bordering dangerously on a purr, and you swallow thickly, a task proven difficult given the still dry state of your mouth. 

“Wh—well, I—you just—” You stammer, barely regaining your composure in time to finish with, “I can’t focus like this, Jeno.”

“Oh, yeah?” Jeno leans down, bringing his face level with yours in the mirror. “Why’s that?” His lips quirked into a smirk and a dangerous twinkle in his eyes, Jeno is the picture of temptation, not to mention the way his arms flex and tense as they rest on either side of you. It’s more than a little difficult to breathe at the moment, and you’re having a hard time attending to your task of washing out the stain on his shirt.

You clear your throat. “Jeno?”

“Hm?” That same almost-purring cadence to his voice, he quirks an eyebrow at you and it takes everything in you not to let your knees buckle. 

“Pass me the detergent?” Your attempt to sound nonchalant falls flat when your voice cracks on the last word, a sound that doesn’t go unnoticed by Jeno, who exhales loudly from his nose in amusement. You point at the cabinet overhead to the left of you both, and he watches your reflection for a moment before complying, reaching over and grabbing the detergent with ease and setting it beside you on the sink. “Thanks.”

“Mhm.” He hums. 

“Do you want me to explain what to do?” You ask.

“Yeah, walk me through it.” Jeno requests, and you give him a small nod.

“So I’m soaking the stain in cold water,” You start, and Jeno hums in acknowledgement, lowering himself to your height again and watching you intently. His unwavering stare has you buzzing in anticipation for…what, exactly, you don’t know. “Then you put some detergent on it and gently rub out the stain.” You continue as you do just that, your voice trailing off when Jeno wraps his arms around your waist in a back hug that would normally be fine if, firstly, Jeno had a shirt on, and, secondly, you weren’t helplessly attracted to him.

“Thanks,” Jeno says warmly, and you smile, patting his clasped hands resting on your stomach. “You’re always so sweet to me,” He coos, and you chuckle.

“I’m not that sweet,” You reply, and he shakes his head, nosing past your hair until his nose is brushing your cheek, his warm breath fanning over your jaw. 

“You are,” Jeno insists, nose grazing down your cheek and stopping when he presses his lips to your neck. “You’re so sweet,” He murmurs, lips pressed to your skin, and you suck in a sharp breath, your hands gripping the counter so hard your knuckles ache. “So…fucking…sweet.” He purrs, kissing your neck after every word, and your knees do buckle this time, Jeno’s grip tightening around you just in time to catch you as you all but go limp in his arms.

“Jeno—” You mumble, not trusting your voice enough to speak at a normal volume.

“You’re so tense,” Jeno muses with a smile against your skin before sucking at a spot at the base of your neck. “Want me to help you relax?”

“H-How?” You ask, and from the low growl that sounds from Jeno’s chest, you assume you’ve walked right into a situation you might not be prepared for. He slips a hand between your legs and busies himself with playing with your clit over the fabric of your underwear. Your plaintive whimpers don’t do much besides spur him on as he kisses your neck, dark eyes watching you in the reflection of the mirror. “Jeno,” You whine pointedly, and he chuckles, nipping at your earlobe roughly.

He turns you around, lifts you up with ease, and sets you on the sink counter, ignoring your gasp in favor of getting directly in your personal space and licking his lips, eying you with all the smug determination of a predator that’s captured its prey.

“I bet you can guess.” He doesn’t say anything else for a moment, just studies your features with increasing curiosity before he slips his hand up your shirt enough to hook his fingers in the waistband of your shorts. Your gasp of surprise is cut off by the alarmed yelp you let out when he yanks—hard—so you’re sent lurching forward against him. 

Your core pressed directly against his bare, toned abdomen and your legs reflexively closed around him and pressed up against his sides, you stare up at Jeno wide-eyed and breathless, bottom lip trapped between your teeth and your chest pressing against his with every heaving breath. 

“Jeno—” You mumble, and he shushes you softly, leaning in to brush his lips against yours.

“Just relax.” He coaxes and you can’t help but think back to earlier when Haechan said the same thing to you and wonder to yourself how you got into this predicament. Jeno successfully pushes out any thoughts not centered around him when his free hand balls up the fabric at the small of your back and pulls you impossibly closer before capturing your lips in his with a growl.

“Je–”

“Shut up.” He mumbles against your mouth, and you can’t help but obey, immediately falling silent with a final whimper as his tongue pushes past the seam of your lips, quickly becoming intimately familiar with the inside of your mouth. Where Haechan earlier was sensual, rhythmic movements and playful flicks of the tongue, Jeno is harsh, sucking, nipping and biting, such a contrast from the sweet, smiley male you’re used to—a bold version of Jeno who takes exactly what he wants stands before you, kissing you senseless and leaving you lightheaded.

Jeno takes your lips as if they were meant to be his all along and he’s sick of waiting, with groans and even growls as he detaches his lips from yours and starts traveling down your neck, sucking and biting bruises into your skin as his hands wander, one slipping up your shirt to grope freely at your breasts while the other massages your core with heavy-handed rubbing that has you clutching his firm, toned arm for something to ground yourself.

“God, fuck–” You pant, pushing feebly at his…everything because it’s all just a bit too overwhelming— “Jeno, wait a second–” You gasp out in ecstasy when he shoves your shirt up past your breasts, yanks your bra cup down and latches onto your nipple, sucking roughly. A ghost of the Jeno you know blinks up at you with a question in his eyes, still swirling his tongue around your stiffened bud in his mouth as he waits for you to speak. “Are you sure we should be doing this? Now? Here?” 

With a wet pop, Jeno pulls off of your breast and stands back up so your faces are level. “It feels good, doesn’t it?”

“I mean…yeah, but–”

“Then be good,” He brushes his lips against yours as his hand snakes into your underwear, “because I want a taste.” Your eyes widen as he drops to his knees and attaches his lips to your inner thigh, dark eyes staring up at you as he sucks and nips at the tender flesh.

“Not too low,” You exhale shakily, and he blinks up at you impassively before pushing your shorts up so they’re bunched around the flesh of your thighs and he proceeds to mouth at the unblemished skin of your inner thighs, gradually working his way towards where they meet as heat flares up throughout your body. His hands keep your legs spread with large palms pressing on your inner thighs as he brazenly rubs his face over your clothed core, eliciting a scandalized gasp from you.

“God, everything about you is so sweet.” He mumbles in a daze, hands dragging up your legs to grab your ass and force his face against your covered core even harder. Even through two layers of fabric, his nose presses against your clit enough to have you trying not to rock your hips against his face for more relief. Jeno notices quickly, his amused exhale warming the seat of your underwear even more, and flicks his gaze up to you as he hooks his fingers into the seat of your underwear and shorts and pulls both items aside, revealing your glistening wet core. The resounding silence has waves of nervous heat flooding through you and you look down only to see that Jeno’s staring at your pussy with unadulterated desire, eyes dark with lust as his thumbs gingerly part your folds, a sharp hiss escaping him when your entrance clenches in response.

“Jeno?” You hate how meek you sound but you feel so small under his scrutiny, the male before you inspecting the most intimate part of your body with a hunger you’ve never seen in anyone’s eyes before. He can barely tear his eyes away from your wetness before looking up at you, an eyebrow quirked expectantly. 

“You have such a pretty fuckin’ pussy.” He rasps in awe, and heat washes over you like a tidal wave, your body blazing with embarrassment and the excitement from his praise. “God, it’s so pretty. Dripping, too; you want this that badly?” His eyes glinting with glee, his tone lilts teasingly as he addresses you.

“Please?” You whisper, and he stills in momentary surprise, looking back down between your spread legs with a poorly concealed hunger before groaning in frustration and leaning in to attach his mouth to your core. “Fuck—” You can’t help but gasp because when Jeno starts, he doesn’t hold back at all, devouring your pussy, lapping up every wave of arousal that gushes forth from your entrance with an eagerness you’ve never quite seen before. 

Just like earlier, it’s overwhelming, the amount of everything you’re feeling, and your legs reflexively start to close around his head as he ravishes your most sensitive areas with rough sucking and licking, the whole ordeal complete with lewd moans from the male whose mouth seems permanently affixed to your core. Your legs barely apply pressure to his head before he’s shoving your legs back apart with a warning nip to your thigh and moving back in to resume his ministrations. The fabric of your underwear has slipped back over your core in the absence of his touch and Jeno huffs when he realizes the same thing, immediately yanking your shorts and underwear down your legs and letting the clothing drop to the floor carelessly. 

He resumes his relentless tongue lashes against your sensitive bud, only stopping to dip lower and suck your folds into his mouth and run his tongue over them repeatedly. Your fingers are practically knotted in his hair, alternating between pulling him closer to you and trying to push him away when he’s just a bit too desiring of your core, and Jeno seems to love every bit of your reactions, responding to your every whimper and gasp with a moan of his own as he sucks and licks at your poor throbbing clit.

The whimpers and sobs you keep letting out only spur Jeno on further, the male going so far as to drape your legs over his shoulders and move in closer, his tongue teasing at your entrance before pushing into you, his hand flying up to cover your mouth and muffle the loud gasp that rings throughout the room. You can’t help but rock your hips against his face, your head tipping back to rest against the mirror in ecstasy. His nose rubs up against your clit with every inward push of his tongue and your quiet cries of pleasure are thankfully still silenced by Jeno’s large hand over your mouth as he fucks you with his tongue. 

You jolt in alarm when you hear footsteps approaching the bathroom and flinch violently when a knock sounds out against the door.

“You guys okay in there?” Jaemin asks curiously, and you don’t even manage to come up with a coherent response; it’s Jeno who has the audacity to reply with his face still buried between your legs.

“Almost done!” He calls back, voice garbled because, well, it’s fairly hard to speak clearly with a mouth full of pussy.

There’s a moment of silence on the other side of the door, then your name is called. 

“You good?” Jaemin sounds suspicious now, albeit a bit concerned, and you blanch, looking down at Jeno as your peak rapidly approaches.

“I–uh–I’m coming!” You yell back, trying to keep the whine out of your voice as your climax hits and sends you reeling, fingers tightening around Jeno’s hair and your entrance clenching around his tongue while your body trembles under his touch.

“…Okay…” Jaemin answers, sounding even more suspicious than before, and your face burns with embarrassment as Jeno hums contently against you and starts languidly lapping up as much of your arousal as he can. “Well, can you guys hurry? We wanna start the movie.” 

“Sure!” You call back, a bit too eagerly and far too breathily, and wait until you hear Jaemin’s footsteps receding to relax, your body going slack with relief as you weakly push at Jeno’s head. He’s reluctant to pull away, his fingers digging into your thighs possessively, but when your pushing gets more insistent and your low whines pick up in urgency, he finally lets up, pulling back and sitting on his heels as he stares at your core, unbridled lust in his eyes.

“Good?” He asks, and you nod in a daze.

“Excellent,” You reply, and he grins, rocks off his heels and stands back up, helping you off the counter and passing your shorts and underwear to you. You make the mistake of looking down and are confronted with his jaw-droppingly large erection pressing against his shorts, your eyes widening in shock.

“I take it you like what you see,” Jeno chuckles and you blink several times to clear your mind before you meet his gaze with a sheepish smile.

“Sorry,” You mumble, and he gives your arm a gentle reassuring squeeze.

“You’re good. Hurry back down there so they don’t get any more suspicious.” He suggests, a smile so sweet on his face that you almost forget why his mouth is glistening. 

“What are you gonna do about your shirt?” You mutter, reaching out to poke his bare stomach, and he catches your hand with a playful gaze, his eyes narrowed.

“I brought others, obviously. I’ll just grab one and change.”

“Cool, I’ll, uh, finish treating this one later.” You nod shyly and turn to leave but Jeno grips your hand tighter and whirls you back around into a deep, passionate, breath-stealing kiss, the taste of your arousal in your mouth as he swirls his tongue around with yours. When he releases you from his embrace, you gasp for air, fingers releasing his forearm quickly. “By the way,” Jeno hums, grinning, “…best pussy I’ve ever tasted.”

You let out a surprised sort of yelp, your face on fire as you nod quickly and try with all your might not to burst into nervous giggles. When you get back to the living room, Haechan and Jaemin stare at you suspiciously, no doubt confused by your slightly jittery state.

“You good?” Jaemin asks again, and you nod, albeit a bit too quickly, and his brow arches skeptically. “Are you sure?”

“I’m fine,” You insist, rolling your eyes and heading to the fridge to grab a can of Sprite. “I am.” You assure them, and Jaemin puts his hands up in a sort of surrendering gesture before jerking his chin towards the television.

“We’re still watching X-Men, right?” He looks at you and over your shoulder, prompting you to turn around and see Jeno coming up behind you with a new shirt on and an innocent smile that turns slightly more mischievous when Haechan and Jaemin look away from him. Your eyes widening, you turn back around to face your friends, putting on a casual appearance.

“Sounds good to me! Chaewon’s gonna be pissed we started without them.” You remind them, and Haechan shrugs. 

“We can all pretend we didn’t watch it.” He suggests with a (very attractive) devilish grin before blatantly eying you up and down. His gaze, you note with a panicked jolt, lingers around your thighs before sliding back up to meet your eyes. “We can keep a little secret, right?”

You can’t help but feel like there’s more to the question he’s asked.

Pushing past the inkling, you narrow your eyes at Haechan and turn to Jaemin.

“I won’t tell if you guys won’t.” You say, and Jaemin wiggles his eyebrows at you flirtatiously.

“That’s what I like to hear.” He collapses back onto his chosen armchair and gets curled up as you and Jeno move to find your spaces.

“Come sit next to me,” Haechan calls to you from the couch, his eyes fixed on you intently. When you pause, just staring at him, he raises his eyebrows suggestively and pats the spot next to him invitingly.

After another moment of hesitation, you roll your eyes slightly and make your way towards Haechan, who grins widely. “Stop manspreading and maybe there’d be room for me to sit,” You point out with a huff, and he raises an eyebrow and shifts forward, leaning back more and becoming an extremely tempting seat option himself.

“Sit right here,” He offers in a low murmur, patting his thigh and looking at you suggestively.

“No.” You say simply, plopping down halfway on his leg and mostly on the couch beside him. When he lets out a sharp yelp of pain, you smile, satisfied, and move your leg off of him, forcing his legs closed by pushing him with the side of your leg. Already having gotten over it, Haechan drapes his arm behind you on the couch cushion, his arm hovering just above your shoulders. You shoot him a side-eyed glance, and Haechan wiggles his brows with a grin before dropping his arm down and pulling you into his side. 

“You know I like to cuddle,” He murmurs in your ear, and you blink dazedly, humming weakly in acknowledgment. He’s warm and comfortable and smells amazing, and you can already feel your head clouding with desire.

“Are you two almost done?” Jaemin’s voice cuts through the fog in your mind and you meet his gaze to see that he’s more amused than annoyed, an expectant brow raised.

“Almost,” Haechan answers, and you look at him, confused, but he ignores you in favor of leaning forward (forcing you forward with a jolt, since he refuses to let go of your shoulder) and grabbing the folded blanket on your coffee table, unfolding it with one arm and clumsily situating it over your and his lap. “Now we’re done.”

Jaemin stares at Haechan with an unreadable expression for so long that it makes you uncomfortable before he turns back to the television and hits the play button. Jeno flicks the lights off, leaving you four in mostly darkness, and the opening credits of X-Men start to roll.

Less than thirty minutes into the movie, Haechan has moved his arm from around your shoulders and is letting his knuckles graze along the hem of your shorts, his eyes fixed on you.

“Pay attention,” You murmur as quietly as possible.

His gaze not wavering from the side of your face, he chuckles softly, slipping his fingers under your shorts and tracing along your thigh. “Oh, I am.”

“To the movie,” You hiss under your breath, and he leans in closer, his lips pressing to the spot just behind your ear.

“You’re more fun to watch.” He coos, and you roll your eyes and scoff in an attempt to conceal the nervous laugh you let out when his fingers sneak up higher. “Plus, you know you like it.”

“Shut up.” You mumble, and he pinches the flesh of your inner thigh, making you jolt in your spot and just barely conceal a yelp of pain and surprise.

“Told you to watch that mouth of yours earlier, didn’t I?” He warns you as you glare at him, affronted. 

“You didn’t have to pinch me,” You hiss, and he chuckles, fingers continuing their journey up your leg to brush his fingertips against the heated, damp seat of your underwear. You suck in a quiet breath that, unfortunately, does not slip past Haechan, and he grins, eyes still trained on your face. “Stop staring at me,” You whine.

“Why? Does it make you nervous when I stare?” He asks with a smug little grin, and you frown, staring ahead at the screen pointedly. “Pay attention,” He urges, leaning closer to you to take your earlobe between his teeth. He tugs at the flesh gently, eliciting a small gasp from you, as two of his fingers find your clit and pinch it through the fabric. You squirm in your seat, fighting back a whimper, and he chuckles, tracing the shell of your ear with his tongue. “Stop fighting it.” He murmurs when he’s done, and you swallow thickly, staring at the screen with glazed over eyes. Wolverine’s blurry form grunts and roars as he engages in a fight scene, the details on the screen going virtually unnoticed as Haechan’s lips latch onto your neck, kissing and sucking.

“Fuck,” You suck in a sharp breath and he flicks at your neck with his tongue as if to say, “I heard that.”

Pushing your underwear aside, Haechan’s fingers spread you open and circle around your entrance, digits collecting arousal with every go-around. When you groan quietly and buck your hips against his hand, he pulls back, much to your dismay.

“I want to hear you say you want it.” He breathes against your cheek, and you whimper in protest, nibbling at your bottom lip as you think. Do you throw away your pride in favor of getting the release you want? Knowing Haechan, he might cave anyway simply from sheer desire— “We don’t have all day.” His voice is low and stern and he lightly nudges at your ear with the tip of his nose to help bring you out of your reverie.

“Haechan–” You whisper desperately, and he chuckles, pressing his fingers into you shallowly and pumping them excruciatingly slowly. “God, I can’t stand you.”

“Then sit,” He murmurs. “Preferably on my lap.”

“Do you always have to have a comeback?”

“Wouldn’t be me if I didn’t.” He answers smugly. You suck your teeth and pinch his thigh in retaliation. He inhales sharply and hums appreciatively as you do, and you release him with a startled sound, looking over at him in surprise.

“Pain slut.”

“That’s me, baby.” With another gratuitous nip at your skin, he suddenly pulls back from you, fingers pushing into you finally to provoke a choked gasp from you. Before you can ask what happened, Jeno’s whispering both of your names from his space in the living room, and you look to see him facing both of you.

“I’m gonna use the bathroom!” Jeno announces in a low hush, and you nod, reaching for the remote.

“Want me to pause it?” You ask, and he shakes his head.

“Nah, I’ll be right back.” He assures you. “Maybe turn it down though, because Jaemin fell asleep.” He jerks his chin towards the chair Jaemin is sitting in, the male’s head tucked to his shoulder with his eyes closed. You coo affectionately at your sleeping friend’s figure and nod at Jeno, turning the volume on the movie down as Jeno gets up, stretches, and heads to your bathroom.

The second you hear the bathroom door close, Haechan pulls you onto his lap with a groan, guiding you into straddling his lap facing him.

“Haechan!” You whisper frantically, and he hums in acknowledgement as his fingers push back into you painfully slowly. “Jeno could come back!”

“Then hurry up.” He chuckles.

“Jaemin could hear–”

“Then shut up.” He claps his hand over your mouth and you whine against his palm, half disappointed he didn’t just put his fingers into your mouth. “Tell me what you want, and maybe I’ll give it to you.” His tone is teasing as he curls his fingers inside of you and you let out a low moan, your head tipping forward onto Haechan’s shoulder.

Your attempt to speak is muffled into his hand and he chuckles, his hand leaving your mouth to grope your chest, squeezing your breasts and teasing your nipples through the fabric. 

“What was that?” He asks, turning his face into your neck and kissing along the skin.

“Please stop teasing,” You plead, and he makes a thoughtful sound before pulling out of you almost to his fingertips, flattening his palm against your core and grinding the heel of his hand against your clit. “Please?” You choke out, and he thrusts his fingers back into you quickly, finger fucking you thoroughly as you melt against him.

“Like that?” He grunts, and you nod vigorously, clutching his arm.

“Yeah, like that,” You moan, and he tsks disapprovingly.

“Better shut up before I stuff my fingers in your mouth.” 

“Is that a threat or a promise?” You ask, and Haechan lets out a surprised laugh, hand leaving your breast and tapping two fingers against your bottom lip. You readily take his fingers into your mouth, swirling your tongue around them and sucking, and he groans, teeth nipping at your neck appreciatively. 

“Good girl,” He remarks, surprised, and you try to hide how you preen from his praise. 

“Feels so good,” You whimper around his fingers, and he coos at you patronizingly, pressing his palm against your clit harder and relishing the way you grind against his hand.

“You’re so desperate,” Haechan snickers, and you whine, heat rushing to your cheeks as saliva drips down from around his fingers in your mouth. “Look at you—you’re drooling around my fingers, fucking my hand…all in front of Jaemin.”

“He’s sleeping!” You mumble defensively, and Haechan laughs mockingly.

“He could wake up,” He points out. “Or Jeno could come back. But you don’t care about that—”

“I do!”

“You just wanna cum all over my fingers like a needy little slut,” Haechan sneers, and you cry out weakly, a fresh string of drool dripping down your chin, some getting on his fingers. “Don’t you?”

“Yes,” You whimper, rocking back and forth against his hand desperately. Haechan studies the glistening saliva on your chin and his fingers with a wild fascination in his eyes before he pulls his fingers from your mouth, much to your dismay. Before you can protest, he swipes his tongue up from your chin, collecting the drool, to your bottom lip, sucking it into his mouth before releasing it and catching your lips in a proper kiss. “So close,” You gasp against his lips, and he nods almost in a daze as he keeps fingering you, brows slowly furrowing from his determination to pleasure you.

It only takes a moment more of his fingers driving in and out of you to send you spiraling into a powerful climax, your body trembling under his ministrations as you choke out gasps and whimpers into his shoulder. Only when he’s sure you’ve ridden out your high to the very end does Haechan remove his fingers, raising an eyebrow in a sort of cruel fascination when your hips involuntarily chase after his hand.

“Still needy, yeah?” He exhales in amusement, and you can only frown at him, bottom lip bordering dangerously on a pout. As if to answer his question, you rock against his hips, breath catching in your throat when you feel his concealed length pressing against you. “Oh, can you feel that?” He asks almost lazily, eyes heavy-lidded as he watches you move on top of him. When you nod, he grins, leaning forward with a challenge glinting in his eyes. “What are you gonna do about it?”

Unfortunately for both of you, the sound of movement from behind you has you springing off his lap and resituating yourself beside Haechan just in time for Jaemin to rouse from his sleep, blinking sleepily.

“What’d I miss?” He yawns, and you laugh, thankful the darkness of the room shrouds your flustered expression.

“Not much,” You lie. “We can rewind it if you want.” When he nods, you pick up the remote and hit the rewind button, leaning over to Haechan when Jaemin’s gaze is once again focused on the screen. “I’m going to the bathroom. Meet me there a little bit after Jeno comes back.”

He grins at you, shooting you a wink as confirmation, and you stand up, trying to conceal the slight wobble in your stance and thankfully succeeding before heading to the bathroom.

On your way there, you run directly into Jeno who’s on his way back and you start apologizing before realizing that he doesn’t seem all that sorry. Before you can even wonder why, his hands are on your hips and he presses you up against the nearest wall, staring down at you with eyes alight with mischief.

“Hi, pretty.” He chuckles.

“Hi, Jeno,” You coo, smiling up at him invitingly.

You may have initially been on your way to meet Haechan, but something about the look in Jeno’s eyes has your stomach fluttering with excitement, and you practically launch yourself at Jeno when he leans in, the male letting out a surprised but pleased grunt as he presses up against you.

You and Jeno kiss heatedly, your hands eagerly grabbing and pulling at Jeno’s clothes to get him closer to you as the latter wastes no time slipping his hand into your shorts where he’s confronted with the arousal from your last climax with Haechan. 

“God, you’re so fucking wet,” He groans, and you whine into his mouth when his fingers toy with your clit, your free hand running through his hair and tugging messily to draw out a pleased grunt from the male in front of you. You clumsily push your hand into his sweats and gasp when you feel the sheer size of his length sitting hot and heavy in your hand, and Jeno chuckles. “Yeah, you like that?”

You can’t even bring yourself to respond fully as you only pant, “Yeah,” your mind still coasting off of the lust Haechan stirred up while you were supposed to be watching the movie. You rock your hips against his hand as he pushes two fingers into you and cry out weakly when his lips latch onto your neck, sucking, kissing, and biting. In your almost drunken haze, you notice that his mark is suspiciously near the one Haechan left you earlier, your eyes fluttering shut when his fingers curl and remind you of where your mind is supposed to be. 

You wrap your fingers around his girth properly and start to stroke, pulling off and away from him to spit into your hand for lubrication and returning to him. 

“That was so hot,” Jeno groans, an appreciative growl rumbling in his chest as he fucks into your hand. “Your hand feels much better than mine, pretty.”

“Feels so good, Jeno,” You whimper, and he nips at your neck a bit rougher than you anticipated, drawing a sharp whine from you that he muffles with his lips, capturing yours in a sudden, passionate kiss. 

“Careful,” He teases, “Haechan and Jaemin are in the next room.” You cry out weakly at the reminder that you’re not alone, the sudden realization that Jeno is all over you and has two fingers inside of you less than twenty feet away from your other friends sends another wave of arousal through you and your jaw goes slack as his fingers curl inside of you. His long, slender digits fuck you diligently, leaving you gasping for relief and clenching desperately around his fingers.

“Jeno,” You mumble, still pumping his length quickly, and he groans against your skin, the sound raw and almost tortured, even. “I wanna come–” Your words are cut off by the sound of Jaemin laughing from the living room, making you flinch in surprise and, apparently, almost climax on the spot, your knees buckling as Jeno uses his free hand to nudge your shorts down to your knees, the clothing dropping to the floor and pooling around your ankles. “Fuck, right there, please, please, please—”

“Right here?” Jeno taunts, sending his fingers thrusting into your sweet spot before sucking in a ragged breath through gritted teeth. “Pretty girl, I’m close.” 

“Me too,” You whimper, powering through the ache in your wrist as you squeeze Jeno’s length with every upward tug, relishing the groans he muffles into your shoulder.

“Let me finish inside of you,” He pants, and you falter in your movements, shooting him a bewildered glance. “There’s—fuck—so much I wanna do to you,” He grunts, “but first I gotta cum somewhere.”

You realize he has a point; he can’t just finish into your hand and leave you with a messy cleanup, and you’re not fully in the mood to get on your knees and swallow it, so you might as well just let him—

“Baby,” He groans urgently, and you snap out of your thinking spiral to focus your hazy mind on his words. “Come on; just the tip, pretty? No more than that.” He promises, and you nibble your bottom lip thoughtfully before nodding and spreading your legs a bit wider. He sighs in relief and hikes one of your legs up so your knee is level with his hip and you guide him between your legs, the feeling of the blunt head of his length filling you with excitement as it presses against your entrance. He removes his fingers from inside of you, bringing them to your clit to rub quick, determined circles, and pushes into you slowly with a careful rock of his hips, keeping his promise of no further than the tip as he nestles it between your folds and hisses in ecstasy when your walls flex around him. “So good for me, baby. So, so good, feels so tight, fuck—” Jeno’s practically babbling at this point, losing himself in the feeling of your hand stroking him as his tip is buried inside of your slick walls, and his head falls forward to rest against the wall beside you, the male emitting a low groan before mumbling, “I can’t—‘m sorry, I can’t—”

“Jeno?” You gasp in a panic as you feel him pushing into you further. “Fuck, Jeno—”

“Just a little bit more,” He rasps, and you cover your mouth to keep yourself quiet, whines of alarm increasing as your walls clench around him tightly and he pushes in more.

“Jeno, you’re too big,” You panic, pushing at his abdomen to halt his movements, but you both know that he’s stronger than you and you’re ultimately just resting your hand on his stomach in defeat before your nails dig into his skin as he pushes in even more, the overwhelmingly full sensation making you feel dizzy.

“You can take it, right, baby?” He grunts, and your breath comes in short little bursts as he bottoms out in you entirely, your head spinning as you lean back to rest against the wall. “That’s my good girl,” He purrs, his length twitching as he rocks his hips against yours in slight movements.

“Jeno—” You moan urgently, and he groans under his breath as his movements stutter and he releases inside of you. Your eyes flutter shut as he shoots his cum deep inside of you even as you’re still adjusting to his size.

“You did so good,” He praises, cupping your cheek and kissing you. “So fucking good.”

“You said just the tip,” You huff, and he hums sympathetically, kissing you a couple more times.

“I know, but you felt so good,” He admits. “I couldn’t help myself.”

“Okay, my turn,” You plead impatiently. “You owe me after that.”

Jeno grins and nods in acknowledgement, carefully pulling out of you and, to your surprise, pushing his fingers back into you. Ignoring your gasp, Jeno diligently finger-fucks his cum back into you, the pads of his fingers finding your sweet spot again with ease as he bites down on your neck and sucks hard. “Oh, my God–Jeno, I’m–” You stammer, and he shushes you sweetly, lapping his tongue over the bite mark left where your shoulder and neck meet.

“I know, pretty,” He assures you. “Come for me, it’s okay.” With that, you fall apart, a desperate cry of relief just barely making it past your lips as your climax hits you, shudders coursing through your body as you curl in on yourself, Jeno wincing as your hand tightens around his arm almost painfully.

“Sorry,” You whisper, loosening your grip on his bicep, and he shushes you again, pressing his lips to the corner of your mouth in a sweet almost-kiss. 

“It’s okay,” He assures you, gingerly pulling his fingers out of you, and you release him fully with another murmured apology. “Good?”

“Wonderful,” You reply in a daze, blinking up at him slowly. “How about you?”

“Perfect,” He answers, eyes crinkling as he smiles down at you.

“You, uh, go ahead and watch the movie; I’m gonna take care of…” You mumble, gesturing between your legs. As if on cue, a small gush of your mixed releases drips down your leg and you cringe at the sensation, only catching Jeno’s wild-eyed expression at the last minute as he watches it descend down your thigh. “Jeno?”

“I’m gonna go before I decide to fuck you right up against this wall.” He says, eyes still trained on your bare legs and the space between them. You let out a small yelp of surprise and his gaze darkens, his tongue coming out to swipe along his bottom lip.

“Jeno?” You call tentatively, and he blinks once, twice, and a third time before looking up at you.

“Yeah?”

“Movie.”

“Right…right.” He mutters, tearing his gaze away from your bare core and turning on his heel to head back into the living room. You pull up your shorts and underwear most of the way, not wanting to come into contact with the now cold seat of your underwear, and wait until Jeno rounds the corner and is out of eyesight to make your way to the bathroom.

After tidying yourself up, you decide to forego the underwear, not wanting to wear cold, slick clothing for the rest of the night. Balling them up in your fist, you head out of the bathroom and towards your room to change into a new pair, barely stifling your shriek of alarm when you bump directly into Jaemin’s chest.

“Sorry, Jaem,” You laugh breathlessly, looking up at the male, and your mouth dries. Jaemin, to put it bluntly, looks like he’s onto you. His brows are raised and his face is the epitome of if you tossed skepticism, amusement, and being entirely unimpressed into a blender and pressed the start button.

“Wh…what’s that look for?” You ask nervously, and Jaemin’s lip quirks up into a smug smile, a devilish little grin that silently sings, “I know something you don’t know.”

“Don’t act innocent when we both know what you were doing less than ten minutes ago.” He scolds you in that patronizing tone that’s so uniquely Jaemin, and you blanch, your fist tightening around your soiled undergarment.

“What do you mean?” The words don’t even sound right coming out of your mouth, and you wonder if you look as guilty as you feel.

His lips stretch into a Cheshire cat-like grin as he leans in, closing the gap between your faces as he studies you with an unnerving steadiness.

“‘Just the tip, pretty,’” He mocks Jeno’s voice, and if there was any hope of you making it out of this encounter unscathed, you just kissed it goodbye.

“You weren’t supposed to hear that.” You mumble, your face feeling simultaneously drained of all color and blazing with heat.

“But I did.” Jaemin lilts, reaching up to twirl a lock of your hair around his finger. Normally, the gesture would feel fond, affectionate even, but the look in Jaemin’s eyes has you feeling more like a mouse being batted around by a cat before it goes in for the kill. He tugs unexpectedly on your hair and your hand flies up to stop him a moment too soon, your eyes widening when Jaemin’s other hand shoots out and grabs your wrist, holding your balled up fist (and underwear) up in plain sight. “What do we have here?” He murmurs curiously, eyes alight with a cruel, mocking glee.

“Jaemin, please let it go—”

“No underwear?” Jaemin lets out a fake scandalized gasp, the picture of horror before he’s tugging your wrist, bringing you lurching forward and crashing, yet again, into his firm chest. “Oh, you’re such a tease.”

“Jaemin, I’m not—” You whine, but you can’t even deny that Jaemin’s undivided attention on you like this has heat flooding between your legs and you suddenly wish you’d worn the underwear as an extra layer of defense against the arousal you know is about to start leaking out of you.

“First, you snuck off to play with Haechan before we got here—as if no one would notice,” Jaemin looks up thoughtfully, holding up his free hand to count on his fingers. “Then you and Jeno snuck off and hooked up in the bathroom. Then you fooled around with Haechan again—yeah, I wasn’t asleep on the couch,” Jaemin reveals when you splutter in surprise. “Then you went off with Jeno another time, and now you’re standing in front of me, all pretty and nervous and tempting with no fucking underwear on…and nothing for Nana? Hm?”

When you don’t answer, simply at a loss for words, Jaemin sucks his teeth in disapproval and tugs you after him to lead you to your room next door, shutting the door behind you both and pushing you up against it, ignoring your gasp when your back hits the wall.

“Jaemin, I’m sorry,” You try to say, but Jaemin silences you with a stern look, leaving you feeling small under his gaze. After a moment of tense silence, he sighs loudly and pinches the bridge of his nose with his free hand.

“Stop looking at me all wide-eyed and helpless like that,” He huffs, watching you with dark eyes. “It’s making me hard.” His words go straight to your head, making you blink up at him in shock, and he rolls his eyes, moving closer to you, and pushes his leg between yours, brows shooting up in intrigue when a pathetic little moan escapes you. “What a pretty little sound,” Jaemin muses, the corners of his lips quirking upwards. “I think I’ll do that again.”

“Jaemin–” You try to reason with him again, but he shushes you, shifting his attention back to his fingers wrapped around your wrist, your underwear still balled up in your fist. He looks down at you with a sadistically intrigued expression and reaches to pull the fabric from your fist, raising an eyebrow when you yelp and clutch it tighter. 

“Open your hand.” He says slowly, and you shake your head vehemently. “Fine.” He smiles sweetly down at you before pressing his thigh against your clothed core, smirking when you visibly struggle not to grind down on it. “Why are you fighting it, hm?” He murmurs curiously, cocking his head to the side. “Just give in,” Jaemin purrs, tensing his leg under you, and you mewl weakly as you roll your hips against his thigh, body slackening in relief.

“No!” You cry out when Jaemin takes advantage of your relaxed grip and pulls the underwear from your hand, immediately averting your eyes in shame. As if to rub in his victory more, he moves his leg between your thighs so you’re rocking back and forth against him, a wide smug grin overtaking his lips.

“I never imagined you were this sensitive, but I love it.” He murmurs, stopping his movements and studying your underwear, turning the garment this way and that. “God, these are soaked; you’re just a little mess, aren’t you?”

“Jaemin, please–” You mumble, and he blinks down at you impassively.

“Pretty girl, you don’t like this?” He taunts in a sickeningly sweet voice, and you whine, shaking your head insistently, your cheeks blazing with embarrassment as he continues, “If you don’t like my teasing…then why are you making all those cute little noises?” You, true to his word, cry out weakly and rock your hips against him desperately. “Mm, that’s what I thought.” He barely finishes his sentence before he’s bringing your underwear to his face, clutching the fabric to his nose and breathing in deeply, his eyes fluttering shut in bliss. Completely caught off-guard, you gasp, and his low groan evokes an overwhelmed whimper from you.

“…Jaemin?” You try again, your voice small and needy, and he slowly opens his eyes again, his gaze now considerably darker and more intense than it was moments ago.

“Your eyes are already telling me yes,” He muses, tilting your head up by your chin and staring you down. “I can see your body agrees,” Jaemin continues, trailing his hand down your front and tweaking your hardened nipple gently, grinning when you squeal and push your chest further into his hand. “Now I just want to hear that pretty mouth tell me how much you want it.”

“Want it so bad, Jaemin,” You say immediately, stumbling slightly over your words as you look up at him hopefully. “Please do something—more—anything.”

“Aw, you sound so sweet when you beg.” He coos, tugging at your other nipple playfully before pinching it, the sensation a bit too overwhelming and drawing forth a sharp hiss from your lips. “Did you suck either of them off?” Jaemin asks, and you shake your head, your mouth already starting to water at the prospect of his length in your mouth. “On your knees.” He pushes down on your shoulder gently, and you oblige, sinking to your knees readily and blinking up at him expectantly, awaiting further instructions. “God, I knew you could be good for me,” He praises you, and you smile, flattered. He wastes no time tugging his sweats down to reveal his length, your eyes widening slightly as you take the sight of him in. A quick glance up at Jaemin grants you the sight of his crooked grin as he studies you while you study him, and you look back down to his length, swallowing thickly as you watch his fist pump himself up and down, lazily tugging at his length. “This what you want?” He asks, and you nod. “Words.”

“Yes,” You answer in a hushed murmur.

“Mm, yeah? Want Nana’s cock in that pretty little mouth?” He’s most certainly teasing you, but you don’t even have it in you to be ashamed or indignant, your only thoughts centering around his length and the way precum seeps from his slit as he strokes himself.

“Yes, please,” You reply, squeezing your thighs together for some friction, and he hums in an impressed surprise.

“Please? How could I say no when you use your manners like that?” He murmurs fondly, stroking your hair as he guides himself to your lips. “Open,” He says softly, and you oblige. “Tongue out.” He orders, and you let your tongue loll out of your mouth, blinking up at him with wide eyes. “Such a pretty fucking sight,” Jaemin groans, tapping the head of his cock against your tongue; his cock is hot and heavy and you can taste the stray drops of precum sliding down the underside of his length. “Go ahead, pretty.” He urges, and you don’t need to be told twice; you sit forward eagerly and replace Jaemin’s hand around his length with yours, wrapping your lips around the head of his cock.

When Jaemin hisses and lets his head tip back, you swirl your tongue around his length, lapping at his slit and flicking your tongue against where the underside of his tip meets his shaft, practically purring with satisfaction when he strokes your hair fondly. You start to bob your head up and down, your tongue dragging along the underside of his cock with every movement, and you work your hand over whatever isn’t in your mouth, eyes on Jaemin to drink up his every reaction. You two are engrossed in the feeling of each other, so much so that when Haechan opens the bedroom door, you jolt so suddenly and violently that it’s a miracle you don’t bite down on Jaemin.

“Well, well, well,” Haechan drawls, stepping into the room and closing the door behind him. You pull off of Jaemin, the action resulting in a loud, wet pop that has heat blazing in your cheeks, and Jaemin stares at Haechan, entirely unbothered. “What do we have here?”

“She was just making up for playing with both of you and not me,” Jaemin hums, still stroking your hair; something about the action is different now, though, more possessive than it was before, and you can’t say the shift in the gesture doesn’t thrill you a bit, your thighs squeezing together of their own accord.

“Not our fault you were too slow to do something about it.” Haechan counters, and Jaemin narrows his eyes.

“Yeah, well, now if you want her to suck you off, you’re either gonna have to wait until I’m done or come join me.”

“Damn, who died and made you the orgy boss?” Haechan grouches, striding closer to you two nonetheless and pushing his sweats down to free his length. You take a break from warming Jaemin’s cock in your mouth to lick up Haechan’s cock and suck on the tip, wiggling your tongue in the slit to elicit a loud swear from Haechan, whose hand flies to the back of your head. “God, what a good little mouth you have,” Haechan praises you, albeit a bit condescendingly, and you hum, content, before Jaemin guides you away from Haechan and back to him. You let your tongue loll out and Jaemin rubs the underside of his cock against it before pushing himself into your mouth with a groan. You wrap your hand around the base of Haechan’s cock and pump slowly to keep him occupied while your mouth is busy, and Haechan exhales loudly through his nose, swearing under his breath.

When you pull off Jaemin and kiss down to his balls, licking and sucking them, Haechan growls enviously and pulls at your hair to get you away from Jaemin and back to him. After a moment of mouthing at Jaemin’s balls and stroking him with your hand, you pull away and look up at Haechan with expectant eyes.

“Come get your pretty face fucked.” He urges, and you drop your jaw and let Haechan guide his length past your lips before he’s thrusting into your mouth with poorly concealed grunts and groans, the head of his cock hitting the back of your throat repeatedly.

All you can do as he fucks your mouth is whimper and stroke Jaemin’s length more urgently, your now free hand moving between your legs to rub at your clit desperately. Haechan pulls out and taps his cock lazily against both of your cheeks before murmuring, “I think you like getting your mouth fucked.” When you nod, he tsks in disapproval. “Tell me you like it.”

“I like it,” You rasp, your voice hoarse.

“Mm, tell me you love it.” He taunts, and you clear your throat in an attempt to regain some of your voice back.

“I love it,” You echo obediently, your voice still raspy, and Jaemin and Haechan coo at you fondly. 

“What a good girl,” Haechan praises.

“Love how she sounds after getting her throat fucked.” Jaemin admires, stroking your cheek, and you preen under the praise before switching over to Jaemin to let him fuck your throat next.

This time, when it’s Jeno who comes in, it comes as less of a shock to you, possibly due to how incredibly occupied your mouth is with two demanding cocks before you.

“Jeno, if you want a blowjob, you’re gonna have to wait,” Haechan grunts, and Jeno waves him off dismissively, moving to kneel behind you and pull your hips back so you’re bent at a bit of an angle, your head closer to Jaemin and Haechan and your ass closer to Jeno. Two large hands pull your shorts down, and Jeno hisses when he realizes you’re not wearing any underwear.

“God, you’re so fucking tempting.” He mutters, and the rustling behind you sends a thrill of excitement down your spine which only doubles when Jeno presses himself against your entrance. He busies himself with coating his length in your arousal, ignoring your whines and the impatient pushing back of your hips into him. 

It’s not until you pull off of Jaemin and turn your head back towards Jeno and hoarsely plead, “Jeno, please,” that he obliges, pushing himself into you slowly. He kneads your asscheeks with heavy hands as he slowly buries himself in you, and your head falls forward onto Haechan as you pant from the overwhelming sensation. 

“Look at her,” Haechan coos, tilting your chin up to see you better and show you off to Jaemin. “So relieved to take cock that she’s drooling.”

“You’re making a mess.” Jaemin points out patronizingly, swiping at the saliva dripping down your chin and regarding it briefly before slowly smearing it over your lips, the subtle yet demeaning gesture sending a wave of arousal through you and making you clench around Jeno.

“Fuck, her pussy just got so tight,” Jeno grunts through gritted teeth, and you let out a weak sob, pressing your hips back onto Jeno while your mind attempts to steady itself once more.

“So big,” You cry out, and Jeno shushes you soothingly, caressing your sides as he starts to rock into you with slow, purposeful thrusts.

“I know, baby, I know,” He murmurs soothingly, “I know it’s a lot, but look how good you take it.” His praise shoots straight to your head and you find yourself clenching around him again, much to his delight. Bless his patience, because he keeps the same pace for an unbearingly long time to help you adjust to his size, but you desperately need him to go faster.

You’re about to beg for him to speed up, preparing to pull off of Haechan’s length, when Haechan pushes your head down so his cock is sheathed in your throat. Your only breaths come in the short inhales you can manage through your nose and your whining gets increasingly more desperate as Haechan holds you down until you’re clawing at his thighs, adorning the tan skin with angry red streaks and finally earning yourself release.

“Faster,” You gasp when you finally pull off of Haechan, pausing only to glare sharply at the male above you. “Jeno, go faster.”

“Thank fucking God,” He groans before pulling out of you almost to the tip and slamming his hips into you, quickly building up a pace that has involuntary breathless, whiny moans leaving you with every thrust.

“Hae—chan,” You manage to get out, and he looks down at you curiously. “Fuck—you,” You finish before taking Jaemin into your mouth after he taps on your cheek impatiently with the head of his cock.

“Sorry, pretty girl,” He says with a remorseless smile. “Your mouth is just too good.”

“I’m gonna cum,” Jaemin warns you through gritted teeth, and you nod as well as you can, your hands speeding up on both his and Haechan’s cocks, and Jaemin tips his head back with a groan as he releases into your mouth. 

“Fuck, I’m next,” Haechan grunts, and you whimper before switching to take him into your mouth, Jaemin’s cum still on your tongue, and Haechan climaxes, his release mingling with Jaemin’s in your mouth.

“Swallow.” Jaemin urges. “All of it.” You readily oblige and he smiles proudly at you, stroking your chin with his thumb. “Open your mouth for me, baby.” He murmurs, and you do, sticking out your tongue as proof you’ve done as he asked.

“God, that’s so fucking hot.” Haechan groans, dropping to his knees in front of you and pulling you into a heated kiss as Jaemin catches his breath. With Jeno pounding away behind you, you’re more than a little distracted, and Haechan pulls away after sucking on your tongue to shake your head abruptly by the chin to get your attention. “Kiss me like you mean it.” You whine into his mouth when he recaptures your lips in his, now attempting to focus some of your attention on Haechan’s tongue exploring your mouth as he flicks and swirls, eagerly tasting himself and Jaemin on your tongue.

After a moment, Haechan has mercy on you, allowing you to go slack-jawed while he presses kisses to your lips as Jeno fucks you stupid from behind. The sounds of his grunts and your breathy moans fill the room, and Haechan chuckles.

“Jeno’s fucking you so good, isn’t he?” He murmurs sweetly, and you nod, your eyes stinging as tears threaten to spill forth.

“Uh-huh,” You moan, and Haechan coos fondly.

“You just love taking cock, don’t you?”

“Uh-huh–”

“Just our pretty little fucktoy, aren’t you?”

“Mm—uh-huh,” You cry, and Haechan snickers.

“Is that all you can say?”

“Uh-huh,” You gasp, and Haechan pouts at you mockingly.

“Our dumb little fucktoy doesn’t even know how to speak anymore,” He taunts, forcing you to make eye contact by pinching your chin and angling your face towards his. “Isn’t that right?”

“Uh—fuck—uh-huh,” You wail, and the tears finally do spill, streaming down your cheeks freely. Haechan kisses down the tear tracks before connecting your lips in another kiss, his lips wet and salty from the evidence of your crying.

“God, what is it about seeing tears stream down those pretty cheeks that makes me so hard?” He groans, his hand finding his cock and starting to tug at it slowly. You watch in a dazed sort of amazement as he strokes himself back into action before your eyes scrunch shut as your climax approaches. 

“Jeno, please, I’m gonna–” You beg, and Jeno lets out a little grunt of “Yeah?” that has your mind swirling deliriously and you topple over the edge, your walls pulsating around his length as you whimper and sniffle Jeno’s name repeatedly. Jeno’s not far behind, soon slowing his thrusts down as he starts to release into you, only stopping and pulling out when you shudder and swipe behind you weakly. His cum’s just barely started dripping out of you when Haechan kisses your cheek to get your attention. 

When your dazed, glassy eyes manage to focus on his face, Haechan smiles warmly. “On the bed.” He urges you. “I want you to ride me.”

Your muscles all but give out at the notion, but you push through it, clambering gracelessly onto your bed and into Haechan’s waiting lap. Haechan carefully moves all the hair away from your face and cups your cheeks, pulling you in for a kiss as he licks at your bottom lip.

“So pretty,” Haechan purrs against your mouth, and you whimper as he lifts your hips and guides his cock to your entrance, both of you holding your breath as he pushes the thick head of his cock into you. “God, still so fucking tight.” He groans, slowly guiding you down onto his length until he’s bottomed out in you.

“Haechan,” You plead, and he just chuckles, smacking your ass playfully and leaning back against your headboard as he raises his brows expectantly. You lift yourself up slowly before starting to bounce on his cock, involuntary shudders escaping you at the sensation of his length filling you at a new angle.

“Yeah, that’s it,” He grunts, lifting your shirt and kissing down to your chest. He reaches up and presses between your shoulder blades to push your breasts in his face, and he promptly buries his face in your cleavage with a groan, kissing, sucking, and licking. His ministrations on your chest and the feeling of his length moving inside of you overwhelm your senses so much that you don’t notice Haechan sneakily moving your bra out of the way until his lips are wrapped around your nipple, and a sudden moan escapes you at the added sensation.

Despite the burning ache building in your thighs, you rock down on him with every downward motion, grinding on him as you ride him, and his eyes roll back into his head before he refocuses his gaze on you with heavy-lidded eyes, pupils blown wide with lust and desire.

“Could watch you ride me all day.” Haechan coos from around your nipple before moving to suck at the other one, tugging on the now neglected bud while his tongue swirls around the nipple in his mouth, shifting his gaze up to yours as he flicks your nipple with his tongue in up-and-down movements that have your jaw slackening, desire consuming you as you watch him.

“Does it feel good, pretty girl?” Jaemin asks from beside Haechan, and you blink twice in surprise as your gaze shifts to him, having momentarily forgotten where he went.

“Mhm,” You whine pathetically, and he grins, slowly pumping his cock with his fist.

“Haechan, hurry up, I want her next.” Jaemin hisses through clenched teeth, and you blanch, realizing that you’re far from done. 

“Tongue out,” Haechan urges you, snapping you out of your daze, and you oblige, letting your tongue hang out of your mouth, and Haechan moves his hand to play with your clit, grinning mischievously when you attempt to move away from his touch. “Take it.” He grunts, thumb following your every movement and massaging your clit relentlessly even as you whine and sniffle. “Oh, baby,” Haechan coos sympathetically, gaining your attention again. “You’re drooling everywhere.”

When you move to wipe it, Haechan catches your wrist and brings it back to your joined laps, instead leaning forward and lapping up the saliva that’s dripping down your chin and neck. As he nears your lips, you bring your tongue back into your mouth, jolting when Haechan swats at your ass warningly.

“Keep that tongue out.” He murmurs, and you stick it out again, an open-mouthed whimper escaping you when Haechan flicks at your tongue with his before sucking on it.

“Haechan, I’m close,” You warn him in a shaky voice, and he nods, moving his hips under you to meet your movements.

“Me too, pretty girl.” He assures you, and your head drops forward to rest on his shoulder as your climax hits and a series of whiny, breathy moans spill from you. “Fuck, you’re so tight,” He moans, his head falling back onto your headboard as he releases inside of you. “What a mess,” Haechan chuckles, and at first you think he’s talking about you, but when his hand slips between your legs to pull out and feel your almost impossibly slick folds, he groans and pulls his now glistening fingers back, regarding them curiously.

“Haechan?” You mumble, confused, and he flicks his gaze up to your face before he smiles devilishly and shuffles down the bed so he can lie down on his back.

“Come on,” Jaemin groans, his head thumping back onto the pillow, and Haechan just shoots him an unbothered look.

“Come here,” Haechan grunts, pulling your hips towards his face, and you shuffle up as slowly as possible, trying to buy yourself time to recover from your climax. Haechan, however, is having none of it, and shuffles down even more to meet you where you’re at, thumbs eagerly spreading your folds apart and inspecting your core as heat blazes in your cheeks.

“God, what a pretty little pussy you have.” Haechan admires you loudly.

“Tastes good, too.” Jeno adds on, shooting you a wink, and Haechan chuckles.

“Oh, yeah? Guess I get to see for myself.” He mutters under his breath before removing his thumbs from your core and leaning up to press a kiss to your pussy lips, groaning and repeating the action again and again for a longer time each kiss before his tongue parts your lips and swipes up your pussy from your entrance to the underside of your clit. An abrupt whine escapes you and your thighs give out slightly, dropping you further down onto his mouth. His hands reach up to grab your thighs, urging you all the way down on his face, while he laps at your overly sensitive clit with no regard for how sensitive you are, only chuckling when you can only choke out moans with teary eyes. 

Alternating between sucking and lapping at your clit and folds, Haechan groans in ecstasy as he pulls you down harder onto his face, guiding your hips to rock back and forth on his tongue. “Fuck, Jeno, you weren’t kidding,” Haechan pants when he takes a moment to breathe before returning to his task. “Tastes so fuckin’ good,” He mumbles, eyes wild in their hungry gaze up at you, and his mouth seals around your clit without any further words. You rock your hips against his tongue as quickly as you can, your hips bucking as it’s all somehow too much and yet not enough. The salvation you were looking for comes when Haechan stiffens his tongue to a point and breaches your entrance, flicking inside of you. 

“Oh, my God,” You cry, your body moving of its own accord as you start to bounce up and down slightly, helping Haechan tongue-fuck you. “Oh, fuck, Haechan—just like that—” 

He pulls his tongue out for a moment, a disappointed whimper slipping from your lips, before urging you, “Beg for it.” He stares up at you with intense eyes alight with challenge, and you can practically feel the fight leaving your body.

“Please!” You give in immediately, and Haechan’s brows fly up, almost disappearing into his hairline, as you continue to beg. “Haechan, please make me cum, please, please, please–”

“Fuck, baby,” He groans, his arms tightening around your thighs almost painfully as he holds you to his mouth, mumbling in an almost delirious state, “Anything you want, fuck, I’ll give you everything.” His tongue slips into you again and his nose rubs against your clit, making tears of relief streak down your face as the pleasure consumes you and your climax gets deliciously close.

“Don’t stop–” You pant, your last word cutting off as you hit your peak and your eyes force themselves shut, bliss overtaking your body in warm waves while your abdomen tenses and you curl in on yourself. 

When you reopen your eyes, Jeno’s situated himself beside Haechan, watching you intently as he strokes himself slowly, and you lean forward to take Jeno’s length into your mouth, the taste of yourself still faintly on him as you bob your head up and down his length at a pace slightly faster than the leisurely pace he’d set for himself just a moment ago. 

As you lean forward, you lift your hips off of Haechan, only to be yanked back down by the male beneath you, who says, “Get back down here; I’m not done with you yet,” before he promptly buries his face in your core once more. 

Pushing two fingers into you, Haechan hooks his fingers into your g-spot and starts to finger-fuck you diligently, his tongue rolling over and lapping at your clit even as you whine around Jeno’s length and attempt to squirm away.

When your eyes squeeze shut, tears forcing their way through the minuscule space, Jeno cups your cheek, making you open your eyes to look at him.

“Keep your eyes open, baby; look at me.” Jeno urges gently, smiling when you oblige and resume bobbing your head up and down his length. When you push through the discomfort and the ache in your jaw to take his length all the way in your mouth and swallow around his cock, Jeno hisses appreciatively, stroking your hair. “That’s good, baby, that’s so good; keep on doing that.” You hum happily, dizzy with all the praise and pleasure, and Jeno’s hips buck upwards into your mouth, making you choke briefly around him, and that’s all it takes for Jeno to lose it, the male shuddering as he releases down your throat. You swallow without dwelling on the taste and look up at Jeno who looks like he would have hearts in his eyes if you were all in a cartoon.

Haechan, not one to be ignored, presses the pad of his thumb into your clit roughly to regain your attention and you let out a sudden cry, returning your attention to him.

“Haechan, that’s sensitive!”

“Mm, too bad.” He mumbles, losing himself in the taste of you once more. “You said ‘Don’t stop,’ so I’m just giving you what you asked for.”

“That’s not what I meant—oh, shit, I’m gonna–” You gasp, and he sucks and licks determinedly at your clit, lapping his wide, thick tongue over the sensitive fleshy button over and over until you’re climaxing with a loud cry of Haechan’s name, your body trembling as you attempt to keep holding yourself up.

“That’s it,” Haechan mumbles, lost in his desires. When you attempt for a second time to get up, he practically snatches you down, nuzzling his nose between your folds to bump against your clit and make you jolt. “I could do this for hours.”

“Please don’t,” You beg, and Jaemin gestures for you to come to him where he lies beside Haechan, his cock hard against his stomach. You blanch at the realization that they expect you to come again, but there’s no time for dwelling on that, as Jaemin takes your hand and pulls you away from Haechan.

“Stop hogging her; you had your turn!” Jaemin grouches, gingerly lying you down on the bed and hovering on top of you. He kisses you slowly, gently nudging your legs apart to lie between them. He smiles against your lips when you moan softly, arching your back and pushing your chest into his. “Yeah? Is that where you want me?” He teases lightly, trailing wet kisses down your neck to your chest, pushing your shirt up over your chest again and leaning in so he can latch his lips onto your nipple, sucking and licking the bud as your eyelids flutter. “Mm, you’re so cute,” He mumbles fondly around your breast, sponging wet kisses from your left breast to your right, where he repeats his ministrations. In a daze from the sudden gentle treatment, you only manage to whimper quietly when he nudges your legs further apart.

“You’re being so nice to me,” You say tiredly through a smile, and Jaemin looks up at you with an amused grin from where he’s watching the head of his cock move along your folds, the tip glistening with a mix of your arousal, Haechan’s saliva, and Jeno’s and Haechan’s cum.

“Of course I am,” He replies simply, leaning up to press a quick kiss to your lips before you feel his cock pushing past your entrance. “Gotta treat the pretty girl like a princess before I fuck her like a doll, right?”

“Oh, shit,” You mutter, and he chuckles darkly before pushing himself all the way inside of you, groaning at the sensation of your walls wrapped tight around him.

“So fucking wet, fuck—I could slip right out,” He taunts, and all you can do is sniffle as he pulls out and snaps his hips back into yours. You ignore the screaming ache of your muscles as you wrap your legs around him, and he snickers derisively, looking down at you. “You don’t want that, do you, pretty baby?”

“No—” You start, but Jaemin covers your mouth with his hand, your lips pressed to his palm as he leans down to whisper in your ear.

“No, you don’t,” Jaemin coos. “You want me nice and deep in this pretty pussy, huh?” When you let out a muffled cry and nod, he kisses your cheek sweetly as he drives his hips into you. “You really do have such a pretty pussy, baby; can’t believe you let those two dolts play with it before me.” You turn to look at the other two males, but Jaemin stops you by clamping his hand down harder on your mouth and using his grip to keep your head in place. “Ah, ah, ah—focus on me. They’re not here right now. It’s just you and me right now, and I’m gonna fuck you so good, baby.”

“Jaemin–” You keen into his hand, canting your hips upwards to meet his thrusts, and he coos patronizingly at you, moving his hand away from your mouth and returning his attention to thrusting inside of you.

“Gonna fuck this greedy pussy so full of cum,” He groans, gripping your hips with an almost bruising tightness, and you stutter out a gasp, making Jaemin look down at you with a grin. “That’s what you are, right? Greedy?”

“Y-Yes,” You pant, and he smirks.

“Say it.”

“I’m greedy,” You all but wail as fresh tears spill down your cheeks. 

“That’s right, pretty girl. You’re greedy, and this greedy little pussy just loves being full of cock, doesn’t it?”

“Y-Yes, it does!” You reply in a desperate attempt to make him have mercy on you. “Jaemin, I think I’m close–”

“Oh, yeah? What should you say when I let you cum?” He presses, and you sob, your bottom lip jutting out into a pout as you try to wrack your empty brain for the answer.

“Th-Thank you?” You try, and could just faint with relief when he shoots you a pleased grin.

“That’s it, baby,” Jaemin confirms proudly, and, as if rewarding you, reaches between you two to massage tight circles into your clit. “You gonna cream my cock? Two guys weren’t enough? You just needed three loads crammed in this tight fucking pussy, huh? It’s okay, princess; Nana’s got a nice, big load for you.” Jaemin grunts, his words punctuated with his thrusts, and the sounds of skin slapping against skin fill the room, your cries of pleasure only getting louder and more desperate as your climax approaches.

“Fill me, Jaemin,” You beg breathlessly, nails clawing at his back as your peak hits and your eyes slide shut in ecstasy, practically sobbing, “Thank you,” as your vision gets spotty. He hisses in a mix of pain and pleasure and speeds up to an almost brutal pace before letting out a loud moan and burying himself in you entirely, pumping his release into you. He stays inside of you for a couple moments longer, his length twitching as your walls clench and flex around him, before slowly pulling out of you and sitting back to watch as his cum slowly drips from your entrance.

“Fuck, that’s hot,” He pants, and you can’t even bring yourself to respond yet, your chest still heaving from your own climax. He collapses on top of you unceremoniously, sending an “Oof!” whooshing out of your lungs before chuckling out an apology and wiggling himself between you and Haechan, much to the latter’s dismay.

“I can’t believe we just did that,” You say with a surprised laugh, and Haechan stops glaring at Jaemin to shrug, sporting a mischievous little grin.

“I figure it was just a matter of time.” He muses, and Jeno mutters something that sounds like an agreement, shuffling closer to you and pressing his face between your neck and shoulder. Jaemin mirrors Jeno’s actions on your other side, slinging his arm over you and pulling you closer to him. When Haechan starts to protest, Jaemin shushes him abruptly.

“You got to hook up with her three times; you can handle not lying next to her.”

“But-”

“You can cuddle Jeno.” Jaemin finishes, and, on cue, Jeno lifts his arm up to accept Haechan’s attempt to hold him. Haechan huffs and puffs and moans and groans but ultimately climbs over you, Jaemin, and Jeno (ignoring everyone’s protests) and settles in beside Jeno, snuggling up to the larger male with a small sigh.

“Not like I wanted to cuddle her or anything,” Haechan mutters bitterly from beside Jeno, and you tut sympathetically. 

“I’m sorry, Haechan,” You say sincerely, reaching over Jaemin somewhat awkwardly and finding Haechan’s hand to squeeze it gently. He squeezes back and laces his fingers with yours, giving you the impression that he’s not letting go anytime soon. “You guys do know we have to be dressed and not-suspicious by tomorrow morning, right? Mark and Chaewon are gonna be riding in probably by the afternoon, and they don’t need to know what happened here.” You sit up slightly to inform them, but Haechan groans in protest and pulls you back down, pressing his lips to your hand to dot lazy kisses along the skin.

“We know, just—let us relax for a bit?” Jeno muffles his response against your collarbone, his fingers tentatively lacing through the fingers on your free hand. 

“Okay…” You mumble skeptically.

“Don’t worry, pretty,” Jaemin pipes up, accompanying his words with a reassuring squeeze of your hip. “What happened here will be our little secret.”

“Thanks,” You exhale in relief, and they all mumble variations of “you’re welcome” before your eyelids start to droop and you settle into your spot to drift off to sleep.

༄ i hope you enjoyed!! please leave feedback if you did!!

tips are appreciated!! VENMO | CASHAPP | KO-FI | WISHLIST

#haechan smut #jeno smut #jaemin smut #nct smut #lee haechan smut #lee jeno smut #na jaemin smut

[madelinemccoolname]

Slime girl hrt

So, you’ve decided you’re a slimegirl. I’ve been on fluid replacement therapy, commonly referred to as slime hrt or shortened to frt, for five years but I haven’t managed to find a decent guide on the effects I’ve been experiencing anywhere on the internet. So I’ve decided to make this little guide for anyone who might still be on the fence. Keep in mind obviously I don’t speak for everyone and other goorl’s timelines might look a little bit different based on like genetics or something.

0-6 months

• For the first 3 months the effects are, I’m told, similar to estrogen’s first couple months, you’ll notice for sure your skin getting softer, your face might round out a bit, but the most you get are the side effects

• I personally was not prepared for how thirsty I got, I had heard about it but you really don’t know how much of your body isn’t liquid until you’re replacing all of it

• At 4 months is when I noticed my skin and body were moving kinda differently, tho this got the most pronounced at 6 months

• At 6 months all of my skin rippled like the surface of a pond whenever anyone touched me or like if the wind started blowing

• My joints got a lot more flexible, and my elbows and knees became double jointed (don’t do this too much)

• My hair didn’t get tangled overnight anymore

• My finger prints went away

6-12 months

• Here’s where the real magic starts, I got a lot thirstier for one and specifically had cravings for gatorade, I think this has something to do with slimegirls being partially salt water, but it could also be the food coloring in it (this is a joke about me drinking a lot of light blue gatorade and then being light blue)

• On the subject of color my skin got a sort of blue tinge to it, and most notably got completely see through by my 8 month mark

• The changes start from the thinnest part of your body and goes in towards your core, so even by 5 months your fingertips might be completely clear

• This next part is partially why I wanted to make this guide, so obviously your body doesn’t liquify at the same rate all over, for me this meant I was able to see the muscle in my upper arms if I looked through my fingers, this is both normal and something you’re going to have to get used to as you continue your journey

• Your toes are also going to turn at the same rate, this will probably be your first experience with lint getting in your slime bits, you don’t need to worry about your bloodstream getting infected with sock but regularly picking out bits is good hygiene and something you wanna get into the habit of

• My hair officially finished it’s transition into one solid shape, it still had defined follicles but if you tried to grab a strand of hair the rest would try to come with it

• People also started to ask me who dyed my hair, please note it’s always funny to say “it’s the way Goo-d made me” in response to this

12-24 months

• This window is larger than the others because all you’re going to notice from now on are the big changes

• Avoid tanktops past 14 months, your arms should be entirely translucent at this point and while having a buncha stuff floating around in my goo is kinda gender for me, people generally do not like to see slightly dissolved organs and ribcage

• 14 months was also when I noticed that my arm bones had entirely disappeared, my leg bones were also just barely holding in there, moving without bones was so freeing

• if you ever want anyone you know to stick their fingers in your slime, now’s probably the first time anyone's willing to stick their fingers far into your arms and legs, try to get them to wiggle their fingers. if they’re really adventurous they’ll stick their whole arm through to the other side, which still makes me a little squeamish

• Now that we’re at the part where I was mostly slime, we should probably talk about slime color. I’m going to dispel this misinformation, there is no way to find out what color a slimegirl is going to be before she starts transitioning. Some people say its eye color but that’s a lie. I am naturally a blue slime girl but my eyes pretransition were green. To dispel another myth you can dye yourself with food coloring, so you don’t even really have to stress about it

• By 18 months the only part of me that wasn’t slime was my head, the skull takes the longest time to dissolve because you’re doing the skull and all the organs in there all at once, see the human body really really wants to keep the brain safe, so when your brain gets the signal to get rid of your bones, it just does it all at once

• Some people say their eyesight got better, tho that seems to be anecdotal (mine stayed the same sadly)

• 18 months is also when I started experimenting with my shape. This was probably the most frustrating part of it for me, shapeshifting your goo is like a muscle, the more you do it the easier it’ll get. If you want a specific shape, spend enough time in it, and it’ll become your default shape, though you’ll never forget your original shape.

• 24 months is the last point I want to cover, by 24 months I was 100% liquid, the heavy viscosity from early transition leads to something closer to a liquid jello. I can detach parts of my body and then move to replace it, and I can reabsorb the parts I leave behind

• Clothes should rest just on the surface of you, though I know a lot of girls just change themselves to look clothed (probably more than you think ;)

• Suspenders and heavy cardigans break surface tension for me, luckily that's also a cute look so sometimes I match my cardigan with overalls for an aquarium effect on the overall straps

• This was also when I stopped breathing and going to the bathroom

• Some people report “knowing” when certain parts of their brain turn into goo, I didn’t experience that but it certainly could happen

Things I didn’t know where else they would fit

• I feel like a lot of this post was mainly dry, so in the interest of avoiding having a dry slime girl post, this section will mostly just be slime things that brought me joy

• I love speaking in slime puns, I keep a little book of slime puns and slant rimes just in case the slime arises that i would ever ooze some

• Being out in the rain or being out on a windy day is so much better when you can feel your entire body move in the wind, in particular go out on a rainy day without anything on, and lay down on the ground, the rain rippling through your entire body is heavenly

• Speaking of weather, when I first noticed I was refracting light on a sunny day I almost started crying, I felt so pretty and right :)

• I said I stopped needing to use the bathroom, but I still do siphon off some goo once a month. Mostly this is to get out bits of trash that accumulate and also because it feels exactly like taking a shower after a hard sweaty day’s work

• Speaking of bits, get a powerful magnet and metal shaving and you could probably waste a whole day just moving metal shavings through your body

• This might be a bit late in the guide for this, but when my arms finally turned I pulled a great prank on my at the time girlfriend by sticking my hand into a blender (do not do this if you still have bones, or value your girlfriend not being really really mad at you)

So that's all you need to know before starting frt, becoming the slime of your dreams is a difficult and beautiful process. I know a lot of what i described here might be frightening but if it sounds enticing at all know that it’s worth it.

#hrt that makes you slime #slime girls #slimegirl #slimegender #slimegirls #slime girl #fantasy hrt #creative writing #my writing #writing #slime #the writer's poorly disguised transition goals #slight body horror #transgender #goo girl #goo #monster girl

[sihtricfedaraaahvicius]

Mechanic chapter 15

Note: follow up to chapter 14, but could probably be read on it's own too if you just want a spicy read. Happy easter to those who celebrate, make sure you sin today! 😉

Warnings: 18+!! smut; minors DNI.

pairing: Modern!Sihtric x you (f)

summary: You and Sihtric finally got to properly date and know each other.

wordcount: 4,9k

Masterlist

Weeks had passed since Sihtric had rescued you from a forced marriage with Masema. He had called the cops, leaving them an anonymous tip and, as you didn't want to be involved with Masema anymore in any way, you agreed with Sihtric to leave before the first responders arrived. And so far it has been the right choice.

You finally got to spend more days and nights together, but because of everything that had happened ever since that belated Halloween party, you had not been intimate anymore since that very same night. You were both okay with that, as just sleeping in the same bed and waking up next to each other was already a blessing, but you both struggled in secret to not jump each other at any given moment. Sihtric was still careful at first and did not want to rush things. He knew you liked him, but sometimes his insecurities still took over and he was afraid you'd be just another girl who liked him for his looks, and not for who he was.

He was still afraid you would find someone better than him, someone who was highly educated with a high paid job and a fancy house. Sihtric was and had none of that. His mechanic job paid him well enough to live a pleasant life and to save some money for unexpected expenses, but Sihtric wasn't highly educated and he lived in a modest studio apartment just outside the city centre. He had been somewhat ashamed to take you to his place, and it was only after that horrific night with Masema that he took you there, because he felt he could keep you safer where he knew everything and everyone around him.

You liked his place once you got to explore it, after you woke up the next morning and the biggest scare had worn off overnight. His place was small and simple, but it told you everything you needed to know about him all at once. The apartment was small and cosy, with a separate bedroom just big enough for a double bed, which was positioned against the left wall, and a clothing cabinet on the right, of which one door was missing and the remaining one hung half loose while being covered with stickers of various motorcycle brands. On the wall, above the bed, was one large shelf decorated with an old white helmet, which Sihtric told you was the first helmet he ever bought along with his first motorbike, and next to the helmet was a pot with a dying cactus. On his nightstand remained an old but empty pizza box which he had yet to throw out, his bedroom door had an old poster of a pin-up girl seated on a vintage Harley Davidson, and his bedroom floor was surprisingly clean for a guy who lived alone and hadn't seriously dated anyone in a while.

When you left his bedroom you stepped into his living room which had an open kitchen on the right. The kitchen was small, perfect for one person, but it became evident when you stayed over that he needed a dinner table, because he couldn't ask you to eat like a sewer rat above the sink, like he usually does when he's on his own. The only problem was that the apartment had no space for a dinner table, as a large black corner sofa took up most of its limited space, along with a tv cabinet and a big tv to go with it. There was room for one more cabinet in the living room, and that cabinet was filled with piled up videogames, various protective motor gear, such as gloves and balaclavas to wear underneath a helmet, and naturally he had multiple tool boxes too. His living room also had numerous posters and fancy prints of scarcely dressed anime girls, to which he blushed once you pointed that out. His bathroom was also small but surprisingly clean, with a shower, a sink, a toilet and some space for a washing machine and a dryer, and on the outside of the bathroom door was a large mirror.

Sihtrich had  worried his place wouldn't be up to your standards, as you owned a whole house in a pretty good neighbourhood, but you reassured him after the first night you stayed over that you did not care about how and where he lived. You just wanted the place to feel like home, and that's exactly how you felt when he first took you to his apartment. But then maybe you would feel at home everywhere as long as Sihtric was by your side, and you started to stay over at his place more often ever since.

You also found out that during Sihtric's time off, now that he was fully healed again and enjoying life as he used to, he liked to wear a hint of eyeliner and a silver chain around his neck, along with a Mjölnir pendant which was attached to a black leather cord. His clothes were simple, when not dressed in his work overalls, and he usually wore black jeans and comfortable hoodies or slim fitted shirts with his leather jacket on top. He owned good quality motor gear too, a matching set which consisted of a black coat, black trousers, black gloves and black boots, which all matched with his black helmet. But since Sihtric was an experienced biker, he rarely wore his full gear and often cruised in his jeans and a hoodie underneath his leather jacket. 

And today wouldn't be any different, as you had agreed to go for a ride with him because it was a surprisingly warm afternoon for the time of the year. But where Sihtric would dress in his normal clothes, he refused to let you climb on the back of his bike without the proper clothing after everything that had happened. And so he had recently bought you a full set of protective gear, which he surprised you with when you came over after spending the night before apart.

'But isn't this stuff expensive?' you mumbled as Sihtric zipped up your coat.

'See it is a, eh, first real gift from your boyfriend,' Sihtric chuckled shyly while you checked yourself out in his mirror wearing the full gear, and he leaned back against the wall next to you.

Sihtric felt his cheeks heat up as he looked at you, for he thought you were his absolute dream girl and looked just perfect in that outfit he had bought you. He always hoped to find himself a backpack, someone who wants to go on rides with him, but he never dared dream his backpack would be someone as stunning and perfect as you.

'So… do you like it?' he asked hesitantly.

'I do,' you smiled, 'I really do. But I just don't know how to thank you for this.'

'You don't need to thank me,' Sihtric shrugged and handed you the finishing touch for your outfit; a black helmet which matched his own.

He helped you with the helmet, adjusting it to fit right, and he felt shy again as you looked up at him while the visor was up, admiring the sight of his dark eyeliner around his mismatched eyes.

'What?' he frowned after a moment and fought a smile.

'Well… I… I can't kiss you anymore now,' your voice somewhat muffled by the helmet, 'can I?'

Sihtric laughed as he put on his leather jacket, then grabbed your helmet and kissed the tip of your nose, which made you giggle, and he then took his own helmet before he opened the door for you. You walked a little clumsily in the motor gear, as the material was still firm and not broken in yet, and Sihtric enjoyed the sight of you walking down the stairs of the apartment building while you desperately held onto the railing. Once you reached the parking garage located under the apartment building, Sihtric placed his hand lightly on your lower back and walked you to his bikes. He had recently sold his previous bike and purchased two new ones; a black Triumph Bonneville T120 and a black ARCH 1S, the latter which had nearly made him go bankrupt. But only the Triumph was suitable to ride with a passenger, as the other bike had no space for a backpack to tag along.

When you closed in on his bikes, Sihtric started to feel a little nervous. It had been a while since he had taken you out on a proper trip, as the last time you were his passenger after the drama at the abandoned farm didn't really count in his opinion, and he just wanted you to feel safe. Especially after the horrific crash that started the whole mess you had both gone through.

'You nervous?' he asked just before he put on his helmet.

'Healthy nerves,' you confessed.

'If you don't feel comfortable or if I'm going too fast for your liking, just pinch me or something, okay? Then I'll slow down and pull over.'

You nodded in agreement and the butterflies rushed through your stomach when Sihtric took your helmet in his hands again, and he looked down into your eyes as both your visors were still open.

'I love you,' he said, and you could tell by the crinkles around his eyes that he smiled.

'I love you too,' you smiled back and moved your gloved hands up his torso.

'And for that I'm blessed,' Sihtric winked and leaned his helmet against yours while he continued to look down into your eyes, this being the closest your helmets would allow you to get.

'As am I,' you almost murmured and slid your hands under his unzipped jacket.

'Are you staying the night?' Sihtric suddenly asked and curled his fingers around the neck of your coat.

'Maybe,' you taunted, 'you want me to?'

'Of course I want you,' he chuckled, then realised what he had said and corrected himself, 'to, eh, to stay the night I mean.'

You laughed at his half hidden but clearly flustered face, and in response Sihtric slapped the visor on your helmet shut. 

'Hey!' you laughed and opened it again, 'I want a kiss now because you were being mean.'

'I wasn't mean.'

'Yes you were.'

'I wasn't,' Sihtric chuckled and nudged your shoulder teasingly.

You grabbed onto his arm and your boyfriend frowned at you.

'What?' he smiled.

'I want to kiss you,' you said, innocently.

Sihtric groaned lightly, clearly wanting the same, and he then helped you take off your helmet before taking off his own. He turned to hang the helmets on the handlebars of his bike and, as he turned back, cupped your cheeks to pull you in for a kiss. The sweet kiss quickly turned hot and heavy as your tongues swirled and breaths were being stolen. Sihtric continued to kiss you while you fumbled with your gloves, then threw them on the garage floor once you finally freed yourself of them. You moved your hands up into his dark curls immediately, lightly tugging his hair to keep the kiss as deep as possible.

'Fuck,' Sihtric breathed in between sloppy kisses and he grabbed your hips, 'baby…'

'I want you,' you whined with a desperate sigh against his lips, 'please.'

'Yeah?' he chuckled softly, then kissed you again, 'you want me, princess?'

'Mhm,' you hummed, to which Sihtric picked you up in his arms and seated you sideways on his bike, 'I want you right now,' you breathed heavily and wrapped your legs around his waist.

'Right now?' Sihtric smiled slyly, his hands trailing up and down your thighs, 'here?'

'Right here,' you smirked and slid your hands underneath his hoodie while you brought your lips to his neck, 'it's been too long, Siht.'

'I know,' he agreed, one hand on your waist and the other in your hair as he threw his head back at the feeling of your mouth on his sensitive skin, and he inhaled sharply, 'hm, far too long.'

'Need you,' you murmured, then looked at him and flicked your tongue against his lips, 'I need you inside me so badly,' you mewled and rubbed his hardened length through his jeans, 'please, babe.'

Sihtric smiled and cupped your cheeks, 'So cute,' his lips touching yours as he spoke and his tongue licking your lips between every few words, 'so pretty… when you beg for my cock.'

You moaned into his mouth and tugged firmly at his leather belt, 'Forget this bike,' you rasped, 'I wanna ride you, baby.'

Sihtric chuckled darkly and bucked his hips against yours, making you moan at the slight friction you felt as his erection just barely touched your core through your motor trousers, and he captured your lips into a passionate kiss once more.

'Tonight,' he husked, 'I promise you get to ride me tonight, if you're a good girl of course.'

'I'm always a good girl,' you smiled and teasingly sucked his lower lip, then pecked his lips a few more times before you were both startled as someone suddenly started their car not too far away from you.

Now that you were both snapped out of your love and lust filled bubble, Sihtric gave you one more sweet kiss and then handed you your helmet again.

'But I want you now,' you pouted.

'I want you now too, princess,' Sihtric said as he held your chin, 'but not here, not in public.'

'Fine,' you sighed and feigned annoyance, to which Sihtric squinted his eyes as he glanced at you, almost daring you to roll your eyes at him again, but you quickly averted your eyes and put the helmet back on again.

Sihtric put his own helmet back on and got on his bike, then signalled you to get on too. The bike forced you to sit all pushed up against him, and Sihtric reached behind him to take your hands after he had started his bike, pulling your arms around his waist tightly.

'Don't let go of me, okay?' he half yelled over his shoulder.

'I won't,' you yelled in reply, and rested your helmet against his back as he took off.

The bike ride lasted almost two hours before you had to tell Sihtric you needed a break, because your legs began to hurt, and you found your moment when he had to stop at a traffic light. You yelled his name and tapped his shoulder to get his attention, and you explained to him what was wrong. Sihtric nodded and said he'd pull over in a few minutes, at the parking of a forest which was close by. You told him that was okay with you and, as it was quite a long light you had to wait for, you began to tease him after he had shut down his engine while waiting.

You first wrapped your arms around his neck to give him a loving hug, but then you slowly moved your hands down to his thighs, to which Sihtric smiled but you couldn't see it, and he hummed softly as he leaned back against you. You trailed your hands to his inner thighs, and then slowly moved them up, but Sihtric was quick to grab your hands and stop you before you could rub his painfully trapped erection through his jeans. You laughed teasingly and Sihtric shook his head. He opened his visor and reached behind him, caressing your legs, and he then looked back over his shoulder.

'Your legs are going to be over my shoulders tonight, princess,' he winked.

You gasped lightly and felt a rush of butterflies through your stomach while you blushed behind your closed visor. And before you could reply, the light turned green, and Sihtric started his bike again and you clung onto him as he speeded off. When he slowed down several minutes later and turned to a rather quiet road that led through the forest, he took your hand. He held it up along with his, above his head as he rode on, and you felt the wind against your glove while you felt an overwhelming sense of freedom inside of you. He then lowered your hand and snuck it under his half open jacket, placing it on his heart and holding it there until he found the deserted parking lot to make a stop.

You both dismounted and took off your helmets, and, as soon as you had rid yourself of your gloves and unzipped your coat because it was rather warm, your lips found each other's and you kissed slowly and sweetly for several long minutes while no one was around.

'You're my whole world, little lady,' Sihtric whispered against your lips as he cradled your face in his hands, 'everything.'

'And you're too good to be true,' you murmured, 'you have to be. You can't be real…'

'I'm real, princess,' he said and nuzzled your nose before he kissed you again, 'and so is my love for you. I want to love you and smother you with it until you feel you could die from it.'

He smiled softly as he looked down into your eyes, and the sun made his mismatched eyes even more enchanting as the thin dark eyeliner decorated around them. You felt your cheeks heat up, and as it was a warm day you both decided to take off your jackets and threw them over his bike. Sihtric took off his hoodie too, and once he was in just his white shirt he, out of nowhere, wrapped his arms around you and tackled you, pulling you down with him in the tall grass between the flowers. You yelped as you were taken down and before you could even blink, Sihtric pulled you on top of him as he laid down, his hands on your thighs while he bit down on his lip, his eyes hooded as if he was intoxicated. You giggled and took his hands, only to pepper them with soft kisses, earning a low moan from him and you felt he became aroused once again as he was underneath you. You teasingly wiggled your butt, knowing it would make him even more aroused, and he then grabbed your hips.

'You wanna ride me?' Sihtric husked and made you grind down on him, 'hm?'

'Yeah,' you sighed with a smile and ran your hands over his torso.

'You think you can handle me?'

'We've made love before,' you chuckled with a light blush, 'only once, but…'

'Yes, made love,' Sihtric pointed out, 'but I'm talking about fucking, darling, not making love.'

You giggled like an excited schoolgirl, you were still to discover a lot about your boyfriend but you liked what you had learned so far. And you wouldn't mind if he had fucked you right there, in the grass between the pretty flowers, but you already figured he wouldn't do anything with you in public like that.

'But… you won't do it here, right?' you tried regardless.

'No,' he smiled sweetly and trailed his fingers down your cheek, 'not here, baby.'

'You ever done stuff in a public place like this?' you wondered.

'I have,' Sihtric confessed, 'many years ago.'

'Really?' you grinned, 'what did you do?'

'Aren't you curious?' he laughed and then hummed softly as he took your hands in his, 'well, if you really want to know… I sucked someone off,' he said casually and with a light shrug.

'What?' your eyes widened.

'What?'

'You… you what?' you laughed, 'really?'

'Yeah,' Sihtric laughed, 'what's so shocking about that?'

'Well, I… I don't know- I guess I didn't, uh, expect… that.'

'Yeah, well,' Sihtric shrugged again, 'I dated a guy back then and you know, we were in love, so things happened when we knew the chances of being caught were slim. It was fun and kind of exciting to do risky stuff in public, but I'm too old for that now I guess,' he licked his lips and looked up at you, 'and I would never want anyone to see you exposed like that in any way,' he took your chin again, 'that's only for me to see.'

You smiled and cupped his cheeks, accepting the fact he just didn't want you to be seen with half your clothes off by anyone else, and you couldn't deny you liked that about him. 

'So,' you said after a moment, 'you liked sucking that guy off then?' you snorted.

'I did,' Sihtric said cockily and without shame, 'why?' he playfully raised an eyebrow.

'Nah, just wondering,' you shrugged with a grin, 'it's an, eh… interesting thought.'

'Is it?' Sihtric suddenly husked, and he took your hand, tracing his lips with your fingertips as he looked at you intensely.

You swallowed hard and felt your cheeks heat up when he kissed your fingers, and then ran his tongue slowly across your index and middle finger, all while he kept his eyes locked with yours, and the mischief in his eyes became clear as day. You became lightheaded as you watched him slowly drag his tongue over your fingers again, only to stop when your fingertips touch his lower lip, and he then winked seductively before he took your fingers in his mouth, and sucked them painstakingly slow while he never tore his eyes away from yours. 

Everything around you became silent, every sound disappeared; the chirping of birds, the leaves rustling in the wind, the sound of vehicles on the highway far away… it all drowned out as you watched your boyfriend suck your digits as you sat on top of him, and your eyes went heavy while your panties became soaked. You mindlessly grinded your hips against his as you watched him, moaning pathetically while you did, but then Sihtric pulled your fingers away from his mouth and laughed softly at the state you were in.

'Was it as interesting as you thought?' he spoke soft and low, the amusement lingering in his voice.

You nodded while your eyes were still heavy, 'Yes,' you sighed, 'even b-better… please,' you then begged and leaned in, 'please let me ride you.'

Sihtric chuckled softly and kissed your lips, 'If you only knew how pretty you look when you're so desperate,' he whispered, 'but don't worry, I'll show you.'

And your mechanic boyfriend kept his promise. When he took you back to his place again, after having stopped for dinner at a restaurant at the side of a road, you both wasted no time and started taking off each other's clothes before you even reached the door to his apartment. Once inside, he kicked the door shut and lifted you up in his arms as he kissed you, walking you over to his couch where he sat you down. He kissed your lips again before he pulled away, and you protested against the sudden loss of him while you were left in only your lingerie. Sihtric was only half naked, still wearing his jeans and boxers underneath, but the curls on the unshaved side of his head were messy and his cheeks were rosy. He grabbed a wooden chair out of the bathroom, on which he always piled his clothes when taking a shower, and he placed it in front of the mirror which was on the bathroom door.

You watched him, rather confused, and he then turned back to you and took your hand. He pulled you up to him and he kissed you as he walked you backwards to the chair.

'I told you,' he rasped, 'I'd show you how pretty you are for me.'

Sihtric unzipped his jeans and lowered them only slightly, then sat down and pulled you in his lap while you both faced your reflection. He teased you for a moment, running his fingers across your wet panties and making you watch how worked up he made you with such ease, until you begged him for more. He took your face and kept your eyes on the mirror while he pulled his hard cock out, and your mouth nearly watered as he made you watch him stroke his length slowly. He brought his lips to your neck, where he kissed and sucked your skin before he spoke in your ear while you made the most desperate noises.

'See how fucking pretty you are,' he whispered and looked at you in the mirror over your shoulder, 'making such a mess of yourself for me,' he smiled sweetly and with pride. 'Do you want it?' he then purred.

You nodded eagerly and with tears in your eyes, you couldn't contain yourself anymore and started to fall apart in front of him.

'Please,' you begged and grinded his thigh, 'please…'

'Such a good girl,' Sihtric cooed, and he then picked you up and brought you to his bedroom, where he threw you on the bed.

He loved how small you were to him and how easily he could toss you around, with love of course, and he climbed on top of you after he pulled down your panties and took off his own remaining clothes. He cupped your cheeks and then kissed your lips softly.

'I love you,' he whispered.

'I love you too,' you murmured with a smile, your hands roaming over his broad shoulders.

'Good,' Sihtric chuckled softly and kissed you again, 'remember that I love you, because I'm going to fuck you like I don't, and I won't stop unless you tell me to.'

You nodded, and he wasted no time to sheath himself completely inside you, filling you up entirely and you clawed at his back at the sudden sensation. You arched your back and threw your head back as he began to thrust into you, picking up his pace every few seconds until your eyes rolled back and you could only moan and whimper in his ear while you clenched around his twitching cock. 

Sihtric sat back up after a while, and he threw your legs over his shoulder before he leaned back in again, he then grabbed your hips and he began to fuck you without remorse. His bed creaked loudly underneath you and the headboard banged against the wall with each hard thrust, his necklaces dangled above your face and hit his chest rhythmically while he desperately bit down his moans as he was completely buried inside you. He kept this up for a while, but then suddenly flipped you over and you were on top of him before you could climax.

You looked down into his eyes with surprise, his eyeliner still on point while his body glistened with sweat just like yours, and he gave you a sly half smile as he put his hands behind his head while he laid back on his bed.

'You wanted to ride me, princess?' he rasped.

'Mhm,' you whined, and you sank down on his length and began to bounce up and down while you moaned and gasped.

You found support by putting your hands on his scarred and toned chest, all while Sihtric didn't move and just watched you as you fucked him the way you had asked for. And you continued to fuck him until your legs began to hurt and your whines became even prettier, desperate for his help.

'Mh,' Sihtric hummed with a dark chuckle, 'such a good girl,' he whispered as you struggled to keep moving, 'just like that… good girl.'

But not much later your entire body trembled. You were desperate for your release and tears rolled down your cheeks as you tried to keep a steady pace, which was impossible by now.

'Please,' you gasped, but Sihtric didn't look impressed and he refused to help you.

'All day you begged to ride me, princess,' he said sternly but with a sweetness to it, 'so you'll fucking ride me now, and you won't stop until I fill that pretty pussy of yours up.'

You did as you were told, gasping and moaning and trembling while you continued to ride your mechanic, and he eventually took a hold of your hips, not helping you, but simply digging his fingers in your skin.

'Keep making those pretty sounds for me now,' Sihtric said, panting while he struggled to fight his own moans now, 'keep fucking going, princess.'

And you did, you fucked him until you couldn't anymore, and you both climaxed shortly after each other, breathing hard and heavy while your body was shaking as you sat on top of him, exhausted. Sihtric smiled at you, sweetly and head over heels in love with you, and he wiped your tear stained cheeks with his hands.

'Good girl,' he cooed and kissed your lips, then brought one hand down to your trembling thighs, 'you wanna taste it?'

You nodded as you sniffled, wanting nothing more than to feel and taste him entirely. And your boyfriend smiled proudly, running his fingers over the inside of your thigh and coating them with his cum as it dripped out of you. He brought his hand back up, smearing it over your lips before he slid his fingers between your parted lips to let you taste him.

'That's it,' Sihtric whispered as you cleaned his digits, 'don't waste a drop now. That's my good girl,' he smiled, and then pulled you in his arms.

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#sihtric x reader #sihtric x you #sihtric kjartansson #the last kingdom #sihtric #tlk #sihtric fic #the last kingdom fic #modern!sihtric #sihtric au #tlk au

[cockslutpadalecki]

Mean!Steve Rogers! Working at the daycare on the ground floor of Stark Tower is your dream job, though it has often landed you in rather... interesting situations. Least of which, is acting as something of an on call babysitter for Earth's mightiest parents. Luckily though, it's just the littlest Stark that usually requires your attention. And you're glad of it too; it seems like every time you're around, one man in particular has a slick comment waiting for you, a snide remark that makes everyone else laugh while you force an uncomfortable smile.

Who knew Captain America had a little mean streak?

😈

Hot For Teacher

Characters: Dark!Mean!Steve Rogers x F!Reader.

Words: 1.4K.

Warnings: non-con, mean!Steve, workplace bullying, misogyny, sexism, explicit sexual content, 18+.

A/N: Been a hot minute since I posted anything, but here is my (very late) entry to @boxofbonesfic Monkey’s Paw challenge. Thank you so much for allowing me to participate— I so hope you enjoy and congratulations on 7K, you deserve every single one and more! Many thanks to my pre-readers @maladaptivexxdaydreaming and @yarnforbrains, you’re the best. Beta: @princessmisery666 but all the general bullshit is entirely mine. While likes are gold, feedback and reblogs are golden.

Stark Tower is almost in complete darkness when you show up, save for a few sporadic lights coming from the lower floors where you know most of the night staff will still be working.

You reach the front door and swipe your key card, the little green light granting you entry as the door automatically unlocks. It’s eerily quiet as you walk across the main foyer and past reception, pausing to stop at the security station to your left. Mike is already on his feet, a curious look on his face.

“You’re not usually here this late,” he observes with a smile. 

You lean onto the desk, noting several coffee cups and a half-eaten pack of donuts as a basketball game plays out on one of the many screens flicking in front of him.

“Duty calls,” you say with a little sigh, nodding towards the front door of the daycare behind you. “Has Ms. Potts dropped Morgan off yet?” 

Mike furrows his brow, looking puzzled. “I don’t follow.” 

“I was called-” you start to explain, but think better than to bore him with your strange arrangement with the Starks, “y’know what, don’t worry. I’ll just go and wait inside for her.” You step to walk away before turning back towards Mike. “Can you buzz me when they arrive?”

You can tell he wants to question your request further, but keeps his mouth closed as he nods in understanding. “Of course, will do.”

You can’t remember the day you realised you’d effectively become the Stark’s on-call babysitter— the first time it happened their nanny had been struck down with food poisoning. Pepper called you in a frenzy, asking if you could watch Morgan while they attended a Stark Expo that they couldn’t get out of.

You had said yes without much hesitation or thought, more than happy to help out seeing as Morgan is never any trouble. 

The second time, it was a family emergency. 

You never questioned what happened to their nanny after the third and fourth occasions, it had seemingly just become the new arrangement overnight. You take care of S.H.I.E.LD agents’ children during the day and watch Morgan at night when Tony and Pepper need you. 

-

You fish in your pocket for your keys as you reach the door and place your hand on the handle, surprised when it pushes down. 

Weird. You swear you locked it when you closed up earlier in the evening. Shaking your head, you rebuke yourself for clearly not double-checking it when you left. 

You head inside, choosing not to bother putting the lights on as you manoeuvre your way through the myriad of toys and play sets to get to your office. Setting down your overnight bag as you turn on the lamp on your desk, you mentally plan to check the windows to make sure you didn’t forget to lock up anywhere else, when a noise from the playroom startles you. 

Whirling round, you’re met with nothing but darkness. Just your imagination. You turn back, suddenly eager to check that nothing is out of place when there’s another sound from behind you. Once more, you spin on your heel and this time, come face to face with Steve Rogers. Even though his features are welcoming— soft and kind, his steely stare is paradoxical, making you feel cold under the muted office light sending twisted shadows up the wall. 

“Fuck, you scared me,” you huff, placing a hand to your chest to calm yourself.  

He doesn’t apologise. In fact, he almost looks happy that he frightened you as he casually leans against the door frame, blocking you in. “I know it’s all career with you women these days, but it’s a bit late to be here, isn’t it?” 

His tone sets you on edge immediately, and you scowl. 

“I’m waiting for Morgan, remember? You called me on behalf of Ms. Potts.” 

“Oh yeah, that’s right,” he waves you off nonchalantly like the phone call he had made to you at Pepper’s behest only an hour ago is a long-forgotten memory. “Guess they’re caught in traffic coming back into the city,” he adds with a shrug as he pushes himself off the frame. 

“I guess so,” you reply tersely, walking towards him. He steps back a little when you squeeze past, but not enough to stop you from having to brush up against him to get through.

Feeling his stare burning a hole into your back, you pick up the pace towards the nap room, eager to create as much space between you as possible. You’ve managed to prevent being in such close proximity to him for the past three years of working here, you’re damn well not ready to start now. 

Steve has always been somewhat… hostile towards you for unknown reasons. A little cold. Belligerent even. You’re glad you’ve not had cause to be in his company much, the cruelty of his snide comments always makes you have to swallow down your contempt, even when everyone else around you laughs at your expense.

It all started a few months after the daycare opened— at first, Steve would blank you in the corridor even when he’d happily acknowledge the person you so happened to be with. Pepper often reassured you that he was just shy, probably a little apprehensive about getting to know someone new. You briefly held out the hope that one day you might strike up a friendship with the super soldier, but he just seemed to get nastier and more intimidating as time went by. 

Clearly you had done something to upset him considering his behaviour, but you never had the opportunity to find out why.

You hurry to the clusters of beds, straightening out the blankets and fluffing up a pillow ready for Morgan’s arrival when you feel him close behind you. 

“Is there something you need from me?” you question brusquely, glancing at him over your shoulder. The way he stares at your bent over form makes your stomach knot in disgust. 

He shakes his head. ��No,” comes his reply. “Can’t have you waiting here alone; you never know who might be lurking in the dark corners of this place.”

You raise an eyebrow. “Like you were?” 

You straighten up and edge past him, desperate to widen the gap between you. Mindlessly, you rummage through a cupboard, not looking for anything in particular but for an excuse to keep yourself from maintaining eye contact with him for too long. As soon as you sense him closing in behind you, you shift from your position and head out into the play area, determined to keep your distance, but Steve easily keeps up.

“Why do you keep running away from me?” he queries with curiosity. Picking up a large stuffy that’s fallen onto the floor, you wish you had the strength to suffocate the man with it as you shove it back amongst the other teddies.

With a deep breath, you turn around to face him. “I’m not.” 

“Are you afraid of me?” His eyes almost flash with excitement at the prospect.

“Afraid of America’s Sweetheart?” you scoff. “No.” 

You’re certainly afraid of his sharp tongue towards you, but you put that down to the misogyny that was still rampant back in the 1940s. Some men never grow out of that ideology.

His jaw ticks as his smile drops. “I suppose this is as close as you're gonna get to having kids, isn’t it?” Your eyes narrow as he continues, stepping closer and closer until he’s practically towering over you. “Single dame like you, all alone. I bet you haven’t had a decent fuck in years.”

The shock of hearing him curse is outweighed by the sound of the slap resonating around the room just as your hand smarts from the contact. Steve’s cheek blushes claret, and the weight of your action comes crumbling down as he almost tackles you to the floor. 

The pile of teddies helps to cushion your fall a little while you punch and slap at his chest, but your struggle seems to spur him on even more, and he’s laughing as he nestles himself between your spread legs. A horrible weight settles in your gut when your hips react to his touch, unconsciously seeking out more as he rips right through the material of your yoga pants, just enough for him to gain access to your cunt. 

“It’s okay, I’m here to change all that for you.”

“Stop- Morgan- be here-” you croak, tears thick in your voice. 

Steve plunges two fingers into your wet heat, your stomach rolling with nausea as your walls hug and clench around the invasion.

He laughs, the sound chilling you to the bone. “Don’t worry, she’s not coming. She never was.”

***

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[bonezone44]

Muddy Waters, pt 3. (18+)

'Lateralus'

Ezra x F!Reader x Joel Miller

Summary: You and Joel spend an evening together. It's romantic. And awkward. The next morning, you and Ezra have 'quality time.' It's filthy.

Word Count: 8,8k 

part 1, part 2 ----- part 4

tags: NSFW 18+. Intuitive!Reader. Afab!Reader (she/they). Southern!Reader. Established Ezra x F!Reader. Polyam. No use of Y/N.

This Chapter: Pet names: baby, darlin, 'shy girl'. Oral (f receiving), fingering, objectification (maybe?), rough/painful P in V, bicurious!Ezra, dirty talk re: anal, threesome, double penetration, math, activities involving a hairbrush, cuckolding.

Warnings: Country music, slow dancing, romance. 

Author's Note: I feel like I'm fresh from the trenches. My body hurts from sitting at the computer and ruminating! I suffer for my art!

----

That night, once Joel had finally peeled himself off of you, you got up from the kitchen table and started talking to him like nothing had happened. He tried to grab a rag to help clean you up, but you waved him off and grabbed it yourself. You washed the glasses and put away the liquor. You even made sure the table was in its right spot and the chairs were back underneath it. You made it look as if you had never been there to begin with. No remnants of you at all.

Something about it made him feel used.

Then Ellie walked back in the house.

And you looked just as shocked as he did.

“Joel!” Ellie whined.

You were able to compose yourself faster than he was, hands held carefully in front of the cum stains on your clothes.

“Jesse?” you asked with narrowed eyes.

“Ugh!” Ellie groaned and stomped. “Is it that obvious?”

You offered a sympathetic smile.

“Joel. Jesse is ruining me and Dina’s house plans!”

Joel’s eyes flicked back and forth between the two of you. Utterly befuddled.

“I’ll let you handle this,” you whispered. You waved good-bye the same way you did after your first visit. All nice and friendly-like as you stepped out the front door.

What the hell?

Now he was really confused by you.

“Joel! Are you listening?” Ellie waved her hand in his face.

“What?”

“Dina showed Jesse our house plans and now he wants to make ALL these changes and they’re bullshit, okay?”

“Wait, what houseplans?” Joel tried to orient himself.

“You said I have to follow your rules as long as I’m under your roof.”

“Okay?”

“So we’re gonna build us a new roof!” She gave him a cheeky smile. “And put a house underneath it! But look!” She slammed a piece of paper down on the table. Right where you had been sitting only minutes before.

Joel’s stomach turned.

“Look at the bathroom!” She pointed to the drawing, pencil lines drawn and erased several times. “Anytime I tell Jesse anything, he has to do the opposite. He wants to put the toilet and the shower and the sink on all different walls—”

“Well, Ellie,” Joel cleared his throat, trying to focus himself. “Y-you really wanna have all your water in a line on one wall–”

“That’s what I told him!”

Joel looked one last time out the front door, but you were long gone.

There was no way–absolutely–no–way that you knew that Ellie would come back home instead of staying at Dina’s overnight like she had said she would. And yet you got up and cleaned the place as if you did. 

Joel didn’t like that. He didn’t like the burning it made him feel in his chest, like a fresh wound stinging in the open air.

And, once more, you got away without him learning where you lived.

And now he really couldn’t ask someone in town. They would know there was something between the two of you for sure. It would be written in red all over his face. And he wasn’t ready for that.

He would have to wait again. Wait until the two of you happened to cross paths in town or by the stables. Or, if Lady Luck was favoring him, you would walk by his house, and he could invite you in again.

Joel didn’t like waiting. Especially when he had already had a taste of what he wanted. Not even a real taste at that. His hands never crept under your shit. His mouth never went lower than your neck. He didn’t see your bellybutton–your pants were pulled up too high. He can’t remember if he even held your hands.

It was like getting the scent of coffee wafting by and not being able to take a sip. He couldn’t find where the goddamn coffeepot lived, for Christ’s sake.

But at least you were out and about again. That was something to look forward to–aching every day for the sight of your smiling face, walking in the sunshine, and knowing you were aching for him right back.

‘Poor Ezra,’ Joel thought. ‘That man’s not gonna know what hit him.’

+++++

The next time you visited Joel, it was Friday night after dinner. He had found you in town to invite you–said something about Ellie staying out ‘for real this time.’ And before you parted ways, you made sure to tease him for ‘looking for you.’

But once you got home to get ready, you became an anxious mess.

“I don’t know what I’m doing, Ezra,” you said as you stood naked in your shared bedroom, digging through your clothes dresser. “Is-is this okay? I mean, am I being selfish?”

“Selfish?” Ezra smirked with furrowed brows. “You think anyone else in this town wants to fuck that old man?”

“Ezra!” You turned to him with a gasp and slapped him hard on the arm. You couldn’t fight back your smile.

He chuckled. “I would like to point out that you did not answer the question.” He raised his brows, lines drawn on his forehead. “And it is certainly a fair one. Shit, baby.” He placed his hand on his chest with his fingers splayed. “The way I see it–” His eyes were wide and serious. “--You’re doing this town a favor. You fuckin him is a goddamn public service. Maybe while you’re over there you can pull that giant stick out of his ass.”

“Ezra.” You groaned. “You’re not helpin me.”

“Well,” he held his palm out. “I am supplyin you with my perspective of the matter. I suppose it is up to you, then, to determine how you feel about the whole situation.”

Part of you wished that Ezra could read your mind and figure it all out for you, but he clearly wasn’t even gonna try. You sighed. “... I want it, you know?” You stared down at the top of your dresser, covered in clothes and books. “But I don’t understand why. I don’t–I mean–shouldn’t–” you huffed and faced Ezra. “Should you be enough? Why do I want this?”

“You are an evolved woman.” He held your hands within his own and looked into your eyes. “And you are precious to me. And if you believe that this will make you happy, then why are you worried about whether it is something you should or should not do?”

You closed your eyes and breathed through your nose. “I just… I need it to make sense.”

Ezra stood from the bed. He released your hands and slid his fingers up your arms, sending goosebumps all over your skin. You opened your eyes again when he cradled your cheeks. “Not everything is going to fit into a pretty little box for you to define and decipher. Embrace the random,” he said with a grin. “Ride the spiral to the end.”

You fought back a smile. “It may just go where no one’s been.”

“That’s right, baby,” he muttered and kissed you softly on your lips. “Now c’mon. You need to get dressed.” He smacked your bare hip with the flat of his hand, causing you to yelp. 

How was Ezra so sweet and so perfect to you? You rested your forehead in your palm, smiling and shaking your head. “I-I don’t know what to wear.”

“Wear the blue number,” Ezra suggested with a wink. He was sitting on the bed again with his left ankle crossed on his right knee. His right knee jumped up and down.

Your lips curled in. The blue number–named affectionately by Ezra himself. It was a bra and panties from two completely different lingerie sets whose shades of blue vaguely matched. They weren’t even the same material. The panties were a simple cotton and the bra was a dull satin–the wire long gone. He enjoyed it, though. Not that it ever stayed on for long.

“No,” you shook your head resolutely. “That’s for you. I don’t wanna wear it for him.”

Ezra leaned back on his elbows with a thoughtful look. “Well, then wear whatever makes you comfortable, baby.”

Now that was the right idea. Comfort. That’s what you really needed.

You didn’t want to spend the whole evening tugging on your clothes and worrying about your appearance. You wanted to focus on Joel. Focus on yourself. Focus on whatever the hell was bringing you two together.

Turned out, Joel had dressed up for you. Your chest warmed when he opened his front door. His hair was brushed neat and his beard was freshly trimmed. You swore he even ironed his button-up shirt; deep clay red with tortoise shell-looking buttons.

“You look amazing,” you blurted out after your quiet hello’s.

“Thank you.” He grinned.

“I feel so underdressed,” you said quickly, watching him close the door behind you. “I was so nervous about someone seein me walk over here all dolled up so I just put this on. I hope that’s okay.” You wore your favorite long sleeve shirt and jeans. The comfort of it wasn’t make you feel as confident as you had hoped. Not with Joel looking sharp and smelling crisp with cologne.

He walked to your front, placed both hands on your lower back, and gently pulled you close. “I think you look beautiful,” he spoke softly.

You wanted to wave him off, part of you unconvinced, but he leaned forward a little more and pressed his lips into yours. There was no tug or pull, no beginning or end. It was light and playful the way your mouths met. His facial hair tickling your skin.

It made your cheeks burn. Your hands slid up his arms, resting on his broad shoulders. The fabric of his shirt was smooth and felt almost new.

He stepped backwards and you stepped with him–his hands guiding you further into the living room, lit warmly by table lamps. Excitement was already heating you within. The house was quiet and still.

“So, no Ellie tonight?” you asked.

“Some kinda campin trip for the older kids.” He huffed and shook his head. “I can’t figure why they wanna sleep outside.”

You grimaced. “Campin stopped bein fun a long time ago.”

“Yeah, I hear ya.” He leaned forward for another kiss. As light and teasing as the one before. It felt good. Comfortable. You were a little embarrassed, though, by how quickly he could turn you on and how easily you let him pull you in. Ezra had to do the work, sometimes, to get you to relax.

“What did you uhh… have planned for us?” you asked in an attempt to slow things down a bit.

He nosed your cheek. “We can do whatever you want, darlin.”

You scoffed with a smile. “You invited me over.” Your hands slid down to his arms and squeezed. They were warm and firm beneath your fingers. “I’m not here to just fool around.”

He stood tall, his hands rising to your waist, thumbs sliding back and forth. “You’re not?” he smirked.

You laughed. “I am your guest, Joel.” You smirked right back. “Entertain me.”

“Okay.” He nodded with a sparkle in his eye. “Alright.” He let you go and walked over to the corner of the room, fiddling with something on the end table while you fiddled with your too-casual outfit.

Shit, you felt silly. You felt out of place and out of time. He looked beautiful over there with his shirt tucked into his dark denim. Long fingers messing around with an old stereo. He looked mature. Sturdy. Put together. In fact, his whole house was nice and clean and organized. Nothing appearing out of place. His presence felt like a towering mountain and you–you felt like a street puddle in comparison.

Soft country music began pouring from the speakers, only a little warped. You didn’t recognize the singer’s baritone voice, but you were never much for country music anyway (It wasn't angry enough for your taste).

“It’s not the best, but it’ll do,” Joel said as he returned to you. “Alright.” One hand circled your waist while the other grasped your hand and raised it in the air. It made your stomach sink. You knew what was coming. “May I have this dance?” he asked.

Your eyes went wide. Your free hand clenched his bicep. “I-I don’t know how to dance.”

“What?” he huffed, amused and confused. “Everybody knows how to dance.” He shrugged. “It’s easy.”

“I’ve never… danced,” you said, feeling like sweat was about to start dripping down the side of your forehead.

His brows furrowed with a smirk. “You never went to a school dance even?” He shook his head. “Homecoming? Prom?”

“Not really.” You squirmed. “I’d go with friends, but I wasn’t the type to really dance. I never dated anybody to-to-to dance with.”

“Really?” He grinned wide with surprise. “You’re too pretty to not been asked.” He raised his chin. “Were you one of those shy girls or something?” Clearly implying that he was not one of the shy ones in school.

You had to look away, suddenly feeling even smaller than a street puddle–you felt like a bead of condensation falling off the corner of a window unit mid-summer.

“I wasn’t that shy,” you mumbled in defense of your younger self. “Boys just wanted sex in high school and I was not about to have sex with any of them.”

“Yeah, we were trouble, weren’t we?”

“Y’all were awful.” You forced a smile, though you felt anything but happy about those years. “I was terrified.”

He laughed. “Alright, shy girl.”

You shrank even smaller.

He bit his lip. “Lemme show you how to dance.” He pointed with his chin. “Put that hand on my shoulder.”

You brought the uncertain hand that had been resting on his bicep back up to his shoulder. Your thumb toyed with the collar of his shirt as you held your breath in your chest. You prayed he didn’t enjoy this ‘shy girl’ thing too much. You weren’t exactly here to relive your teenage years.

Though you two did get off last time like teenagers.

And boy, if you knew then what you knew now–

He took a tentative step forward and you fumbled.

Your face went cold. Your body froze.

“Just relax.” He spoke gently. His smile, soft and kind. “We were dancin when you came in.” He brought his lips to your neck. “Just move with me, darlin,” he whispered beneath your ear. “I gotchu.”

You swallowed. His mouth felt so good and his smoky voice washed away all the anxious thoughts that were icing up your mind. You could finally feel his hand, too, the one holding yours. It was both soft and calloused, strong and tender. His sturdiness comforted all the frightened little nerve endings that had spread throughout your limbs. He was a mountain–grounding you and giving you a stable surface to stand upon.

Maybe you weren’t condensation.

Maybe you weren’t a street puddle, either.

Your bodies came together once more and he swayed you both from side-to-side, meandering to a song of love and longing. Your footsteps creaked along the wooden floors, but you felt like you were floating.

He pulled his head back as you two glided. “Ezra never dance with you?”

“Ha!” You rolled your eyes. “I’m pretty sure he’d find the whole concept ridiculous.”

“Damn shame,” he said with a smirk, bringing your bodies even closer. “You got a good way of movin.”

His compliment gave you butterflies. Though you weren’t really doing much of the moving–you were just following him.

But maybe that was what he liked about it.

Maybe he wanted someone flowing along with him, wherever he guided. Like a stream running down and around the crevices of his stony surface, following along whatever path he carved out.

“Did you dance with a lot of girls in high school?” you asked. “You seem to know what you’re doing pretty well.”

“Yeeaah, I dance with a few.” He nodded. “Danced a lot more after high school, though. Used to go to this bar back in Texas called Howler’s.” His mouth widened to a grin. “My friends and I would go on Saturday nights. Get all dressed up to meet women.” His brows went high into his forehead. “Women. Not girls. Women,” he clarified with a laugh. “We somehow got it in our heads that we were too mature for the girls our own age and we belonged with real, sophisticated ladies.” He started shaking his head with a flustered smile, cheeks turning red. “They taught us a thing or two, I tell ya. Laid us out flat.”

You laughed. “I… I honestly can’t even picture that.”

“Oh yeah,” he assured you. “They were havin none of us, I can tell you that much.” He smirked. “It was fine with me, though.” He shrugged. “Got real good at dancin and got real good at women.”

You wished you could see a photo of young Joel Miller. Wished you could see him trying to hit on older women at bars and get turned down or laughed off. What a riot it must have been.

It ached, though. You never got to have that experience. You were only eighteen when everything happened. You had just started taking classes at a community college and feeling like you were in thirteenth grade. You hadn’t even been to a club, yet, let alone a bar. You were in a new town with a new home, new job, surrounded by new people. All alone–

“What’s wrong?” Joel asked.

“Sorry,” you mumbled. You quickly wiped the tear from your eye, only recognizing it when Joel spoke up. “I just… I like this.” Because you did. “I like gettin to dance.” It was healing something in you that you had forgotten even hurt.

“‘M happy I get to share it with you.”

It was hypnotizing the way he was looking at you. His smile was steady as he searched your face, moving you around without looking where he was going. There was so much affection in his sweet brown eyes. You had to close your own to stop your cheeks from burning and instead, chose to rest your head on his chest. He was so warm. So tender. And you were so present that you could hear his heart beating over the music.

As Joel continued to lead you around the furniture in the living room and kitchen, you suddenly thought of the other night, when you were grinding against him and he countered your rhythm so perfectly. The carnality of the memory brought your stomach to the floor and fire to your cheeks. You opened your eyes, wanting to kiss him again. Wanting to feel the poke and scratch of his mustache.

And there was Joel, still staring right back down at you with stars in his eyes. You couldn’t help but lean forward and press your lips into his–finding a way to dance and kiss and melt all at once. The kiss was slow. Languid. Dragging on and on without breaking.

And then Joel stopped dancing–stopped following the flow of the music.

The abrupt change of momentum set your heart racing, running laps in your chest. You wanted to keep dancing, keep moving, but you didn’t know how to express it with your lips tangled as they were.

You felt his broad hands slide up and down your back and it made your breaths grow shallow. You tried to push past it and adapt to the new direction. You didn’t realize how much you had been focusing on the music. The movement of your mouths felt so disparate to the tune coming out the speakers.

You heard a weighty thud and realized Joel had backed into the wall. He pulled you into the space between his legs, his growing hardness pressing against you. Part of you wanted to pull back.

One of his hands tugged your shirt by the hem before slipping beneath.

As soon as his warm fingers touched your flesh, you gasped.

Your body flinched and your hand came down and clutched his wrist.

“Shit.” You bit your lip. “I-I’m sorry.” You weren’t though. You were grateful that your body spoke up when you didn’t know how to. Your eyes squeezed shut. You took a breath and let go of his hand.

He rested it lightly on your hip. “What’s wrong?”

“I’m so embarrassed.” You gave  him the most apologetic look you could muster. “I-I don’t think I can do anything tonight.”

“That’s fine,” he said quickly. “We don’t have to.” He stood tall, separating your bodies. The hand on your hip dropped away while his other found rest on your shoulder. “I want whatever you want.”

“I just–” you briefly closed your eyes again and sighed. “I suddenly feel like a–like a scared teenager.”

A sheepish smile bloomed on his face and you weren’t sure why. “Yeah, I hear ya.” He ran his fingers through his hair, eyes wandering the room. “Let’s go sit down,” he said and pointed to the couch with his chin.

Fuck, you felt awkward–loud footsteps bringing you back to Earth after a brief stroll through the heavens. This whole thing was going very differently than last time and very differently than all the scenarios you had been imagining all week in your head with your hand between your legs. You wondered if this was even going to work or if your previous visit had just been fueled by too much alcohol in your systems.

Shit.

It felt so weird and confusing to be alive sometimes.

You sat on the couch feeling so much colder than you had only moments before. Like a bucket of water had been poured over you–wet clothes clinging to your skin.

Joel turned the music down low before joining you on the couch, the cushions sinking deep to the weight of his body. “I haven’t done my due diligence,” he said as he angled himself toward you.

“What do you mean?” You turned to him as well. You were close enough to each other that your knees could touch if you wanted.

He reached forward and grabbed one of your hands, holding it and grazing the top of it with his thumb. It was nice. Sweet, even.

He looked into your eyes, working his jaw, words on the edge of his lips. A smile flashed on his face–arriving and disappearing in seconds. He looked down and sighed.

The anticipation only made you more curious. Whatever he wanted to say was clearly something difficult. You always considered yourself easy for others to talk to–you tried your best to be open and accepting. It was why you were so good at visiting people.

He ran his thumb across your knuckles. “I noticed you for a long time.”

You blinked. “...what?” you whispered, shocked. Some unknown emotion started twisting itself in your throat.

“You’re beautiful,” he said so matter-of-factly. So clean cut and dry. “And you always look so happy, but I–” He released a hot breath from his nostrils. “--But I never had a reason to talk to you.”

“Joel…” You had no idea. Not a clue. His words caressed your heart. 

He gave a playful smile, eyes crinkling around the edges. “Then you noticed my shutters.”

A laugh burst from your chest and your free hand flew to your mouth, trying to quiet down. “I was pissed,” you said, grinning beneath your fingers. “I see everything that goes on in this little town but I never saw you workin on those things.”

“‘M glad for it.” He chuckled. “I am.” He looked down at his hand holding yours. “And you got me feelin like a teenager, too.” He smirked up at you. “Got me movin fast and makin assumptions. Thinkin I know everything.”

It felt good to hear him say it. It felt good to hear him admit to something. But he wasn’t the only one moving fast.

“You know, you were right the other night about…” You steadied yourself through your stuttered words, unable to look at him as you spoke. “About you callin for me and I just came runnin.” You stared at the woven threads of cotton spanning your knee. “People tug on me everyday.” Your free hand moved to your stomach. “I can feel them wantin my help or wantin my attention. It’s like they got a lasso around my waist and I gotta dig my heels in to-to-to make ‘em leave me alone. But with you–” You threw your hand up and met his eyes. “When you tugged on me, I didn’t question whether I should or shouldn’t.” You shrugged, but that unknown emotion was snaking around your throat again. “I-I came runnin like it was nothin.” You shook your head, eyes back to your knee. “I don’t know what that means–”

“I don’t think it means anythin bad,” Joel said with a laugh.

“Yeah,” you smiled and sighed. “Yeah, I guess you’re right.” 

What was that from before? If you knew then what you knew now–and now, there was nothing in your gut telling you to stay away. Not yet had Joel given you any kind of warning sign that he had any particularly nefarious intentions. 

Your body wasn’t so cold anymore. The music no longer felt so disparate. You felt comfortable with Joel again. You felt at ease. You felt tired, too. The excitement. The dancing. The talking. It wore you out. You had had a long day on top of it all.

“I don’t wanna leave, yet.” Because you didn’t. “Can I stay over?” You placed your hand on top of his. “Just to sleep,” you clarified with a wide grin.

“Of course.” He mirrored your expression. “I want whatever you want.”

That phrase he kept saying… He was giving you something with it, but you weren’t sure what exactly. He couldn’t possibly want what you wanted when you didn’t know what you wanted. You tried not to think about it too much.

You made it to bed about an hour later, after more conversation. You were content to sleep in your own shirt. Joel stared at you from the other side of the bed as you undid your jeans and slid them down your legs. His expression made you laugh.

“Sorry. I’m not sleepin in these,” you said as you stepped out of them.

“That’s fine,” he muttered and looked away–fingers scratching the back of his neck. He wore a plain white t-shirt and navy blue sleep pants.

If you were at home, you would have left your jeans in a little ring on the floor, but Joel’s house was too clean. You picked them up, folded them, and placed them on the dresser next to the bed. You hated to do it, but you kept your bra on, knowing your back would ache in the morning. It felt too exposing. Even under your shirt.

Climbing into bed with him had your body warming up all over again. But it had your heart racing, too, just like before. It felt so strange to share a bed with someone other than Ezra. You hadn’t even shared a room with anyone else since you two first arrived in Jackson a couple years previous.

“I’ll stick to my side of the bed,” said Joel as he got situated under the covers. 

You laughed. “Thank you, Joel.” You reached over from under the blanket and grabbed his hand. You pulled it close and kissed his knuckles. “Good night.”

He rolled toward you–watching and making sure you weren’t gonna pull away. He placed his palm on your cheek and leaned in, kissing you sweetly. “Good night,” he said into your lips. You could feel him smiling before he pulled back, showing you the grin on his face.

He turned away to face the window and–-there was that mountain again. His broad shoulders high above the low dip of his waist. You felt like gravity was pulling you in, bringing your body closer to his. You slid your hand along his ribs, fingers splayed to hold him.

“Is this alright?” you asked with your neck tilting your head up from the pillow.

“Yeah.” His shoulders shook as he chuckled. “It’s alright.” He grabbed your hand and pulled you tighter.

You kissed the back of his neck and nuzzled into him before falling asleep.

+++++++

Ezra wasn’t worried about Joel.

Not one bit.

Not even a little.

Okay, well, maybe a little.

But only in the way that kept him on his toes–kept him from taking advantage of the partnership you two shared.

You were right to say that Ezra didn’t keep you on a leash. You were your own woman. Always had been. Always would be.

Ezra was just along for the ride–doing everything he could to love you and see you happy. He made sure to protect you and take care of you.

Because not only did you understand him–you indulged him. You let him indulge in you. You let him express parts of himself he hadn’t known existed until you came along and found a way to reel it right on out of him.

He couldn’t remember how it started between the two of you all those years ago. Just that it did. It was while you and Ezra were still working alongside his cousins.

Seemingly outta nowhere, you two had slowly gravitated towards one another on a level deeper than survival and then—SMACK! You were like two magnets clacking together; lips, hands, groins, in constant contact. And then there were times when you would be so repelled from each other it was like one of you went flying off into the sky, getting lost in the clouds, til the inevitable pull of gravity brought you right back down again.

You two had good times and bad, but Jackson was good. Very good. And he was keen to let the good times keep rolling.

It just so happened that Joel Miller became a part of these good times.

Now…

Ezra was a man.

He wasn’t supposed to want this. He wasn’t supposed to want another man making love to his woman. It was insulting to his physical prowess. Humiliating to his ego. Downright derogatory to his dignity.

Which made the situation all the more appealing to him–being as contrary a person as he was.

Ezra was overwhelmed by the thought of Joel fucking you. Couldn’t stop fantasizing. Couldn’t stop touching himself. There was no need to savor the orgasms, either. Ezra was rubbing them out, one right after the other as he leaned his forehead against the shower wall, muttering to himself. He didn’t feel like some aging man hitting 40 anymore, with libido and desire in decline. He felt like some pubescent kid who newly discovered what his dick was for and was aching to get some practice in.

Ezra loved you. Loved you more than his extensive vocabulary could possibly define. And the thought of someone else loving you? Doing things to you that had hadn’t and maybe in ways that he couldn’t?

And the fact that it was Joel Miller of all people? Ol’ Gruff ‘n’ Tuff with the stick up his ass?

Sheeeeiit.

(For how explicit Ezra could be with his thoughts and feelings, there was a certain piece of all this that had him speechless. A forgotten memory had been unearthed. An old fantasy. An unrealized dream from decades ago that Ezra had put out of his mind for reasons he could not yet approach for fear of rapture. It came to him in flashes and dick twitches. It set his mouth watering and his heart racing. It had him sweaty and confused. It was the thought, the idea, the implication of himself being sexual with another man.)

Ezra had been aching for you to come home–had been aching for you all night, in fact, while he was out on patrol. He had been uncharacteristically quiet with his patrol partner as they circled their way around the outskirts of Jackson. He was too busy wondering what Joel might be doing to you and how he was doing it and what kind of noises that old man might make and how loud he would be when he made them.

It didn’t matter how many times he had just jerked off in the shower, he was ready and eager for more–his leg bouncing impatiently while he sat on the bed. 

He sighed in relief when you met him in the bedroom. He rubbed his palms on his pajama-clad thighs.

“There’s my little slut,” he said with a sly grin.

You laughed and waved him off. “I am not dealing with you right now.” You walked over to the dresser and started taking off your clothes.

“Why not?” He asked, all offended.

“Because nothing happened!”

“What?”

“Nothing happened.” You repeated. “We didn’t have sex.” You laughed again. “He didn’t even get to second base.”

“Not even second base?” Ezra was aching and pained. “Baby.” He gave you a compassionate look. “Could he not… perform?”

“Ezra!” you shouted. You picked up one of your notebooks from the top of your dresser and threw it directly at his face.

He caught it. “It was an honest question,” he mumbled and tossed the book on the bedside table.

You took your time to explain it all and Ezra did his best to understand.

He thought it was the sweetest thing in the world that Joel danced with you. He had no idea you were a dancing kind of woman. He tried to picture himself dancing with you and–no. It was wrong. All wrong. Ezra just wasn’t a dancing kind of man.

Maybe dancing was for you and Joel.

Like the ‘blue number’ was for you and him.

He liked that. He could work with it.

All you had changed into was a loose t-shirt and a pair of underwear before lying down next to him on the bed. You clearly had no intention of going anywhere anytime soon. So he decided to feel you out. Poke at you a little bit to see how you responded.

He laid on his side, propped up on his elbow. “I think you’re beautiful, too, you know.” He grazed your arm with his finger.

“I know, Ezra.” You smiled and turned your head away.

“It is unfortunate that your body reacted the way that it did.” He caressed your cheek with the scarred-up knuckle of his right index finger. “Your love is the most precious experience there is.”

“Stop.” Your embarrassed grin grew wider as you squirmed and turned away again.

Ezra crawled over you and you made space for him between your legs. “It’s been a while.”

You covered your face with your hand. “I know–” You looked up at Ezra with urgency. “--and it has nothing to do with Joel, okay?”

Ezra’s cheeks warmed and he felt a lightness grow in his chest. “I know, baby,” he cooed. “I know.” It soothed him to hear you say it aloud. He mouthed at your breast through your shirt with his eyes up.

Your worry disappeared–replaced with a soft smile as you looked at him affectionately. You wove your fingers through his hair.

He palmed your breast and found your nipple. He sucked on it through the fabric, increasing the intensity over time. Harder and harder.

Your breath hitched and your mouth opened. 

The hand around your breast tightened as he pulled his mouth away.

You released the tiniest whimper.

“Lemme play with you, baby,” he said with his chin tucked in and his eyes wide and serious.

Your expression changed once his suggestion registered. Your jaw went slack. Your breaths shortened.

You swallowed.

He waited.

“Okay,” you whispered and started to nod before stopping yourself. “Wait. But… but…”

“But? But?” He mocked you. He already knew your answer. He knew whatever excuse you had wasn’t worth a damn. He knew you were already getting wet for him. “But what, baby?” he smirked.

“I should shower first,” you whispered.

Ezra threw his head back and laughed. “Baby. Have you met me?” He shook his head at you, bewildered by your protest. “If that’s your best appeal, then we shall proceed.” He scooted down the bed and tugged your underwear roughly down your legs, tossing them over his shoulder.

He tapped your knee with an amused sigh. “Alright, show me what’s good.” He said it with his eyes locked tight on your lower half, mouth watering like some cartoon wolf about to eat a Thanksgiving feast. 

With slow breaths, you slowly pulled your knees up and lifted your feet into the air. You grabbed the backs of your thighs and spread them apart. Exposing yourself.

Ezra moaned. “Been far too long,” he muttered to himself. He licked one strong stripe up your seam, causing you to twitch. “Baby,” he began with nothing but endearment in his eyes. “You are like sour candy the way you make my mouth water.”

You threw your head back against the pillows in an attempt to hide the burning shame on your face.

He wasted no time in spreading your pussy part with both of his hands. He applied pressure with his forearms on your thighs to keep you from squirming too much. You yelped and cursed when dove straight into your clit, laving it with languid strokes and teasing it with the tip of his wet tongue.

“I am a disgrace to every man on this planet, baby, and I apologize sincerely for that.” When he pulled away to speak, he’d reach out with one of his long fingers to toy with your bud, watching it puff and swell. “No time like the present, I suppose,” he murmured against your lips, rubbing his mouth up and down your spread folds, tickling you with unkempt facial hair. He gave it a chaste little kiss. “I should be eating this pussy every day.” He looked up at you tenderly. “Lord knows you deserve it.”

He slipped his finger inside of you to collect your wetness. His eyes glittered as you gasped from the sudden intrusion. He pulled it back out and swirled the tip around your entrance. “Fuckin’ ambrosial.”

Next, he used his tongue and finger at the same time. He lapped and sucked at your clit, lazily moving his finger in and out of you.

“C’mon, Ezra. I need more!”

He pulled back, pulled his finger out, and slapped you hard on the meat of your hip. He pointed at you–with the same fucking finger that was just inside you. It was shining in the dull light of the room along with everything surrounding his mouth. “You take what I give you and you fuckin like it.” His words rolled out of him low and heavy.

This was the only time Ezra was allowed to speak to you like that–all angry and mean. It was rare for him to speak to anyone like that since living in Jackson. He knew how much you loved it–how much you loved this fun, chatty man turning cruel and denying you.

“Here I am, providin you a fuckin service,” he muttered to himself. You had become someone in the background, again. His mind focused solely on your pussy. Like it was a mystery of the universe he was so close to solving if he could just fiddle with it the right way. He licked into you with the flat of his tongue and moved his head up and down. He tried to keep at least one forearm on your thigh, his fingers spread across your folds as he splayed you apart. “Fuck, I missed this,” he spoke into the hair on your mound before giving it a loving kiss.

“Me, too,” you sighed.

Ezra grinned. “I haven’t fucked your asshole in a while, either.” He felt sweet victory when you moaned. “That was the one good thing about Memphis, huh? That big jar of Vaseline.”

“Uh-huh,” you answered.

“Yeah?” His fingertip found your entrance once more. “You liked that, huh?” He spread your slick around your lips.

You moaned out a ‘yes’ and rolled your ankles.

He stared between your legs at your wet cunt, at the spit and moisture that leaked down to your other hole. “You took that hurt so good, baby. So fuckin good.”

“Mhmm.”

“Strongest woman alive.” He slid the broad side of his index finger up and down your folds, lost in a distant memory. “Remember that hairbrush?” he smirked.

“Ezra.” You whined and adjusted the grip you had on your legs.

“It’s just me and you, baby. There is no reason to feel any sense of shame.” His finger dipped inside you, all the way. “Nothing wrong with using what you have on hand.” He wiggled it around, teasing you without any significant stretch or pressure. “Or are you worried about Joel uncovering your avaricious and sordid history?”

Your eyes and brows were squeezed tight. You huffed. “Ez.”

“What?” he pulled his finger back out, all wet and glistening before sliding it around your folds again. “He seems like the kinda man to appreciate our ingenuity, don’t you think?” He didn’t expect an answer. His mind already somewhere new. “How big did you say his dick was?”

“I-I-I don’t know,” you spoke between frustrated breaths.

Ezra grunted in disappointment. “I was trying to visualize my fat cock stuffing your ass full and him in your tight little cunt instead of that hairbrush.”

“Oh my god,” you moaned and started rolling your hips.

Ezra’s tongue was back on you, digging deep into your entrance.

You were crying out his name and whimpering.

“C’mon, baby,” Ezra said low with his mouth still buried close. “Gimme one.”

“I can’t. I can’t.” You were shaking your head and writhing. “I need more.”

He burst into cruel laughter. “No, you don’t.” He leaned back and replaced his tongue with his finger. “I've seen you get off with less than this.” He shook his hand side-to-side, finger sliding back and forth across your wet clit at a rapid speed. “You want me and Joel to fuck you at the same time, don’t you?

“Mhmm!” you answered through hitched breaths. Your right leg jolted.

“Well, now let’s examine the options, baby. Two men for three different holes.” He grinned. “What’s the math on that, you think?” Your whimpering desperation spurred him on. “It’s called variation.” He raised his brows. His lone finger continued its unforgiving pace across your clit. “And I believe it adds up to six, but that just sounds wrong and limited, don’t it?” He tilted his head to the side. “If I’m in your ass and he fucks your mouth, that’s one. If I’m in your ass and he’s in your cunt, that’s two.”

You started bouncing on the bed, trying to grind yourself into Ezra’s hand.

“Stay still!” he groused and placed both hands on the backs of your thighs.

“Nonononono,” you whined and kicked at him with your feet.

He held you tighter and snarled. “I am trying to work out the specifics of this equation with you and you are not helping my concentration.”

“Fuck, Ezra. Why are you like this?” you cried.

“If you are unhappy, then you are free to leave,” he said.

You whimpered. Sighed. Resigned. “I’ll stay.”

He huffed with a smile. “Fuckin predictable.” He slapped the back of your thighs with both hands. He hummed, fingers squeezing into your skin. “If I’m stuffin your cunt and he’s fuckin your ass, that’s three. If I’m stuffin your cunt and he’s fillin your mouth, then that’s four.” He looked up at the ceiling, murmuring to himself. He rocked back and forth, using his palms on your thighs as leverage. “Actually in this situation, it would be six variations for myself as well as six variations for Joel. But if we include using the same hole at the same time, then it would be nine variations per.” He looked at your dazed expression with a grin. “Doesn’t that sound nice?"

“Yes, Ezra. It sounds very nice.”

“I thought so, too.” He collected the growing moisture in his mouth and spit on your entrance, causing your body to shudder. He slipped his finger back inside. “Do you think you could fit two cocks in here, baby?”

“I don’t know,” you groaned.

He shook his head, slowly pulling his pruning finger in and out. “I’m sure with enough lubrication and determination that Joel and I could find a way.” He swallowed, overcome with an image in his mind. “Or maybe I fuck you and make him watch.” He stared at your sopping wet center, finger gently circling its edges. “Make him sit in the corner like a bad little boy and jerk off without gettin to touch you at all.”

You moaned and Ezra grinned.

“Think about it, baby.” His voice grew deeper. “Think about Joel Miller wantin you down to the depths of his soul but I won’t let him touch you.” He grunted, wiggling his finger around inside of you. “I would likely have to cuff his hands together. Otherwise I am sure he would simply pull me out of you and replace my cock with his own inside this wet little hole.” He started grinding his erection against the mattress. “Think about it. Think about the chains of his handcuffs jinglin while he’s jerkin off, wishin he could fuck this tight, chokin pussy.” He curled his finger, finally pressing against the tender spot of your inner wall. He sucked your clit in a strong, steady rhythm–slurping and lapping at your wet flesh.

And there you were, shaking beneath his mouth, breaths short and high in your chest. You groaned deep and loud as if your orgasm had been punched straight from your diaphragm. You reached down with frantic fingers on his head and face to push him away.

“Too much. Too much,” you panted.

“From not enough to too much.” He grinned and relented.

“Holy shit, Ezra.” Your legs fell and you stretched them out, curling your toes. “Oh my god,” you sighed. You shifted your hips around and rolled your shoulders.

Ezra waited for your breaths to become slow and even before he asked, “Are you good?”

“Yeah, my hip almost started cramping,” you answered in a daze. Your whole body appeared limp and sinking into the bed.

“Good.” Ezra stood up and ripped his shirt off over his head. He shucked his pajama pants off, too, before crawling back between your legs. “I’m not stretching you out.” He hovered above you. His hard, wide cock was warm and moist against your thigh. He looked down at you, wide-eyed and serious. “You’re gonna take what I give you and you’re gonna like it.”

You nodded with your eyes barely open. You licked your lips. “Okay.”

“I’m gonna tear you up, alright?”

Your eyelids fell shut. “Yes,” you whispered with your brows furrowed deep.

“You like that, huh? When I tear you up?” Asking these questions and hearing your answers made his whole chest heat up. His cheeks burned and his hips rolled into you–the pressure relieving some of the ache he felt in his cock.

“Yes, Ezra,” you whimpered desperately. “Tear me up.”

He huffed. “Alright.” He guided his cock to your entrance, breaching it only just so. Then with his other hand, he covered your mouth. “Fuckin masochist,” he muttered. He locked eyes with you. His hand muffled your pained groan as he swiftly pierced your tight wet cunt.

“Shit, that’s beautiful, baby.” He didn’t wait for your body to adjust before pistoning in and out of you. He moved his hand from your mouth to the back of your head, holding it in place so he could maintain eye contact as your warm hole swallowed his cock. “This pussy takes it so good for me. So beautifully.”

You nodded and groaned.

He palmed the backs of your thighs and pushed them upward, in the same way he had you positioned before. “Old man doesn’t know what he’s missin,” he laughed as you shouted in pleasure–his cock thrashing against your g-spot. “Maybe you should inform him of the ways I pleasure you. Maybe then he’d have something to fantasize about while fuckin his own hand in the shower.”

You were nodding and groaning, dazed and slack-jawed beneath him. Face twisted in anguished pleasure. His hips snapped harder, deeper and deeper.

“I can’t wait,” he spoke through panting breaths. “I can’t wait for him to fuck you. Want that dirty old man to fuck you so bad.” One hand released your thigh and grabbed your cheeks. He got real close, his lips touched yours as he spoke, as he pistoned in and out of you. “I want you chokin on his cock, baby.”

“Uh huh?” you cried.

“Let him fill up that pretty mouth of yours with his cum.”

“Mhmm! Mhmm!” you nodded. Your voice was breathy and shaken.

“You gotta let me know how it tastes, okay?”

You nodded again. Frantically. 

“Yeah?” You’d do that for me, baby?” He let go of your face and leaned back, clenching his teeth. All angry and focused. “You’d let that old man fuck your pretty mouth? Let me taste that cum inside you?”

You whimpered. “Yes! Yes!”

“Fuckin filthy,” he spat, chasing his own high, using your pussy to get him there. He wasn’t worried about you coming again. It was his turn now. “Fuckin filthy.” He repeated, shaking his head.

He wished Joel could see you like this–split wide open on his cock–lost in a warm vortex of pleasure and speaking in tongues.

Ezra continued to snap his hips into you until a warmth tingled through him and a white hot light overtook his vision. He spilled into you with a pained groan. He rolled his hips again and again as your cunt milked him dry–his whole world coming to a quiet standstill.

He fell forward on his palms over you.

Ezra was wide eyed and clear-headed, but a little unstable, as blood pulsed in waves through his body. The whole room seemed to jut out at him–all the shapes and colors suddenly becoming three-dimensional objects. His mind reeled. His face and body stung sharp from those words he said toward the end.

‘Let me taste that cum inside you.’

He replayed those words again and again.

All with a clear vision in the back of his mind of Joel’s cock–well, the way he was imagining it, anyways–making his mouth water and making his dick fire into the heavens.

But you were there beneath him with chewed up lips and glazed eyes and tears running down the sides of your face.

“I love you. I love you.” You said again and again, sniffling and pulling him close with trembling hands. “I love you so fuckin much.”

You.

You made everything so easy. You took Ezra. You took everything he gave you. You weren’t doing it because you were forced to. It wasn’t an obligation. He wasn’t a chore.

You did it because you wanted to. Because you both had an overwhelming desire to hurt and be hurt. To love and be loved.

He pressed his forehead into yours. “I love you, too, baby.” He let you kiss him soft and slow with your tongue. “I love you.” You had no idea how much you made everything okay–how much you allowed him to allow himself to think and experience.

Ezra’s tenderness returned in full force as he cleaned you up and cradled you. He showered you in kisses and caressed your skin.

“My angel,” he said and he meant it. He felt like you were some divine entity sent to Earth to heal him and love him. To save him from a life of plasma-hot anger and pain.

“Born bad,” his daddy would say. Ezra had spent most of his childhood in juvenile detention. He had just gotten out of jail for the first time, in fact, when it all …happened.

And then you came along and told him he was ‘too smart for his own good.’ Though, because you two were arguing at the time, there were a lot more curse words involved in the sentiment. But it had given him so much peace to be recognized as something more. Something other than the ‘stupid fuck-up’ he had been taught his whole life that he was by his daddy and his cousins and the government bodies that had shuffled him around.

There were so many times over the years that you soothed him, altered his perspective, guided his hand toward more cooperative choices.

He worshiped you. He worshiped every inch of your skin and every ounce of your soul.

He loved you so much.

Ezra wasn’t worried about Joel Miller.

He only worried about your happiness.

+++++++

tag list: @toxicanonymity @jksprincess10 @walkintotheriveranddisappear @shotgun-shelby @alwaysdjarin @longlongtime2023

Author's Note: I hope that smut at the end was okay. I've overthought it for the past 72 hours. I don't know who's cucking who at this point. 🙏 god bless.

+++++++

Part 4

(story masterlist)

(my masterlist)

#joel miller #ezra prospect #joel miller x f!reader #ezra x reader x joel miller #my writing #muddy waters series

[clumsiestgiantess]

Part — what is this.. four of the ‘tiny in the cold’ story! (wow that’s a lot more than the oneshot I intended it to be; thanks for the support!) @entomolog-t it’s back!

[Alice’s pov]

My alarm clock buzzes obnoxiously to my left, but for once I’m not annoyed by it.  I need to get up; it’s exam day.  The exam starts… NOW!  “What?!  I-  Oh my god, I set the alarm for the time I needed to be there!  I’m going to be so late!”  Dashing through the house, I shove a blueberry muffin into my mouth, throw my coat on, grab my bag, and speed out the door.  Jabbing the elevator button every half a second, I practically pounce into the empty space once the doors open.  Thank goodness there was no one in here.  From the moment I step into the lobby, the rest of the trip is a blur.

My brain only finally starts working about a half-hour into testing.  Miraculously, they made an exception and let me in.  I’d blamed my lateness on the slick ice lining a few of the roads instead of my own confusion, and the proctor believed me.  I mean, technically it is the truth.  I was a bit slower coming here because of the ice, though not by much.

Thankfully, this is one of my easier exams.  Even with my grogginess, I have extra time to look through — and redo — the parts I’d done in my half-asleep mind.  I finish the edits with a mere minute to spare.  There are a few quick celebrations between me and a few of my friends who were also taking it, then I head back home.  One final down, four more to go.

My schedule from then on would be to rinse and repeat over the next few days — eat a meal, study, eat another meal, study, maybe sleep, then go back for another test.  When I go to bed that night, I double check that I changed the alarm to give me some time to actually get up.  

That next morning, I have enough time to eat breakfast and glance over my notes before heading back out to yet another exam.  It had snowed overnight, and I hurriedly brushed it off the windshield before heading out.  I actually made it here a bit early!  Maybe I can go see if Terri-  

“Wait!”  I flinch.  Who’s voice is that?  “Please!  I-”  The strange voice stops as abruptly as it started speaking.  Immediately, I turn in my seat, scanning the back for any sign of another person in here with me.  A tiny-sounding whine directs me to the floor.  “What the hell?”  There’s.. a small.. thing moving around down there, halfway tucked inside a beanie that I’d lost a while back.  “Am.. Am I hallucinating?  I can’t!” I yelp suddenly, remembering where I am, “I have exams; I can’t be hallucinating during exams!”  The little — very humanlike — thing collapses to the floor.  I knew I should’ve gone to bed earlier.  This isn’t real, right?  That’s a palm-sized person on the floor.  I rub a hand tiredly over my face and look again.  They’re still there.  “Holy shit.  You’re.. real.”

Leaning down over the console of the car, I twist myself around so I can see them better.  They’re shaking so badly.  “Are you alright?” I ask, worry beginning to gnaw at my stomach.  “How long have you been in my car?  You must be freezing!”  Their little head nods very slightly.  “Are you another person?”  They flinch, and I regret my last question.  Of course they’re a person.  They just spoke to me.  Quietly, their voice rasps out, barely audible.  “I’m a person.  Please don’t leave me out here again.  I- I don’t know if I’ll be able to survive this time.”

My stomach sinks horribly in my chest.  How long has he been stuck out here in the cold?  He’s so small; he’ll freeze so easily.  “O- Of course, yes; I won’t leave you in here to freeze!” I gasp.  “Do you mind if I.. umm.. pick you up?”  I don’t have time to try to warm him where he is on the floor.  I doubt he really needs the extra fright of me trying to handle him, especially because he already seems so desperate, but if I don’t leave soon, I’m going to be late twice in a row.  One time I can get away with, but twice and I’ll probably get in trouble, or worse, kicked out.

A tiny head shake — no, he wouldn’t mind it.  I let out a relieved breath.  I honestly have no idea what I would’ve done if he’d refused.  Leave him here?  Out of the question.  Pick him up anyway?  That would be horrible of me.  Give him the choice to either come with me or be left here?  That just sounds like a threat.  Thankfully he’s either willing enough — or desperate enough — to trust me.

Carefully, I reach down for him, sliding my fingers gently beneath him and guiding his tiny body into my hand.  He squirms against me as I tighten my grip slightly in order to lift him.  My heart skips a beat; his hands grip my finger tightly — shaking and icy cold.  Poor thing.  I wish I had more time to help you.  I lift him upright and slide back into my seat slowly so I don’t jostle him.  Hesitantly, he chances a glance up at me.  “I’m gonna keep you in my pocket, ok?” I ask, though I know it’s more like telling him what I’ll do with him than actually asking.  It hurts my heart in a strange way, recognizing that.  “I.. really don’t have time to deal with this right now, but you’ll be plenty warm there.  I’m so sorry, but I have to go.”  A quick apology will have to suffice until later.

Lowering him into my pocket and dropping him carefully onto the bottom, I reach for the door handle.  However, I flinch away from it as a cry tears through the car.  “It’s ok; you’re alright!  I’m not gonna-”  “It’s too hot!  I need something colder!  Please!  It burns!”  His cries get louder and more pained.  In an instant, I reach in to pull him out and he rushes for my fingers, clinging tightly to them.  I freeze, unsure if I should move with him so close.  “Th- Thank you,” I hear him gasp.  Still, I’m frozen.  What do I do if I can’t leave him in there?  He’s shaking so awfully against me.  His little body is almost drenched in sweat from struggling with the pain for so long.  Will he be alright?

“You’re.. you’re ok now?  Like that?” I ask worriedly.  He nods, face nearly pressed against my palm.  “Ok.  Try not to yell like that anymore unless it’s an emergency.  I don’t need to be kicked out of the testing room and searched.  Who knows what the punishment is for sneaking a tiny guy into the room, or what they’ll do with you for that matter.”  Now is really not the time to find a tiny person struggling for life, but I’ll do my best to help him.  If that means leaving the testing room on account of some fake ‘emergency’ to help him, then so be it.  I’d rather keep him alive over anything else.

Once I’m sure he’s comfortable, I step outside.  Every single movement I make becomes calculated with him in my pocket.  What if I walk too fast and hit him accidentally?  What if I sit down and crush him?  Did I put lotion on my hands this morning?  He’s sitting tucked right against my palm.  It would feel so cute if it wasn’t a literal tiny human sitting there.  My hands are peeling from the cold; is that the one with the torn skin or is that-  No, it’s this one.  My worries just start to fade as testing time officially starts and I focus on the questions in front of me instead of the ones in my head.

However, about an hour later, I feel light pressing against my fingers.  The tiny person’s hands shove at me until I move away.  Confused and worried, I take my hand out of my pocket and inconspicuously glance down.  His little face peers up at me and nods slightly, assuring me I’d done nothing wrong.  Oh, he’s probably warmed all the way up by now!  Returning to my work, I try not to dwell on anything.  Still, relief floods my system knowing that I’d saved him from what might’ve been the end of him.  He’ll be alright now.

Finishing the exam, I’m one of the first people out the door.  Finally, I can talk to my tiny stowaway.  Once I’m in the car again, I gently pull him out of my pocket and hold him out in the palm of my hand to get a good look at him.  As soon as I unfurl my fingers, he tucks himself into a tight ball — his heavy frightened breaths press against my palm.  “Hey, little guy?  I’m sorry about basically ignoring you earlier.  Finals are this week and I really need them to go well,” I try to explain.  “Are you alright?  You’re warmer than before; that’s good!  I hope my pocket wasn’t too claustrophobic for you.”

In small hesitant movements he gets up from his fetal position and sits on his knees on my palm, staring up at me with wide eyes.  It’s strange — his clothes seem to be hand-stitched — his hair mussed and tangled.  Bringing him just a little closer, I can count at least two different scars by just glancing over him.  How long has he been small for?  Did he shrink, or is he just.. something else entirely?

My thoughts are interrupted by his voice.  It’s much stronger now, and a lot clearer with him held up closer to my head.  There’s still a strange smallness about it that makes goosebumps dash along my arms.  “I- I’m ok,” he answers me.  I exhale in relief, and become entirely conscious of how the single breath ruffles his hair like a slight breeze.  “Thank goodness; I really hoped you weren’t beyond saving.  You were super cold when I found you, barely moving.  Speaking of which, why were you in my car to begin with?  And how in the world did you manage to shrink?”  Compared with his few words and tiny voice, I feel almost like I’m speaking over him talking so much, though it doesn’t seem like he has much to say.  The guy’s probably stunned enough by the scale of everything.

I watch his brows furrow in deep thought, and for a moment I believe he’ll tell me he didn’t even shrink.  Perhaps he was magic.  But if he is, wouldn’t he have been able to save himself?  “I.. don’t remember.  I can’t remember what happened before I shrank, but I’m definitely a human.  Just smaller.”  Oh.  Oh!  Oh no, poor thing.  He’s probably been stuck so small for so long because he doesn’t even know where he is!  No memories, stuck small, freezing weather — no wonder he was desperate for help.  And now he’s begging me just to see him as a fellow human.

“Of course you’re still human!  Being smaller won’t change that!” I assure him, inadvertently cupping my hand a bit closer around him.  “I promise I don’t mean you any harm; I just want to make sure you’re ok.  Come on, I’ll take you back to my place — get you something to eat.”  I reach to put him away, but pause.  “Oh, I’m Alice, by the way.  Do you.. remember your name?”  He looks frightened for a moment.  “I don’t really remember much.”  That’s horrifying!  Not even your own name?  I don’t say that, though.  He probably already knows.  “I can try to help you remember it, but if you can’t, I guess you can try out a new one for the time being.”  He nods, relief settling some of his features.  Placing him down in the cupholder beside me, I head for home.

The drive is horribly silent — which I can’t stand.  I know my little companion probably needs time to think through some things now that I’ve finally noticed him.  Why haven’t I noticed him before?  Has he been in my car for a while?  Realization dawned on me that he’d really have to be an excellent climber to be able to get in.  He’s so small that the space between the edge of the car door and the ground must be over twice his height.

“Soo..” I begin awkwardly, “I do have a question you might know the answer to.”  The little guy looks up at me, seemingly startled out of thought.  “How did you get in my car?”  His face pales, and he looks.. frightened?  “I.. I snuck in yesterday morning.”  “You climbed up all the way into my car?  Why?”  He turns guilty away from me, like I caught him in a lie.  But why would he lie about how he got in here?  “Uhh.. it was cold outside.  Your car was warmer.. at the time.”  Is he just embarrassed that he got stuck in here?  It must’ve been rather freezing when it snowed yesterday.  He.. could’ve died in here — alone!  I’d have found his body whenever I next went to clean out my car.

“Oh!  I locked you in here and then everything froze last night!  Poor thing!  I’m so sorry!  I wouldn’t have left you here like that if I’d known you were in the car!”  I feel so awful for believing he was trying to lie.  Poor little guy was probably just having a hard time talking about it.  The thought of his near-death while I wasn’t even there just occurred to me now, but he’d actually experienced the bitter cold that had likely come close to killing him.  Of course he’d be nervous thinking about it.

Trying to change the subject, I begin ranting about finals.  It’s the next thing on my mind I can think to talk about.  I make it all the way back to my apartment, then turn to my tiny passenger.  Flattening out my hand, I leave it gently on the center console right beside the cupholder he’s sitting in.  “Here, hop on and I’ll bring you inside,” I tell him, “Would you like something to eat?”  He nods, climbing up and sliding slowly and hesitantly into my palm.  Even if he’s been tiny for quite a while, getting picked up by someone so much bigger than you must be a crazy terrifying experience.  I slip him in my pocket as I step outside.  I can’t risk someone seeing him, it just.. feels wrong to flaunt him around in the open for people to ogle at.  He probably doesn’t want the attention drawn to himself anyway.

I let him out again when we’re safely behind the closed door of my apartment.  Gently, I set him on the counter by taking off my whole jacket and putting it down.  He’d been so frightened when I’d plucked him out of my pocket earlier, and I didn’t want to frighten him again.  Patiently, I wait for him to come out to the countertop.  “What would you like?” I ask kindly.  He glances around the room, then points to the pantry.  “What do you have in there?”  Shrugging, I wander over and peer in.  “Well, let’s see.. we have soup crackers, some cheese puffs, popcorn, mac and cheese — but I’d have to cook it first, obviously.  “Oh!  But I think you’ll like- ” Glancing back at the counter to see if he was interested in any of it, I find that he’s disappeared from view.  

“Hey, umm.. little guy?  Where’d you go?” I ask, stepping around the counter to the other side.  He’s not there, either.  I lift up my coat, but he’s still not there.  “Where- Where’d you go?!  This isn’t funny!  You can’t just disappear!”  Unless…  I gasp and quickly scan the floor.  Please don’t tell me he fell off.  I- If he fell…  “Hey!  Please come back!  I- I’m not that scary, am I?  Why’d you leave?  I don’t-”  I don’t understand; there’s not a trace of him on the floor or the counter.  “Come back!  Whatever it is you’re frightened of, I’ll change it!  Please don’t run off and get hurt somewhere!  If you want to take care of yourself, that’s fine!  Just.. please let me know so I don’t think something happened to you!”

Hours tick by as I scour the floor and countertops, searching for my little missing guest.  All the while I call out various comforting things, trying to convince him to at the very least let me know that he’s alive.  Still nothing.  I can’t find him, and something tells me he doesn’t want to be found.  By 4:00 in the morning, there’s still no answer, and I go to bed without one.  I try to go to sleep, but all I can do is lay down and stare at the ceiling trying to listen for the sounds of something small moving around.  Only at about 6:00 in the morning do I finally fall asleep for a good two hours before my alarm startles me awake.  At least I don’t have an exam today.  I just have to study.

I trudge down the hall to the kitchen and freeze.  He could still be on the floor somewhere.  Continuing my trek with much more caution than before, I make a bowl of cereal and sit down numbly.  I stare out at nothing in particular; thoughts jumble in my head.  My lack of sleep and my severe rise in anxiety combined to cause an awful feeling in my head.  My stomach also started to feel the effects, and I left the kitchen only a few spoonfuls of food fuller than I had when I walked in.

Studying didn’t help my mood much, but every time I took a break from it, my mind would wander back to the tiny person potentially wandering around my home, too scared to ask for help when he likely needed it.  Lunchtime came and went — I wasn’t hungry.  I tried studying again by watching a few videos my professor posted.  Those didn’t seem to make sense to me, and my anxiousness morphed into an ugly frustrated anger.  “No!  What?  How?!  I used the same formula and everything!  What the heck?!”  Crumpling my paper in a messy ball, I can already feel an angry scream building in my throat.

As quickly as my anger emerges, however; it fizzes out.  My scream comes out as a sob and I fall against my desk.  Nothing had gone right for me.  Finals week is the absolute worst week for my luck to run out.  “I’m gonna fail,” I whisper, “I can’t do this.  Why is everything going so wrong?  I just wanted to help him; why’d he run away?  I feel sick.  What if he’s hurt somewhere and can’t call for help?  What if he’s too scared to call for help?”  Tears fall down my face and sobs wrench out of my throat in gasps.  My empty stomach roils painfully as I cry.

“Alice!  It’s ok, I-”  At the sound of a voice too small to have come from any normal person, I whirl around in my seat, furiously rubbing my eyes so I could see through my tears.  I can’t find him on the floor, just like the night before, but I know I heard the tiny person I’d rescued.  “Hello?” I call into the seemingly empty room.  A voice responds.  “It’s.. It’s ok.  It’s me, the ‘little guy’.”  I gasp a relieved breath, then stand, peering around the room for where he might be.  His voice is so small I can’t tell where it’s coming from.  “You’re… alright?” There’s a long silence, then: “Yeah.”

“Oh thank god!”  I breathe fully for what feels like the first time in days.  “You made me so worried for you!  Are you hungry still?  I- I know you haven’t eaten in a while since you.. ran off when I tried to get something for you.”  I myself felt like I was starving.  I could only imagine what he might be feeling.  I’m kept waiting for a long time — so long that I’m afraid he’ll leave if I don’t say something.  Steadying my voice with another deep breath, I offer an apology.  “Look, I’m sorry I scared you off…  I don’t know what happened, but I’m willing to work with you to try and get your memories and your old life back.  I can’t imagine how terrifying it is to suddenly be so small, not even knowing how you got that way-”  “Stop.”

I do, though I’m scared of how hollow his voice sounds.  “That’s.. a lie.  I remember everything just fine.”  Has he given up on finding a way back to normal?  Does he remember something awful that he hasn’t told me?  No wonder it felt like he was lying to me.  “So.. you just didn’t want to tell me how you shrank?” I ask, a bit confused.  “No.. Alice, I- I never shrank.  I’ve always been this way.”  My mind goes blank for a moment.  “Y- Wh-  H-” I stutter, only half-words forming on my tongue.  “I’m not human, Alice.”

He’s…  He’s what?  Slowly, I approach the bookshelf in front of me — where I can hear his voice now that he’s spoken enough for me to locate it.  Kneeling on the floor, I gently bend down to peer beneath it.  I’d already checked all the shelves to no avail.  There’s a small crack in the baseboard of the wall behind the shelf.  “Is that why you left?” I ask softly, “I promised I wouldn’t hurt you.”  His voice becomes a bit harsher.  “You promised the tiny human me that you wouldn’t hurt me,” he corrects.  I blink confusedly, slowly connecting the dots.  “You thought I would go back on my word if I knew you were lying to me?  Or you just.. thought that I wouldn’t care because you’re not human?” 

But that’s awful!  Does he really think I would do that?  My distracted gaze flits back to the crack in the wall.  He’s there — standing in a position like he’s ready to flee at any sign of aggression, but he’s there.  “I promised you that I wouldn’t hurt you.  You.  No matter who or what you were.”  His expression shifts guiltily, and he glances away from me.  “I’m a bit upset you wanted to lie to me about… everything.  But I can’t be mad at you for being scared of me.  I won’t ask you to talk to me anymore if you don’t want to, but just know, I’m glad you’re alright.”

A small smile edges along his face as he turns back to me.  Carefully, the little.. person steps out of his hiding place.  “You- You really mean that?” He asks, “You don’t care that I’m not one of you?”  I exhale a tiny laugh and shake my head.  “Of course not, don’t be silly!  You’re safe here, I promise.  I understand if you want to go home, though.  You probably have others of your kind to get back to, and I’ve accidentally trapped you in my house.”  His steps falter and guilt briefly dashes across his face again.   “Well, about that…  I kind of.. live here.”  

Do I know anything about you?  As he relayed what really happened, it turns out I really don’t.  The only thing I do know about him that’s correct is the fact that he can fit in the palm of my hand, and of course the fact that he’d been freezing to death when I found him.  Beyond that, it’s like a whole new world just opened up to me.  I guess that makes sense, though.  He is an entirely different species, which is insane to think about.  I always thought we’d find human-intelligent beings on another planet before we ever found it here again.

“I actually did remember my name,” the little being — he told me he’s a borrower — confesses after talking to me about his life beneath my floors.  “It’s just.. not really a human-sounding one, so I couldn’t exactly give you it.  My name’s Fennel, but I mostly just go by Fen.”  “Fen?” I ask.  Well, it certainly isn’t a human-sounding name.  I offer Fen a bright smile.  “Nice to finally really meet you!  How long have you been living here.. with me?”  His eyes trail off in thought, “I moved in after you were already here, but you were still unpacking things, so I don’t think it was very far off from when you moved in, too.”  So we’ve been living here together the whole time?!

“Where were you living before?”  Fen shrugs, “Eh, another apartment in this building.  The new people were too loud, so I moved out.”  Wow, I wish I could’ve done that in my last apartment.  I had to wait for the lease to expire.  “I wish I could just pack up and slip into a new home whenever I have problems with the neighbors,” I tell him, mind already wandering to what I would do at his size, with his freedom.  

“It’s harder than it seems,” Fen sighs, “I have to rebuild a livable space for myself every time.”  Oh, right.  Maybe I wouldn’t want to be a borrower after all.  I sit back upright and my back cracks loudly as I do.  “Hey, if you don’t mind, can you maybe come out from beneath there?” I ask, “It hurts my back to try to bend all the way to the floor to look at you.”  

He’s hesitant, but Fen slowly makes his way over to the edge of the bookshelf.  When he finally steps out from beneath it, I gently lay my hand in front of him palm-up, like I had in the car when I took him inside.  “Can I hold you?  Please?”  This feels like a dream.  Did I even find you, or did I fall asleep trying to study?  To my relief, he gives me a slight nod.  I watch in awe as he climbs up onto my palm — hands and feet no bigger than a fingernail.  With Fen safely in my palm, I slowly and carefully lift him up to my face to ensure I’m really awake.  

Concern crunches my eyebrows together.  He has an empty fearful look, staring blankly through me with tensed muscles.  “Fen?”  His hands dart to his head, ducking beneath them for a tiny bit of safety.  “Are you ok?” I ask softly, “You look sick.  If this makes you uncomfortable, I can put you back down.  You didn’t have to get on.”  I can hear him breathing hard, but he stammers: “I- I’m alright.”  Shaking my head, I cup my other hand around him gently.  “You aren’t, though.  You’re shaking.”  With all the caution l can muster, I lower the pad of my finger against his chest.  Just as I thought, his breaths rise and fall heavily against my finger — even his heartbeat thunders rapidly against it.  He’s so.. delicate.  Sitting in my hand like that, I just can’t describe the feeling in any way besides tiny and fragile and alive.  

My eyes water in a sudden rush of relief, and I gently bring him to my chest, hugging his tiny form the best I can without crushing him.  I finally feel relieved for the first time that week.  “It’s alright now,” I exhale.  Holding him there, I can feel his breathing slow and he relaxes in my light grip.  Guiding him out in front of me again, I watch him curl up sleepily in my palm.  His back presses softly into my cupped fingers as he blearily looks up at me.  Awww, why does he have to look so cute like that?  I’m sure he’s exhausted.

Glancing around the room, I notice that one of the smaller blankets on my bed had fallen to the floor.  I scoop it up and place Fen down on my desk.  He stumbles off, and I have to quickly grab him and lower him down before he falls face-first on the wooden surface.  I bundle up the blanket so it’s reminiscent of a little mattress and pillow, then place it in the corner of my desk.  Fen sleepily trudges over and slides into it.  Checking to make sure he wouldn’t fall over the edge of my desk by blocking off the side with a book, I settle down and begin re-working the math problem that had gotten me so worked up earlier.   Just as I finish it, Fen rolls over in his makeshift bed and mumbles something quietly.  Get some sleep little guy; goodness knows you need it.  I need it too, but more than that, I need to eat.  After checking the problem against the key — I’d solved it correctly that time — I snuck off to the kitchen to make myself a quick meal before returning to my work.  With Fen sleeping on my desk, I had to plug in my headphones to listen to the videos, but that didn’t bother me much.  I had to stop yelling so much to avoid waking him, but I needed to calm myself down anyway.  It wasn’t long after finishing the worksheet that I fell asleep right there against my desk, with my tiny roommate sleeping soundly beside me.

#originally planned to post this for the size-swap prompt for GtWAC #unfortunately it was definitely not going to be ready by then #But here it is now! #g/t #giant/tiny

[mika-writes-fanfics]

Healing Touch

Dabi x Fem!Reader fan fiction

Synopsis: You encounter an injured Shigaraki and offer your healing quirk to his aid. Little did you know, healers were hard to come by in the underground and Shigaraki takes a liking to your skills. To further his cause, he kidnaps you and holds you captive under the watch of the LOV. You play the role of the LOV's little healer while you think of a way to escape. Unbeknownst to you, the pyromaniac with a cold heart begins to melt in your presence. Your compassion and wit draw him in, all the while he swears it's only curiosity he feels toward you. But when your touch heals his burns and your personality soothes his anguish, Dabi begins to wonder, what exactly is he feeling for you? And why the hell does he feel so torn up when you slip away?

Warnings/Tags: stockholm syndrome, Dabi comforting reader, betrayal (by Hawks), mention of death (addressing Magne), mention of past injury (Mr.Compress), spoilers

Author's Note: I really tried my best, but I felt like it would be best to push the smut back a chapter. Though, I intend on making it extra spicy and long to compensate. Pls forgive me ;-;

Word Count: 5.4K

Link to AO3

Chapter Nine: Betrayal

You feel frozen in place, despite still being doubled over on the floor from coughing. Speaking of the floor, it takes you a bit by surprise to see your surroundings are so upscale. The marble tiles under your hands feel cold, and the ridiculously high ceilings of the foyer somehow give you agoraphobia. Judging by that and the grand staircase, you must be in some rich benefactor’s home. 

Dabi chuckles a bit at your confused stupor, understanding that the League being in a place like this must be a bit jarring for you. He stands up from his spot on the grand stairs and walks over to you, offering a hand to help you stand. You hesitantly take it and the memories seem to flood in at the contact. As soon as you’re standing, your hand slips out of his and you wring your hands together, as if it will quell the flashbacks. You seem to be distracted by the nostalgic haze until a passing thought brings you back.

“Wait, where’s Toga?” You suddenly remember, starting to come out of your initial state of shock. For good measure, you look around the room only to see no sight of the blonde teen. “She was holding me with a death grip before I showed up here.”

“The brat had another mission to run, Ujiko transported her somewhere else,” he answers. Your brow furrows at the unfamiliar name. From the sound of it, Ujiko must be some new member. Judging by that and the extravagant room you’re in, a lot must have changed for the league. Just what all happened in the months you’ve been apart?

“So where are we?” You ask, anxiously. 

“Deika city,” he nonchalantly answers. You sigh and rub your temples. You were hoping he’d give you a more specific answer, not some vague information about a city you’ve never heard of. 

“Okay, but which part of Deika city is hosting a get-together for villains in a fucking mansion?” Your snarky comment earns a soft chuckle from him.

“You’re thinking too small, doll,” he says. “This whole city is ours. Deika City is filled with villains.”

You freeze. 

He has to be joking.

But when you look at his slightly proud and smug expression, you realize he’s not. Your stomach sinks and your blood runs cold. A city filled with villains, a city filled with allies of the LOV is your worst nightmare. If you flee and are spotted in the streets, you’d be royally fucked. Though, if there are more people in their ranks, your possible openings are strangled. It’s unlikely you could manage to slip away, not with their numbers now.

“How exactly did that happen? You don’t just go from a villain club of eight to over a hundred overnight,” you ask, incredulously. 

“It’s a bit of a long story,” he starts. “All you really need to know is that we’re called the Paranormal Liberation Front now, and this is home base. We’re a lot bigger than before.”

“I see…” You mumble, struggling to absorb everything. To say your situation is overwhelming would be an understatement, but if your experience is going to be anything like the last time, you have to keep up. So far, doing that is easier said than done.

“Eh? That’s not what I was expecting from you. You ran out of sarcastic comments or something?” He goads, smirking at you. 

“I mean, I guess I could say ‘good job’ on not burning all the new recruits for once,” you offer, your playful jabs lacking their usual enthusiasm. “Guess you’ve changed a bit on that front.”

“Sorry to disappoint, but I did burn a few,” he admits. You’re not really surprised at the confession. “‘S not like I’ve changed that much.” 

He’s right. Despite the time that has passed and all the changes the league has undergone, Dabi remains mostly the same, almost exactly as you last saw him. Though, there is one thing that’s a bit different about him. He’s not nearly as thin as he once was. The muscles in his arms are more defined, and judging from how some of his burns have started to slowly spread, you wager it's a result of fighting and using his quirk. 

His voice draws you out of your thoughts before you’re able to think about it more. “Come on, I’ll show you where you’ll be staying,” he says. He starts walking off down a nearby hall and passes an expecting glance at you over his shoulder. Not wanting to be left alone in an entirely new place, one filled with strangers and potentially unpredictable villains, you follow close behind.

All you can do is follow him through the halls, navigating around strangers as you go. It makes you uneasy, to see so many new people and to feel them watching you with mild interest. You find yourself staying closer to Dabi’s side, hoping that his presence would dissuade them from making some gross comments. After what happened with Muscular, you’re much more guarded around new villains and much more eager to stay close to Dabi. Even though you’re in this situation, at the very least, Dabi has your back. Remembering the way he protected you and cared for you makes facing whatever comes next a little easier. You can’t help but trust him. Though, even with him at your side, the fear of others doesn’t fully dissipate. 

Dabi occasionally steals glances at you as the two of you walk through the halls. He can see the stress clearly written on your face. Dabi’s not delusional, not like how Toga and Twice can be. He knows you’re not too thrilled to be here. You didn’t choose this life, and to be pulled into the league’s whirlwind again has to be more than just frustrating. Not only that, but he can tell you’re on edge here. It’s gotta be terrifying to be around so many villains, to be around so many strangers at once. He’s good at reading you, and he can tell you’re worried about your safety.

“Nothing’s gonna happen to ya, you’ll be okay,” he assures. You cast him a look of doubt, unable to believe his reassurance.

“How do you know though?” You counter. 

He wants to say, ‘Because I won’t let anyone hurt you’ or maybe even ‘Cause I’ll be by your side’, but he can’t seem to bring himself to open his mouth and tell you his feelings. You’re already spooked as it is. Besides the small part of him that fears your rejection, he’s afraid of scaring you off by saying something so sappy and soft.

“I just do,” he replies instead. You remain unconvinced, your disbelief still deeply rooted in your face. He doesn’t know what else to say, how else to console you. He guesses that the only thing he can really do for you right now is to get you to your new room. Maybe you’ll return to your old self after settling in. At least, he hopes so. 

“Okay,” you softly respond, your voice sounding detached and empty. You don’t ask what’s next, silently surrendering yourself to whatever comes your way. He leads the way, and you wordlessly follow.

The gravity of the situation continues to weigh down on you as you pass more throngs of villains loitering in the halls. You’re starting to doubt you could ever get away due to the sheer numbers the PLF has amassed, not that you were able to escape before when there were fewer villains keeping you in check. With the league, just a handful of people with dangerous quirks was enough to dissuade any reckless attempts to run. Back then, you tried to methodically bide your time and plan around any weak links, but in the end, it was the heroes that got you out. But now? There are way more eyes watching you. If that wasn’t bad enough, you’re completely unfamiliar with your new environment. Any attempts to run would be an ill-advised gamble with your life, and you’re not really in any position to be making any bets. 

Maybe it’s time to fold your cards.

Maybe… maybe you should just give up. 

There seems to be a commotion coming from down the hall, causing you to pause your depressed spiraling and put your thoughts on the back burner. Your ears pick up on the sound of a familiar voice calling both yours and Dabi’s names, and you look up to see a familiar black and gray bodysuit approaching the two of you. It’s none other than Twice, happily waving at you as he makes his way over.

“Heya y/n, it’s nice to see you again,” he greets in an excessively cheerful tone, a hallmark of one of his more positive split personalities. In true Twice fashion, he immediately follows up with the opposite. “Ugh, why is she here?”

“Hey, Twice,” you greet. Instead of lying and saying you’re glad to see him again, because seeing Twice and getting kidnapped typically go hand in hand, you decide to make innocent small talk. “How are you and the others holding up?”

“I’ve been great ever since finding out I’m not a clone! I can make copies of myself again without worrying I’ll disappear, it’s amazing! The others have been doing well, and super busy too. Toga, Spinner, Dabi and I have a lot to do in the PLF now that we’re commanders of the PLF,” Twice answers, extremely enthusiastic. 

‘Wow, okay. That’s a lot of information all at once,’ you think. You’re still reeling from the outpour of Twice’s hurried and lively words. Though through the jumbled facts and new changes, you noticed something. His omission of quite a few members has you concerned.

“What about Magne? And Compress?” There’s a sharp silence and a slight pause in his actions. His reaction makes you regret asking. Clearly, something terrible has happened.

“Magne,” Twice starts, trailing off. His voice is strained with sadness, and his hands seem to shake as well when he completes his sentence, “She’s… no longer around.” 

“Oh, I’m so sorry,” you apologize, offering your condolences. Although you didn’t know her for long, and she was another obstacle in your escape, you still find yourself feeling a little shocked and upset. What’s more is you noticed how Twice avoided saying anything about Compress, serving to heighten your emotions. “Did… Did Compress also..?”

“Lost an arm. He’s okay though,” he explains. You sigh a little in relief, before catching yourself. Aren’t you supposed to feel indifferent about this? Since when have you grown to care this much? As you’re about to spiral into confusion, Twice bounces back from his previous bout of grief, changing the conversation to something more lighthearted. “You should see his new prosthetic, it’s super cool!” To which he immediately follows up with, in a much whinier voice, “No it’s not! It’s a big hunk of metal, how is that cool?”

“It’s good he pulled through at least,” you reply. Given what happened to Magne, you’re afraid to ask about Kurogiri, fearing you’d get the same answer. You decide to tuck it in the back of your mind and ask some other point in time. You’ve had enough grief for one day.

Twice’s tone switches, designating a switch, and he speaks once more, “You know, it’s great that you’re back, I was starting to worry about Dabi. The man was really mopey there for a while.” Dabi shoots Twice a glare, an interaction that you’d normally find funny. 

“Hey Twice, didn’t you have to go meet Sanctum right around now?” Dabi asks in an annoyed tone. Twice instantly stops in his tracks.

“Oh crap, you’re right! I gotta go! See ya later,” he rushes out. His tone switches as he’s hurrying past the two of you and he jeers, “Yeah! Have fun with your girlfriend, Dabi!” Twice quickly runs down the hall, leaving the two of you alone together once more. 

“Tch, that fucking guy,” he grumbles. You can tell Twice’s teasing embarrassed him. He shoves his hands in his pockets and averts his gaze, his cheeks still painted pink. “C’mon, let’s get outta here.” 

The two of you start walking off together, headed to some unknown destination to you. He leads you through the halls, passing by people conversing along the walls. From what you can tell, the PLF is made of very diverse people. You’ve seen several interesting, unique mutant-type quirks within their ranks. But you can’t help but wonder, amongst all these people, surely one must have a healing quirk. If that’s the case, why would they want you?

“Hey, Dabi, can I ask you something?” You ask suddenly, breaking the silence. He glances over at you from the corner of his eye as the two of you continue to walk on.

“I guess,” he answers. He can’t help but feel a little uneasy at your random question. Just what are you wanting to know?

“I can’t help but wonder… Why have I been brought here? There are other healers out there, surely there’s at least a couple around,” you confront. He stops in his tracks. 

Your movements stall and you swallow thickly, nervously waiting for his explanation. He’s not really sure how to go about this, hence his stalling.  There are a lot of things he knew you wouldn’t be too happy to hear. Besides Magne and Compress, this is one of them. He just didn’t think you’d ask about this so soon. But then again, you’ve never been one to hold your tongue and suppress your curiosity. You’d bring it up eventually. 

“Again, it’s a bit of a long story,” he avoids.

“It’s not like we don’t have time,” you urge. He sighs. Your insistence forces his hand.

“The short bit is that before we joined forces with this group and became the PLF, they had some weird ideas. They only really accepted strong, offensive-type quirks, anything that can be used tactfully, ya know? So there aren’t many healers around, if at all,” he explains. As much as that’s an acceptable answer, you can just tell there’s more. Yes, you understand that they need healers, but it still doesn’t explain why you were wanted specifically. You look at Dabi expectantly, encouraging him to continue. “And, well, to be honest, Shigaraki is still a little pissed over the hideout raid and losing Kurogiri. Getting you back was a win for him.”

“So what, I’m a part of some revenge plot?” You scoff.

“In a way. Taking you back was a mix of wanting to make sure our informants were trustworthy and wanting to test the competency of the heroes,” he clarifies. There’s a smug look on his face when he adds, “And it looks to me the heroes failed, but who’s really surprised there?” Your face drops. 

“What do you mean?” You interrogate. “How have they failed?”

“They haven’t launched an attack to rescue you,” he points out. “Which means they either don’t know where we are yet, or they have bigger plans and won’t risk exposing their advantage over someone they deem ‘expendable’. You know, all that ‘greater good’ bullshit.”

It felt like a punch to the stomach, to hear him so bluntly state that you’re viewed as sacrificial. The worst part is, the logical part of your brain can’t even formulate a counterargument. Dabi knows tactics. What he says is true. But even so, you still hold onto a bit of irrational hope. You continue to deny the idea that the heroes have left you to the wolves. You’ll survive and find your way out of this forest. You’ll be saved and put this all behind you, right?

“How do you know? How can you be so sure?” You argue. Your rebuttal sounds unsure. The shakiness of your voice gives away your lack of confidence.

“Well, to start,” he begins. The conversation seems to fade into the background as you see a flash of color in the nearby crowd. 

No.

There’s no way.

Your stomach sinks and your breath gets caught in your throat upon seeing crimson-red wings. You desperately hope you’re mistaken, and that when you blink your eyes, you’ll realize it was all a trick of the light, a sheer hallucination. Only, it never happens. Your fears are confirmed by the sound of his carefree laugh. Hawks is here, happily conversing with other PLF members like he belongs. What’s worse is you recognize a few of his friends to be heroes as well. You even see that Sliding Hero in the group, the one that Toga disguised herself as. 

You can’t believe you trusted the heroes.

You regret trusting Hawks.

How could you have been so blind? How could you have felt at ease around him? How could you have believed the heroes were on your side? How could you ever have thought you’d escape from all this? Seeing him here makes you realize that you were never safe. The veil of safety was a lie. 

Hawks’s feathers seem to stiffen and quirk up, as if he can feel you staring daggers in the back of his head. He glances over his shoulder and locks eyes with you. Your eyes start burning upon seeing his face. His eyes widen and his eyebrows raise, almost imperceptibly so. He doesn’t stare for a moment longer and tears his gaze away from you, directing his attention back to the group of PLF members in front of him. You can’t seem to look anywhere else while your mind spirals out of control, filled with endless thoughts of self-blame and despair. 

With the grim realization that the PLF is everywhere and the lack of viable escape opportunities, your future seems completely out of your control. You’re now nothing but a passenger in your own life. The tides of change have already swept over your life, and now it is time for you to sink or swim. But how are you supposed to keep going when you have this anchor tethered to you? The weight of hopelessness is slowly drowning you. You’re sinking down to rock bottom. 

A couple tears fall over your lash line as you silently cry. You’re completely defeated. 

There is no getting away from here. 

Escape is foolish. 

A hopeless pipe dream.

All the while you’re on the downward descent into hopelessness, Dabi takes notice of your catatonic state, not that it was hard to, with how you froze and stopped responding. As long as he’s known you, he’s not seen you cry once. It amazed him, honestly, how you were so strong. He’s seen notorious villains crumple at the league’s feet, folding under the weight of their fear. But you… you held your head high. You hid your feelings behind a sharp tongue and a veil of sarcasm, always ready to quip back at Shigaraki, a man that can erase anybody from existence with a single touch. Seeing you like this, seemingly broken, is more than disconcerting. 

Just what is going on in that head of yours? What happened to make you fall apart like this?

He follows your eyes, realizing they’re glued to the group of people in front of you. To him, there’s nothing out of the ordinary, just normal PLF members talking to each other. But it’s then he realizes why you might be upset; they’re heroes. This is your first time seeing their kind amongst the PLF. You're seeing his truth, you’re seeing the world as he sees it: a corrupt society filled with false heroes. False heroes that lie and cheat, with hands nearly dirtier than his. When he first became aware of the facade, when he was no longer blind to the propaganda, he reacted with hatred and rage. But you aren’t feeling what he felt. Your situation and his are not the same. You’re gripped with shock and despair. You didn’t willingly enter this life like he did. And unlike him, you can’t fight back against the injustices of society, not with your support quirk. 

But there is one more thing that’s different; you won't be alone. 

Like he was.

“Y/n,” Dabi calls, pulling you out of your stunned stupor. You’re slow to snap out of the daze, reacting much slowly under the weight of depression. 

“Huh? What?” you reply. You’re careful not to turn to his voice, lest he gets an unobstructed view of you and realizes you’ve been crying. Unbeknownst to you, he already saw. 

“You spaced out on me,” he says.

“O-oh,” you stutter. You turn your head in an attempt to hide your tears and wipe evidence away, subtly. Your voice wavers a bit when you offer a meek and quiet, “Sorry.”

“‘S fine,” he dismisses. “What’s gotten into you?”

“Nothing. Nothing at all,” you choke out. Your voice betrays you and cracks under the strain of your emotions. You swallow against the lump in your throat, determined to mask your feelings. “I’m fine.” He looks at you with doubt and disbelief, narrowing his shrewd, cobalt eyes at your pitiful effort at lying. His expression is telling; he knows you’re lying. You’re at least thankful he doesn’t press the issue. 

He glances over back at the heroes, hearing Hawks’s annoyingly cheery laugh ring through the room. Dabi doesn’t want to stay here any longer, not when the reminder of your sadness is constantly hovering nearby. “Let’s just get out of here, yeah?”

You agree, all too eagerly, and the two of you continue on, this time, without interruptions. The silence that settles between the two of you as he leads you to some unknown location gives you a brief respite. You can breathe easier as you walk behind him, now no longer concerned with hiding your apparent emotional state. It helps to see the halls start to thin out as you walk by. From what you can tell, not many loiter around this wing of the building. You’re practically alone with Dabi, save for a few passersby.

He finally stops in front of the door and his voice cuts through the silence. “This is you,” he says, nonchalantly.

“What?” You ask. 

“Your room. This is where you’ll be staying,” he clarifies. He opens the door and allows you to walk in first. He shuts the door behind him, careful not to let it shut too loudly, in an attempt to not overwhelm you more than you already are.

The lavish interior of the mansion extends into the room as well. All things considered, your living situation is far from terrible. The room is nice and spacious, with high-quality furniture and a large bed to match. It seems you even have your own bathroom, making sharing one with the league a thing of the past. You wander further inside, running your fingers along the pieces of furniture as you pass by until you mindlessly find your way to the bed. The events of the day are catching up to you, and you can’t help but want to just take a moment to rest. You sit down on the bed, testing the softness of the mattress. A sliver of optimism creeps into your mind. At least you’ll be sleeping in a much more comfortable place than before. 

“Not too bad, am I right?” Dabi asks you. You silently nod, feeling too devoid of energy to say much more. 

You lay back fully on the bed and kick off your shoes, haphazardly discarding them on the floor next to the bed. Silence creeps into the room, but despite the awkward lapse in conversation, you can’t find it in you to care. The feelings are racing back to the surface, much to your dismay. You stare at the ceiling as you border on breaking down again. The half-assed facade is already cracking, and with each passing thought, the mask begins to shatter, piece by piece, along with your will to fight. 

“So what’s going on with you? You’re too quiet,” he finally confronts. Dabi leans on the wall and crosses his arms, confronting you with a stern expression. 

“What are you talking about?” You deflect. Your voice gives you away. You sound unlike yourself, as if you’re devoid of life. Robbed of your hope. 

“You can’t fool me, y/n. I know you were crying back there,” he —. Dabi won’t buy into your lies. Besides the fact he can read you all too well, he’s a villain. In his time with the underground of society, he’s seen far more convincing liars than you. “What was it? What happened?”

“I-“ you attempt to strangle out. The words escape you, cut off by an impending crack in your voice. You close your mouth and give up on trying to speak. Your cheek feels like it could bleed when you bite down on it, distracting yourself from the burning you feel in your eyes. 

“Go on,” he urges. He has an inkling as to why you were upset, but he wants to hear you say it. 

You let out a shaky breath in a pitiful attempt to stifle the oncoming tears. Your valiant effort fails. The tears start rolling down your cheek once more, now completely on display for him to see. He can’t help but feel a bit unsure of himself in this moment, seeing you falling apart in front of him. Even as a child and before becoming Dabi, handling emotions was never a strength of his, a weakness now worsened by his closed-off tendencies and diminished empathy response. His inability to cool down from overwhelming, heated emotions is his fatal weakness, and in this moment, this flaw of his becomes painfully obvious. He can hardly help himself sometimes, let alone someone else. What is he even supposed to do for you? 

If his unfamiliarity with comforting others isn’t bad enough, he doesn’t even know what’s wrong. But, if it’s what he suspects, he can’t solve your issues by burning them away, like he always had with his own problems. He thinks about his brother and how his little brother, in the absence of other solutions, would show him support by just being a shoulder to cry on. Thinking of his brother brings back the many nights he spent clinging to Natsuo. It never erased his pain nor did it treat the root cause, but for a short time, even just for the night, he remembers how it felt like someone was shouldering some of his burdens.

He doesn’t want to be known for sappy shit, but he’s made up his mind. He’ll be a shoulder to cry on, but only for you.

He kicks his shoes off, something you don’t notice as you’re too busy burying your face in the pillows, muffling the world with the thick, downy plush. He makes his way over to you, walking along the other side of the bed. You feel the bed dip next to you, the movement finally gaining your attention. You lift your head from out of the pillows and turn to the source, finding Dabi casually laying on the bed next to you. 

“C’mere,” he says, opening his arms and motioning for you to come closer. You’re a bit taken aback by Dabi’s invitation for affection. It’s a bit jarring to see Dabi attempting to initiate something like this, especially given the circumstance. Yes, he did hug you that one time, but that was more of a gesture for him. That embrace was sudden and out of the blue, this is something you’re given the choice to do. This is him attempting to comfort you, you realize. 

Before, you’d deliberate back and forth in your head about what it would mean to willingly seek out his touch. But now? His arms seem safe and inviting, the perfect respite from the dark world that you’ve been sucked into once again. And so, you move over to him and rest your head on his chest. His warm arms wrap around your body as you settle in. He tucks his chin over the top of your head.

The moment feels so soft and comforting that you find yourself wanting to cry once again, your sobs now bittersweet. You never expected Dabi, the league’s most closed off person, to be someone you found solace in. The two of you seemed to connect over your captivity, and as much as you tried to deny it, that magnetism you feel towards one another cannot be rationalized away. You want to stop fighting it, you want to give into your feelings. And you think you will, now. After all, do you really have anything left other than him? 

The realization that he’s all that you have left anymore sends a particularly heavy sob through your body. You bury your face further into Dabi’s shirt. The feeling of you crying in his arms has his heart twisting and guilt creeping in his mind.

He should let you go. 

He should give you back to your old life. 

He should allow you to move on. 

He should let you forget about him. 

But he can’t, and he won’t. 

Besides the fact that Shigaraki would be pissed at his disobedience and betrayal, he wants you around. No, he needs you close by. With you gone, his burns started to spread again. He was becoming closer and closer to burning himself up with every fight he endured. Not only that, but his chest seemed to ache when you weren’t around, and he found himself wanting to hear you bark back snarky comments and feel your hands roam over his skin. The longing for you was so distracting, borderline frustrating too. You were just always there, in the back of his mind, taking up space he normally reserved for simmering contempt. His thoughts were haunted by the ghost of you. He felt followed by the memory of your presence wherever he went. Even when he wasn’t awake, you were there, creeping into his dreams. With you here now, he understands, losing you is not something he wants to experience again. 

And so, the most he can do for you is not leave you alone and try to console you, in any way he can.

“‘S alright. ‘M here,” he soothes. Hearing Dabi trying to comfort you, especially when you know how Dabi isn’t the type to do that for just anybody, causes your lip to tremble. His thumb traces lines against the skin of your arms as he continues to hold onto you. 

You’re not quite sure how much time passes as you cling to Dabi and let yourself softly weep against his chest. The light filtering in through the window of your bedroom has dimmed considerably, letting you know that the night is quickly approaching. But with the sun setting and the night creeping closer comes the fear of being completely alone with your own despair. 

With considerable trepidation, you break the silence and whisper, “I know it’s getting late but… Can you stay a bit longer? I’m sorry I just… don’t really want to be alone right now.” You expect him to let you down, to say that he can’t and start to get up and leave you to the isolation of the night, but yet, he makes no attempts to rise out of your bed. Instead, he embraces you tighter. In a rare moment of softness from him, he presses a kiss to the top of your head as he soothingly runs his hands over your arms. 

“Yeah, I’ll stay as long as you need me to, doll,” he agrees. You feel immense relief at his words, but the gratitude you feel to him makes you even that much more emotional. A tense, shaky exhale escapes your lips and a few more rogue tears break past your lashline. 

Time seems to slow as you continue to wordlessly lie with Dabi and take all the comforting touches he gives you. Eventually, the exhaustion of the day catches up to you, and you fall asleep with his warm body next to you and his fingers soothingly tracing your skin.

Tags: @the-milk-anon ,@dabis-nipple-rings

#dabi x reader #mha dabi #bnha dabi #bnha reader insert #Dabi slow burn #slow burn #dabi #dabi x you #dabi x female reader #dabi x y/n #reader insert #dabi fanfic #Healing Touch #Mika's works

[exosmutfactory]

Only Forever 007

Originally posted by byunvoyage

How long could you wait for the love of your life to decide you are his as well? How many times could you witness all his best moments of winning over agencies and the amount of clothes left overnight from his daily one night stands?

Main Masterlist | Bookclub zone | Chapter 7✓

networks — @/superm-net @/bbh-net

pairing — Baekhyun x You

word count — 1.6k

genre — model! baekhyun, playboy! baekhyun, friends to lovers! romance, angst, fluff, smut (eventually)

[ This chapter contains: the start of something more 😇🤭✨ ]

⏰💋 Only Forever Tag List: 💋⏰

@to-all-the-stories-i-love @you-n-me-e-e @insta1010 @bellamendoza @bbhflrt @weirdoome @marovekian1 @pearliejoy @loey0491 @__jxnnx3 @soonvivi @jairahxelle @dynqstyna @xuxibelle

Chapter 7

Let go of any hesitation

“After all of that,” Shea’s patient voice drifts through your computer speakers, “he asks you on a date?” She raises an elegant eyebrow.

“A date?” May repeats and freezes mid paint stroke. She turns to face the webcam with a loud gasp, her gray eyes sparkling in delight. “He asked you on a date?~”

Even at your big age, you manage to blush as you nod in agreement with their words. Their surprised expressions do nothing to help the steadily climbing heat of your cheeks.

“He did,” May claps with glee, her squeal too high-pitched to carry properly over the call line. “Oh-M-Gee, he did! He totally did!”

“Are you going?” you hear Shea ask as you move to reorganize your closet for the tenth time today. Not like you are nervous about how the date will go per se.

Ha ha ha…

Okay, maybe you are freaking out.

“Yes,” you throw over your shoulder, elbow-deep in the secret box you keep at the back of your closet for occasions like this—

You pause at the butterflies fluttering around your stomach. Then again, you have never had an occasion like this. None of your past relationships were with people who knew you for more than 2 months, let alone anyone else who managed to reach best friend status. At this point in your life, you are content with the close-knit friend group that you have right now. Resilient Shea, reliable May, and (relentless-) Baekhyun are all that you need.

Maybe that’s why they never last…

On that note, you carefully pull out the lingerie set you think Baekhyun would like the most and hang it up inside one of your zip-up hoodies as discreetly as possible, tuning back into the conversation.

“Day? Time? Place?” Shea asks in a rapid session, forever the most organized friend of your group.

“Friday, 10pm,” you pause, your heart racing faster when you don’t have an answer for the last question. “I… have no idea.” Just where will Baekhyun be taking you?

“The three C’s,” Shea reminds you, stopping your rising panic right in its tracks.

May nods seriously, her paintbrush drawing a smooth curve down the length of her canvas. “Comfy, Casual, and Classy~” she chimes in.

A grateful smile and a look of relief form on your face. God, you love your friends.

♡—♡-♡—♡—♡-♡—♡

You arrive at the designated place Baekhyun told you to meet him at—a small park tucked behind a quiet shopping district. There are barely any people on this side of the city at this time of night, the sun has set hours ago. You smooth down your clothes while waiting for Baekhyun. After an hour of a heated debate with your friends, all three of you chose a two-piece, peach-colored outfit that complimented your skin.

Comfy? Mostly. Casual? Debatable. Classy? Well… your ass isn’t hanging out so—

The top is a lace-up, backless, corset-style crop top and the bottom of it is a matching, double-slit mini skirt. The outfit makes you feel pretty, especially with the single leather garter belt strap that Shea convinced you to add for a finishing touch. The way the strap attached to the leather band around your upper thigh can only be seen from certain angles under your skirt is just that little extra touch of daring confidence that you need to see Baekhyun tonight. You wrap a light, cream-colored jacket around yourself as you wait for him though. The weather is warm, yet standing alone in this outfit makes you a bit anxious.

What’s taking him so long…? You wonder, checking your phone for the time. The bright light illuminating the screen makes you flinch, squinting to read the small digits. 10:05. Okay, not too bad. He’s ‘fashionably’ late. You inwardly roll your eyes with a fond smile, remembering that time Baekhyun told you about the habits of everyone in the fashion industry. Your normally super punctual best friend has developed this habit as well, apparently.

Best friend… you wince as that phrase echoes around your mind, a sense of unease washing over you when you remember your… current situation. You still haven’t managed to have that important conversation with Baekhyun—but that’s fine, right? It’s alright. Baekhyun is your best friend; he knows you. You trust that man with your life. Surely, you can trust him with your heart as well. More than 15 years of friendship has to count for something, right? Right.

You check the time again, tapping your high-top sneakers on the ground. Has it been 5 more minutes since the last time you checked already? Well, this definitely narrows down the options of where you will be going with Baekhyun tonight. You can list on one hand how many places will be open at this time of night, considering that Friday nights are usually the start of the weekend.

A gentle breeze blows, cooling down your overheated skin: the result of your nerves more than the warm August air itself. You look up at the few stars visible in the sky tonight, squinting against the city’s smog to admire the twinkling balls of lights hundreds and thousands of light years away. The sight brings a soft smile to your face while the wind blows through your hair, carrying the scent of rich cinnamon.

Wait a minute.

“Hey,” A familiar deep voice floats into your ears. Voilà! Baekhyun is finally here! He stands across from you at the entrance of the park with his hands shoved in his pockets. 

“Hi,” you smile a bit shyly, tucking a rebellious lock of hair behind your ear before accepting his hug. His warm embrace and his familiar hint of vanilla scent make your heart race. Oh god, please don’t tell me he can feel that. If he knew how down bad you are already, you would never live it down. You follow Baekhyun to his sleek black Audi, smiling bashfully when he opens the passenger door for you. The way his brown eyes reflect the red interior lights makes your heart stutter, especially when he flashes you that million dollar smile. You quickly slip into the passenger seat and strap your seatbelt, watching him close the car door and walk around the front of the car to climb into the driver’s seat. 

“Sorry for the wait, our meeting ran over schedule,” Baekhyun explains over the ding of the car door. He left the key in the ignition and the engine running while he came to greet you, it seems. Baekhyun clicks his own seatbelt into place before resting his left hand on the steering wheel and driving away from the park. Now that he is focused on the road, you can admire him in peace—until he reaches a red light, anyway.

Baekhyun is wearing a black button down shirt that emphasizes his stunning shoulder to waist to hip body ratio. He has the first few buttons undone, as per usual when he is off of work. You can just see a flash of a thin silver chain around his neck. His shirt is tucked snuggly into a pair of navy blue slacks, the same navy color as the blazer you can see hung up in the back of the car from the rearview mirror. His normally messy black hair is parted in the middle, smoothed down by a hint of hair gel.

“How was your week?” he asks, glancing over at you. The passing city lights cast stunning colors over his sparkly brown eyes. The warmth within his amber gaze makes your cheeks flush in the air-conditioned car.

“It was good,” you smile, smoothing down your skirt as you shift your legs to the side. Your heart jumps when you catch his brown eyes tracking the movement. “I finally got the hang of balancing school and work this semester. How was yours?”

Your question makes Baekhyun groan in exaggeration. He stops the car when he reaches a red light and leans his head back on the headrest of his seat in a dramatic manner. You listen to him recount the frustrating photoshoots and dragging commercials he had to complete that week for the rest of the ride to your destination, the soft tunes of quiet R&B music accompanying his soothing voice in the background. These are the moments that you love the most; just you and him as the rest of the world fades away.

“We’re here,” Baekhyun perks up after what seems like 5 minutes later, turning off the engine of the car. You look out of the window at the building in front of you with wide eyes. It’s an upscale lounge; the one that you have had your eye on for the past few weeks. The high reviews spoke of live music, heartfelt poetry nights, and plenty of drinks to enjoy around a comfortable sitting area. This lounge in particular has a VIP section on the top floor as well.

You look up at Baekhyun in awe when he opens your passenger door. He looks at you with those amber eyes, holding out his hand to you. Your heart flutters at the invitation. As you place your hand in his, all you can ask yourself is one question: are you ready to dive in?

“You ready?” Baekhyun asks as if reading your mind. His brown eyes sparkling brighter than the scattered stars above and his little smile warmer than the sun.

Your eyes light up before you softly squeeze his hand, stepping out of the car to join him. “Let’s go.”

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | PRE 7 | Part 7✓ | Part 7.5 (M) | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10 |

A/N: 

I have a very important question for you loves: how adventurous is our OC feeling in this chapter? Inside or Outside? 🤭😇

Aff Infinity team, feel free to vote in the chapter poll below. Tumblr Infinity team, feel free to cast your votes anonymously in my ask box. If you read this story on both platforms, go wild my friend 💕

Trust me, the votes will determine what happens next in the story  🐝💨✨🌻

Did I stay up late the weekend before school started back up to finish this dang chapter? Yes, yes I did.

The reason why it took so long, you ask? I went through the 5 stages of grief trying to figure out how to continue the rest of the story. But now I got the plot by the neck so we are good!

Updates will be random as usual because school + touching grass + sleep + I want to build a natural steady update schedule again one day. So for now, I will say that Only Forever will get another chapter(s) before the year is over 🌊💝

#baekhyun smut #supermnet #bbh-net #exo x reader #baekhyun fanfiction #baekhyun romance #baekhyun fanfic #baekhyun ff #baekhyun #baekhyun x you #exo baekhyun #exo romance #Only Forever

[dragons-homebrew-hoard]

Tales from the Aether TTRPG System: Spells and Magic

Masterpost // Previous // Next

This is a peak at some design elements of my TTRGP Tales from the Aether. This is not dnd. If you think some of these ideas are interesting, check out my Masterpost linked above and feel free to send me feedback :D

Everyone can learn magic and spells in this system very easily as every player can choose to know 1 novice Spell at level 1 regardless of whether or not they are trained in any of the Magic Skills. However, beyond character creation, it takes a bit more work to learn Spells.

The number of spells a character can learn is equal to their Magic Attribute but they may learn more depending on Ancestry or Feats. This may seem restricting but Spells work a little differently in this system. Learning a Spell is only the first step on your magical journey as every Spell has a plethora of Upgrades that you can learn to make a single spell multi purpose and escalate in power with you.

In order to learn a new Spell, it must be of a Rank you can learn. For example, my Abjuration Skill is Journeyman Rank but I want to learn an Expert Abjuration Spell. Well, I can't. I would have to hold onto the spell until I reached the proper skill level.

Now, there are four ways to learn new Spells and to gain upgrades and it may vary for your character on a Spell by Spell basis. These are: Innate Spells, Faith Spells, External Spells, and Learned Spells.

Innate Spells are Spells you just know. No on taught you them as they seem to be a natural part of you for what ever reason. These spells are thus more volatile than others and have a 1 in 20 chance of either doubling the strength and effect or failing entirely (rolling a 20 and a 1, respectively). As you grow in power, new spells and spell upgrades will reveal themselves to you - and your character may have no idea what spells or upgrades they will learn until you give it to them.

Faith Spells are Spells you harness through faith. This could be faith in a religion, faith in the self, faith in an ideal, etc. Your faith is so powerful it can literally move mountains but if it wavers, you may lose your ability to use these spells all together. Faith spells are a bit of a mixture of the three other types. Your character can strive to learn specific spells that are influenced by their faith but do not need to do research persay to learn. The spells come more naturally but can also be lost far more easily as faith can be fickle. If your character is losing faith or struggling to maintain their faith, there is a 50% chance their spells will fail. If your character has lost faith entirely, they cannot use their faith spells. If your character’s faith is strong and unwavering, their spells are as well.

External Spells are Spells given to you from an external force through a pact, parasitic relationship, or residue from an encounter with a creature or location. These spells leave a physical mark on your body when you learn them and will continue to change you the more you use them. This could be a change in hair color, tattoos or markings that appear overnight, a change in eye color or shape, or whatever you want it to be. This change represents the physical toll of channeling power that is not your own and the mark of whatever entity has given you these spells. Additionally, your character may not have a choice in what spells are bestowed upon them and the entity can remove your ability to use these spells whenever it pleases or if the contamination has naturally worn off over time.

Learned Spells are Spells you learn through research and study. These spells are the most consistent out of the three. Once you learn a spell, it is yours. However, in order to improve these spells, you will need to continue studying and experimenting with them which may involve keeping “spell books” or notes of some kind that detail your experimentation. If your notes are destroyed or stolen, you will need to start over with what you remember if you wish to continue improving the spell.

The different schools of magic are technically arbitrary constructions as magic is magic but so is violence. It takes different technique to wield a shield, a dagger, and a war hammer just as it takes a different skill set to protect, destroy, or create.

Abjuration is the school of protection and wards. This includes increasing one's Defense Bonus (will explore when discussing combat) and Resistances or creating wards that prevent creatures from approaching.

Alteration is the school of change. These spells alter the world around you such a levitating objects, transforming one creature into another, and manipulating time.

Conjuration is the school of summoning and transportation. These spells summon spectral weapons and armor as well as creatures to fight for you. It is also the key to traveling across the world or to different planes.

Evocation is the school of curses and the spirit. Oftentimes shunned, this school delves into dark places and is far more volatile than others.

Glamor is the school of the mind. These spells alter the minds of creatures to give them hallucinations that allow you to manipulate them like puppets on a string.

Mysticism is the school of knowledge. These spells allow you to see the truths of the world around you as well as what was, what is, and what has yet come to pass.

Necromancy is the school of healing and undeath. Necromancy is well known for its penchant for keeping allies up and fighting regardless of the shape they may be in.

Primal is the school of elements. These spells allow you to manipulate and invoke the power of nature through fire, plants, and more.

Next week I'll discuss equipment and durability

See ya later gamers :D

#tales from the aether #tales from the aether tuesday #tfta #ttrpg system #indie ttrpg

[philosopherking1887]

Apparently Madeline Miller, of Song of Achilles fame, also still has Long Covid 3 years after catching Covid-19 in early 2020. Her op-ed is copied below (mostly under a Keep Reading link) for those who can't get past WaPo's paywall.

https://www.washingtonpost.com/opinions/2023/08/09/madeline-miller-long-covid-post-pandemic/

In 2019, I was in high gear. I had two young children, a busy social life, a book tour and a novel in progress. I spent my days racing between airports, juggling to-do lists and child care. Yes, I felt tired, but I come from a family of high-energy women. I was proud to be keeping the sacred flame of Productivity burning. Then I got covid. I didn’t know it was covid at the time. This was early February 2020, before the government was acknowledging SARS-CoV-2’s spread in the United States. In the weeks after infection, my body went haywire. My ears rang. My heart would start galloping at random times. I developed violent new food allergies overnight. When I walked upstairs, I gasped alarmingly.

I reached out to doctors. One told me I was “deconditioned” and needed to exercise more. But my usual jog left me doubled over, and when I tried to lift weights, I ended up in the ER with chest pains and tachycardia. My tests were normal, which alarmed me further. How could they be normal? Every morning, I woke breathless, leaden, utterly depleted. Worst of all, I couldn’t concentrate enough to compose sentences. Writing had been my haven since I was 6. Now, it was my family’s livelihood. I kept looking through my pre-covid novel drafts, desperately trying to prod my sticky, limp brain forward. But I was too tired to answer email, let alone grapple with my book. When people asked how I was, I gave an airy answer. Inside, I was in a cold sweat. My whole future was dropping away. Looking at old photos, I was overwhelmed with grief and bitterness. I didn’t recognize myself. On my best days, I was 30 percent of that person. I turned to the internet and discovered others with similar experiences. In fact, my symptoms were textbook — a textbook being written in real time by “first wavers” like me, comparing notes and giving our condition a name: long covid.

In those communities, everyone had stories like mine — life-altering symptoms, demoralizing doctor visits, loss of jobs, loss of identity. The virus can produce a bewildering buffet of long-term conditions, including cognitive impairment and cardiac failure, tinnitus, loss of taste, immune dysfunction, migraines and stroke, any one of which could tank quality of life. For me, one of the worst was post-exertional malaise (PEM), a Victorian-sounding name for a very real and debilitating condition in which exertion causes your body to crash. In my new post-covid life, exertion could include washing dishes, carrying my children, even just talking with too much animation. Whenever I exceeded my invisible allowance, I would pay for it with hours, or days, of migraines and misery. There was no more worshiping productivity. I gave my best hours to my children, but it was crushing to realize just how few hours there were. Nothing was more painful than hearing my kids delightedly laughing and being too sick to join them. Doctors looked at me askance. They offered me antidepressants and pointed anecdotes about their friends who’d just had covid and were running marathons again. I didn’t say I’d love to be able to run. I didn’t say what really made me depressed was dragging myself to appointments to be patronized. I didn’t say that post-viral illness was nothing new, nor was PEM — which for decades had been documented by people with myalgic encephalomyelitis/chronic fatigue syndrome — so if they didn’t know what I was talking about, they should stop sneering and get caught up. I was too sick for that, and too worried.

I began scouring medical journals the way I used to close-read ancient Greek poetry. I burned through horrifying amounts of money on vitamins and supplements. At night, my fears chased themselves. Would I ever get relief? Would I ever finish another book? Was long covid progressive? It was a bad moment when I realized that any answer to that last question would come from my own body. I was in the first cohort of an unwilling experiment. When vaccines rolled out, many people rushed back to “normal.” My world, already small, constricted further. Friends who invited me out to eat were surprised when I declined. I couldn’t risk reinfection, I said, and suggested a masked, outdoor stroll. Sure, they said, we’ll be in touch. Zoom events dried up. Masks began disappearing. I tried to warn the people I loved. Covid is airborne. Keep wearing an N95. Vaccines protect you but don’t stop transmission. Few wanted to listen. During the omicron wave, politicians tweeted about how quickly they’d recovered. I was glad for everyone who was fine, but a nasty implication hovered over those of us who weren’t: What’s your problem?

Friends who did struggle often seemed embarrassed by their symptoms. I’m just tired. My memory’s never been good. I gave them the resources I had, but there were few to give. There is no cure for long covid. Two of my friends went on to have strokes. A third developed diabetes, a fourth dementia. One died. I’ve watched in horror as our public institutions have turned their back on containment. The virus is still very much with us, but the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention has stopped reporting on cases. States have shut down testing. Corporations, rather than improving ventilation in their buildings, have pushed for shield laws indemnifying them against lawsuits. Despite the crystal-clear science on the damage covid-19 does to our bodies, medical settings have dropped mask requirements, so patients now gamble their health to receive care. Those of us who are high-risk or immunocompromised, or who just don’t want to roll the dice on death and misery, have not only been left behind — we’re being actively mocked and pathologized. I’ve personally been ridiculed, heckled and coughed on for wearing my N95. Acquaintances who were understanding in the beginning are now irritated, even offended. One demanded: How long are you going to do this? As if trying to avoid covid was an attack on her, rather than an attempt to keep myself from sliding further into an abyss that threatens to swallow my family.

The United States has always been a terrible place to be sick and disabled. Ableism is baked into our myths of bootstrapping and self-reliance, in which health is virtue and illness is degeneracy. It is long past time for a bedrock shift, for all of us. We desperately need access to informed care, new treatments, fast-tracked research, safe spaces and disability protections. We also need a basic grasp of the facts of long covid. How it can follow anywhere from 10 to 30 percent of infections. How infections accumulate risk. How it’s not anxiety or depression, though its punishing nature can contribute to both those things. How children can get it; a recent review puts it at 12 to 16 percent of cases. How long-haulers who are reinfected usually get worse. How as many as 23 million Americans have post-covid symptoms, with that number increasing daily. Over three years later, I still have long covid. I still give my best hours to my children, and I still wear my N95. Thanks to relentless experimentation with treatments, I can write again, but my fatigue is worse. I recognize how fortunate I am: to have a caring partner and community, health insurance, good doctors (at last), a job I can do from home, a supportive publishing team, and wonderful readers who recommend my books. I’m grateful to all those who have accepted the new me without making me beg.

Some days, long covid feels manageable. Others, it feels like a crushing mountain on my chest. I yearn for the casual spontaneity and scope of my old life. I miss the friends and family who have moved on. I grieve those lost forever. So how long am I going to do this? Until indoor air is safe for all, until vaccines prevent transmission, until there’s a cure for long covid. Until I’m not risking my family’s future on a grocery run. Because the truth is that however immortal we feel, we are all just one infection away from a new life.

#long covid #madeline miller #covid pandemic

[ukulelekatie]

I want to get in to beaking bread, could you share the recipe?

Absolutely!

Disclaimer: This is going to be a kind of "choose your own adventure" type of recipe in order to make it as accessible and beginner-friendly as possible. Also, I'm not an expert by any means! This is what works for me, but questions and suggestions in the notes are welcome :)

Ingredients:

4 3/4 c. (594g) All-purpose flour, plus a little extra

2 1/2 tsp (7g) Instant yeast or active dry yeast

2 c. (472 mL) Warm water, about 100°F/38°C

2 tsp (12g) Salt

2 tsp (9g) Sugar (or maple syrup or honey) plus a pinch more

1 tsp (5g) Oil - I like to use olive oil

Equipment:

Small bowl or cup

Large bowl

Cloth, plastic wrap, or lid for large bowl

Wooden spoon or spatula for mixing

Parchment paper

Dutch oven (or a baking sheet and a large, metal, oven-safe pot)

Knife (the sharper the better)

Cooling rack

Food scale, if you're using the metric measurements

Instructions:

Part 1: Combine the Ingredients

Add 1/2 c. (118g) of warm water to a small bowl or cup. Add a pinch of sugar and your yeast, stir gently until combined. Let rest for about 5 minutes until the yeast mixture gets bubbly. This indicates that your yeast is alive and ready to go!

In a large bowl, whisk together the flour, salt, and sugar

Create a well in the center of your flour mix, and pour in the yeast mixture, the remaining 1 1/2 c. (354g) of water, and the oil. Mix together until you get a shaggy ball of dough. It should be a little sticky, but if it's too sticky, add more flour.

Part 2: Kneading

This step is optional. I find that kneading gives it a chewier texture and keeps the loaf from getting crumbly for longer, but the no-knead method is still delicious and easier. Skip to Part 3 if so desired.

I suck at kneading so I use my handy dandy stand mixer. But you can knead by hand if you want, or you can opt to not knead it at all! You're looking for a nice smooth, stretchy ball of dough.

Part 3: Rise

Lightly grease the inside of your bowl. Put your dough back into the bowl and cover with a lid or a damp cloth or plastic wrap and let rest in a warm location.

I like to put mine in the oven--make sure it's turned off, and make sure everyone you share the kitchen with knows there's dough having a little nap in the oven. Not everyone checks to make sure the oven is empty before turning it on, ya know?

Let rise until the dough has doubled in size and there are tiny bubbles on the surface. Time will vary--if you're using instant yeast, this will likely take 1-2 hours. If you opted for active dry, the rise time will be longer, anywhere from 3-6 hours. If you did the no-knead, method, it may take even longer than that. You could even leave it overnight if you want!

Part 4: Preheating and Shaping

This bread is meant to be baked in a Dutch oven. Dutch ovens trap steam, which helps create a nice crust. But if you don't have a one, don't fret! You can place your loaf on baking sheet, and then place a metal pot over the loaf for the same effect.

When your dough is done rising, take your dough out of the oven and then preheat the oven to 450°F 230°C. Add your Dutch oven or sheet and pot to the oven to allow them to heat up.

Punch down the dough to get rid of the air bubbles, and then place the dough on a lightly-floured surface. Pull the edges of the dough in toward the center. You should see the shape becoming more spherical and feel the surface getting tighter. Here's a quick visual: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=IWA0RAAsBHg

Transfer your beautiful dough baby to a sheet of parchment paper. Gently flour the surface of the loaf, and then use your knife to score the top. (Don't go too deep!)

Part 5: Baking and Cooling

When the oven is heated, remove your Dutch oven and transfer your dough and parchment paper inside. Make sure the parchment paper is completely inside to prevent it from burning.

Bake for 30 minutes. After this time, remove the Dutch oven lid and let your loaf bake for 10-15 more minutes until the crust is nice and golden brown

Transfer the loaf to the cooling rack and let it cool for at least an hour before cutting into it. I know it's tempting to dig in right away, but I promise it's worth it.

Your bread should be good for about a week. I like to store mine in tin foil or in a large zip lock bag. To keep your crust nice and crispy, don't wrap it up until it's completely cool.

Enjoy!

#katie bakes #bread #recipes

[bythenineshards]

Suffering Fools (Chapter Three)

Summary: Things got out of hand, and Buggy has to stay in the infirmary overnight.

Warnings: NSFW, 18+, Minors DNI, like seriously... don't... improper use of devil fruit powers. There are some mentions of medical work. I'm personally squeamish, so I try to keep it from being too gross.

Tags: Buggy x OC, Canon x OC, Buggy x Syre.

A/N: I'm sorry this took so long. I think what I'm gonna do is wait until I actually get to Impel Down in the anime before doing any rewrites. This is just for funsies anyway. Hell, it might work out fine

In the few minutes that Buggy had been strapped to the table, Syre hadn't said a word he understood. She might’ve said something in the time between getting through the door and being strapped to the table but when more guards came in carrying more participants, she devolved into a flurry of hasty yet angry sounding words in her native tongue.

She strode around her office, slamming tools and aggressively flipping through the files. Prisoner after prisoner was brought in and bound to the tables. The infirmary filled with a mix of pained groans and low voiced threats to Buggy. Syre’s tirade ended at Buggy’s side. Lying on the examination table was an absolute wreck of a clown. The only reason she knew it was him was his nose, and even that had a number of imitators. There were so many bumps and bruises he looked like he’d not only lost a fight with a swarm of bees but also a kangaroo. She could hardly tell what was blood and what was paint.

Syre pinned his file to the right of his head with a slam, then with arms crossed, she exclaimed, "What do you have to say for yourself?"

Buggy gave her a pained sheepish smile, "It got out of hand."

Syre scoffed with disbelief and shook her head. She looked fit to burst. “I will see you last, Mon Ch-” She pursed her lips withholding the affectionate nickname with a growl and spitting out, “Prisoner! It seems you like being in pain. Fine, have it your way. Wallow in it for all I care.”

But she did care. Even with his swollen eyes, he saw the worry etched all over her face. It doubled then tripled with the flood of inmates that were brought in for her care. From what the guards had pieced together, Buggy had cracked a string of jokes at the expense of one of the bigger guys on level one. When the inmate had predictably reacted with violence, Buggy didn’t hold back. He drew in more people with joke ladened insults, and before long, there was an infirmary full of inmates.

She sighed, repeating his statement of, “It got out of hand,” in a mocking tone as she unbuttoned her coat and draped it over one of the chairs. Underneath was a simple white tank top and the room got a little quieter. Syre started with a quick examination of each of the inmates. Mentally noting the worst injuries and forming a list of everything she needed to do. Buggy had assumed she would go patient to patient, taking care of all their issues then sending them back but that wasn’t the case. She moved from table to table prioritizing the worst injuries, stitching up and cleaning, tending to broken noses and fingers. With the most gruesome wounds taken care of, she returned to sort out their less worrying injuries. She did keep to her word though. Buggy was left alone for the duration of this.

With nothing better to do than feel the pain he wrought upon himself, Buggy watched Syre tend to the inmates. It was like watching an artist at work. He’d gotten a hint of it the previous day when she reset the broken arm. She spoke softly to each man, explained what she was doing and kept constant vigilance to their comfort. She did not refer to any of them as “Mon Cher.” She didn’t blush or get fuzzy either. Even if she wasn’t tending to him, he caught her looking over at him in concern a handful of times. Each time, if she noticed he was staring she’d scowl at him.

It was during one of the few times she hadn’t noticed when the door opened and two younger Marines entered the infirmary. Syre’s concerned eyes lifted from Buggy to the newcomers. One of the boys had a mop of similarly pink hair to Syre and the other was taller and blond.

“Bonjour!” Syre called to the pair, cheerful if not a little tired. It had been a good long time by then, and she hadn’t taken a break since the inmates had been brought in. She rose from her seat and wiped the sweat from her forehead. “What can I do for you?”

The two young men stopped and saluted her, and she gave a halfhearted return salute. The pink haired one spoke for the pair, and Buggy groaned with his peppy demeanor, “Ma’am we’ve been sent to assist you, I’m Koby, and this is Helmeppo.”

“Enchanté I welcome the help. You may call me Syre or Doctor. Whichever you prefer,” She led them through the infirmary, “Did they tell you what has happened?”

“Not really, Ma’am,” Helmeppo replied, starting at the realization that he hadn’t used either of the names she’d given them and corrected, “Doctor…”

Syre gave a pleasant little giggle and waved off the folly, “Ma’am works too.”

“We aren’t medically trained either, Doctor,” Koby added, “But we’re willing to learn.”

Syre looked a little worried about that fact but shrugged. The worst of it was taken care of, and she didn’t mind teaching them something that might come in handy later. If she couldn’t be out helping her brothers in arms, then she could at least teach others to do it for her. She lingered near Buggy’s table and scowled at him, “Prisoner E-8200 started a fight that got out of control, and now we have to pick up the pieces. I’ve taken care of the worst of it so far, but there’s still a lot to do.”

Koby surveyed the prisoner on the table with a tilt of his head, “Is that Buggy the Clown?”

Syre narrowed her eyes on Buggy, “Yes. It is indeed a clown.”

She sauntered away, ignoring the apologetic grin he offered her. The boys watched her carefully, and though Buggy couldn’t really hear all that she was saying, he heard the patience in her tone. She taught them what to look for and how to properly clean the abrasions and ease swelling. She explained what was in each salve and what it did for the patient. Helmeppo took on stitching up a split in an inmate's forehead and went green upon feeling the flesh and had to stop before finishing. The clown raucously laughed at the boy’s queasy face, earning him another glare from Syre as she came to face the boy. She placed a comforting hand on his back.

“Sorry…” He said between dry heaves.

“It’s alright,” Syre said, “breathe, Mon Chér. In through the nose and out through the mouth.”

When he heard his nickname being used for the Marine, Buggy frowned, but Syre didn’t see it. She rubbed the boy’s back and used her foot to slide a trash bin over in front of him. She didn’t think he was going to vomit, but it was better to have it than not. “It’s different than you expect and takes some getting used to. When I was taught, we had two people in the class faint.”

“Really? It just felt like-” Helmeppo pinched his fingers together and heaved again, sending Buggy into a fit of cackling. Syre stood and approached Buggy. His laughter was smothered with the glove she shoved into his mouth.

“Behave or I’ll send you back just as you are.” She threatened then returned to her work.

As they worked, the boys told Syre all that was going on outside the walls of the prison. Buggy wasn’t really listening, but he picked up that they were also discussing their training and how it compared to hers. Swapping stories and common experiences in training, it was all too sappy and wholesome for him.

Hours later, Koby and Helmeppo were tending to the last few inmates when Syre came to loom over Buggy. She looked tired, and his mind covered up the slight pang of guilt he felt with the idea of this being how she would look after he was done with her. If he had his way, of course. Wordlessly, she checked his vitals and removed the glove from his mouth. She checked to see if his nose was broken, though she had no idea how she would fix it if it was. Her touch was tender as she squeezed and prodded. The honk his nose made was so unexpected that she cracked a smile and tittered before smothering it down to being angry again. Normally, Buggy would’ve been enraged that someone dared to laugh at his nose. However, he was so relieved to see how thin her angry facade was that being upset by it didn’t spring to mind. Next, she gingerly ran her hands over his chest, arms, and each finger to check for breaks. By the time she’d gotten to his toes, Koby and Helmeppo had released the last of the other inmates back to their levels. They approached the table and stood at attention.

“Anything else, Doctor?”

She shook her head then looked up at them. ��Actually, yes, when you return to your superior officer, could you tell the Warden that I intend to keep Prisoner E-8200 overnight? I fear for his life due to retaliation from his fellow inmates.”

“Yes, Ma’am!” Koby replied, both boys giving her a salute.

“Thank you for your help,” Syre smiled and the boys left her and Buggy alone.

She remained quiet as she finished checking his legs and feet for breaks. Having worked down one side and back up the other in silence. She was writing something down in his file when she abruptly asked.

"Are you doing this to see me?"

A big toothy grin spread across his face.

Her eyes softened but then redoubled in rage.

“Mon Chér, I am not worth this!" She gestured to the room and then himself.

"Speak for yourself, Sweetness. I'd endure a lot worse to see that face." He met her eyes. She was fuming, yet he still dared to smirk at her, "Even that face."

Syre exhaled a substantial amount of fury but said nothing.

"Even now, you're the nicest thing in this hellhole." Buggy said and he saw her hinder her writing.

“I do not want to be the cause of pain and suffering!” She retorted, “Did you not see the other men in here?”

“I don’t give two shits about those bastards.”

“Look what they’ve done to you!” She exclaimed, her eyes soft and brimming with worry, “You are hurt, and it’s my fault! I’m afraid to send you back for fear of what they will do to you! Or worse, what you will do to get back in here to see me.”

“Sounds like you should just keep me here,” Buggy grinned wickedly.

Syre rolled her eyes and muttered something he didn’t understand.

“If it makes you feel any better, once those idiots were so distracted fighting each other, I slipped out unnoticed.”

This earned another exasperated sigh. The mask of anger was thin, but it was iron lined. Once she cataloged all of his injuries, she worked in silence. This was his punishment. She knew he liked hearing her talk, so she was withholding her pretty accent. The softness in her eyes was all but gone, too. Syre was cold as she cleaned him up and repaired the damage. He hadn’t been lying. If he wouldn’t have said anything, she would’ve likely guessed that he had snuck out of the brawl before any non-superficial damage was done. So, while he looked fairly gruesome, he’d survive. While she was at it, she removed his stitches. If he had just waited a few days, he would’ve been in here without the need for the fight.

“There you are.” She said and rose from her seat beside him. Syre ran a hand through her curls as she made her way to her desk. Stopping to pull on her coat and fumble with the buttons. Looking down at herself, she sighed. Her uniform pants were bloodstained. Buggy heard a drawer open and close along with some grumbling. He strained against the leather strap to see what she was doing. Syre didn’t quite like the way the dress blues skirt looked with the coat, but it would have to do for now. She was exhausted but courtesy of the clown, she had a mountain of paperwork. She ignored his attempts to get her attention, and after a while, he gave up.

“You called that boy Mun Share.” He said when listening to her scribble in files got too boring.

The writing stopped, but she didn’t turn to look at him, “What?”

“Mun Share? That’s my nickname.”

Syre scoffed, “Mon Chér means My Dear. I call-”

“You call me Dear?” She could hear the smirk in the smug bastard’s voice.

She exhaled through her nose in frustration, “You are trying to make me fuzzy. It is not going to work.”

“But you’re so much fun when you’re fuzzy.”

She whirled to look at him, “I have paperwork to do.”

“Paperwork later, Sweets,” He whined, “come here and let me make it up to you.”

She turned away with a huff.

“Come on Dollface-”

Syre didn’t even turn to look at him, “Another word and I will gag you again. Don’t try me, Mon Chér.”

Buggy wasn’t sure how long he was laying there when she finally pushed out from the desk. She stretched out her legs then stood to do the same with the rest of her. She meandered over to his table, she knew it was a horrible idea but she was drowsy and needed to move. He didn’t say anything despite being tempted. Having her glove in his mouth wasn’t terrible, but it wasn’t comfortable either. Her bare fingers grazed the swelling around one of his eyes, and she nodded, he assumed that was a good thing. He managed to catch her gaze, and to his surprise, she smiled just a little. It wasn’t exactly a smile. Her eyes got that soft look in them, but that was good enough for him. She blew out a breath and unstrapped his head, letting him roll his neck.

He watched as she unbuttoned the coat again, a smirk pulling at the corner of his mouth, then morphed into a wide grin. He could see now that she had changed into a different uniform than before, and he liked this one better, “Taking me up on my offer?”

Syre rolled her eyes, but of the handful of times he’d seen her do it, she didn’t even look annoyed with him, just amused. She folded the coat into a little rectangle and set it on his chest.

“Doll, folding it makes it a terrible blanket.”

Still no words. Syre moved to the head of the table and looked down at him. Careful not to hurt him, she released his ponytail. He didn’t have to tell her how good it felt to have his hair down, the groan he breathed out when she massaged his scalp was enough to pull her lips into a small actual smile. She didn’t do it for very long, likely to not risk another tent situation. Next, she reached over him to grab the folded coat and slid it under his head. Buggy stared up at her, not sure if he should say anything. Her eyes were hooded, whether from exhaustion or interest, Buggy didn’t care. Either way made his chest was tight, and he stifled the urge to use his Chop Chop powers to get close enough to kiss her.

He could see the conflict in her eyes and which side was winning. She rested on one of her hands, and the other ran fingertips over his stubbled jaw. He leaned into her palm when it cupped his cheek. Her hand was soft and warm, just like the rest of her. Her lips parted when he kissed her bare palm, leaving red smudged across it.

“I shouldn’t do this…” She breathed, withdrawing her hand.

“Why not?” Afraid you’ll get addicted?”

Syre allowed herself to giggle, “No. But I fear you already are.”

Buggy shrugged as best he could, “What if I am? There are worse things than sweet doctors.”

There was a longing in her pretty brown eyes but her lips said, “This is wrong.”

“Wrong? Doc, I want more.”

“I am taking advantage of you, Mon Chér.” She corrected, “You’re a prisoner here, and I have power over you. I could request that you be taken to a lower level for the fighting.”

“Oh but a sweet girl like you wouldn’t do that,” he purred.

She felt a little challenged by that notion. A bit ago, she had considered requesting his transfer to Level Two to keep him from the prisoners he’d severely pissed off. She wasn’t sure one night was going to be enough to cool tensions with them. If he was this vexing while trying to put him from her mind in this manner, just how much did he linger in the minds of those he pissed off? He might have to stay a few days if that was the case.

“I’m in a lot of pain, Doc…” He said and Syre knew what he was asking for.

She crossed her arms and looked at him thoroughly unamused, “Buggy, that’s not going to work.”

“Why not?” He whined.

“I’ve told you, I have an unfair advantage over y-”

“Pssh…” He dismissed her point and rolled his eyes. “Doc, I’m not asking for much. If I’m going to be stuck here all night, the least you could do is have some fun with me. I won’t tell anyone.”

Syre’s cheeks grew warm with that and blew out a breath. Truthfully, she wanted to kiss him. She liked the thrill of it, and from what she could tell, he wasn’t telling anyone, “One kiss, then I have work to do.”

“For now.” He teased, “We have all night to get to everything making your cheeks so red.”

Her kiss was slow, and being upside down allowed for him to suck her lower lip into his mouth with a whimper. He felt her fingers toy with his hair. Caving to a bit of the temptation she felt for him. As she tried to break the kiss, he followed, lifting his head and hoping to coax her into staying without having to pop his head off to pursue her. She sank back down, but the kiss still broke a moment later. Her nose brushed softly over his.

“More…” He pleaded.

Syre giggled, a quiet, enticing sound dangerously close to sensual, “So greedy you are.”

A wide grin spread over his face as she came back for another kiss. He was trying to figure out how he was going to sweet-talk her into getting on top of him when she broke the kiss and moved to sit on the edge of the table at his side. No prodding before she was leaning over him once more. The little moans he tasted from her as she parted her lips set his blood on fire. He’d been doing so well, but now his pants were growing tight.

A million ways he could lure her into assisting him with his growing need flooded his mind, none of them persuasive. His best came with no words as she gave in to her own desire to be closer. Syre straddled Buggy, feeling his erection against her, “Oh…”

Even through his pants, he could feel her heat. She teased it, whether intentionally so or not, grinding herself along his length. Her breath turned ragged between feverish kisses. Excitement coursed through him with two shy words exhaled into his mouth.

“May I?”

He nodded, his reply thick with need, “Please…”

Anticipation turned her hands clumsy as she reached between them. It was agony waiting to feel her and helpless to assist. Buggy groaned, ending in a chuckle. If Syre hadn’t thought she was worth a beating for her sweet face and tender care, then this was. There was no argument her pretty red stained lips could utter that would dissuade Buggy now. He’d risk level two or lower if he could hear the sugary sweet mewl that escaped her as she eased deliciously down his cock.

He gripped the edge of the table as she allowed herself time to adjust to his size. He wasn’t complaining. He was buried to the hilt, and she squeezed him sinfully. The only thing he could ask for now was to be rid of the straps, keeping him from ripping that uniform apart. It was torture being unable to touch her.

Syre braced herself, firmly pinning his chest to the table. She craved friction, but Buggy was quite formidable. Her hips allowed her to test the waters with slow grinding, arousal warming her from within. She reveled in the full sensation of him bottoming out inside of her. It left her a little delirious. He grew impatient with her slow rolling hips and bucked as far as his binds would allow him. The sudden thrust caught her off guard. The gasp strangled a moan, forming a delightful little squeak. A wide toothy grin twisted his face impishly, and he urged her to bounce to hear her do it again.

Bouncing was torment for Buggy. As soon as she started and the breathless moans of, “Mon Chér” and “Mon Dieu”, whatever that meant, mixed with the occasional squeak he was straining against the straps binding him to the table. Her curls bounced, and what was breathless was beginning to lace with vulgarity. Each new noise driving him more and more feral. The worst were her panicked moans of his name in her accent. They were pleading with him, “Oh Buggy…”

He couldn’t take it.

One of his hands detached and gripped her hip, guiding her rhythm while the other lifted to her face, caressing her jaw and his thumb tracing her lower lip. She leaned into his hand. Lips wrapping his thumb and sucking gently, moans vibrating it with a pleasing hum. Syre had been so lost in the moment that it didn’t strike her as strange at first. Buggy felt the second she noticed. Her eyes flew open, and she expected to see that he’d broken the straps and was sitting up. Instead, she saw him on his back with two disembodied hands. Her eyes went wide, and the hand at her face stifled her scream. She tried to push away, but the other detached hand held her there. Buggy would be lying if he said he didn’t enjoy the way her sex gripped him like a vice.

“Shh shh shh, sweet girl, calm down…” He purred, continuing to buck into her and lead her in their previous pace. She looked down at him in horror, but with each roll of their hips, her eyes got a little lost in the pleasure.

When he was sure she wasn’t going to scream, he relinquished his hold on her mouth. She panted, mixing enchantingly with soft moaning. “You’ve…eaten…”

“Chop chop fruit…” He explained, euphoric now that he was free to touch her.

It dawned on her, “You can… you could…” She moaned, “You could’ve gotten out at any time…”

He chuckled, “But why would I?”

“You hid it?”

He nodded vigorously, “Didn’t want the cuffs or on a lower level.”

“You could’ve told me before this,” She said, a squeak following, “You scared me half to death.”

“Couldn’t have been that scared, you’re still so wet…” He cackled, hands sliding underneath the skirt to grip her thighs hard enough to bruise. He was debating if detaching his tongue to play under her skirt was too much too soon when she gasped and looked toward the door.

Even through her pleasure filled haze, Syre heard the handle to the infirmary door jiggle like an alarm. With a gasp, she hastily dismounted, expecting to feel Buggy pull out of her. Panic welled on two fronts. First, despite her skirt offering her discretion, whomever was coming in would still see... She only had enough time to hear his snickering and see his pants cover where his cock was supposed to be when Domino came in through the door. Realization hit her deep, as deep as the cock still buried between her legs.

#suffering fools #buggy x syre #buggy x oc #female oc x buggy #oc x canon #one piece oc #syre bonne aventure #buggy the clown

[poisonouswritings]

ozzy. ozzy my entire street lost power give me some sage to cope please I need Mr kitty meow meow cat man

I'm seeing this late because I was murdering myself with homework so hopefully you've got your power back now!! GN!Reader, Modern!AU, Sage is such a scaredy-cat

You and Sage were lounging on the couch, wrapped up in blankets and watching a horror movie. Sage keeps insisting he isn't scared because He's Just On A Couch What's There To Be Afraid Of?? but he jumps at every scare. Part of it is because he kinda zones out during the plot-heavy parts so when there's a sudden sharp movement and loud noise it gets him.

And right towards the climax (if you say that outloud it makes him snicker), the power cuts out. And the sudden pitch blackness and lack of noise scares him nearly as bad as the actual scare would've.

So now he's clinging to you and his fur is all puffed-up.

Y'know how electricity - and by extension, all your appliances - have this little hum? You learn to tune it out after a while, but once it all suddenly goes dead? You're sitting in actual silence.

Sage Does Not Like It.

He insists on doing a quick sweep of the house vis-a-vis his cat night vision. He is a touch bit paranoid to begin with (he's grown up always under the threat of being hurt, so you learn to be on edge with everything. And he's especially careful when you're around because he needs to keep you safe) but it's even more pronounced when you guys have been watching a horror movie. Especially if it's something like The Strangers, Funny Games (side-note I highly recommend Funny Games because you go from being anxious to laughing a little bit to being more anxious to being kinda depressed. Ultimately a little less of a horror movie and more of... a... psychological? thriller? something like that. I dunno. I really like it though), The Purge, etc. Y'know. Home invasion. His immediate thought is that someone has cut the power to have an easier job breaking in.

So he dumps all the blankets on you so you resemble a blanket-lump and darts around to check the windows and doors. You, meanwhile, just pull out your phone like a normal person.

By the time Sage gets back from double-locking everything and checking all the rooms (yes he does look under your bed just to be safe), you've already rounded up some flashlights and glowsticks. I would recommend you have one of those high-powered mini-lanterns that are popular with camping, too

Side note: Between 2018-2020 my streets would constantly have power outages so I had a whole-ass kit of stuff. Flashlight, lanterns, glowsticks, one of those big power packs that hold like 100 hours of charge, a tablet with 50-ish hours of videos already downloaded plus like 30 books, spare batteries, etc. My point is, always have stuff ready in cases of emergencies! I would also recommend having a go-bag for whatever natural disaster is most common in your area; for me it's earthquakes, for other people it could be tornadoes or fires or floods or whatever. And if you have family, especially elderly family, that live far away from you, I would also suggest having an overnight emergency bag with stuff like a battery pack, spare clothes/pajamas, toothbrush/paste/etc., ibuprofen, whatever other medication you might need, so on, and keep a pair of easy slip-on shoes by the door. If you can get cheap sneakers or something to put in your bag, that could be good too. Crocs aren't really great to run in but they're better than being barefoot. Always be prepared for emergencies is the point!

You shine the light in Sage's face to watch his pupils do The Thing. He hisses.

By this point you guys have two options; hang around inside and wait for the power to come back on - maybe give the power company a call - or go outside.

I think the answer to that depends on if you're using pre-timeskip or post-timeskip Sage's personality.

Pre-timeskip, Sage wants to lounge around inside. Maybe have a drink, hang out, do some Netflix and Chill minus the Netflix, etc. Hell, maybe just take a nap depending on the time. You run the risk of boredom setting in. And if that happens then be prepared for him to start randomly nomming on you. He wants to leave some hickeys for everyone to see when the lights come back ;)

Post-timeskip, Sage would rather go outside. It's not that he wants to socialize or anything - Hell no, a lot of your neighbors look at him weird because of the eyepatch and he's heard plenty of whispers about 'why is someone like that in this neighborhood' and 'oh I hope MC is okay' and so on, though he never tells you about it because he's afraid you'll regret dating him - but being outside means less places someone can sneak up on you two. Plus... well, he likes the stars. They calm him down. So you two can sit on the porch, you on his lap and with one of the blankets wrapped around you, tracing constellations and telling stories about them. Depending on how long the blackout lasts, some of the neighbors may come up to say hello, offer candles, and maybe even a snack. Most of the ones that do come by are always nice to Sage (you'd have to be a nice person to go out of your way to look out for others during a blackout, I'd figure) so he's calm about it and thanks them a lot.

You guys have been out there for two hours,, he asks if you wanna go back inside now, since it's getting cold, and you shake your head and lean against him and say he's keeping you warm just fine,,,

If you're tired then you can ask him to sing a lullaby! You mostly ask as a joke but then he actually does it.

I just,, I think he has a nice voice,,, especially when he's being so soft for you,,, ehehehe,,,,,,

#fictif last legacy #last legacy #sage lesath #sage lesath x reader #fictif sage #last legacy sage #fren asks #ozzy answers #ozzy daydreams

[lockedboxbooks]

Gentle get some new Talents to join... the 3 Fujiwara Sisters

Gentle Group was riding high, managing to build a positively mouth-watering cast of talent with Timido Cute, Rosaria Eis, Aponia Obedire, and, of course, Manami Aiba. They went from small-time video content creators to redefining the space practically overnight, transforming into internet sensations and richer than they ever imagined. But with so many people eager to listen and watch their movies and streams, new ideas and new talent were a constant pressure on the company and on its CEO, Danjuro Tobita. So, the silver-haired gentleman was more than enthused when he found a sealed parcel in his private PO box.

The parcel contained a single USB flash drive and a small hand-written letter that simply read 'Watch me'. Curious as to the contents he plugged in the flash drive and clicked on the only thing available, a video file with the same name as the note the parcel came with.

The video opened up with a soft panning shot of a quaint college dorm, one you might see on a staged 'girls gone wild' set, but Danjuro held his judgment until he finished watching. The camera stabilised as if planted onto a tripod, and three gorgeous women marched on screen. One was wearing a nearly see-through white dress, and her silky pink hair was in a set of pigtails; the middle one was in a skin-tight black dress with a bow in her hair, and the last beauty was in a black micro skirt and a cheap pink tube top, leaving absolutely nothing to the imagination. The three busty beauties certainly captured Danjuro's attention and interest as he leaned in a little, excited to see where this was going.

"Hi, Gentle! We're the Fujiwara sisters!" The trio cheered out in unison.

"I saw online you were looking for new talent, and since we're longtime fans. I thought we'd be perfect for the Gentle Group. The tallest of the sisters spoke up. "I'm Toyomi, and I can't wait to feel Timido and Aponia eat me out while I watch you reshape Moeha's virgin pussy forever."

"We're very excited and can't wait to be a part of the Gentle Group." The middle sister bounced about cheerfully, her tits slapping together with each bounce. "I'm Chika, and I can't wait to play punishment games with the Gentle Girls and get all my holes stretched out!"

Danjuro saw that the video still had several minutes left to go and let the video continue to play. The silver-haired gentleman was beyond excited to see how the Fujiwara sisters would audition for him.

"But what's an audition video without us showing off our quirks. We know the Gentle Group loves to perform superhuman sex acts." Toyomi said with a salacious grin. "So, the first to show off her talents will be Moeha." Toyomi and Chiki turned and walked out of frame while Moeha eagerly grinned and boldly stood in the centre frame.

Moeha gave the camera a double peace sign as she spoke. "I have been waiting to show you what I can do; my quirk is Resilience. That means it takes a whole lot to affect me." The twin-pigtailed woman pulled out a home-made fuck machine and started to strap herself into the wild contraption. "The only person to ever get me to cum has been you. I got hooked after seeing you just turn Rosaria into an orgasming mess! So, I built this machine to mimic you."

Danjuro heard a soundbite of his own voice. "Super Love Elastic Euphoria." Just before the machine roared to life by jackhammering deep into Moeha's ass. He was amazed at how easily she took the machine's massive dildo; every slam was accompanied by the thunderous clap of Moeha's fat ass.

"N-nothing compares to t-this, to you!" Moeha squealed out as her face collapsed into an obscene ahegao expression as she came all over herself again and again. "I... I want nothing more than to... be used by you and t-the other Gentle Girls..." The lewd pinkette mewled out as she and her fuck machine were pulled off-screen by Toyomi and Chika.

Once the area was clear, Chika stayed in the frame and grinned at the camera. "My quirk is Memory Shot. I can capture a moment and release all of its sensations later." Chika shuffled her feet, taking a wide stance, and waved at the camera. "Memory Shot: Touch!" Chika was wrapped up in shimmering light, creating a vague outline of Moeha and the fuck machine; before Chika's body shook like crazy. "O-o-ooooh! S-sho good! S-SO INTENSE!" Chika squealed as a geyser of girlcum stained her black dress and pooled around her feet.

"I... I can... even use my quirk o-o-on videos," Chika slurred as the sound of one of the Gentle Group's videos started playing in the background. Chika held her hands around her eyes as she looked at the video out of frame. "Mass Memory Shot: Full Sensation!" Chika's quirk created a coloured after-image of Manami and Danjuro hammering into and ruining Aponia while making her use her Obedience quirk on herself. The savage orgasm that ripped through Chika was several magnitudes greater than her first one. The adorable pinkette passed out from the sheer ecstasy raging through her body.

With that, Toyomi easily stepped into the frame. "As you can see, my sisters have wonderful quirks just ripe for the kind of work you do, Mr Criminal." Toyomi practically tore herself free from her own clothes, letting Danjuro marvel at her thick curves and ripe, round tits. "My quirk is Duplicate!" Toyomi grinned as she started to dance, creating doppelgangers of herself. The mature, lusty pinkette groped at and pleasured herself; filling the air with gasps and mewls as Toyomi pushed herself from orgasm to orgasm.

"As you can see, we are very eager and talented little sluts." Toyomi blew the camera a kiss as her duplicates faded away. "If we kept your interest, I wrote a phone number on the inside of the parcel. If you call it, we'll know you want the Fujiwara sisters to become Gentle Girls."

With that, the video panned down to show a smirking Toyomi, a passed-out Chika, and a delirious Moeha before fading to black.

Danjuro rested in his chair as he felt his cock threaten to split his trousers apart. I'll find some release, but afterwards, after I am getting the Fujiwara sisters to be a part of the Gentle Group. They are far too talented for ordinary civilian work, Danjuro mused as he hit a small button on his desk. "Manami, get all the girls and meet me in the studio. We're going to be doing an all-night stream."

[OH BOY! I AM SO SORRY THIS TOOK FOREVER! WRITER'S BLOCK IS A SONOVABITCH! SORRY FOR THE LATENESS]

[ruffboijuliaburnsides]

Hello! No pressure to answer if you don't feel like it!

While I started following you for other stuff your Minecraft posts have made me curious about mcyt.

I don't know where to begin though, I don't really know any of the YouTube channels or series (it's a different series each server right?)

What would you recommend for a newbie to mcyt?

If it helps I know some of the basics about Minecraft (nothing more complex than redstone) and the people you post about seem to be really nice and have a fun group dynamic?

Hope you have a nice day!

OK ANON I'm so sorry I've had this in my inbox for like 2 weeks bc I wanted to do it justice but I've started drinking and am putting off going strip mining for sand on my minecraft server so instead you get my QUICK AND DIRTY INTRO. And by quick and dirty I mean I'm going to ramble for a WHILE so I'm putting this under a cut. I'm sorry if this is a lot. I'm so sorry.

Okay so like... there are single-player series that some people will do, then there are SMPs (Survival MultiPlayer servers). Some of these are only or majority just streamed and you have to watch VODs or unofficial clip collections to get the content, and others are only or majority only edited videos, and others are a more even mix. I'm going to describe a few of the ones I like, and those should be good jumping off points into other content, if you find a creator you like.

The Life Series is, per my wife, the best thing to start with because it's short, contained, and has a clear start and end. It's a sort of a collection of short seasons, spearheaded by content creator Grian, where basically there's an SMP server and a gimmick where he and like 12-15 of his friends play minecraft in a VERY small map and try to be the last one alive, with a new gimmick and set of rules every season. The first season, 3rd Life, basically was just "you get three lives, and after that if you die you're out, plus if you're on your last life, you go from just trying to play the game to having the intent and permission to HUNT AND KILL the other players", and it got more complex and interesting and homoerotic from there. (side note: mcyt gets intensely and INTENTIONALLY homoerotic sometimes. This seems to be a universal constant bc I've noticed it in basically every series I've watched regardless of who's involved. You either love it, learn to love it or... idk leave?) I highly suggest Grian's own POV of 3rd Life (season 1) as a starting point, followed by BDoubleO100 (aka Bdubs) in Last Life (season 2), and Jimmy SolidarityGaming in Double Life (season 3), and then branching out to anyone who you think seems interesting or who you get attached to. (This is a universal suggestion for all series, btw.)

Dream SMP is one of the big ones, it was an SMP server started by minecrafter DreamWasTaken that went from "chill server to play with my friends" to "quasi-improvised RP storylines and lore" kind of overnight. It is hellish to get into, see the ask i literally just answered before this one to see a highlight of why and some recs if you're interested in it. High key DO NOT RECOMMEND for a newbie tbh, just due to how confusing/difficult it is to get into, but ymmv. I have no advice beyond "Watch SAD-ist animations and Technoblade Videos" for getting into dream smp.

Hermitcraft is basically the longest-running SMP on youtube afaik - last year was their 10 year anniversary. It's mostly not heavy on lore or RP, it's just some particularly skilled minecrafters in the area of building and/or redstone who come together to build awesome things. They reset to a new world seed every year or so (tho season 9, the current world, looks to probably be more of a 2-year world like season 6, considering we're already a year into it and no one is REMOTELY done with their plans.) The Hermits include some of the older widely-known minecrafters who are still actively on youtube, the redstoners legit MADE redstone as you know it, hello Ethoslab with the Etho Clock and april fool's Etho Slab) with a lot of married adults with kids, and they're a lot of fun and relatively easy to get into in my opinion. Some of the Hermits stream, but the majority content I consume is their edited videos. Mostly Hermitcraft videos are about building gorgeous structures and/or redstone, and a bit of messing around with your friends. It's fun for shenanigans and seeing people build truly amazing things If you're interested, I stand firmly by my suggestion that the best jumping on point is Grian's Season 8 series. Season 8 was extra short compared to most seasons, and Grian is a fun, funny, and accessible creator. Plus this was the first season they had proximity voice chat, and it was REVOLUTIONARY for the ease of collaboration on the server, and led to a lot of amazing moments.

Empires SMP is much heavier on the roleplaying than Hermitcraft, but is full of gorgeous builds and fun lore concepts. All the creators are the leaders of their own kingdom/empire/etc and they build to that theme. I have no idea what to even suggest you start with in Empires as I've not watched nearly enough, but they're all pretty good.

There are a bunch of other SMPs (short-term heavy RP server Rats SMP was adorable, and involved the players RPing as lil rats, and doing quests and avoiding humans and stuff in a big manor house. Outsiders SMP i hear good things about but I've never watched, also a heavy RP server.) and then creators often have singleplayer worlds that they do video series of. Philza (also spelled Ph1LzA) streams multiple times a week for hours at a time from his long-running hardcore world (aka a world where if you die, that's it that's the game, no respawning), and builds absolutely amazing gorgeous builds. BUT he can be a little hard to get into due to the length of his VODs.

And frankly if I didn't plug Technoblade's content in this post I would be doing a disservice to mah boy. Techno was a creator who did a lot of silly videos of him playing PvP or messing around with his friends or participating in tournaments and stuff, and was smart and funny and deadpan and legit one of the best minecraft PvPers, and he died last summer of sarcoma and he is deeply deeply missed. BUT his videos are a serious comfort watch for me. His channel has a playlist of, quote, "actually good content", and while I enjoy a number that aren't on that playlist, it's actually a very good starting point.

...Actually no, start with the potato war, with Techno. The potato war is Techno at his MOST TECHNO and if you don't enjoy them he's probably not the creator for you.

And THAT'S ALL I GOT, nonny. Hope this helped and wasn't just DEEPLY OVERWHELMING. I hope you have a good night and uh. GOOD FUCKING LUCK.

#hermitcraft #dsmp #empires smp #rats smp #outsiders smp #life series #3rd life #last life #double life smp #technoblade #philza #technoblade never dies #HOPE THIS HELPS NONNY